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do0zy-artz · 11 months ago

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Outside The Flames - 4k Words

A fire starts in Thunderclan camp. Brambleclaw and Leafpool can do nothing but wait for their family to emerge

Tw: fire

Just a few minutes ago, a fire had started in Thunderclan territory. For the second time in his life, Firestar had to lead his clan away from flames and towards safety. Running through the smoke and embers had felt horrible the first time, when he only had one life to lose. It felt a so much worse now, when he three more to give.

They've all run towards the lake. Normally, when the camp was compromised, Firestar woukd take his clan to thd abandoned twoleg nest. Byt the risk if the fire spreading northwards was too great to riskm At least here, the water will provide some safety.

"Is this everyone!?" Firestar asks as he jumps onto a rock, looking over his cats best he can. The clan had just come to a halt behind him, some cats accidently skidding into the shallow ends of the lake in their panic. The smoke and darkness are both making it hard to see everyone, but he's counting them the best that he can. His clanmates are starting to huddle into a large lump of cats, all tending and comforting to each other the best they can. Seeing that, so far, no ones been seriously injured makes the leader feel a little bit better.

He squints against the fire light and darkness, identifying each cat as well as he's able too. Firestar runs through a lost of names in his head, trying to find all of them. Maybe they should do a roll call. Maybe Brambleclaw, who he can see weaving around the groups perimeter, is already doing that.

Leafpool's checking for injuries, Brightheart is trailing behind her. Hazeltail and Mousewhisker are huddled into one, same colored blob of fur, Mousefur is leading Longtail closer to the lakes edge. Dustpelt is fretting over Foxpaw and Icepaw, so are Spiderleg and Birchfall. Daisy and Millie have all five of the kits huddled near them-

"I think so!" Sandstorm calls up to Firestar, his mate's voice startling him. She and Graystripe are also doing their own headcounts, apparently of their own accords, circling around the edge of the group like snakes. They seem to be double checking for their leader and deputy. Brambleclaw is padding over to them now, bringing up the rear of their group, his own roll call seemingly finished. Firestar feels a sudden rush if gratitude for these cats, knowing he wouldn't be able to keep track of so many cats without them.

"Has anyone seen Jayfeather!?" Leafpool calls out next, worry for her apprentice clear. Firestar scans the crowd around her, eyes darting quickly. He does not see the gray tabby tom, nor does he hear that snappy voice answering back.

"He should be with his littermates, I saw them guiding him." Whitewing news, sniffing their air for the aforementioned cats scent. Hollyleaf's distinctive black pelt, which is so easily spotted in a crowd, is nowhere in sight. Firestar hopes the three of them are just lagging behind.

"Hollyleaf! Lionblaze!?" Brackenfur calls out, his former apprentices name being the first off his tounge. Poppyfrost sits next to her father, tail switching worriedly for her friends. Her two sisters, who had been standing nearby, move to start searching the crowd when neither warrior awnsers them. Firestar feels a spike of fear piece his heart.

"Firestar!" Brambleclaw yowls suddenly, running toward his leader. Ferncloud runs behind him, expression panicked. The leader can't help the way his gut twists upon seeing her face. Something else is clearly wrong. "We can't find Ashfur!"

Firestar swears under his breath. That's one missing warrior, and possibly two more. Plus a medicine cat. The fire rages on menacingly in the distance, and he can't help but wonder which of his clanmates might be burning under its ire. If his grandchildren are in there, suffering as he stands there.

Sandstorm runs up to him next, tail flicking wildly behind her. Graystripe has stayed with the rest of the clan, and seems to have gathered the senior warriors around him, instructing them. Good, it seems like the clan will need them tonight. "Squrrielflight's also missing!"

"Mouse dung." Firestar hisses, lookinh out towards the clan again. His eyes land on Leafpool, who has moved too far to overhear them; still checking on her clanmates despite her distress. When his eldest kit meets his gaze, Firestar beckons her over with a flick of his tail. He'll leave it to Sandstorm and Brambleclaw to fill her in, there's three more warriors he needs to find fast.

"Honeyfern! Cinderheart! Any sign of Hollyleaf and Lionblaze?" Firestar yells, jumping down from the rock he'd been perched on. He prays and prays, that while he was distracted, the three siblings have shown up. He doesn't know what he's going to so if they haven't.

It doesn't take long for the two she-cats to make their way out of the small crowd, bothing practically springing towards the distressed family. That also means it doesn't take long for the bad news to reach them either.

"They're not here!" Cinderheart wails, her ears flattening in distress. Her eyes are wide with fear, anxiety, and something else that Firestar cannot name. Something like familiarity shining in them. (He has to wonder why she looks so much like Cinderheart did back then, treating her injured clanmates as the forest burned around her and Bluestar disowned Starclan on her other side.)

"Neither is Jayfeather!" Honeyfern adds, turning to look over their clanmates again. Like she might have missed them somewhere in the chaos. The golden warrior does not find what she is looking for, and was never going too. Not tonight.

Firestar feel his heart sink down to his stomach. His daughter and her kits are missing. One of his warriors is missing, and there is a fire burning down their home. Beside him, Leafpool let's out a wail, one as powerful as grieving mother's. Brambleclaw moves to comfort her, and probably somewhat comfort himself. Though the comfort will be wasted. It's hard to feel reassured when your loved ones could be burning alive, and you can do nothing to help.

"Oh Starclan." Sandstorm mutters, pressing herself against a panicking Ferncloud. The gray queen lets out a sound of distress, or grief, and hides her face in her friend's side. Battling her own worries, Sandstorm can only offer comforting licks.

Firestar looks at the fire, and so badly wants to run into it. He wants to run into the danger and save Ashfur, save his kin. He could probably do it too, that's the worst part. He could so easily run in there and save them all, only at the cost of one life. Maybe two. Especially if three out of five of them are still together, like Whitewing said they should be. He could run in there and save them all and still be here to help his clan recover in the morning. And that is the worst part.

But he stays, and does not run into the fire. It's Sandstorm that keeps him here, her fanatic glances between the crying Ferncloud and the fire that holds her duaghter inside it. It's Leafpool and Brambleclaw, two cats usually unaffectionate with each other, staying so close as they do nothing but wait and wait for the embers to die down. It's the wail Leafpool had let out that keeps him locked in place. He cannot leave his daughter now, cannot risk his lives now, not when she is in so much distress. Squirrelflight would probably scold him for trying to save her, anyways. She always been too independent for her own good. Even if she really did need saving....

The news has spread to the rest of the clan, it seems. It feels like all of them have moved closer, as if saying that they were here. That they were worried, too. Dustpelt keeps looking over at Ferncloud, but cannot (and does not want too) leave their terrified kits. He's trusting Sandstorm, an old friend, to be there for the love of his life. All the new warriors, ones that had been apprenticed with Lionblaze and his siblings, are twitching in worry. Their friends are in that fire. Their home is burning. There is little their parents and former mentors can do to comfort them. Graystripe is keeping the clan together, but can't help but shoot worried glances at his best friend. The other warriors mutter their concern and prayers for Squirrelflight and Ashfur.

Cloudtail goes to sit beside Firestar without the leader even realizing it. His nephew leans against him, and mutters something about the fire in their old forest home. Something about how devastating it was and how many lives it took. Firestar retorts that he remembers, and hopes no one is pulling a Yellowfang this time. The laugh that gets out of Cloudtail is dry and caked with years old grief.

Sandstorm sits next to her mate at some point, and lets him birt his head in her fur. She takes Ferncloud with her. Cloudtail goes to his foster sister's side, and does not leave until they see her brother again. Brambleclaw and Leafpool go to wait just at the edge of the forest, so they will know when their loved ones are nearby. Usually, Firestar would tell them to stay bear the water, near safety. He finds that he cannot do that. Cannot deny them this.

The fire rages on around them for what feels like an eternity, and it truly is going to be a oong night.

___________________________________

Brambleclaw sits at the edge of a burning forest, waiting for his family. Leafpool paces beside him. They don't speak much, while they wait, only in passing. They have already been waiting for what feels like centuries.

"Do you think they're okay?" He asks, needing something to fill the silence. It's stretched on for too long. Heating nothing but the fire is just making him worry more.

"I hope so." Leafpool says, her voice tight with worry. She stops pacing, and sits down next to him, tail tucked over her paws. She looks into the fire, and doesn't look away from it for a long long time.

Silence falls over them once again. The clan watches them, but does not bother their deputy of medicine cat. They simply leave them to sit there. Maybe they know trying to drag them away from the fire would be a futile effort. Even Firestar lets them be.

"Squirrelflight's with them." Leafpool mews into the silence. Her eyes haven't moved from the inferno in front of them. She sounds confident, like Starclan told her that themsleves.

"How do you know that?" Brambleclaw asks, glancing towards her curious. For all they know, Squirrelflight is lost in there by herself. Or the three are still back at camp, or they're with Ashfur. Anything could be happening in there, and they wouldn't know what. It's the worst part about wanting like this.

Leafpool simply shrugs, like her awnser is the most obvious one in the world. Like even a kit could figure it out. "Where else could she be?"

"Alone, or with Ashfur." He mews, watching the fire dance over the trees for what has to be the millionth time. All of them could be separated in there, or trapped under falling trees, burning, dying-

"Or she went back for her kits." Leafpool points out, finally moving her gaze from the forest. She looks at the deputy pointedly. And....yes, that did seem like something Squirrelflight would do. Even injured and recovering like she currently is.

"That is exactly what she would do." Brambleclaw sighs. Leafpool's right, she probably is with their kits. And if not that, his mate is probably trying to make her way towards them. She most likely doesnt know Ashfur's even in there with them. "She's brave like that."

"She's stupid, that's what she is." The medicine mutters, sounding more upset than before. Leafpool looks back to the fire, her eyes themsleves seeming to burn with the same intensity it does.

Brambleclaw looks over, suprised. It was unlike Leafpool to act like this. The fire must be getting to her more than he'd thought. "Would you not run into fire to save your kin?"

"I would." She sighs, curling her tail around her tighter. The inferno crackles in front of them again, and her ears flick towards the sound anxiously. "But I'm worried for my sister."

Brambleclaw nods in understanding, remember the few times Tawnypelt, his own sister, had been in such serious danger. He rememberes how worried he had been, how he would've done anything to save her. Leafpool is closer to her sister than he is with his. What he felt back then is probably only a fraction of what she's feeling now.

"She's strong." Brambleclaw mews. He's trying to comfort Leafpool, but also himself as well. He doesn't think it's doing much for either of them, but it's better than voicing the worries running rampant in his head. "She'll be okay."

The medicine nodd at him, and the two cats go back to watching the fire roar. It seems to be calming down just a bit, but not enough for any living creature to get out. Brambleclaw has to wonder how much destruction has come to their home, how many trees have fallen over and what the hollow could look like now. He almost doesn't want to know what's been destroyed, and what still remains.

"This is a dumb question," He says, looking back over at Leafpool. Still, all this time later, her eyes have not moved from the raging forest fire. They still blaze the same way, too. "But how are you holding up?"

"How do you think I'm holding up?" Leafpool asks, sarcasm dripping from her tone. Sarcastic, another thing their medicine cat is usually not. Sometimes he thinks being a bit meaner would benefit more, when it came to certain paitents. But maybe not as mean as Jayfeather...

"Like I said, dumb question." Brambleclaw mews, jerking his thoughts away from his missing son. "I'm doing horribly." He adds, in case Leafpool was wondering. He doesn't think she was. At least it filled the silence and didn't sound like burning.

"My whole world's in the fire right now." Leafpool says honestly, the sarcasm leaving her voice as quickly as it had appeared. "I feel like my heads been sliced off."

(If her whole world sounded like more than just her sister, Brambleclaw will not question it. She had always loved their kits like they were her own, anyways...)

___________________________________

Ashfur is the first to return from the fire, not too long after they discover him missing. And not long after raindrops start to sprinkle down, either. The spotted gray warrior comes badgering out of the foliage, eyes wide and breathing panicked. Leafpool stops pacing at the forests edge, and rushes over instantly. Ferncloud and Brambleclaw are hot on her heels.

"Ashfur!" Ferncloud yells, sprinting towards her brother, and over taking Leafpool in the process. She nearly crashes into him, almost sending both of them to the ground. He's pretty sure Ferncloud could care less about that.

"Oh, Ash you're okay!" She purrs, rubbing her cheek against him. Ferncloud presses herself closer to her brother, their pelts bending together into one. The gray she-cat is grateful she still has her brother, and has not tragically lost him as well.

Ashfur smiles, and touches his nose to her ear affectionately. His voice is still sounds shaky from whatever had just happened in that fire. "I'm fine, Fern. I'm okay."

Brambleclaw runs after the gray queen and their medicine cat, coming to a halt infront of them. Leafpool is right infront of them, already checking Ashfur over for any burns.

"Ashfur!" The deputy asks, glad that at least one of their missing clanmates is okay. Though there are still four cats on his mind..."Did you see Squrrielflight? Or our kits?"

"Yes, I did," Ashfur nods, his bkue eyes wide with some kind of emotion. It looks vaguely like worry. "They were trapped behind a tree branch, but me and Squrrielflight got them out. They should be here soon."

"Oh Starclan, thank you Ashfur!" The deputy purrs, relief swamping him. Ferncloud purrs again, calling her brother a hero. Leafpool, who hadn't found any injuries on the gray tom, purrs her thanks as well. She says she couldn't be more grateful to him. Ashfur just says it was the least he could do.

As if on cue, Squrrielflight comes barreling out of the bushes. Her three kits were following right behind her, Lionblaze bringing up the front of the group. Hollyleaf, who padded right behind her brother, had her flank pressed against Jayfeather's; guiding her youngest littermate through the woods. He seemed to shaken up to say anything in protest.

"Squirrelflight!" Brambleclaw exclaimed, running towards his mate, all thoughts of Ashfur and his heroics momentarily forgotten. His mate, as well as they're kits, are alive and safe. That's all that matters for now.

"Jayfeather!" Leafpool runs over with him, immediately circling around her former apprentice. Her tail lashes with emotion behind her. "Are you okay? Are you burned anywhere?"

"I'm fine, Leafpool." Jayfeather mutters, all the usual snappies gones from his voice. If they hadn’t just run from a fire, his kin would he concerned. But instead, they just chock it up to shock. "How is the clan?"

"Everyone got out unharmed." She mews, once she's sure Jayfeather is actually unharmed like she said she is. Then, she towards his littermates with tge same worry in her gaze. "And what about you two?"

"We're both fine, Leafpool." Lionblaze says dully, glancing over his shoulder. The fire is slowly being put out, the rain coming down heavier and heavier by the minute. The clan starts moving away away from where they had take refugee by the lake, and into a more covered part of the forest. The rest of them would be smart to follow.

"Thank Starclan." Leafpool sighs, and turns to find Squirrelflight. Ashfur and Ferncloud have already run back towards the clan, leaving just the deputy and his kits remaining. And they will join their clanmates soon, but only after their father checks on them of course.

Brambleclaw ushers all three of his kits close to him, covering them all in loving licks and nuzzles. Lionblaze let's out a low purr in response, and can't help but hide his face in his father's fur. Like he is a kit once again.

"I kept them safe, like you taught me too." The golden tabby mutters, breathing in Brambleclaw's scent. There was a moment back in the fire, where he thought he'd never see his father again. Now that he is seeing him, Lionblaze doesn't even know if the cat who raised him is his father. Does he even know about the secret Squirrelflight, his own mate, had revealed? Or was he in the dark like the rest of their clanmates?

But, even if they were not kin, he'd done exactly what the dark tabby has raised him to so. He'd shoved Jayfeather out of camp, when the fire reached them, kept their little brother between him and Hollyleaf; guiding him away from the flames. He'd led the three of them after Squirrelflight, and away from danger. He had protected his littermates.

"You did splendidy." Brambleclaw muttered, proud and sincere. He gives Lionblaze and affection nuzzle, one full of so much love it's sickening, and then turns to check on his other littermates; second born still hiding in his fur.

Jayfeather makes a small face at the affection, but does not protest it much like he normally. Only finding a way out of it, and consequently out of the rain as well. "I have to go help Leafpool now." He mutters, sounding despondent. Brambleclaw decides to let it go. He had been trapped in an inferno, after all.

"Of course" He mews, and watches his son pad away, and towards their clanmates. It leaves him with just Hollyleaf and Lionblaze. And one last kit to check up on, Lionblaze no longer hiding his face. He seems to he feeling a bit better now.

"You look upset, Holly." Brambleclaw mutters, giving his daughter a concerned look. She's staring back at the fire, hef green eyes burning like Leafpool's had just minutes ago. The resemblance was uncanny. If Brambleclaw didn't know any better, he could almost believe they were mother and kit.

"I'm fine." She mews reassuringly, giving her father a tight smile. But there's still something dark hiding in her green eyes, something Brambleclaw can't identify. "Just shaken from the fire"

"Okay." Brambleclaw mews, giving her and Lionblaze one mast lick behind the ears. "Come join the clan soon yes? I'll be sending out hunting patrols soon. You two need food and rest." His two eldest mutter their agreement, and then the deputy pads back over to the rest of their clanmates. But sister and brother are bit alone for long, two more familiar cats replacing Brambleclaw almost as soon as he leaves.

"Sandstorm! Firestar!" Hollyleaf says, both her grandparents running up to her and her brother. Lionblaze says nothing, just lets the leader and her mate curl around them worriedly.

"You three are okay, aren't you?" Sandstorm asks, sniffing over them. Like Leafpool hadn't already asked, and like she wouldn't be worrying over them like a mother hen as soon as Squirrelflight's injury was accounted for.

"Yes, we're fine." Hollyleaf nods, her smile still tight. She appreciates the concern, but it is hard to accept it like she used to. Now that Hollyleaf knows that these two cats might not even be her real grandparents...

"I'm so thankful Ashfur was there to help save you." Firestar says, casting a grateful glance over his shoulder, to where the gray warrior is talking with Ferncloud and Cloudtail; his head bows as he repeats the story of their "escape."

Lionblaze stiffens upon hearing the gray warriors name. But Hollyleaf manages to keep it together despite herself. "...Yes, it really was a miracle he was there." She mews. The black she-cat doesn't know what story that mangepelt had told the clan, but she was going to go with it for now. At least until the three of them had more information on their....family history.

"Where’s Jayfeather run off too?" Her grandfather asks, scanning the crowd of cats for his youngest medicine cat. There's still worry in his eyes, worry that comes with leading cats for seasons.

"He's gone to help Leafpool." Hollyleaf tells him. She puts a comfortable tail around Lionblaze's shoulder. Her brother is being oddly silent. She can't blame him for being shaken up. Not after what her and her littermates have just learned..

"She's checking on Squirrelflight, yes?" Firestar asks, scanning the crowd yet again for his daughters. Like he is scared the dying fire had reclaimed one of them, and taken the other with her this time.

"I think so." Lionblaze muttered, his amber eyes glancing back towards the clan. He looked like he longed to join them, to rest comfortably surrounded by his denmates. He must be exhausted from the escape.

"Good." Sandstorm purrs with relief, her shoulders finally able to relax. "I was worried about her wound opening up."

"Come on," Firestar says, starting to leading his grandchildren back towards the clan. "Let's get you two out of the rain and someplace to rest." Sandstorm mutters her agreement, and nudges Hollyleaf and Lionblaze along. They follow the two older cats, pawsteps falling heavily against the ground, dragged down by the things they have learned...

While every cat had greeted the three siblings, Leafpool ushered her sister away from everyone else; needing to check her still recovering wounds, and make sure that none of them had reopened. She tells Jayfeather to go check on the kits again, make sure they're not in shock. Her apprentice just grumbles, but does what he's told.

It was lucky she did too. Though Jayfeather would want to hear what his mother had to tell his sister, she's sure he wouldn't like it. In fact, it probably the last thong he would want to find out.

"Leafpool, they know." Squirrelflight whispered, Leafpool checking over her wound, reapply whatever she needed to with whatever herbs she had.

"They can't." Her sister mewed, horrified. She stopped working unconsciously, paws frozen where they hovered over Squirrelflight's flank. It was the worst news the medicine cat could've ever received. Her sister wished she didn't have to be the one to tell it.

Then again, the only other option was Ashfur, and whatever he would do was certainly unwelcome. Especially after his murder attempt he'd tried only mere minutes ago...

"They do." She mutters, touching her muzzle to Leafpool's comfortingly. Her sister will not be able to resume her work for a few minutes, the shock rotting her paws in place. "We have to talk later."

Once Leafpool is sure she's okay, she let's her sister go, and goes to double check Hollyleaf and Lionblaze. Squirrelflight leaves reluctantly. There is so much she needs to share with her sister, so much they need to discuss. But with the clan like this, there are too many listening ears nearby, and no good chances to sneak off.

Plus, their parents, Firestar and Sandstorm, were already trotting over to see her. And she couldn't run off without them seeing her. It wouldn't be fair.

Squirrelflight buries her face into his mother's warm fur for the first time since she was an apprentice, and Sandstorm has no idea why. She thinks it's because if the fire, of being trapped within it, that had scared her so much. Squirrelflight wishes it was just that.

She wishes what had happened back in that fire could've been so simple as just a falling tree.

#ron.fic #warrior cats #warrior cats fanfic #wc fanfic #leafpool #jayfeather #hollyleaf #brambleclaw #ashfur #lionblaze #firestar #sandstorm #thunderclan

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saey707 · 3 years ago

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Mi Querida

✿ Prompt: Your needy boyfriend is a heavy metal musician ✿

♡ champion focus: viego ♡ tw: none! ♡ Gender-neutral reader

Author's Note: Honestly I haven't been in the mood to write anything serious (♡ˊ͈ ꒳ ˋ͈) So these are just some (cough, self-indulgent, cough...) headcanon blobs for if you were modern Pentakill Viego's partner! Also! This is not my first time writing Penta Viego >:3 You can check out a longer one-shot that I wrote right here! Hope you all enjoy! (ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ.ﾟ

Viego isn't the most admired musician, especially because of his temperamental attitude and massive ego- But you know when he's away from the cameras and lights he is a completely different person. He may be rough and tough, doesn't give an eff Mutaris the Dissonance on stage, but with you, he's just Viego.

Viego cusses out his laptop screen whenever people leave hate comments on his new singles and you always have to calm him down

You're the only person he allows to help touch up his hair dye. Sometimes he'll put some of the dye of the current colors he's using in your hair so the two of you can match!

No matter how many rings and accessories Viego bears, the one he keeps to match with you will always remain on his ring finger

Viego loves pre-show cuddles and pep talks in his dressing room

If he sees you in the crowd during a performance he'll always toss a rose to you. And he will most definitely start focusing most of his attention on you while he sings (even though it pisses off management)!

Hell, when Viego has the opportunity to, he will get on his knees and crawl to the edge of the stage so he could hold your face or hand while he sings. He knows exactly what he's doing and the effect his stage presence has on you every time he does it

When you're both out in public he will always protect you. Like hell, he'll ever let anyone get too close to his muse!

After performances, your nights together are often spent eating take-out, cuddling up to one another, and watching all of Viego's telenovelas he didn't get to watch live. You always have to hold him and wipe his dripping black mascara when he cries

Epiphanies for new songs consist of you constantly refilling his coffee cup and giving him occasional kisses while you both do your own things in silence

Despite the fact that Viego is a heavy metal musician, it won't stop him from writing love songs for you

He's a hopeless, pathetic romantic! His love songs are always in Spanish because he claims it "comes from his heart, home, and soul". It's how you know Viego is his most authentic and real self with you!

He loves the way your eyes light up when he starts to sing, the huge grin that shines when he begins to strum his guitar

#saeybaewrites #drabble #headcanons #x reader #viego #the ruined king #viego lol #lol #viego league of legends #viego x reader #lol x reader #league of legends x reader #viego santiarul molach vol kalah heigaari #viego santiarul molach vol kalah heigaari x reader #dissonance of pentakill viego #dissonance of pentakill viego x reader

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quirkyfandomurl · 3 years ago

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Ninth chapter of my fic, hope you enjoy

(Tw for implied disordered eating habits)

Max pushes himself up off the forest floor. He snaps a small twig under his palm, flinching a little at the sound and then cursing himself out under his breath. He puts his hands in his hoodie pocket and starts hurriedly making his way to the tents.

He slows down once he gets near the tents. Max peeks through the trees to check if anyone is still milling about. No one. He creeps out of the woods and towards his tent, the dust of the campgrounds crunching lightly with each step. His eyes scan the area once more. A brief, quiet sigh escapes him. He slips into the tent.

A tall shadowy figure sits on one of the unused cots.

"Shit-!" Max yelps.

"Max- it's me, David," the presumably David figure says in a hushed tone.

"Why the fuck are you sitting there like some sort of fucking-" Max stumbles over his words, flapping his hands wildly. "I don't know, some fucking creep!"

The cot to the left of the tent creaks slightly. David stares at the cot for a moment before speaking.

"I needed to talk to you," David answers, his voice uncharacteristically serious. Max's mouth goes dry.

"What do you mean?" he asks, grabbing at the ends of his hoodie sleeves.

"I wanted to check up on you," David's words are slow and careful, "and to make sure you're safe."

Max's brow furrows. "I'm fine. Happy?" he says, a sense of caution weighing on his words.

The corners of David's mouth turn down slightly. "What were you doing out so late?"

"Nothing. Just going on a walk to cool off," Max quickly replies. Widened green eyes stare at David from the other end of the tent.

"Well," the counselor briefly pauses, "next time you go on a walk, make sure to bring a buddy with you. I'm sure one of your friends would be happy to join you," his voice is soft and gentle, as if trying not to set off a tripwire. "Ok?"

Max nods. David gets up. "Good night, Max," he says as he passes him.

The boy climbs into his cot. He pulls the covers over his head. Mr. Honeynuts is hugged close to his chest, pinned by his curled knees.

--------------

"Wake up, campers, today's a special day!" David's cheery words pierce the sleep of the rest campers. "Today is lake day!" Groans sound from almost all of the tents.

"Like we don't go to the lake every other fucking day…" Max mutters, still tucked in.

"Better than a hike," Neil offers, shrugging as he sits up. Max murmurs an unintelligible response.

Neil drags himself out of bed and to the rickety coffee maker set up in the tent. Max peeks out from under the covers to watch. Neil spoons the grounds into the filter. He almost puts away the grounds before getting interrupted.

"Wait," Max says, "leave those out."

Neil pauses, shrugging and placing the bag back on the small table. It almost falls off, but Neil catches it and scoots it further towards the machine, preventing a would-be tragedy.

Neil is almost finished preparing his coffee. Max is just starting to drag himself out of bed. He throws the covers back on the thin mattress and steps over to the machine. It groans to life once again after Max goes through the coffee making motions.

The two campers exit their tent and join the blob shuffling towards the mess hall. Nikki spots them from across the small crowd and runs over.

"Hi guys!" she says to the pair. "Whadya think this lake day will entail?"

"Lake shit," Max answers. Nikki frowns slightly.

"Swimming, fishing, maybe going out on a shitty old boat," Neil responds, loosely rolling his wrist as he speaks.

Max snorts. "Maybe literally," he adds.

"Get your breakfast, we're leaving soon," Gwen says from a table in the corner of the room. The campers line up and get their meals, then sit down at the tables.

Max slides his tray over to Nikki. "You can have this," he says.

"Really? You sure?" Nikki grins, albeit a little weaker than usual.

"Yeah, shit sucks anyways," he says. "Just let me have my tray back once you've got the stuff."

Nikki scrapes the gray mush onto her meal. It keeps a near perfect form, complete with plate texture on the bottom. She spins the tray back to Max as instructed.

Max watches as David makes the rounds. Most campers give the verbal equivalent of a shrug when he tries to make small talk, but a few kids - namely Space Kid - actually engage with the counselor's benign questions. Max can't understand why they do, but he doesn't mind. Doesn't hurt him. It actually might help in this instance.

It's not too long before David makes his way over to Max's table. "How are my happy campers doing?" he asks with a cheery smile. Neil mutters a "fine", Nikki gives a thumbs up from her pile of mush, and Max merely shrugs.

"Good to hear!" he chirps. Then he notices Max's plate. "Max, where's your food?"

"Ate it," the boy simply replies.

"That fast?" David asks, brows raised and eyes wide. He shakes his head quickly and briefly.

"Well, I'm glad you enjoyed it!" he beams. "See you at the lake!" The counselor waves at the kids before continuing on to other tables.

"What a fucking idiot," Max scoffs, "fell for one of the most common tricks."

"You sure you don't want some? I can share," Nikki offers, nudging the tray towards Max. The tray nudges back with a light push of Max's hand.

"Keep it. Seriously," he grumbles.

--------------

All the campers are gathered at the lake. The murky water laps at the lake shore, leaving a saliva of dull brown grit on the shimmering blond sand. Schools of small, black fish swirl in its stormy belly.

The co-counselors stand side-by-side on the dilapidated wooden dock. David stands proud while Gwen stands with the sun in her eyes. Early morning isn't the best time to be facing east.

"Today, we're fishing!" David proclaims with a grin. A small hand rises from the crowd. "Yes, Harrison?"

"Wouldn't we need a boat to go fishing?" he asks.

"Not if you use your hands!" David answers.

"Oo, great!" Nikki squeals.

"Oh, great…" Max grumbles.

Another small hand emerges. "How?" Nerris asks.

"Well," David says, "I can show you."

He walks off the dock, hopping onto the soft sand of the lakebed with a gentle thud. The campers watch as he wades into the more than slightly murky waters. Little fishes dart away just below the water's surface. Tiny black tails tuck themselves under the dark blanket.

"You need to let the fish come to you," he explains. He stares intently at the water. The water stares back.

"God, how long is this gonna take?" Max groans.

"Patience, Max. The fish will come when they're ready," David replies in a hushed tone.

After a few minutes, the fish start to trickle back to their previous locations. David remains completely still. Tensions among the school begin to ease as they cautiously accept David's legs as a new fixture of their environment. One particularly gutsy guppy dares to venture mere inches from him.

That's when he strikes. Massive hands crash into the water. Fish flee. Dirt stirs. The lake spits in David's face. The dejected counselor returns to an upright position, his shoulders slumped. He quickly rights himself to his regular ruler-straight posture.

"You know what they say; if you fail, try and try again!" he reassures himself.

Just as he said he would, he tries again. And gets the same results. Fish flee again, dirt continues to stir, and grimy lake water soaks the Camp Campbell shirt tied as a bandana around his neck.

He rights himself again, a shaky smile plastered on his face. "Third time's the charm!"

The cycle repeats. Max watches with mild contempt. David stands dejectedly once again. Only this time, he doesn't straighten himself. The fish won. Gwen steps off the dock and over to her co-counselor, resting a gentle hand on his soggy shoulder.

"Face it, David. Humans aren't meant to fish without tools," she consoles. He looks at her with big, sad eyes. Just as he opens his mouth to say something, a peppy voice breaks in.

"Not with that attitude!"

Nikki runs into the water, hands wildly grabbing for any fin or tail. She plunges her head into the lake. Muddy water fills her mouth, but no fish.

"Nikki!" Gwen scolds.

Nikki resurfaces, spitting out the water and wiping her tongue with her dirtwater-covered hands. "Blegh!"

She shakes her head wildly. Waterlogged pigtails shower both the counselors and all the campers with the gritty liquid. David yelps, jumping back and drawing up his arms. Futile attempts are made by the campers to shield themselves from the brownish rain. Gwen sighs.

"Alright, I'm calling it a day," she decides. "We're going back to camp and drying off."

"Can I stay? Pleeease?" Nikki pleads.

"No," Gwen bluntly answers.

"Awww!" Nikki protests.

"Come one," Gwen says, herding her and the other campers along. David trails behind the group. He casts one last forlorn look at the lake. It waves a sneering, brown goodbye from the shore.

#camp camp #cc max #cc david #cc nikki #cc neil #cc gwen #camp camp fanfic #my writing

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dsmp-agere-stuff · 4 years ago

Note

Heya Jade hope things are going okii for you <3

Can I request a SBI family au one shot with little Tech, Will and Tommy and caregiver Phil all just chilling in the antarctic empire having a fun snow day with hot cocoa and sleepy snuggles at the end?

They’re going good, thank you!!! You sure can!!

This is set in some weird place in time, don’t think about it too much.

Tw: food mention, I don’t think there’s anything else

“Phiiiil-“

Phil snorted and looked over at the three who were crowded at the window, looking out at the newly fallen snow. “Yeah, mate?” He asked.

Tommy whined, “snoooow!!!”

“There’s always snow out there.”

“Yeah but now it’s REAL fluffy!!!” Tommy went over to stand in front of Phil.

“Ya’huh! And sticky!!!” Wilbur giggled.

“Snowman time!! Please!!!” Tommy pouted and tilted his head, trying to look cute.

“Hmmm.” Philza glanced at the other two, Wilbur staring at him, Techno still looking outside, then sighed, “go get your coats.”

Tommy gasped and grabbed Wilbur by the hand, then dragged him away to look.

Phil got up and grabbed a coat for himself and Techno, “Tech?”

Techno looked up and stood to be taller than Phil, mumbling thanks as he took his coat.

Phil rubbed Techno’s head, “tell me if you get too cold. We’ll have hot chocolate when we get in.”

Techno nodded, then jumped at the other two running in, laughing at Tommy nearly getting trampled by Wilbur.

Phil laughed too, helping Tommy up. Wilbur was already out the door and yelled because he forgot to put shoes on. Tommy giggled at that and threw some shoes at Wilbur, then followed him out, careful not to slip on the icy wood.

Phil and Techno got out and followed them out to the front of the lawn, only for someone to throw a snowball at them. They didn’t see who and Tommy and Wilbur were both pointing at each other.

Techno hummed and grabbed two hand fulls of snow, “guess I’ll have to just wreck both you need!” Then started throwing.

Phil laughed and began helping while the other two scattered into behind the bee farm, laughing and bouncing.

Tommy took a breath, hearing the two come from both sides of the bee farm. He held three fingers up for Wilbur, then began putting them down, one by one, or at least that was the intention, but Wilbur started running as soon as Tommy got to two, so Techno ended up getting him in the back.

Tommy laughed, “Wilbur, you idiot!” Then Philza threw a blob of snow at him.

Wilbur stuck a tongue out and grabbed some snow, “Free fo’ all!” He shouted and threw some at Tommy.

Techno immediately went for Philza, giggling the whole time. Phil used his poncho to hide himself from the cold, “come on, mate!”

Wilbur started going for Philza too, then Tommy joined, so everyone was just covering Phil in snow, “boooys-“ Phil tried to not laugh too hard, “stop!”

Wilbur tried running forward to get Phil more, but just fell on his face instead. He laughed and made a snow angel in defeat.

Tommy giggled and pressed his foot against Wilbur’s side.

“Toooommy! You’re ‘uining my snow angel!”

“No I’m not!”

Techno flopped so he could use Wilbur’s back as pillow, “snow crime!”

Phil smiled and messed up Wilbur’s gray hair, “I’m gonna go in and make some hot chocolate.”

Techno snorted, “sore loser.”

Phil rolled his eyes, “Will, Tommy, I think you get what to do.” Then went inside.

Techno giggled as he tried to hide from the snow coming from both directions, running around the yard until he got tired and shook off, then went inside, setting the wet coat and the boots by the fire.

Phil smiled and waved, “can you tell the other two to not get the whole house wet?”

“Mhm.” Techno went to sit on the couch beside the door to wait for them.

Tommy was currently dragging Wilbur through the snow, while talking about something.

Phil stuck his head outside, “boys! Come on! Hot chocolate!”

They both got up and ran up the stairs, then inside.

Techno stopped them, “coats and boots by the fire.”

Tommy giggled at how much snow was in Wilbur’s hair as he helped Wilbur take the coat off, “bulldozer head.”

“An not.”

“Oh yeah! Snowplower head!!”

Wilbur blew a raspberry at Tommy and took off his boots, then went to get the drink.

Phil gave Wilbur a pat as he handed it over. “There you go.”

Wilbur hummed and took it over to the couch, then laid down against Techno as he drank it.

Tommy got his then pulled Wilbur’s legs into his lap, chugging it.

Philza handed Techno his then sat next to Tommy.

Wilbur yawned and placed his drink on the table in front of them, then whined at Tommy. Tommy finished his and put it next to Wilbur’s; then lean on him, “good?”

Wilbur hummed happily and hugged Tommy around the arm.

Techno pet Wilbur, “night.”

Tommy fell asleep right after Wilbur, leaving Techno stuck under the two with a nice drink.

Phil laughed at Techno being stuck, “good luck getting up mate.”

“Thanks.” Techno hummed and continued drinking, getting comfortable there. He fell asleep a bit later.

#agere tommyinnit #little!tommyinnit #agere Philza #cg!philza #agere technoblade #little!technoblade #agere wilbur soot #little!wilbur soot #jade writes #ask #agere mcyt #agere dsmp

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casuallydyinginthecorner · 4 years ago

Text

Nothing's Going To Hurt You- a Kiribaku Oneshot

I already posted this, but it was kinda hard to find, so... here it is again! Check the tags for tws!

Rating: PG-13

The dream started out familiar enough. The class was in the middle of training, and Bakugo had just blown through a row of cement blocks. He shouted triumphantly. His record was beaten for the second time today. Then All Might came into the room. No, he decided. He could do better. He tried again, but instead of exploding like the previous shot, the blocks caught the explosions and transformed into hands.

At first, the hands came towards him in a motherly caress. Then they turned gnarled, grabbing him and forcing him into a chair.

“You want to be a hero?” Shigaraki said in his mother’s voice. “Let’s see what you can do.” His grip turned to iron as the scene changed once again.

Now Bakugo was at the sports festival, his body chained to the pole, thunderous applause deafening his ears. The crowd around him faded and solidified into a person- first Half-and-Half, then Deku, then All Might. They extended a hand, the temperature rising around them.

“Let’s see what you can do.”

The heat grew from intense to suffocating, until soon enough it became so hot that the world around him contracted into a ball. No, the ball. He was trapped again, but this time Bakugo was too big to fit. Too big, yet so, so small. No matter how hard he punched and kicked and hit the walls, they only got harder, thicker, absorbing all the air. Bakugo’s face watered. If he didn’t find a way to get out now, he would die.

The walls expanded, turning into a stern hand that slapped his cheek.

“You think talking will get you what you want?” his mother scolded. “No. If you speak so quietly, cry so often, you will never get what you want. Stand up, Katsuki. Your crying is pathetic.”

But Bakugo couldn’t stop the tears from falling. It wasn’t his fault that he got kidnaped. It wasn’t his fault that he lost to Half-and-Half. It wasn’t his fault that he’d lost the chance to be more to his enemy, a quirkless, slower, pathetic person, who was somehow more brave, more courageous, more persistent, and somehow stupid enough to reach his hand out when Bakugo could get out of this mess himself, because he was supposed to be better. Than. This.

Bakugo shoved the hand aside and started running. But he couldn’t escape it. The hand melted into a new, expanding darkness, taking a new form in vague but recognizable blobs- his classmates. As he ran forward, they moved farther away. Bakugo jumped into the air and used explosions to propel himself, but to no avail. They surpassed him, and he was left behind. No. Not like this.

He extended his arm out and grabbed one. When it turned around, its face was made of tape. Bakugo jerked his hand back. The fire in his second hand sputtered out, landing on another blob, this one pink. Another seized him from behind, this one sparking waves of electricity. When he got pushed down, down, down into the darkness, the blob was bright red.

No. He couldn’t take this anymore. His limbs were numb, hair matted to his face with sweat and tears. But he had to endure it. He had to get through this. He couldn’t lose; not to All Might, not to Deku, and certainly not to some dream.

The darkness became more pressured as he fell. Bits of the blobs fell with him, turning into staticy bits of memories. The pressure increased as he took them in-a glimpse of his kindergarten teacher whispering a warning to “be careful around Bakugo, his behavior lately is erratic,” one of his mother and father shutting the door to his room until he could “get over himself” after a tantrum, one of All Might, pulling him away from Deku, not saying anything, but his expression saying enough.

As Bakugo fell down, the pressure in his ears turned to humming whispers, all saying one thing: you’re worthless.

Then, as a final parting gift, the dream changed one last time. He saw the bits of static form into one large person, floating towards the almost microscopic Bakugo-different now, older, but it had the same evil, chilling smile. It wasn’t until his body started crumbling into dust that he recognized it as Shigaraki’s.

“You’d make a fine villain someday.”

Even though Bakugo knew it was a dream, he could still feel the tingling of Decay working its way up his body. His lungs were constricting, filling with sand. He couldn’t breathe, no matter how hard he tried. Around him, the darkness became crushing, creating a void in his mind, threatening to suck up everything until he became nothing, just an insignificant speck. But wasn’t that all he was? Katsuki Bakugo would never be a hero, never rise to the top and become number one (1). Why should he even try? If all he would amount to would be worth too little, why should anyone believe in him? It was his fault he was kidnapped. If only he had trained faster, stronger, pushed himself harder and harder until he couldn’t anymore, maybe he would have-

“Bakugo?”

Suddenly the pressure eased, but the Decay didn’t stop. His lungs began to dissolve, droplets of blood filling the air. This was it. This was how he went out. A stupid, stupid dream.

“Bakugo, listen to me.” Somehow, this voice seemed different than the ones in the dream. Stable. More sure.

Something came out of the darkness. A hand, unfurling in his direction. After what he’d seen, Bakugo should have scrambled back and fired explosions at it. But this hand seemed different. It wasn’t suffocating or pressuring. If anything, it was inviting. Reassuring. Reaching out, not to harm, but save him.

He felt something on his arm. A faint, warm pressure, keeping him from fully drifting away. The hand moved closer.

“Focus on my hand. It’s warm, right?” Closer.

“It’s warm, just like the room. You’re in the common room, on the couch that faces the TV. The heater is going off, and it’s making a rumbling noise.” Closer.

The voice continued. “You’re lying on the couch, and one of your hands is on the floor. Can you feel it?” Closer. Slowly, the darkness faded to a lighter gray.

“It’s 1:24 a.m. No one else is here. It’s just you and me.” The hand was so close that Bakugo could almost see its jagged lines. If he jumped up now, he would reach it.

“You’re fine. You’re safe. You can open your eyes and nothing’s going to hurt you.” The hand became attached to a torso, which became attached to a face. Unlike the others, he could see this one clearly.

“Nothing’s going to hurt you.”

As Bakugo jumped from the ground, the face called out. Come on!

“Nothing’s going to hurt you.” The darkness turned to white as Bakugo took the hand. His eyes opened. The common room came into focus, and with that, someone else.

“Sh*tty Hair?”

“Yep.” He moved closer. “How do you feel?”

“Why do you care?” Bakugo sat up. Someone had set a glass of water on the coffee table in front of him.

“Drink this.” Sh*tty Hair handed him the glass. Bakugo downed it gratefully. With a start, he realized that Sh*tty Hair’s hand was still intertwined in his.

“What are you doing here, anyway?” Bakugo asked, tearing his hand away. He decided to ignore the look of hurt on Sh*tty Hair’s face.

“I was getting water and saw you fell asleep. I was gonna leave you be, but you were breathing so quickly…” Sh*tty Hair trailed off. “A panic attack,” he finally said. “I get those sometimes, too. What I just did? It’s called grounding. It helps.” His gaze went to the glass. “Oh, are you finished? I’ll get you some more water. And then,” he said, “we can talk about what happened? If you want?”

Bakugo said nothing. Why had he stepped in? His dream, or panic attack, or whatever it was, wasn’t any of his business.

Sh*tty Hair shrugged. “I don't know. It helps me to talk about it, sometimes.” He went over to the kitchen area, first grabbing another glass, then filling both with water from the sink. It wasn’t until he came back that Bakugo asked his question.

“Why did you help me?” he grumbled.

“What?”

“Why did you help me?” You’d think he told Sh*tty Hair he wanted to play chess, he was so shocked.

“Why wouldn’t I?” He chuckled. “You needed help-and there’s nothing wrong with that- and I know how it feels when you’re alone and panicking, so…”

What had he said? Nothing’s going to hurt you. Tch. Like he would know. But still, if what he’d said was true…

“I need to be alone.” Luckily, Sh*tty Hair seemed to understand.

“I’ll be in my room if you need me. Door’s unlocked.” With that, he set off towards the staircase.

Bakugo hesitated. Nothing’s going to hurt you.

“Sh*tty Hair?”

He turned around. “Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

A small smile spread across his face. “Anytime.”

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ultimate-distaster-material · 4 years ago

Text

-Pg Saiouma Oneshots- Stalker! Shuichi x Kokichi

!TW!

Blood

Mentions Self Harm

Detailed Murder

Stalking

Obsession

SHUICHI POV

I watched the small boy as he exited the classroom. I admired his features. His purple silky hair, his multicoloured violet and yellow eyes, not to mention his adorable eyelashes. I adored the boy, maybe too much.

The bell had just rung throughout the building, signaling that it’s time for lunch. I then happily strolled over to where Kokichi and I usually sit on the rooftop, waiting for him.

It’s been 5 minutes, and Kokichi hasn’t showed up. I walked down from the roof, pushing a bunch of students down in the process.

They were getting in my way, what else was I supposed to do?

I spotted a blob of purple in the middle of a crowd of bullies. Walking over, I sneakily ripped out a knife from my pocket, and held it close to the bully’s neck, glaring at him.

“What do you think you are doing?”

Every word dripped with venom as I breathed into his ear, the bully freezing in his place, not daring to move. In fact, all the bullies paused, scared for their lives. The knife left the guy’s neck as I placed it back in my pocket, all of the bullies scurrying off in different directions. I peered down at the purple blob, which I identified as Kokichi. Smiling, I offered him a hand and helped him stand, watching as he gently dusted off his uniform, looking at me.

“S-Sorry…I probably c-cause so much t-trouble f-for you…”

“It’s fine! I really don’t mind!”

I started ranting about Danganronpa to Kokichi while we walked to the rooftop, sitting down, admiring the glorious view. I smiled at Kokichi as I began to eat my lunch.

“Where’s your lunch?”

“O-Oh…I just e-eat at home…”

I offered my food to the small boy, receiving a no in return. I forcefully gave the food to him, even after his failed attempts of trying to get me to stop.

||Time Skip||

I watched as my beloved Kichi entered his house. I scurried up the tree next to his bedroom window, sneakily peering inside his room, the boy not in view. I waited patiently, knowing he had abusive parents and would probably get beaten up while rushing to his room. I spotted the door open slightly, seeing small hands lock it hurriedly. The figure which I identified as Kokichi flopped onto his bed, obviously tired and worn out. He eyes slowly closed as small drops of blood trickled down his face, dripped messily onto his bed sheets. I assumed the blood was from his parents. I hated those monsters so much; I was the only one allowed to hurt my beloved! Not them!

I slyly opened his window a tiny bit, listening intently to the soft, adorable snores coming from the small boy, fully opening the window a few minutes after, hopping into the room. pArKouR!

I was entirely sure he was asleep, otherwise, I wouldn’t even be inside his room right now. I carefully sat down on the bed, caressing Kokichi’s cheek delicately. I combed my spare hand through his silky hair, which was now partly covered in pink liquid. I sighed and walked out of his room, into the bathroom.

“Who the heck are you!?”

I calmly turned around, expecting this. I saw his mother pointing at me, shocked.

“I’m your son’s stalker.”

“That brat doesn’t deserve a stalker…”

I furrowed my eyebrows as I clenched my fingers roughly around the woman’s neck, her fingernails digging deep into my wrist as she wailed and begged. I threw her against the wall without mercy, and kneeled down to her level. I sneakily reached for my pocket, grasping the knife I had hidden.

“You’ve lived a good life. Actually, I lied. Your life was atrocious.”

I watched as my knife slit her neck, the satisfying pink liquid rushed down her bruised and bloodied neck. I smiled, seeing her white dress get dyed neon pink. Her eyes looked dull and lifeless, and her hands were resting just below her throat, failing to touch the wound and rescue her from death. This was fun. I should really do this more often.

I continued my search in the bathroom, placing bandages and ointment into my arms as I walked out, and heading to Kichi’s room. I slowly entered the room, placing all the items on the bed and gently patching up Kichi’s wounds, making sure to not wake him up. I cleaned up the blood on his head and bandaged up his bruised wrist, along with patching up all his cuts and picking out the glass. Lastly, I lightly lifted up his sleeve, observing his wrists and arms, examining all the cuts littering his skin, which were caused from self-harm. I sighed and sat down on his bed. I took a few glorious photos of my beloved while I had time. I didn’t need to worry about his father, since he was probably cheating with another women. I kissed Kichi’s forehead and jumped out the window, leaving it open. I always keep it open, since I know Kokichi shrugs it off, thinking his parents probably do it. I strolled comfortably down the pathway, directing myself to my house. Maybe Kokichi should move in? Nah, he’d freak out and worry about his father, since he doesn’t need to worry about his mother anymore.

I slotted the key into the lock, swinging the door open cheerfully. I immediately rushed to my office, swiftly printing out the pictures of my beloved. I needed them so badly…

The pictures finally finished! I’m so happy~ I started to stick them onto the back wall of my closet, adding 26 more to my collection. The wall was almost full…Damn it! I stared at the beautiful photos for about 10 more minutes, slightly drooling and getting distracted. He’s just too cute!

I crawled under my bedsheets and took out my phone, beginning to watch the new episode of Danganronpa, still thinking about my Kichi.

Thinking about how only I can have him, not anyone else…

#Ok but like-#pregame kokichi #pregame shuichi #pregame saiouma #saiouma #shuichi saihara #kokichi ouma #danganronpa #omg thats so gay wth #gay

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gokurakuji · 4 years ago

Text

❗️ tw: horror, implied death in the family, implied alcohol abuse

unpublished shorts

the death of kim seokjin (2015)

Seokjin realizes one of his earbuds died when he can hear the grit of his bicycle pedals.

Huffing, his breath paints an ashen fog on Gwacheon’s December canvas, another monotone colour to add to the pre-existing black and rat-gray from the chucked-off cement and stripped trees. He shoves his earbuds inside the pocket of his coat and the pedals grit louder.

Winter is harsh. Exams pile up and textbooks pages peel off and his father wants him to take politics.

His father wants many things. Seokjin just wants to go home and have somebody to eat cake with. Or have a cake, for God’s sake. Not one cake store is open at this hour. He can’t really pull his phone out of his trousers to check the exact time, but he’s passing by the park now. There’s an old clock by the entrance, a chunky monolog one with hands posing somewhere past 11:45.

This time out, only high school kids are around, lumbering on weary legs and weary shoulders. He can spot a streak of black hair some distance in front of him, swallowed by a plait red muffler, and recognizes right away that it’s Hwayeon, the girl from the co-ed school he met in his hagwon. He pity-dated her a month ago. It lasted a week. She stormed away after he pushed her aside when she kissed him, smashing his mother’s antique Chinese cup to the floor. That’s probably why Seokjin remembers her back profile so well. It wasn’t like there was any other choice. He couldn’t possibly tell her he’s in love with his classmate: he goes to an all-boy’s school.

The blobs of school uniforms beside her must be her friends. Same drama. Not exactly a crowd he wants to say hi to, this, or any time, really. Seokjin curves his bicycle handle away and reroutes through the park. A long way home. But he needs it anyway. He needs time.

He doesn’t have time. No third year high school student has, in this education system. The park is even darker, deserted. Throughout the holed pavements, the blinking light from the head of his bike leads the way, the metal nameplate of Oh Chungsoo on the lapel of his uniform jacket catching most of the glint.

The faint light is not emitting any heat to his chalk-white hands, fingertips frozen because of course he left his gloves in the drawer of his hagwon table. At least the weather numbs the blisters on his fingers, especially that one open cut he got from gripping his pen too stiffly. The blood had left a mark on Chungsoo’s Korean exam paper. Bright side: at least that’s the only red he’s getting on a paper this time.

It’s funny that he didn’t get caught. Sure, Chungsoo and he might stand out in a throng of PC-bang-bred high school boys, but they look nothing alike.

“I look good, you look good,” Chungsoo explained to him once. Chungsoo’s room smelled like chainsmoker because it belonged to one. Seokjin doesn’t like cigarettes. It’s a pretty simple equation. Father smokes + Seokjin doesn’t like father = Seokjin doesn’t like cigarettes. “You ask a kid around, hey which one’s that Oh Chungsoo dude, and you say the shithead with the face. You show up and bam, you’re Oh Chungsoo.”

“We wear name tag pins.”

And really, Seokjin shouldn’t have said that because that was what started all this shit.

Midway through the park, he starts to regret his cowardly decision to avoid Hwayeon. Because fuck, it’s subzero and creepy in this place. The can of milk tea in the pocket of his backpack has chilled from the cold and it must be his birthday by now. Birthday. He’ll eat cake beside a framed picture of his mother. His father will drink on the living room sofa and ask if he’s applied for politics yet to a good school. His brother would probably remember, if he’s sober enough.

All of a sudden, on the path he’s biking on, the light from Seokjin’s bike spills over a misplaced, shadowy chunk, its bulk half on the grass and half on the dirt.

He pedals an inch closer. One more inch.

What is it? A dead animal? It’s too large to be a stray cat. The curiosity throws his mind off Chungsoo’s cigarettes and his father crying in front of a coffin and his brother’s voice singing him happy birthday.

And he sees it.

There’s a body in a school uniform sprawled under his bicycle light.

It’s missing a head.

Seokjin’s thoughts black out with the grind of his pedals, wheels screeching to a stop as his foot pivots him to the ground. It lands on something wet and sticky and dirty red. Without the friction from the wheels, the light of his bike clips off. The last thing Seokjin sees is a name tag pin:

Kim Seokjin.

#unpublished #shorts #bts fic #fd: 2015 #general #bts

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wasteyrselfkid · 4 years ago

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on turning 21 and other things,

(tw: suicide, mental illness)

i'm okay with being alone on most days, in fact, i love being all alone in my room all day. a book i read a while ago said 'i never found the companion that was so companionable as solitude' and i agree for the most part but sometimes the loneliness gets so overwhelming that being alone feels almost scary, especially on your birthday. i guess loneliness really sets in when you're finishing another revolution around the earth all alone in your bedroom but it's not like i felt any less lonely when I was surrounded by people i know in a crowded club in delhi. I guess what im trying to say is that I am bound to feel this sense of loneliness on every birthday. I fell asleep after writing the last sentence because it got too much even though I told my best friend I need to lie down and cut the call. maybe I just wanted to end the day on a sad note because that's what I've known since I stopped opening birthday gifts on the living room floor at my old house after all my friends left... and i was too distracted or unaware for a lack of better word that everything is not as great as it might seem for a moment.

i never finished writing this and it's been almost a month since i've turned 21. i won't lie i never thought i'd make it to 21. i'm surprised but i won't say i'm not disappointed. last year, on my birthday, once again alone in my room - crying, i promised myself that i'm going to try to become better in every way possible and actually put in the little will and hope i have into taking care of myself and see how it goes till my next birthday. if it doesn't work out, 21 doesn't sound like the worst age to disappear. i made it to 21, a little better in every way possible, still fucking sad from time to time, but i did everything i could or so i say. but i made the same promise myself to again and to be fair, it's not a bad deal. it's ironic that i'm postponing my demise in hopes that i get better, not even happy and content, just better. isn't that what everyone does until they realise it doesn't get better? i won't lie, on a day like today, it feels like it won't get better. but the little voice at the back of my head tries to convince me that it does and until my next birthday, i'll try believing her.

i don't think my life sucks, i don't think i suck either, i just find it extra hard to live life the way its supposed to be lived - to wake up, brush my teeth, work, talk to my friends and family, all of it. it doesn't come easily to me and it never has. even though, anyone who is even close to me or lives in the same house as me, would think that i've got my shit together in every sense possible - i wake up, brush my teeth, work, talk to friends and family, all of it. but every night before i go to bed, i can feel life draining out of me. every consecutive day it gets harder to wake up, i can't even fathom brushing my teeth on some days, and at times, for weeks. i don't know if this is how life is supposed to be lived, in fact, i know even if there's no one correct way to live - this definitely does not come under it. i guess having a couple of screws loose in your head makes you feel grey in every sense possible. even on your birthday. even when you're going to meet your best friend after months. even when you achieve things. it's tiring to experience pain so greatly and pleasure so fleetingly.

thinking about the future has never been exciting, not when i was 13, not now, not ever. how can something that i cannot guarantee be exciting? if anything, it's nerve-wracking. but to disappear forever as a last resort, if nothing works out, is so so so comforting. even though it's at the cost of disappointing everyone around you, but when you've been selfless your entire life - putting everyone else before yourself, this amount of disappointment is warranted for. and i hate the idea of not ending your life because it will disappoint other people, and i never think about this but what about me? how do i feel? i don't know how i feel about turning 21, i don't feel a lot of things these days. i've been living on autopilot. i don't feel the same love i felt for my friends. i can see my family disintegrating day by day and it has been years, i can only wait for it to crumble completely now. i don't feel as scared about losing my boyfriend anymore. i don't feel excited or nervous about future prospects. i don't feel anything about how i look, i don't even care to look at myself in the mirror anymore. i don't feel much but i do think a lot.

everyday i get closer and closer to just disappearing, not dying, but just disappearing from everywhere and everyone's lives. what kind of life is it when you're exhausted at the thought of speaking to your closest friends? what kind of life is it when your favourite hobbies start feeling like chores that require you to move mountains? what kind of life is it when you look into the mirror or your front camera and you don't recognise yourself anymore? what kind of life is it when you don't even care to listen to music or watch movies and use books as an escape, not for pleasure, but just to feel like you're doing something, if nothing at all? what kind of life is it when you don't feel like taking pictures of anything anymore, but you do anyway, because what if your next birthday is your last and people will have more of something to remember you by?

i guess what i'm trying to say is that turning 21 doesn't feel any different than turning any other age, my entire life has been one big blob of grey and as i get older, the blob keeps getting greyer and smaller. i found time to write this today because something disrupted my autopilot mode routine - i did nothing, i cried a little, i smoked a cigarette and thought about all the work i had to do, i skipped my workout. that made me feel shitty enough to sit down and continue writing this. i wonder if when i started writing this, it was meant to be much more hopeful - about how i enjoy solitude and i don't need anyone. and this still holds true. on most days, i'd rather be alone than with anyone. i can probably go days without speaking to people. but what kind of life is it...to enjoy solitude because you're too tired for anything else? and what kind of life is it that requires you to function like a robot to feel alright? and what kind of life is it that this is the kind of blog-post you write on turning 21?

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treeni · 5 years ago

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Say My Name

Day 1 of Soulmate September

DRLAMP

Summary: When people turn 16, the name of their soulmate appears on their palms in black. When a person meets their soulmate and introduces themselves, the mark changes to a color reflecting that person. However, when Janus turned 16 all that appeared was a big black smudge.

Words: 5229

TW: swearing, mentions of traumatic childhood event, fire

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Taglist: @tsshipmonth2020

It was rude to ask, but that hardly ever stopped people from inquiring why Janus didn’t know the name of his soulmate. Everyone knew the name of their soulmates. When you reached the age of 16, it would literally appear across your palm. Janus remembered that year, all of his class mates, one by one coming in with names written across their palms, some in fancy script, some in large bubbly fonts, some in absolute chicken scratch. He remembered one person’s walked in with gloves on because it turned out the name was written in comic sans of all things. Yet, when he walked in with countless people waiting in anticipation for his big birthday reveal, all Janus had to show them was a large, seemingly meaningless black blob on his hand.

It seemed like no one around him had ever seen anything like it before. The doctors had said it might somehow be linked to his scars, the fire that he barely survived as a kid if not for his father’s near-suicidal rescue mission. They both made it out alive, but Janus was barely holding on. Weeks of hospitalization, monitoring, skin-grafts, and a lot of grief, left a child with scar tissue on the whole left side of his body. He wasn’t teased as much as you’d expect. When he finally returned to school a big, school-wide assembly was held about happened that left him being treated like some hero for some reason. Janus didn’t like the attention at the time, but it had its advantages in the long run. When he didn’t want to participate in gym, he could blame sensitivity and the other students were quick to defend him on it even against the teachers. When his work was late because he took a self-care day, he was never docked the extra time.

However, there were disadvantages too. The sensitivity was something he did deal with, especially against the cold or direct sunlight, the scar tissue didn’t handle the exposure well. It seemed that never knowing the identity of his soulmates, if he even had one, was one of them. Just another way he was different than everyone else.

Then again, the black spot might have been the universe sending another a big karmic “fuck you” his way for all of the times he used his scars to play innocent and garner sympathy. After all, it couldn’t have been Janus who pushed the bully jock down the stairs, not Janus. He was practically crippled after all!

That was how people treated him at least, even his parents. Especially his parents. It was a frustratingly fruitless endeavor to try and prove he wasn’t absolutely useless. So he let people think what they were going to think. If everyone wanted to believe he was a fragile snowflake that would fall apart at the slightest touch? Well, it just made easier to get away with things because general perception became his permanent alibi.

Still, when college rolled around, he took the first ticket out to the farthest, decent university that would take him and a distance he went. Between his high grades and essays he didn’t receive one rejection letter. Universities really ate up sob stories of grievances that had to be overcome and he certainly had a grievance. Still, he liked to think at least part of it was his own merit, even if it felt like a lie.

Though there were a lot of things he had already given up on in life by age 18, when he had first attended the university he had let himself be a little bit excited about it. It was a new place with new people, people who didn’t see the kid who almost burned in a house fire, the kid who would never find a soulmate. He had a chance to start over and be more than his circumstances.

Except, he quickly realized it was more of the same. He tried layering fabrics, covering up as much of his scars as possible so people wouldn’t notice as much. He already kept them mostly covered anyway to protect against sensitivity, so it wasn’t a huge change. He started wearing gloves, one to hide the scars and the other to hide the mockery of a soul mark. It seemed no matter what he tried though, it made no difference. He couldn’t hide the scars on his face.

So there he was, nearly finished his freshman year of college, sitting in the library by himself because he refused to repeat his past experiences. If people didn’t want to treat him like an actual person, then he resolved that he didn’t need them. He had settled on the path of becoming a lawyer and honestly it wasn’t like he needed anyone slowing him down anyway. Truly. Friends would just hold him back by taking up valuable studying time anyway.

Janus took a sip of bitter coffee to refocus himself as he stared blankly at the computer screen in front of him. He knew that his course load would most definitely keep him too busy for friends in the future, but the now was a bit of a struggle. He had actually... run out of assignments to complete and was nearly a month ahead. The professors had laid everything out in the syllabus so it was easy to just work his way through. Sure, when the library started to crowd with procrastinating students scrambling to make the grade, he’d be able to just relax because he’d all but finished his work for the semester. Still, it felt a little hollow. Nearly a month of... basically nothing to do, no one to see, just mindlessly attending classes to be assigned work he’d already completed.

It wasn’t the first time it happened either, Janus had been miserable toward the end of the previous semester as well after finishing early then too. The last few weeks were basically miserable stagnation that continued through the holidays because he refused to go home over the break. He only started to feel like himself again when the new term started and he had a whole new set of work to complete.

With a huff, he angrily clicked the e-learning program closed and was left unsatisfied by finality of it. He needed something, like an old school corded phone or maybe he’d just go key some poor sods car. The university’s president had a dedicated spot and he’d heard she was a real piece of work. He’d never met her himself, but he’d heard some stories that she was a real Jekyll and Hyde, except the Hyde was her default. Somehow her transition only seemed to magically take place when a camera was pointed in her direction. Speaking of cameras, if he redirected the security camera he could probably get away with it too. At least it’d be something to do. Plotting through how best to get away with it, he took a long sip of coffee. It was hot and burned his tongue, but taste-wise it as bitter as his current mood and felt appropriate somehow.

While contemplating if he should raid the library’s staff lounge for sugar (it’s not like they’d do anything about it anyway) a loud noise sounded from his left, immediately grabbing his attention. He realized the almost ‘harump’ like sound was a book hitting the floor. He didn’t think too much of it as he involuntarily looked in the direction of the sound’s source. Occasionally falling books were an inevitability in a place that housed so many. The person closest to the fallen book though caught his attention for more than just a passing glance.

He was tall, lean and muscular and Janus found himself immediately trying to swallow down the gay. It didn’t help that the guy wore low hanging cargo pants with ripped muscle shirt that showed off his midriff. His face was tucked in another book, but Janus could see an odd tuft of silver hair sticking out against a full head of soft dark curls. As he inspected further, he noticed the guy was covered in red splatters of some sort that he sincerely hoped was the ink of a red pen. He had a large smudge of whatever it was up his left bicep. He continued to flip through pages, seemingly at random before haplessly tossing the book onto the floor next to the first and pulling another off the shelf and doing the same.

Oh.

This guy was a bastard.

Well, at least that meant Janus’ guilt over staring immediately evaporated.

In fact, Janus just let himself lean back in his chair, coffee in hand and legs crossed as he openly watched the antics taking place in front of him. Other library patrons started to look toward the bastard as well as the sound of random books hitting the floor continued. Though, while Janus stared in amusement, the others mainly threw looks of annoyance. Not everyone had the leniency of being weeks ahead in their coursework he supposed. As the pile seemed to grow almost endlessly the sound seemed to pause as the bastard took longer with the current book in his hands, sifting through it slower than the others until he shut it with a reverberating ‘bang’ no quieter than any of the books falling to the ground and stuffed it into a backpack that was leaned against the shelves. Now without a blockade in front of the bastards face, Janus could see that he was unfortunately handsome. Even from his position a few feet away Janus could see the high cheekbones of an almost sculpted face. It was only ruined slightly by a nearly cartoonish mustache sitting atop a perfect cupids bow. It was almost as if a generic Greek artist carved the guy from straight marble and some teenager vandalized the statue with ratty clothes, an exploding pen, and god-awful facial hair. The lips he was focusing on stretched in a wide grin as Janus looked up to see the bastard wiggling his eyebrows at him. He scoffed in reply and pretended to gag, like he was uninterested.

You know, like a liar.

The bastard still had the audacity to stare his way with a big, wolfish grin and winked as he walked away... and straight into the banister separating the open concept from the lower floor. Tall, dark, and handsome fell across it, bending at the hips like a rag doll. He let out a yelp as the wind was knocked out of him from the railing pushing hard into his stomach and then he started to slide. Janus was running to his aid before he had even realized he had gotten up, his coffee a forgotten puddle on the floor as his cup was still rolling from the impact. The guy had managed to grab hold of the banister with one hand on his way down, but he was left dangling and it wasn’t clear how long he could hold himself there. Janus reached down and secured his grip by wrapping his forearms around the one gripping the banister. There was no way Janus would be able to pull him up on his own, but he could probably hold the position.

“Can you swing?” Janus asked, putting all of his focus and energy in his grip. Don’t let go, don’t let go, don’t let him slip, don’t let go.

Without answering, the guy did a small test swing that had Janus clenching his teeth and tightening his grip to make sure as hell this guy didn’t fall.

“Oh three then, one, two-” Janus counted and reached further down to lock their elbows straight to make sure this worked. “Three!”

With a strong swing of the hips the dangling stranger arched upward, with Janus using leverage principles from his position above to add the extra oomph needed for the guy to lock his foot underneath the rail and grab hold of the bars with his other hand. Janus let himself be used as a handhold as the stranger crawled over the banister and back onto solid ground. He was reminded of just how unfortunately attractive the guy was a strong hands gripped his shoulders and bright emerald eyes stared down at his own mismatched pair.

“My hero!” The guy yelled and then suddenly foreign lips were pressed against Janus’ own.

The kiss was over as soon as it began, but that didn’t stop Janus from noticing the tongue that had traced over his lips before he pulled away.

“Oh! Sorry! Pattoncake’s always reminding me to work on my boundaries. I’m supposta try askin’ before I start mackin’ ya know?”

Janus knew... some of those words. To be fair, he wasn’t even sure he was processing the ones he did know, still a little dazed between the guy in front of him nearly falling off the indoor balcony and then the sudden kiss. His first kiss.

“I’ve always wanted to do that though and it was just nice to be saved for once by someone who wasn’t Roman. No one wants to kiss that ugly mug anyway,” the stranger said before holding out a hand to him. “I’m Remus by the way!”

Janus was about to take his hand and shake it, the way normal people do. He really was. It’s just suddenly he felt something tingling against the skin of his right hand. It felt... intense, but didn’t hurt, like friction without the burn. Automatically glancing at his hand, he could see something glowing through the fabric of his glove. He immediately ripped it off without a second thought and stared down at the bright light carving out a name on his hand in big, electric green letters.

Remus.

Remus apparently found it appropriate to disregard the boundaries advice and stepped into Janus’ personal space, taking the green glowing hand in both of his own, staring down hard at the name that had appeared for a moment. Without warning Remus dropped the hand to move both of his own to Janus’ shoulders, squeezing.

“What’s your name?!” Remus demanded, his hands trembling as if he was holding back a deep will to shake the boy in his grip.

Janus didn’t answer immediately, he just stared back at the emerald eyes in shock while it felt like his stomach was trying to crawl out of his own throat. Taking a couple hurried breaths through his nose as he tried to push back the sheer panic that had overtaken him in this big what the fuck of a situation, he managed to whisper out in more breath than noise, “Janus.”

They both watched in equal astoundment as Remus’ own hand began to glow as a name that was previously scrawled out in inky black redesigned itself into a bright golden yellow. Janus could see that unlike his own hand that now had green letters against a large blob of black, Remus’ was a rainbow of letters in different colors overlapping each other.

Suddenly Remus’ strong hands had scooped him up into a twirl as he yelled, “It’s you!”

Some poor bastard with a cart at the edge of Janus’ vision had the audacity shush them and Janus flipped them the bird. If it were any other situation, he would have taken note of exactly who they were and plotted how best to ruin their lives in the most intricate way possible, but he was a little preoccupied at the moment. The fact that they were in the midst of picking up the pile of books Remus left behind didn’t buy them any mercy points either.

“Oh they’re going to love you!”

With that, they were off with Remus’ backpack bouncing with each long stride. Janus wrapped his arms tightly around Remus’ neck, holding on for dear life as the man ran like a bullet out of the library, artfully sidestepping anyone in his way. He was clearly practiced at being a general menace. Why not add kidnapping to the list? Not that Janus really minded the feeling of Remus’ chest pressed against his own.

His soulmate’s chest, Janus had to remind himself as he looked back down at the green letters branded against his hand. He felt tears well up in the corners of his eyes.

He had a soulmate.

Janus choked back a sudden sob, and gave into the absurdity of the situation by letting his head rest against Remus shoulder as he was carted off to who-the-fuck-knows-where. He was half certain this was some surreal dream.

He was half terrified that he would wake up.

Before Janus had really caught up with what was happening or even where he was, he found himself being deposited in a lap of someone who looked just as confused as he felt. At least it was comfortable as arms covered in the fabric of a plush hoodie caught him as Remus dropped him while announcing “Lo, I got your book!”

“What the fuck Rem?” voiced the person he was now being held by.

Janus looked up to survey the area. He began internally panicking to find five very attractive boys suddenly looking in his direction. This had to be a dream. He’d wake up and there would be no harem and definitely no soulmate mark beyond the black blob he’s known since he got the damn thing. The check he was pressed against let out a huff and Janus had to lean backwards a bit to see a scowl aimed in Remus’ direction. Scowl or no, he was beautiful. Dark eye shadow and long bangs that couldn’t quite obscure the stunning amethyst eyes.

“I see you checked out more than just a textbook from the library Remus,” said the one apparently called Lo. Even from his strange position Janus could tell that Lo was sat with straight posture, but somehow seemed relaxed. He had sharp, angular features, a pointy nose, and a strong jawline. Thick, black framed glasses did nothing to obscure the picturesque looks of a truly symmetrical face. Lo looked unphased by Janus’ sudden presance, especially compared to the others as he accepted the textbook Remus offered him without so much as a frown.

“Cute right?” He asked, tossing his arms around another boy in the group who was staring at Remus with a frown. He was in a cyan polo with extra floofy hair and a splattering of freckles across his nose and cheekbones. “He saved me from falling off the banister Patty!”

“Again Remus?” Groaned the last boy of the group and glancing in his direction left Janus wondering if he’d even be able to speak if he wanted to. He looked like Remus. He was a little less lanky, a little more top heavy with more defined arms and shoulders especially. There was no cartoonish mustache on this one.

Janus’ mouth had gone dry. There was too much attractive surrounding him.

He couldn’t swallow down the gay anymore.

The unnamed one who looked like Remus and apparently had the same lack of personal space suddenly took his hand and pulled him into a standing position before dropping to his knee and bowing deeply like a god damn fairy tale prince, without letting go of Janus’ gloveless hand.

“You have my deepest gratitude for saving my brother. I, Roman Royal, am in your debt.”

Janus was going to tell him to get the fuck off the groud and stop being so god damn cliche and charming and adorable because guys like that didn’t exist in the real world, but then both he and prince charming were left awestruck as they watched Janus’ hand start to glow again. Because of course it did.

“Whoops! Did I forget to mention my last soulmate mark changed?” Remus asked before cackling as he sprawled his legs across the lap that Janus had vacated.

“Wait, he’s-!” The hooded one exclaimed underneath Remus’ legs.

“Yep!” Remus said cheerfully, popping the ‘p’ sound.

Janus didn’t even realize he was crying until the goddamn prince charming, his soulmate Roman reached out and gently wiped the tears away with a softness that matched every fucking YA novel love interest ever.

His chin was titled up to stare into ruby eyes, only to find that Roman was crying too and how dare he still be so beautiful crying?! Who sanctioned this?

“-please, my dear, please, please, please tell me your name,” Roman whispered, cradling his cheeks on both sides as he wiped away Janus’ tears with his thumbs. Janus wasn’t sure how Roman could stand touching the scars on his face, but Roman didn’t seem phased at all. He didn’t hesitate in the slightest or treat the scarred skin any differently than the unmarred side.

“I’m... I’m Janus.”

Janus wasn’t sure where to look as four lights suddenly appeared, surrounding him from all directions. As the lights faded he found himself swept up for a second time, but now in Roman’s arms as he too twirled Janus in the opposite direction of his brother.

“It’s finally you!” He cried and kissed Janus on the top of the head before setting him down.

Janus swayed on his feet, dizzy from spinning and just very overwhelmed. This was a lot. This day was a lot.

“I’m so sorry!” Roman exclaimed, taking Janus’ hand in between both of his own and looking down at Janus with eyes full of remorse. “I should have asked before kissing you! Or even grabbing you at all, I was just so happy-”

“I-it’s okay... I’m just... this is just a lot,” Janus admitted, trying to push down his strong sense of panic. He had never had this much one on one social interaction... ever. Much less with his soulmates!

“Hey,” said the smooth voice of the one in the hood as he reached across Remus’ legs to grab ahold of Janus’ sleeve. “Breathe okay? In for four.”

Janus turned his attention to the soothing quiet voice, focusing on it and only it as it slowly grounded him. Lo pulled Remus’ legs away, as the hooded boy scooted forward in his seat, taking each of Janus’ hands in his own and rubbing soothing circles into both the bare skin of his right hand and the fabric of his still-gloved left hand.

“Hold it for seven,” he said, keeping strong and intent eye-contact. Janus wasn’t sure he could look away if he wanted to. He felt entranced. “Breathe out for eight. You’re doing great.”

“If it helps you feel any better Ro, I already macked on him without asking first too so-” Remus said with a big grin, like the cat that got the cream.

“That’s not something you should be proud of Rem!” Roman said and swatted his brother on the shoulder.

“Remus, what have we said about personal space?” The floofy that was called Patty said.

“Uggggh,” Remus groaned dramatically and let himself fall backwards. as if the two laps he occupied were a fainting couch. “Roman did it tooooo!”

“I didn’t try to make out with him without permission! Plus, I apologized!”

“So did I!”

Their conversation continued on from there. It was always so strange to be talked about, as if you weren’t there. Still, a deep gentle voice was guiding him away from their squabble, refocusing him on the moment, on hands within his own and the sound of exaggerated breathing that was demonstrated for him to match.

It took a few minutes, but he started to feel as if he was regaining his bearings. Janus looked down at their joined hands and saw colors peaking out at the edges of the palm holding his. More importantly, he saw yellow, the same yellow he saw appear on Remus’ hand with his own eyes.

He had to know.

He wanted to know.

“What’s your name?” Janus asked, tugging gently at the hand that had his name inscribed against it.

“We don’t have to do this now, we can do it later. It’s okay to wait, I promise.”

Janus was almost convinced, almost let it go, but he couldn’t. He had gone years believing he’d spend his life alone and now his own name apparently was written across the palms of five people.

Five soulmates.

He wanted to know.

“Please- I just... never expected this. I thought... I thought-”

“That you’d be alone,” the purple eyed stranger muttered sympathetically and in that moment he knew. They must have been like him, waking up one birthday expecting a name only to find an illegible smudge of ink instead. “I’m Virgil.”

His palm shined as bright purple letters defined themselves against against the black and it was finally enough to be able to decipher the remaining two names still in black.

He could read Patton and Logan.

“It’s so nice to meet you Virgil,” Janus said, squeezing the hand still holding his. “Before today I didn’t believe you were real.”

He heard various laughs around him as Virgil snorted. He even heard a “mood!” somewhere behind him.

Janus glanced back down at his own palm again. He was determined to never see black on it ever again. He squeezed Virgil’s hand once before relinquishing it and squared his shoulders, walking over to the last two he had yet to officially met. Roman scooped his brother out of their collective grasps and deposited him against the currently unoccupied metal bench to the side of the C shape the three formed.

“Hey!” Remus yelled as he was dropped.

“Stay still for once you absolute delinquent,” Roman said, and sat on his brothers back pretzel-style, effectively pinning him in place.

One sat stark still, his hands folded in his lap, but bowed his head slightly with the barest smile touching the corners of his mouth as Janus approached. The other was shaking his leg, drumming his fingers and chewing on his lip with big nervous eyes and he looked toward Janus, like he couldn’t’ sit still if he wanted to. Janus fell to his knees, cautiously putting one hand on each of their legs and looking up at two curious gazes.

“Before today I thought I would spend the rest of my life alone, that there was no one out there for me. I didn’t have a name and now-” Janus said, cutting himself off as his voice cracked.

“And now you have five,” said the one in the dark blue tie.

Janus could only nod in return, trying to will away the need to cry again. He was never this emotional, today was just... an extra bitch on the feelings meter.

“I need to know.”

The one who had been shaking’s hands flow up and covered his mouth as he cooed out an appreciative noise. Janus waited, trying to give him time to gather his bearings.

“Can I hug you?” he squeaked out and Janus couldn’t hold back the smile as he nodded.

Immediately, hands were thrown around his neck as the life was squeezed out of him. After a few seconds though, it relaxed and he was led into a rocking motion that was reminiscent of a boat, swaying listlessly against a gentle river. After hesitating, Janus’ own arms found their way to a waist and then around a back as he pulled the humming boy closer to himself.

They stayed like that for several minutes and Janus wasn’t sure if it was for the his own sake or for the sake of the boy in his arms. Maybe both.

“I’m Patton,” he finally whispered and Janus didn’t even bother to look down at the glow. He preferred to stay with his eyes closed, his ear leaning close enough to the pulse point of Patton’s neck to hear the beat of his heart. Still, as nimble fingers eventually tapped his shoulder, he looked up to find he still had one more person left to meet.

Before pulling away, Janus made sure to take a good look at the cyan that had found itself on his hand. Patton squeezed him tightly one last time before finally letting go of his grasp. Maybe it was revenge for the impromptu kisses he’s already received or maybe like the others he’d simply been lost in the moment but before pulling away completely, Janus leaned down and ghosted a kiss against Patton’s neck, causing the cute sky-eyed boy beneath him to shiver. It only made him more endearing.

Then he turned for he had one last person to meet. Standing up Janus found he was tall and sturdy looking. He wasn’t as broad shouldered as Roman, but he still looked strong and proportionally so. It was like every part of him was carefully curated.

This time, Janus knew his name.

Logan.

The only name left on his palm in perfect typed Arial.

“It is ironic that after struggling to read the names at all, the last of my soulmate’s names becomes more difficult to read upon its reveal,” Logan said, holding up his palm, yet it still took him a moment to understand.

Oh!

Oh.

His name would have been in black before and the yellow would most definitely be more difficult to read.

“Do not misunderstand. I am not displeased in the slightest, I just find it a bit humors. The black was always a glaring and ugly reminder of what I did not have.”

“Tell me about it,” Janus muttered in return.

Logan’s smile grew slightly as he reached down to take Janus’ hand within his own and gently held it up as he traced over the letters he recognized as his own still in black.

“Would you tell me your name?” Logan asked in a murmur before leaning down and leaving a kiss on Janus’ palm unapologetically.

Janus’s cheeks flushed at the care, but blinked as his mind went blank in confusion.

“But... you already...”

“You gave your name to Roman,” Logan whispered and tilted his head gently. “I want you to give it to me intentionally.”

Janus gulped, staring up at the sapphire eyes that were so intently focused on his own. “Janus. My name is Janus.”

“It is a pleasure to finally meet you Janus,” Logan said and bowed just slightly at the shoulders. “My name is Logan.”

The light shined between them as Logan still held Janus’ palm up and Janus watched the various streaks of blue in Logan’s eyes dance like light reflected through crystalline. With the deep blue lettering now situated on his hand, every trace of that ulgy black smudge was finally gone from his hands.

He had soulmates.

He wouldn’t be alone.

“Damn, Lolo’s got more game then you Ro,” Remus snarked despite being squished underneath Roman.

“Shut up Rem!” Roman declared with an indignant huff.

“No, he’s got a point Ro,” Virgil said, chin in palm and a blush across his cheeks as he watched Logan seduce the newest member of their unit.

“Awww, I think you’re Romantic Ro!” Patton declared reaching for Roman’s hand from his current place next to Virgil.

“Patton and Janus are currently my favorites and to hell with the rest of you,” Roman declared, as Remus cackled underneath him. Virgil stuck out his tongue and Logan just shot Roman a smug smirk.

Yeah.

Janus thought he was going to like it here but....

He would have the rest of his life to make absolutely sure.

#sanders sides #roman sanders #remus sanders #janus sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #fanfiction #drlamp #tsshipmonth2020

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awkwarddezzy · 8 years ago

Text

Ignite

Pairing: Dan x Phil

Genre: friendship, romance, slight angst

TW: swearing, mentions of alcohol

Word count: 7,494

Summary: Hawaii: the state everyone knows as paradise. For Dan Howell, the label is far from what his life is truly like. When Phil transfers to Dan’s high school from Manchester, the two boys instantly become friends. But will the revelation of Dan’s hidden past affect their budding friendship? Phan HS AU.

Hey ya’ll! This is technically my first fanfic posting of 2017, although I already had this written back in 2016. I mentioned a handful of times in tags for my shitposting that I wrote a Phan-inspired story as part of my short story portfolio for my creative writing class last semester. I submitted said story for possible publication at my college’s local journal, so cross your fingers with me that it’ll make the cut. I mean, can you imagine a phanfic legitimately bring published?

My professor absolutely loved the story. Even though it was over the word limit (she set it as 4,000), she told me she didn’t mind the word count as long as the plot was good. Needless to say, I got an A on it. Hell, when we had to type an analysis about our stories, I specifically mentioned being inspired by Dan and Phil and how homogenous relationships are often undermined in young adult literature.

I’m proud of this baby. Aside from character names (because I didn’t wanna plagiarize), this is nearly word for word of that story. I guarantee this is different than any phanfics ever to exist. One, because the setting is in Hawaii (our professor gave us extra credit if we tied our story to Hawaii in some way since I do go to a community college in Oahu). Two, to make it personal, I made my Dan-inspired character Filipino (because I’m Filipino myself) and kept my Phil-inspired character British. In short, this is my story using the YouTubers I had in mind while writing the story. It’s basically a high school AU, which I’m used to writing when it comes to AU’s.

I finally got around to posting this in light of Phil’s birthday. I CAN’T BELIEVE OUR BELOVED ANGEL BEAN IS FINALLY 30. *screams* He’s getting old. We’re getting old. Jesus Christ, Phil’s finally reached the age of parenthood. It’s only a matter of time when we see Phil Jr’s walking around England lol.

Now on with the story!

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

When people use fire as a metaphor for love, I roll my eyes and silently think these people are delirious. They think love is a burning passion they allow themselves to consume them completely. Or they think love is a spontaneous combustion when two pairs of eyes are caught in a lingering stare for the first time. But those are the fools talking. Those people are blind to what fire really means.

Fire is despising the source of its ignition.

Fire is a glow you believed had completely faded, yet still remained raging within you.

Fire is a curse and a traitor, yet also a blessing and a helping hand.

Fire is what makes me fluctuate between being a dreamer and a realist.

~:~

He’s a needle in a haystack with his raven hair, cerulean eyes, and pale skin. The cafeteria is swarming with incoherent conversations between students coming in and out of the stuffy building. I stand stock still, lunch tray in hand, debating whether or not I should go talk to him.

My feet move toward the boy with no hesitation. He stares intently at me when I place my lunch tray on the table’s wooden surface and sit on the benched seat across from him.

We remain silent for several seconds before I blurt out, “I like your shirt.” He’s wearing a white t-shirt embedded with lyrics from a Panic at the Disco song.

“You like PATD?” His voice carries a heavy British accent.

“One of my favorite bands.”

A corner of his mouth curves slightly upward. “What other bands are you into?”

“Ummm… Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, All Time Low, Breaking Benjamin, Muse-”

“Whoa there. What are you, some Asian clone of me?”

I chuckle. “No, but that would be pretty epic.”

He grins. “You’re the first person I’ve ever met who know Muse.”

Warmth seeps to my cheeks. “They’re one of the first bands I got into. I have a soft spot for their Origins of Symmetry album.”

“No way! That’s my favorite album too.”

I beam. Going to meet up with my friends doesn’t seem like a priority anymore. “So how come I’ve never seen you around?”

He picks up a carrot stick, dipping it into the blob of ranch dressing on the top right corner of his lunch tray, then taking a bite out of it. “I moved here from Manchester a couple weeks ago. You know, for a place where everyone want to vacation, it’s way different when you’re actually living there.”

“That’s paradise for ya. Tourists get beaches, fine accommodations, and hot hula girls. Locals get Pidgin, spam musubi, and a complex bus system.”

“I’m out of my element here.”

“You’ll learn to adjust.”

He finishes the rest of the carrot stick. “I’m Phillip by the way, but you can call me Phil.”

“Phil… got it.”

“Uh-huh. My entire first name makes me sound like a grandpa.”

I laugh. “You’re gonna be a grandpa someday anyway.”

“Hey, I’m still young! Lemme enjoy my teen years while I can.”

“Sure, Phillip.”

He sticks his tongue out to me playfully. “And what should I call you, Phil 2.0?”

“Well Mr. PATD, you can call me Dan. It’s short for Daniel.”

“Dan.” My name rolls off his lips in a way that sounds as if he has known me for years rather than a few minutes. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Perhaps the school year won’t be as boring as I thought it would be.

~:~

Sam, Louise, and PJ bombard Phil with questions when I introduce him to them after school that same day.

“What’s England like?”

“How do you like Oahu so far?”

“Have you tried a malasada yet?”

“What do you think about our school?”

“Why did you move here?”

“Have you ever met Emma Watson?”

“Guys! Geez, calm your tits.” I look toward Phil apologetically. “Sorry. We don’t get to meet a lot of new students who come from outside the island.”

“It’s okay.” Phil smiles shyly at my friends. “No one’s really tried to talk to me for more than two minutes till Dan approached me. I was afraid I’d be a loner for the entire year.”

PJ whistles. “Damn, Daniel. What happened to being antisocial?”

“I prefer the term introvert,” I retort.

“You haven’t made the first move in anything since you told Sam how you felt about her,” Louise says.

Phil glances between Sam and me. “You two are boyfriend and girlfriend?”

Sam loops her arm around my elbow, pressing her chest against the side of my body. “As of a couple weeks ago, yes.”

“I didn’t know that,” Phil says, giving me a scrutinizing gaze.

I rub the back of my head. “I thought it wasn’t important to mention until you got to meet my friends in person.”

“Ah.” He nods in understanding, but I detect a hint of a different emotion in his eyes. Disappointment? Disapproval? I internally shake my head. It’s probably my usual paranoia of students’ judgments whenever they see Sam and I together. Even though Sam has been my best friend for years, anyone outside my circle of friends haven’t fully comprehend why Sam prefers to be around PJ, Louise, and I. Her near flawless looks makes her more fitting for the popular crowd rather than the nerdy emo’s.

“Well then,” Louise chimes in, shoving my momentary doubts out of my head. “Who want to go to Starbucks?”

~:~

Phil gives me a tour of his house the weekend following the first week back to school. The moment I step inside the Lester residence, I’m astonished by how lively his home is compared to mine. There are houseplants in practically every corner of the house. Polaroid photos of his family are tacked to the walls of the living room. Upstairs, in Phil’s bedroom, he has various plushies littering the floor, a full-length poster of Sarah Michelle Geller on the wall behind his bed, and even a tiny cactus displayed on his bedside drawer. His twin-sized bed is covered with a green, blue, and purple checkered bedsheet, shades I think is fitting to his colorful personality.

“Sorry it’s a little messy in here,” Phil says. “I have a lot of stuff and my new room’s not as big as my old one in Manchester.”

“It’s fine. My room’s a bit messy too.”

He smiles, picking up a Totoro plushie and dropping it on his bed. “So what’s your flat like?”

“Flat?”

“Apartment.”

“Oh.” Reminder: start learning some British slang. “Not as great as yours. Roaches creeping on the floor at night. Shitty air conditioning. Noisy ass neighbors. At least my mom makes enough as a nurse to keep a roof over my head.”

“What about your dad?”

“He’s… gone.”

He frowns. “Sorry to hear that.”

I respond with a curt nod. “But you’re free to come over next weekend if you want.”

His frown disappears, morphing back to the smile that he wore earlier. “That’ll be great.”

If only you knew just how much I miss him, I think. And hate him at the same time.

~:~

There’s a paper bag from Bath and Body Works on Phil’s bedroom floor when I stay over at the Lesters on a Saturday night in mid-October. I’ve been spending most of the weekend so far doing homework and catching up with episodes of Attack on Titan and JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure. Sam and Louise are busy rehearsing for a PowerPoint presentation for their Modern Hawaiian History class and PJ is helping his family prepare for his cousin’s debutante, so I’ve been spending the time outside of my apartment hanging out with Phil.

“What’s with the bag?” I ask.

“Oh this?” He picks up the paper bag and empties its contents, revealing three candles and a bottle of lotion. “Mum went to Pearlridge today, so I asked her to buy these for me.”

I scan over the candle labels: Pumpkin Spice, Apple Pie, and Marshmallow Fireside. “Never pegged you for a candle person.”

“It’s a thing that runs in my family.” He picks up one of the candles. “In their uni years, my dad confessed his feelings for my mum by spelling out ‘I love you’ with candles at a beach in Liverpool. Mum loved the gesture so much, and since then, Dad’s been getting her candles on every anniversary.”

“Your dad sounds like a complete romantic.”

He nods, placing the candle on his bed. “I think candles are an excellent representation of my parents’ marriage. Their love is a candle with a flame that’ll never die.”

“They must be really happy together.”

“Twenty years and still going strong.”

Bittersweet memories of my mom, dad, my 10-year-old brother Adrian, and me surface in my mind. Thanksgivings when my dad splurged on the turkey special from Golden Coin. Christmases when we woke up at 7 AM to open gifts while watching the Macy’s Christmas Day parade. Birthdays celebrated with dinners at Max’s Restaurant. Those days are a lifetime ago, days when I still looked forward to Sundays when Dad was off from work and gave me guitar lessons.

“Yeah…” Those days are a thing of the past. On the bright side, having an absent father taught me not to be naïve and fueled my appreciation for rock music.

As if sensing my distress, Phil says, “So… wanna play some Smash Bros?”

I grin. Crushing him in one of my video games is a healthy distraction I need from my vortex of childhood memories. “I’d be stupid not to.”

~:~

When Sam suggests for me to perform for the winter pep rally, the fears I buried when I started dating her crash through my mind like a wrecking ball.

“You’re kidding,” I say in a monotone voice. We’re on my bed, Sam laying down with her dyed dirty blonde hair fanned across my Pikachu pillow and me sitting cross-legged with my guitar settled on my lap. I was in the middle of playing “Chasing Cars” by Snow Patrol when Sam casually brought up the question.

“I’m not.” She moves into an upright position. “Think about it. Five minutes on stage with hundreds of students cheering your name. Phil, Peej, and Lou know how talented you are. Don’t you think it’s about time to let the entire school know too?”

“No.”

She sighs. “It’s your dad, isn’t it? Danny, just because your dad was a musician doesn’t mean you’ll make the same choices he did. Besides, if being at the center of attention isn’t for you, then the pep rally can be a one-time thing. Don’t let your potential go to waste.”

I bite the inside of my mouth. A part of me is itching to live out my dream of capturing people’s souls while I perform, but the other part of me is trembling at the thought of being in my dad’s shoes. Going through with this could open up a possibility of Sam and me splitting apart.

I can’t lose Sam. Even if she isn’t my girlfriend, I can’t imagine a future without her. The Earth can be a cruel planet; I can’t navigate through it without having someone who’s equally as confused about the world as I am by my side.

She curls her arms around my neck. “I know you’re scared, but can you do it for me? For one day, can I pretend to be your rock star girlfriend sitting in the audience as you play a song dedicated to me?”

“What song do you have in mind?”

“Hmmm… a song probably everyone knows, but still fits your style.”

“So… something from Ed Sheeran, Sam Smith, or Bruno Mars?”

“Yeah!” She stares at me with her puppy-dog eyes. “So will you do it?”

One pep rally won’t be the death of you. “I’ll… give it a shot.”

She squeals, peppering the side of my face with kisses. “Thank you thank you thank you! You’re gonna be great, Danny. Show those Mariah Carey wannabees that serenading isn’t dead yet.”

I laugh. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.

~:~

Nerves rattle through my body when the student announcers call my name. The audience claps as I make my way onto the platform of the makeshift stage. Standing in front of the microphone stand with the Velcro strap holding my guitar against my abdomen, I position my fingers above the instrument’s strings. Looking out into the crowd, I spot Sam, Phil, PJ, and Louise grinning enthusiastically at me.

You’ll be fine. They’ll be proud of me no matter what happens.

I strum the opening notes of “Give Me Love” by Ed Sheeran. When I start to sing, my pre-performance jitters dissipates. I let my hands do the playing and the lyrics do the talking. I lose myself to the symphonious tune of the song, my heart beating rhythmically like a pendulum. Thoughts about my dad are knocked out of my head, replaced with a surge of joy as I think, Why didn’t I answer to the spotlight’s call sooner?

The gym fills with applause once my performance ends. My friends are on their feet, along with dozens of other juniors, upperclassmen, and even underclassmen.

I beam from ear to ear.

I’ve never felt so alive.

~:~

Hip-hop music pulsates across the spacious area of Chris Kendall’s house. Bodies grind on the open area of the living room where furniture was shoved aside to make room for a dance floor. Parties are definitely never on my agenda. I’m only here at Chris’s graduation party because PJ wanted to go for fun (it was an open invite), Sam and Louise wanted to go to have the full high school experience, and Phil wanted to see if a high school party in Hawaii is any different than the few he went to when he lived in England. Before my performance during the winter pep rally, I was someone that no one spared a second glance. Five months later and two more performances from the spring pep rally and junior prom under my belt, I get hellos from random students in-between class periods and invites to parties from popular students. So here I am, a red plastic cup filled with Pepsi in my hand (I have my values and know better than to take one sip of alcohol) while watching my friends dancing, breathing through my mouth to avoid sniffing the sickly scent of weed and cigarettes.

“Dan!” Phil stumbles out of the kitchen holding an empty Heineken bottle.

“Hey… Phil.” I finish the rest of my drink and toss the cup into one of the trash bags lying around next to the snack table. “You look like you’re having fun.”

“I am! Aren’t you?”

“If by watching people shamelessly doing things they might regret in the morning, sure.”

“Aw. Lighten up, mate!” His palm slaps the back of my shoulder. “Want me to get you a bottle?”

“I’ll pass… wait, how much have you had to drink?”

“Eh, couple bottles I think. Might go for a third.”

“No you aren’t.” I grab his wrist and drag him to the front door. When we’re outside, I lead him to the backyard. I don’t want to haul an intoxicated Phil back to his house. Perhaps some fresh air can sober him up.

I lay him down on his back on the grass, then sit down next to him. His mouth forms into a lazy smile.

“You look pretty, Dan.”

I laugh. “I’m not a girl, dude.”

“What a shame. You’d be my perfect Buffy.”

“You and your Buffy obsession.”

“Yeah… but I love you more than Buffy.”

My blood goes cold. He isn’t saying what I think he’s saying, is he?

Phil takes my silence as a sign for him to continue. “Why did I meet a perfect guy who’s taken? You’re so smart and talented and so good at video games. I had so much hope the first time we met that we could someday be something more, then I find out you have a girlfriend and I had to learn how to just be friends with an impossible dream.” He sighs. “Why did it have to be you I fell in love with?”

Suddenly, he takes a fistful of my shirt and yanks me down onto him. I fall on top of him, my face inches away from his.

“I… love you,” he mumbles before his eyelids flutter close.

I roll myself off from his body, then scramble to sit up and scoot away from him. Heat rushes to my face, my own body quivering from his words.

“Holy shit,” I whisper.

I touch my lips. He may not have kissed me, but his words feel like he did.

~:~ One week has passed since Chris’s party.

There’s no one I can tell about Phil’s drunk confession. He has no recollection of what he told me, and I have no clue if what he said is true. There’s a likelihood it isn’t. People can say all sorts of unpredictable things when they’re shitfaced drunk and not mean any of it.

Yeah right. No one says “I love you” to me without being serious.

“Fancy playing Mario Kart while we wait for the others?” Phil asks. We’re sitting on the sofa in my living room, waiting for Sam, Louise, and PJ to arrive. The five of us aren’t in the mood of going out today, so we planned a casual indoor hangout in my apartment.

“Sure,” I reply. “I’ll go get us some drinks.”

“Grab me an iced tea, yeah?”

I smile. After living in Oahu for nearly a year, Phil gradually got himself addicted to Hawaiian Sun drinks. “You’re in luck. Mom bought a fresh stock just for you.”

I leave Phil to peruse my video game collection under the TV stand and head to the kitchen. I open the refrigerator door and grab two cans of Hawaiian Sun: an Iced Tea for Phil and a Lilikoi for me. Carrying the cans back into the living room, I’m putting the two drinks on the coffee table when I hear three knocks on the door.

That bus ride was quick. I dash to the front door. Upon unlocking it, the face that greets me is one I least expect to see.

“Daniel.” The way he speaks my name has the familiar tenderness that would gravitate me into his arms when I was in elementary school. But hearing his voice now is a thousand needles stabbing at my heart all at once. My lungs shrivel at the pain scorching my chest.

I can’t breathe. My vision is blurring from months of pent-up resentment. Not knowing what to do, I back away and rush to my bedroom, slamming the door behind me. I collapse on the floor and bury my fingers in my hair. This cannot be happening to me.

A few minutes later, I hear the door swing open.

“Mate!” Phil kneels down in front of me, his face contorted into a concerned expression. “You look like rubbish.”

“No shit.”

“That guy at the door told me he’s your father. Is it true?”

I remove my hands from my head. How he could be staying so goddamn calm? He should be furious at me for lying to him, not composed and acting like I didn’t drop a bomb on him.

“He is,” I whisper.

“You said he was gone.” “He was, but he may as well be dead to me.”

“Why? What did he do to you?”

I swallow my anger threatening to rise again. “He left me, alright? He left my family for some woman named Erica he met on the streets while we were on vacation for the summer in the Philippines when I was nine. They were contacting each other behind our backs after we left and Mom caught ‘em together at Ala Moana a year later when Erica came to visit him. Mom and Dad ended up getting divorced the summer before I was in 7th grade, just shy of my 12th birthday. He left for the Philippines afterward and he’s been living there with Erica since.”

Phil doesn’t immediately respond, just staring at me in shock. I use his silence to continue my rant.

“Music is important to me because of my dad. He played all sorts of gigs when he was my age, but gave up his musician dream so he could support my mom when she was pregnant with me. He taught me how to play a guitar and got me into rock music when he told me rock is music in its rawest form.” I direct my attention to the vinyl cover of Muse’s Origins of Symmetry album nailed next to the window. “Dad’s the reason why I love that album. He bought it for me on my 7th birthday. I listened to that record on repeat after the divorce and was what got me through the first few year without him.”

“And you hadn’t seen him since the divorce,” Phil concludes.

I shake my head. “He came once during the holidays when I was in 9th grade. I pretty much avoided talking to him the whole time.”

The wake of a wildfire is outside of my bedroom. He’s the cause of why my family is a mess. He chose another woman over us. How can I forgive the man who destroyed my picture-perfect family? How can I let go of the hurt I’m still feeling four years later?

“I don’t blame you for not telling me,” Phil says.

I turn my head to look at Phil, vulnerability running through my veins. “I’m a horrible person. I should’ve told you a long time ago, but I kept it a secret because I didn’t want you to know how crappy my life really is.”

“Again, not blaming you.” He drapes his arm across my shoulders. “I get that you felt betrayed by your dad, and nothing can erase the pain you still feel. But he’s out there right now. He flew whatever miles it is from the Philippines to Hawaii to see you. Nothing’s hunky-dory between you two, but you can still fix things with him. I saw how crushed he looked when you ran off on him like that. He wants to make things right. I’m not saying you should outright forgive him, but I think you should give him a second chance. Let him be a father to you while he still has healthy lungs and isn’t in a wheelchair.”

I look into his eyes, his blue orbs looking back at me with a softness that douses my anger away. As tension rolls off my shoulders, the memory of his drunk confession flashes through my mind.

“Why did it have to be you I fell in love with?”

Did Dad or Erica ever speak the exact same sentence to each other at one point in their relationship? What was it about Erica that drew my dad to him? How did Dad know he loved Erica more than my mom? I don’t know the answer to those questions. I don’t know why Mom didn’t fight for her right to remain as Dad’s wife. I don’t know how Erica’s family reacted when they learned about her relationship with a married man. I don’t know much about their relationship, other than how they met and how they loved each other to a point of sacrificing their family’s trust to be with each other.

The clarity hits me like a curveball.

Love is an emotion that can’t be tamed. It can blind us, be an intense slap to the face, hurt us in any way possible, but it can never leave us completely empty. It’s why I’m still affected by my dad’s choices. It’s why I still prefer rock over any other genre of music, even when it was Dad’s preferred music style. It’s why there’s still fire raging inside me whenever I think about Dad. I still love him amidst the ache he imprinted in my heart. It’s why, as I gaze into Phil’s vibrant eyes that always seem to contain a gentleness I usually don’t see in males, I finally understand what I’ve been fearing all along. I wasn’t afraid of thinking about the past and making the same wrong choices as my dad; I was afraid of listening to the other side of a story and discovering things that may have been right in front of me all along.

“Go talk to him,” he murmurs, drawing his arm away from me. The loss of his friendly touch leaves a dull ache in my chest.

It’s time to face the music.

“Mind if you come with me?”

“Of course. Did you think I was planning to let you face him alone?”

Fireflies stir in my stomach. Once I deal with the person outside this room, I’ll think about what these fireflies mean. I don’t know why the fireflies popped up unexpectedly, but I sort of like it.

Phil helps me stand, staying close to me as I open the door. We walk into the living room, where I find Dad sitting on the sofa. I take a deep breath, my hand taking purchase on Phil’s arm. His presence is my gravity, helping me to control negativity in my emotions. If I’m going to make an effort to patch things up, I can’t go berserk if I feel the slightest agitation.

“Dad?”

I hear his breath hitch when he turns his head to the direction of my voice. Same dark chocolate eyes. Same unruly brunette hair. Same mole marked on the ridge of his nose. I’m looking at an older version of myself, albeit as someone wiser that has seen more of the world. That, and I can’t stand my natural messy hair. I can’t leave the house without using my hair straightener.

“Anak,” he says softly.

The fireflies glow for a brief second.

“It’s okay,” Phil whispers. “He’s not going to hurt you.”

Dad glances toward Phil. “This is your friend, right?”

Phil gives an awkward wave at Dad. “Hi. Sorry I didn’t properly introduce myself earlier. I’m Phillip, Phil for short.”

“Phil … it’s nice to meet you.”

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Howell.”

I can’t help the low chuckle that escapes my lips. “This isn’t Pride and Prejudice, dude.”

Phil laughs. “What? This is a momentous occasion, Dan. This is more nerve-wracking than making a first impression to my girlfriend’s parents.”

“You never even had a girlfriend.”

“I will one day.”

For some reason, I’m a bit upset by his response. So did his drunk confession mean nothing? Or is he making an Oscar-worthy ruse to cover up his feelings? My effort to analyze his emotions is only confusing me further.

Dad clears his throat. Right. Dad first, Phil later.

“Anyway-” I say, “Dad, what are you doing here all of a sudden? If you’re looking for Mom, she won’t be home from work till around six.”

“I’m aware of that. I actually wanted to talk to you first, if it’s okay,” Dad replies.

“Fine, but Phil stays with us.”

“I see no problem with that.”

Phil and I make our way over to the sofa, my hand still on Phil’s arm. Dad moves to give us room, leaving me to sit in the middle so Dad is to my left and Phil is to my right.

“Where’s Erica?” I begin.

Dad shakes his head. “I asked her to come, but she thought it would be best for me to be here alone.”

“How long will you stay?”

“A week, two weeks at the most.”

“Dad…” I move my hand from Phil’s arm to his jean-covered thigh. “Ummm… this might sound out of the blue, but how did you know you were in love with Erica?”

“Oh… to be honest, Jessica was the reason why,” he tells me sheepishly.

“Mom?” I say incredulously. “But… how?”

He smiles, leaning back on the sofa. “In many ways, Erica is a lot like your mother. She put her studies first, cared about her family more than anything else, and worked hard to give herself a good future. She became an attorney to provide for her family, and she cherishes her job so much, though she told me more than once she felt she was missing something from her life. She didn’t know what it was until she reunited with her childhood friend.”

“Who was that?”

“Your mother.”

“Wait… what? I thought Mom and Erica were strangers until you got together with Erica.”

“Your mother and I only said that because we thought you weren’t ready for the truth.”

“Dad! I was 11! I watched enough episodes of Maalala Mo Kaya to know what reality is about.”

He looks at me forlornly. “I know that now, anak. I’m sorry.”

I sigh. “I’m turning 17 next week. Whatever secret you’re keeping from me, I wanna hear it.”

He nods. The story he tells me drastically alters my perspective of Dad.

Mom and Erica knew each other because they were best friends when they were kids and lost touch with each other after Mom immigrated from Cebu to Honolulu when she was eight.

Dad courted Erica in high school. When he got accepted into an exchange program for the University of Hawaii in Manoa, he made a promise with Erica to go on a date with her once he graduated from college and moved back home.

During his third year at UH Manoa, he met Mom during an open mic night at a bar in Waikiki. Mom was in UH Manoa’s nursing program and skipped a night of studying to hang out with her friends at the bar that Dad had his gig at.

Mom and Dad became friends, which gradually turned into love.

Dad was guilty about breaking his promise to Erica, but Erica understood and she wished the best for him and Mom.

Parenthood treated Mom and Dad well when they had me and Adrian.

Then came the Philippine vacation.

Dad hadn’t communicated with Erica since he told her about his relationship with Mom, so he was surprised when he bumped into her at a Chow King restaurant while buying lunch for Mom, Adrian, and me. They exchanged phone numbers and used long-distance phone-lines for communication over the course of a year, where they found themselves revisiting their past and falling in love with each other all over again.

During winter break of my 5th grade year, Erica lied to her parents about wanting to spend Christmas and New Years with a friend in America so she could see Dad, even if it was just for a few days and a majority of her time would be spent cooped up in her hotel room at Ala Moana Hotel. On that fateful day when Mom saw Dad and Erica together, she was at Ala Moana Shopping Center to do some last-minute shopping while she supposedly thought Dad was helping my Tito Kevin pick out a gift for my Aunt Elizabeth. As soon as Mom exited from Macy’s, she witnessed Dad and Erica holding hands while sitting at one of the tables outside the neighboring Starbucks. Erica saw Mom and that was when all hell broke loose. Mom tried not to cause a scene at Ala Moana, but she had a crying fit when she learned that Dad’s mistress and her childhood friend, Erica Bautista, were the same woman.

That night, when I overheard my parents arguing but Mom told us she and Dad were disagreeing on something about bills, it was really about Mom’s reaction to finding out about the affair.

For months, they kept the issue a secret from Adrian and me. Mom swallowed her pride, staying in the sidelines as she encouraged Dad to go after his true love. The issue loomed like a raincloud over their heads once Dad chose Erica over Mom, and that raincloud lingered until Mom and Dad finally told me about Erica and their mutual decision to file for divorce.

Unfortunately, that raincloud only transferred over me, towering over my own head and remaining there to this day.

“Damn” is all I can say when Dad finishes speaking.

The pieces are coming together.

It was never supposed to be Mom and Dad.

If Dad never met Mom, it would have been Dad and Erica.

It’s a classic case of how wrong timing can affect even the strongest of relationships.

“Fucking hell,” Phil breathes. Hearing him swear surprises me. He rarely swears, and when he does, it’s when he’s incredibly emotional about something.

“I didn’t tell you this because I thought you might dislike Erica more if I told you the truth,” Dad tells me.

Everything coming out of Dad’s mouth sheds more authenticity to the entire situation. All this time, Dad was never at fault. It wasn’t his fault that Mom was an intervention who prevented him from keeping his promise to Erica. It wasn’t his fault for reaching a point where he had to choose between his wife and kids over a woman his heart subconsciously still yearned for. It wasn’t his fault for allowing his heart to direct him down a path that led him to hurt those he cared about. Everything happens for a reason, and it’s the reason why I’m existing in the first place. If his life went according to plan, I wouldn’t have ever taken my first breath in this world.

Love isn’t always kind. It isn’t an easy stroll through the park or a cookie to steal from a cookie jar. It’s having to pay 75 cents for a gumball from one of those machines in supermarkets or trying to find parking during Black Friday at any mall. Love always comes with a price. For Dad, the price for his happiness with one woman is the trust he has from those he loves the most.

“That was a possibility,” I say. “Or I could’ve appreciated her role in your life. We’ll never know. Either way, it wouldn’t have changed how much you love Erica.”

Dad nods in agreement. “Erica hasn’t changed how much I love you, Adrian, and your Mom. It was wrong of me to leave you how I did, but I’m here to right my wrong.”

The fire in my chest blazes more furiously than it ever has before. Flames send the fireflies in my stomach glimmering in a flurry of excitement, sending my emotions in a tailspin.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been a good father ever since I moved to the Philippines,” Dad continues. “It wasn’t my intention for you to think I didn’t care about you anymore, but it was my way to give you space. You were angry at me, and I believed distance was the solution to ease your anger. When you refused to speak to me when I spent Christmas with you on your first year of high school, I realized the distance led you to resent me more. I don’t want to hurt you anymore, anak. I’m tired of being away from you. My life may be in the Philippines, but my heart belongs here with our family.”

My insides melt. These are the words I longed to hear Dad say. I’d be a fool if I ignored my subconscious whispering how I should stop being hostile and allow my dad to make up for lost time.

“Did you steal that line from a Justin Bieber song?” I joke.

Hope swims in Dad’s eyes. “So you forgive me?”

“Not… exactly,” I answer hesitantly. “But we have two weeks. We can go around the island like we used to.”

I’m not looking at the enemy anymore. For the first time in years, I’m looking at my idol, the man who rooted my dedication to music, the greatest hero I’ve ever known.

A smile cracks on Dad’s face. “Your old man is looking forward to that.”

~:~

Summers brings goodbyes, hope, and refreshing starts. Four years ago, summer was bidding a reluctant farewell to the perfect family I had. One year ago, summer was sharing my first kiss with a girl who meant more to me than my best friend. This summer, a new chapter with a man I granted a second shot at redemption opened up, and an opportunity to follow my heart like every protagonist in a cheesy YA novel is ushering in a wave of anticipation of what the vast unknown will bring.

The sky is enveloped by a murky blanket of gleaming stars and a moon illuminating the night. Sitting cross-legged on the rooftop of my apartment complex, I fish out another roll of Smarties from my jacket pocket. I unravel the plastic packaging and shove pieces of the colorful candy into my mouth, savoring its sweet, tangy mixture. Aside from the occasional car zooming along the streets at midnight, I relish the relative silence. My mind is still reeling over all the things that occurred since Dad showed up at the front door of my apartment.

The two weeks that Dad was here was a hodgepodge of family beach trips and father-son visits to various music stores around the island. He shared tales of his life with Erica in Manila, and in return, I shared my memories about Sam and my friends over the last four years. Those two weeks were us being mismatched pieces slowly fusing together to create the complete puzzle, with several holes that are yet to be filled. By the time he flew back to the Philippines, I was closer to the point of one hundred percent forgiving him. It’ll take me months before I can truly move on from the past, but I’m getting there. Time will tell when that day will come.

After Dad left, I took the time to figure out my feelings for Sam and Phil. Before I met Phil, I thought Sam was my endgame. I saw a future with her after high school. I visualized the two of us moving in together, having a beachside wedding, honeymooning in Paris, and raising our kids with our brown or black hair and brown eyes. But after Chris’s party and the long conversation I had with Dad, I questioned where my heart belonged. Sam was everything a boy could ever want for a girlfriend, someone who Mom was ecstatic about someday watching me say “I do” to, someone who filled that empty void when Dad left. Phil, on the other hand, was everything I never knew existed as an option for me, someone who enamored me since day one and opened up parts of me that I never showed to anyone aside from Sam, PJ, and Louise, someone who was the reason why I willingly mended my relationship with Dad.

I was confused. Do I choose safety with the anchor that has always kept me grounded, or do I choose happiness with the candle who sparked an incandescence within me that not even Sam or my friends were able to light up?

A few hours ago, on a park bench with the sun dipping down in the horizon, I broke up with Sam. It was a difficult choice that I nearly backed down from doing, but it was one Dad would be proud of me for doing. Being in a position of dumping my girlfriend made me understand why it was hard for Dad to divorce Mom. True love isn’t measured by years or the number of people that approve of the relationship; true love is the person who makes your heartbeat stutter and makes you smile to any love song that plays on the radio, no matter how cliché the lyrics are. Love is the fire that ignites your soul and what makes you the best person you can be.

Despite the tears that were shed, Sam understood. In fact, she had a hunch that Phil harbored feelings for me. She knew it was a matter of time before I caught on and braced herself for the feasible day where I could return his feelings. Following a friendly hug, we left the park knowing that even though we aren’t a couple anymore, our friendship will never fade. We’ve always been there for each other; we won’t let our breakup drive a wedge between us.

“Dan?”

I turn around. Phil stands behind me, his ruffled raven hair reflected under the moonlight and his blue irises flickering with uncertainty. We’re heading back to school next week, so my friends and I are spending our last few days of summer break with a weekend-long sleepover in my apartment.

“Yo.”

“Mind if I sit with you?”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

He nods, then moves to sit directly across from me, mirroring my sitting position.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asks.

I chew the remaining chunks of Smarties in my mouth and swallow. “How can I? We’re seniors. We have one more year in high school before we’re thrust into adulthood and we’re little fishes trying to swim away from huge-ass sharks. Not that I’m ready to grow up, but my teen years are moving way too quick and I need time to slow down just a bit.”

He chuckles. “True. I’m not ready for senioritis to bite me in the bum yet. But I think that’s not what you’re really worried about.”

“What makes you say that?”

“You have a few candy wrappers next to you. You don’t binge-eat sweets unless you’re thinking really hard about something.”

He’s right. My sweet tooth is my version of stress-eating.

“You’re not wrong,” I say. “Truth is, you’re kinda the reason why I’m this close to getting a cavity.”

“How come?”

“Well… how else do you cope with realizing you love someone who’s so close yet so far beyond your grasp?”

“What? Dan, what Shojo anime have you been watching lately?”

“None. I just… God, I’ll just say it. I like you, Phil. I really, really like you and I might even love you, but I don’t know if I do yet ‘cause it’s too soon to tell.” I bend my legs so my knees are curled to my chest and my chin is on my kneecaps. “Fate is so screwed up. I shouldn’t be feeling this way, but I do. You’re strangely interesting and you get me so well. You’re the ying to my yang. You complete me, and I can’t live with the idea of seeing you with someone else. It’s so selfish of me since I already had Sam, but there’s something about you that wants you more than a friend. And… yeah.”

He blinks. “Whoa.”

“I know. Now let me down easy so we can forget I said any of that and I can start dealing with rejection.”

“Rejection? Dan, what are you, blind? I’ve loved you the moment you approached me and said, and I quote ‘I like your shirt.’”

“You still remember that?”

“How can I? It was love at first sight.”

“Love at first sight? This isn’t the 19th century.”

“Not according to the swiping on Tinder.”

I laugh. Being with Phil is easy. He’s carefree and doesn’t mind my wit. Even Sam has her occasions of being offended by my snark.

“I’m serious though. I do love you.” He leans closer, his hand reaching out to rest on top of mine. “I love how you can speak like a wise old philosopher. I don’t know how I went most of my life without you, because you’re what I was missing out on all this time. You came into my life with a purpose. I don’t know what I did to deserve you as a friend, but whatever it is, having you around made my life so much better.”

I look down at our entwined fingers. Holding his hand is comforting, a gesture that should be so wrong yet feels so right. This is what tadhana is. Destiny works in mysterious ways. As our fingers entwine, I’m reminded by how touching him soothed me when I spoke to Dad. He was my gravity then, and he’s my gravity now. The gravity is a force that’s much more powerful than I foresaw.

“Are you sure about this?” I murmur. “I’ve already hurt Sam. I don’t want to hurt you too if this doesn’t work out.”

“It will.” His eyes sharpen with conviction. “I won’t let anyone ruin what we have. Even if the universe hates what we are, I won’t ever hate you.” He releases my hands and maneuvers them to caress my cheeks. “I love you, Dan.”

I nod. Someday, I’ll be able to repeat those three words back to him.

Because when our lips meet and my stomach is churning with gentle waves, I’m certain that what Phil and I have is a fire that’ll never be extinguished.

What we have is real and here to stay.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

For any of you that read any of my former phanfics, I used a few lines from The Story of Us and Don’t You Wonder. I couldn’t resist using my one-liners while I wrote this.

Anak means “my son/daughter” and tadhana means “destiny.” I can’t speak Filipino fluently, but I do understand some of the language.

Maalala Mo Kaya is an ongoing Filipino TV series that showcases real-life stories of celebrities and average people like us. Dan’s family background was highly inspired by numerous eps I watched of MMK involving broken families.

Hope ya’ll enjoyed this! I had fun incorporating aspects of the “local” life in Hawaii, especially since the release of Pokemon Sun and Moon. If you haven’t tried a malasada, you should. There’s a reason why Hau loves ‘em. Don’t give spam such a hard time, because I eat spam musubi’s often and they’re delicious. And the bus system? Trust me, if you aren’t sure familiar with public transportation involving the bus system, you’re easily gonna get lost. Heaven knows how many tourists I witnessed questioning what bus to catch. Hell, even a local like me sometimes has to consult Google Maps to figure out what bus to ride.

Originally, I approached this story with a love triangle angle, but it was my professor who recommended I should try focusing on a father-son relationship instead. Best decision ever, because writing the story that way felt way more real.

~ AA

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casuallydyinginthecorner · 4 years ago

Text

Here it is! It’s a little late, but... here! Check for tws in the tags!

At first, the hands came towards him in a motherly caress. Then they turned gnarled, grabbing him and forcing him into a chair.

“You want to be a hero?” Shigaraki said in his mother’s voice. “Let’s see what you can do.” His grip turned to iron as the scene changed once again.

“Let’s see what you can do.”

The walls expanded, turning into a stern hand that slapped his cheek.

“You think talking will get you what you want?” his mother scolded. “No. If you speak so quietly, cry so often, you will never get what you want. Stand up, Katsuki. Your crying is pathetic.”

As Bakugo fell down, the pressure in his ears turned to humming whispers, all saying one thing: you’re worthless.

“You’d make a fine villain someday.”

“Bakugo?”

Suddenly the pressure eased, but the Decay didn’t stop. His lungs began to dissolve, droplets of blood filling the air. This was it. This was how he went out. A stupid, stupid dream.

“Bakugo, listen to me.” Somehow, this voice seemed different than the ones in the dream. Stable. More sure.

He felt something on his arm. A faint, warm pressure, keeping him from fully drifting away. The hand moved closer.

“Focus on my hand. It’s warm, right?” Closer.

“It’s warm, just like the room. You’re in the common room, on the couch that faces the TV. The heater is going off, and it’s making a rumbling noise.” Closer.

The voice continued. “You’re lying on the couch, and one of your hands is on the floor. Can you feel it?” Closer. Slowly, the darkness faded to a lighter gray.

“It’s 1:24 a.m. No one else is here. It’s just you and me.” The hand was so close that Bakugo could almost see its jagged lines. If he jumped up now, he would reach it.

“Nothing’s going to hurt you.”

As Bakugo jumped from the ground, the face called out. Come on!

“Nothing’s going to hurt you.” The darkness turned to white as Bakugo took the hand. His eyes opened. The common room came into focus, and with that, someone else.

“Sh*tty Hair?”

“Yep.” He moved closer. “How do you feel?”

“Why do you care?” Bakugo sat up. Someone had set a glass of water on the coffee table in front of him.

“Drink this.” Sh*tty Hair handed him the glass. Bakugo downed it gratefully. With a start, he realized that Sh*tty Hair’s hand was still intertwined in his.

“What are you doing here, anyway?” Bakugo asked, tearing his hand away. He decided to ignore the look of hurt on Sh*tty Hair’s face.

Bakugo said nothing. Why had he stepped in? His dream, or panic attack, or whatever it was, wasn’t any of his business.

“Why did you help me?” he grumbled.

“What?”

“Why did you help me?” You’d think he told Sh*tty Hair he wanted to play chess, he was so shocked.

“Why wouldn’t I?” He chuckled. “You needed help-and there’s nothing wrong with that- and I know how it feels when you’re alone and panicking, so…”

What had he said? Nothing’s going to hurt you. Tch. Like he would know. But still, if what he’d said was true…

“I need to be alone.” Luckily, Sh*tty Hair seemed to understand.

“I’ll be in my room if you need me. Door’s unlocked.” With that, he set off towards the staircase.

Bakugo hesitated. Nothing’s going to hurt you.

“Sh*tty Hair?”

He turned around. “Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

A small smile spread across his face. “Anytime.”

Would anyone mayhaps be interested in a Kiribaku oneshot

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