#I am about to become the most insufferable person imaginable for the next few months | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nojey · 3 years

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fans

dream x streamer!reader

genre: fluff, angst

word count: 2.4k

warning(s): cursing, failed relationship, throwing things out of anger

synopsis: (y/n) and dream met through a mutual friend and their own friendship begins to blossom on its own. they start talking more and more and the feelings they have for one another grows so much more than either of them imagined. but as they stream together, they realize how much hate they’ve started to get and rethink whether or not they should be together or not.

looking back on it, meeting dream was one of the best days of your life. that day, your friend, sapnap, had introduced you to one of his friends and from that day forward, a beautiful relationship bloomed. not a single one of either of your viewers knew you two had become friends and it was nice; keeping something to yourself from a whole community that knew almost everything about you. you both went from talking every once in a while, to every week, to every other day, to almost all day, everyday. you grew to know pretty much everything about each other, where he grew up, how his childhood was like, everything from his favorite color to what he feared the most. and as you got to know him more, your feelings for him just grew so much more than you had ever imagined. and you hoped he felt the same way about you.

when he asked you if you wanted to facetime, you were shocked. you guys were only ever either in a discord call, regular call, or texting. granted it had been about 7 months since you both became friends, but you didn’t need to know what he looks like. you like him for the person he is, how caring and attentive he is to his friends, how witty his personality is and how cocky and confident he is. you like him for the passion he has in his heart for the people and things he loves. you never had to see his face to know these things about him. but because you knew this was a big step in your friendship, you accepted. him even asking you to facetime meant so much to you.

he called you with his phone facing the ceiling and you had propped up yours so your upper body was on full display. “clay, you know you don’t have to show me your face? if you’re not ready to, you don’t have to.” you told him. “i’m more than ready to show you what i look like, (y/n). you’re an important person in my life and i want to show you.” he replied. “okay.. if you’re really sure. i just hope you know that whatever you look like, it will not change my opinion of you.” you assured him. “i know, (y/n).” he chuckled. “which is how i know i’m ready to show you.” you smiled. your heart warmed knowing that he trusts you this much. “whenever you’re ready, clay.” you said. “close your eyes,” he said. you did what he asked of you and you heard shuffling. he let out a breath, grabbed his phone and propped it up so you could see his face.

“you can open your eyes now.” he said. you slowly opened your eyes and your breath got caught in your throat as you fully saw him. “wow..” you whispered, still examining his face. “you’re really pretty, clay.” he started blushing and said, “stop staring, you’re just going to fall in love with me.” laughing a bit. you started blushing too and looked away. both your reasons for blushing may have been different, but you knew you were blushing because what he said was true.

for the rest of the night you both stayed up until 3am talking about anything and everything, getting to know each other more than you already did.

the day you both streamed together was about 4 months later. the internet went crazy. your viewers and his had absolutely no idea you two had known each other but they saw the way you two talked to each other; they knew you sounded like you were talking to your soulmate. you didn’t have to watch what you said, you laughed out to your hearts content, you both teased each other in such a flirtatious manner that it didn’t take them long to start thinking you guys were in a relationship.

but with the people who supported you, there were twice as many people who hated the idea of you two together. at first it was bearable, neither of you cared about the hate because you were happy with where you both were with each other. clay was confident that you felt the same way about him that he had for you. he fell in love with you and you knew you had fallen in love with him too.

a few weeks after your first stream together, he asked you if you wanted to fly to florida to meet him in person and you immediately said yes. you started packing your bags and by next week, you were on your way to meet the guy of your dreams.

when you landed, he was already there waiting for you and when you got to baggage claim you saw him and immediately recognized him. you ran up to him and gave him the tightest hug ever; you were finally in his arms. the height difference was evident and he had to lean down a bit to hug you but he felt so content with you being there, in his arms.

“you’re really here..” he whispered. “i’m here, clay. i’m here.” you assured. tears started slowly falling down your face and you buried your face deeper into his chest, taking in the warmth that was filling you. clay started crying too, thinking how lucky he was to be able to hold you close to him.

the day after you flew in was the one year mark of you two becoming friends so you went out to celebrate. throughout the day you guys reminisced back to the nights you both stayed up till the sun rose just talking and created new memories as you adventured through orlando. when it was around 3pm clay drove you to the beach to witness the sunset and you arrived just when the sun was kissing the water. you looked around the beach and saw no one but a beautiful set up with roses on the sand. you looked at clay with a surprised expression, he smiled, took your hand and lead you to where the roses laid. he brought you to stand in the middle of it and took both your hands in his,

“(y/n), when sapnap introduced us i never knew you would be such an important person in my life and i couldn’t be more grateful for you. you have helped me through my darkest times, celebrated with me in my happiest, been patient with me when i was being insufferable, stood by me during the most boring days and acted like you were having a blast when it was only just us talking. you’ve shown me that i can let myself be who i am without caring what any other person had to say about me. there’s so many words that i can’t put together right now because that’s how you make me feel. you make me feel so nervous when i’m around you and all the words in my head just get mixed up and i never know what to say. but i do know that right now, i’m trying to ask you on a date. so (y/n), will you go on a date with me?” by the time he was done with his speech you were close to tears. “of course i’ll go on a date with you clay.”

the night of your date had been the most magical night of your life. in the day you both went to disneyworld and at night he brought you to a hill top to, once again, watch the sunset while you both ate dinner on the hood of the rental car he got. everything was so perfect, it was the best date you’ve ever went on.

he was an absolute gentleman, not letting you pay for your things, opening the door for you, pulling you closer to him when someone got too close to you, treating you like you were a princess and you couldn’t have asked for a better guy to be with.

after you both finished your dinner you just laid down on the hood of the car and stared at the stars, talking about a future you wish had come true. that night you shared a kiss that would be remembered through the horrid months to come.

the day you left orlando, you didn’t think it would be the last time you ever saw clay in person. when you got home you talked like normal, already speaking about a second date the next time either you or he visited. you both missed each other like crazy and you believed you would see each other very soon.

you streamed together more often and no one was blind to the smitten words you both shared, to the adoration dripping in your voices. so many people hated it and you never understood why, was it because they thought you weren’t good enough for him? because they were so protective over him? did they just hate you? so many questions filled your mind when your phone ringing brought you out of it. you reached for your phone and saw that clay wanted to facetime. you answered with a smile on your face, “hi clay!” but it soon dropped when you saw the solemn look that fell upon his. “is everything okay?” you asked. he sighed and said, “we need to talk.”

and everything fell apart.

the next words that came out of his mouth broke your heart. “i don’t think we should continue dating, or maybe even being friends.” you could feel the tears pricking your eyes as you looked around your room, trying to understand why this would come up all the sudden. “what do you mean?” you asked, slightly laughing hoping he was playing some sick joke on you. but when you kept looking at his serious face, you understood he wasn’t and your tears finally fell. he looked at you and his eyes glossed over.

it hurt him knowing he was hurting you; the most important person in his life, the person he believed he would get married to and grow old with, the person he stayed up, losing sleep for just to get to know because you were worth that and a million more.

“i know you see all the hate we’re getting. and that’s only us streaming together. what happens when they find out we went on a date or if we do start dating, what would the fans say?” he said, no longer looking at you through his screen. “why do you care about what they’ll say about us?” you whispered. “look at me, please.” he slowly looked back at the screen to see your face full of tears and that’s what finally broke him.

“our fans. they hate seeing us together, we can’t disappoint them. we can’t dissatisfy them. i know your fans mean the world to you and mine mean the world to me too.” he said, wiping his tears away, wishing he could just wipe yours, kiss your cheek and tell you everything would be okay. “but we can make it work, we won’t stream together as much or at all anymore. we can be like how we were before they knew we were friends! we can make it work clay..” you said. he started getting frustrated, just wanting this to be over with so he didn’t have to see you so hurt anymore.

“i can’t keep going on with my fans hating the relationship i’m in (y/n)! i can’t keep seeing my fans hate you because of me! i can’t keep making my fans mad at me because i have a stupid little crush on you!” he raised his voice. the last sentence hurting you more than anything. and he saw that in your facial expression, immediately regretting it.

“no, (y/n). i- i didn’t mean it like tha-” you cut him off. “a stupid little crush? is that all i was to you clay? a stupid little crush? so what, that whole year we spent getting to know each other was you just having a stupid little crush on me? you asking me to fly to forida to meet you, was that you just having a stupid little crush on me? me actually flying all the way to florida to meet you, did you think i just had a stupid little crush on you? did you think me saying yes to going on a date with you was me just having a stupid little crush? what, did that date mean nothing to you? did that kiss mean nothing? did you not mean anything you said to me the night you asked me on that date? because i meant every single thing i said to you clay. you’ve impacted my life so much in such a good way, but i guess you didn’t feel the same way. was i just a joke? just someone to play with while you were bored?” you asked, not wanting to believe what he was saying.

“no, that’s not what i meant.” he sighed. “then why can’t we work things out!? i don’t understand, clay. if you really did mean everything you told me on that beach then why aren’t you trying harder for us?” you asked, disappointment dripping through your voice. “because i just don’t think we’d work out okay!” he yelled at you. neither of you spoke, just looking at each other. he saw the nasty glare and look of hurt wash over your face. “that’s all you needed to tell me.” you whispered.

you hung up and as soon as the call was disconnected you sobbed. you cried your eyes out. the guy you were in love with made you believe he wasn’t in love with you. you were absolutely devastated and you didn’t know if you’d ever be as happy as you were with him.

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in florida, sat a man with his phone clutched in his hands, tears streaming down his face that didn’t look like they would stop anytime soon. he whispered, “what have i done?” he screamed, he threw things, broke picture frames, punched the wall. but doing all those things would never bring you back to him.

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(y/n): hey everyone! i think i’m going to take a break from streaming and all social media for a few months. i don’t really want to go into detail right now but maybe if i come back i’ll explain everything. until then i hope all of you stay healthy and hopefully i come back eventually, i love you all :]

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authors note:

you guys!! there will be a part 2, send me an inbox or a message if you want to be on the tag list !!

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nah-she-didnt · 3 years

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Healing

There’s nothing better for the soul than a good Harry & Ginny post-battle one shot. Inspired by this post!

“And then she came back to the room all flushed, and when I asked her where she’d been she just said ‘oh, nowhere,’ in her lying voice, because you know she always talks about an octave above her natural speaking voice when she lies. Also, I knew she was lying because she had these little twigs caught in her hair on the back of her head.” Ginny grinned mischievously. “So of course, the next time she told me she was off to do laundry, I asked her if she would throw some of my stuff in her load too, but obviously she won’t because ‘laundry’ has become code for ‘I’m going to go defile your brother in your beloved childhood treehouse.’”

Harry tried very hard to listen to the animated story Ginny had been telling him for the past five minutes, but found it very difficult to focus. Her long fiery hair was blowing gently in the breeze that swept through The Burrow’s back garden. The skin on her nose that had burned so easily a few days ago had healed, and brand new freckles bloomed across her cheeks like spring crocuses. She laughed as she spoke, smile wide and her hands gesticulating wildly. Harry was quite sure in that moment that he was happier to be alive than he had been in his whole life.

“Harry? You aren’t laughing at my hilarious story.”

“Oh, sorry,” Harry forced himself out of his daydream, flushing slightly at being called out. “So, what did Hermione say to that?”

Ginny shook her head, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “Forget it, you weren’t even listening. I guess I’m too breathtaking for my own good.”

At her words, Harry leapt towards her, grabbing her around the waist and rolling the two of them so that they fell backwards in the grass, a mess of arms and legs. “You can say that again,” he growled before kissing her fiercely.

Ginny laughed against his lips. “How long have you been wanting to do that?”

“A whole year,” Harry said truthfully. He’d thought of kissing Ginny so many times in the last year that it felt simply impossible to be lying here in the tall grass with her, spectacularly alone and uninterrupted.

They kissed silently for a few minutes, her hands in his hair and his hands on her waist. They knew better than to explore each other any further while they were so close to the house, where any one of their extended family members could spot them. But Harry found that he didn’t care much if anyone saw him kissing Ginny, he just knew that he never wanted this feeling to stop.

“Mmm,” Ginny hummed, slowing her kisses down until they stopped completely, “I’m going to miss this.”

Harry stilled. He thought he knew what this might be about. Ginny was looking at him with one of her hard, blazing looks, and he knew that they were about to have the talk.

Harry sighed and lay back in the grass, pulling Ginny so that her head lay on his chest, his hand playing with her hair. He put a hand over his eyes to shield them from the July sun. “I hadn’t even thought about it, but of course you’re going back.”

He felt grimace against his chest. “Well, I’ve got things to do, you see. Got to make sure I can secure my place as best quidditch captain Gryffindor’s ever seen.”

“Oh? And what makes you think you’ll be better than the last one?”

“I won’t manage to get knocked out or banned from any games.”

“Fair enough.” It was true, Harry thought, he hadn’t set a shining example during his time as Gryffindor quidditch captain. “What else do you want next year?”

Ginny considered his question. “I want enough NEWTS so that I can play professional quidditch but get a sensible job when I retire. I want to keep the DA going, and I want to go down to Hagrid’s for tea more often. But most of all,” she rolled against him until she was laying on his chest, her hand caressing his face, “I want to see you as much as humanly possible.”

Harry forced himself to smile at her words. “That sounds like a plan to me.”

Ginny looked at him sadly. She kissed him lightly on the lips then settled herself back into the crook of his side. “What about you?” she asked, “what do you want next year?”

Harry thought hard. What did he want to do this year? He certainly didn’t fancy the idea of going to work for the Aurors right away. “I want to go on vacation.” he declared.

Ginny snorted. He looked down at the top of her head, bemused. “Think my dreams are funny, do you?”

“No, not at all,” she said, but her shoulders were shaking slightly with repressed laughter, “why on earth would you need a vacation Harry? Feeling stressed lately, are we?”

They both laughed then, loud, ugly laughing that filled the whole garden. They laughed for longer than the joke was funny, but laughing was a reason to hold each other, to delight in each other’s company while they could.

Harry wiped his eyes. “Well? What do you think I should do this year then?”

Ginny considered him. “I think you should take that vacation, but I think you should go alone. You need to do something where the only person you have to worry about is yourself. You’ve earned it.”

Harry put his hand on her head and pulled her towards him, his lips brushing against her forehead. “Fair enough. You know, Ginny, I’m not disappointed or anything that you’re going back. I always knew you would. I just... never had this before and I never want it to end.”

Ginny propped herself up on her elbow and looked at him through the strands of hair that fell in her face. “Never wanted what to end?”

Harry was silent. He wasn’t sure he could put what he was feeling into words.

“I suppose, when I’m with you, I just feel loved. Not that-” he said quickly, suddenly horrified, “I’m saying I, well, you know, I just love being with you! I mean, I do- the other thing- god, I’m mucking this up, aren’t I? What I meant was-” but Ginny silenced him by kissing him hard. Harry wondered how Ginny was able to fill her kisses with all the things he could not find the words to say.

When they broke apart, Ginny smiled sweetly at him. “I feel the same way, Harry.”

“Oh...well, good,” Harry breathed, feeling slightly winded.

They sat in silence for a few moments as they caught their breath. Finally, Harry sat up and crossed his arms against his chest. “I just... I can’t believe you’re leaving me, Ginny.”

Ginny sat up, confusion flashing across her face. “But I thought you just said-”

“I cannot believe you’re leaving me alone with Ron,” Harry whined, “God, Gin, do you know how absolutely insufferable he’s going to be? He talks of nothing but Hermione on a good day, just imagine him after he’s gone a week without seeing her, or worse still a month? I’m just not sure if I can forgive this betrayal.”

Ginny threw her head back and laughed. “Oh come on, he won’t be so bad.”

Harry shot her an incredulous look. “Not that bad? Do you know what he told me the other day? He told me that he sprayed some of her perfume on his pillow so that when she stays at her parents’ for the night he can still smell her! How am I supposed to live with that all bloody year while you two are off at Hogwarts?”

“You think she’s any better?” demanded Ginny, “The other day she wore his Cannons t-shirt! Around my bedroom! When she knows full well that I’m going out for the harpies when I finish school!”

They continued to argue, laugh, and lounge together until the sun sank low into the sky. Soon they heard Mrs. Weasley call them in for dinner, and Harry stood to help Ginny to her feet. Ginny instead stood up on her own, then proceeded to try and push Harry to the ground, laughing. As they walked back to the house hand-in-hand, Harry knew that not even a term apart could undo the healing that a summer with Ginny had brought him.

#nina writes #hinny #one shot #post-battle of hogwarts #summer after the war #Harry potter/ginny weasley #side romione #canon compliant #harry is simp nation like his father before him #hinny fic #hp fanfic

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bitemealiienboy · 4 years

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Sonder | D!Master x F!Reader (Pt 1)

Summary: The year is 2014, The Master has been posing as O as MI6 for a year and is slowly but surely gaining the trust of the most important members of MI6. He is asked to work on a new project where he meets Agent S (the reader).

Word Count: Over 2300

Warnings: mentions of death.

Notes: Should probably warn you now that this is gonna be a slow build. The Prologue to this series and any other parts (providing they have been published) can be found here.

“With a thousand lies and a good disguise.” — The Offspring

Earth, what an awful planet. The Master hated every moment of his life here. He struggled to understand why The Doctor loved this planet so much, why they would even go as far as to befriend some of its inhabitants. He couldn’t wait to destroy this pathetic planet. He couldn’t wait to show The Doctor the charred and burnt remains of this insufferable planet. In his dreams he could clearly see the look of horror on The Doctor’s face, the moment of realisation when they find out that every human they have ever loved and known is gone with their planet.

The Master had been working at MI6 for just over a year now and was still yet to meet a human who he found tolerable. He wished that he could miniaturise the whole lot of them. Acting like kind and sweet O all day long was draining and boring. Was it too much to ask for a little bit of excitement?

The last time he had done anything remotely fun was the day he ambushed the MI6 Agent on his way to work. He would often think back on that day, his last act of brilliance in over a year. Shame there was no one there to see it. He remembered how he stalked the man on his way to work. The Master couldn't even remember his name. Either way, it wasn't important. As far as he was concerned the man was just collateral damage. A means to an end, at the time he didn’t care if the young man had a family who’d miss him. He still doesn’t care.

The Master couldn’t help but smile as he remembered how he held up MI6 Agent against a wall forcing the man to give him all of his ID cards and his tie. He remembered how he let the man go, watching the man run for a small second, long enough to give him hope before pointing the TCE at him and killing him at the simple push of a button.

The Master would re-live that day, a lot. Especially when things at his job got incredibly boring.

The last thing you wanted was to see C first thing on a Monday morning. It was way too early for another one of his long and boring meetings. You needed a coffee or at least some sort of caffeine in your system to have the strength to sit through a pointless meeting.

You despise your new role at MI6. Your fall from field agent to an analysis wasn’t graceful. Despite it being over a year ago, you were still annoyed at C’s decision to remove you from the field over a minor injury.

You let out a sigh of annoyance as you reached the door to C’s office. You knocked on it a few times before opening the door and poking your head round. Much to your relief it wasn’t a meeting. C was sitting at his large desk, opposite him was a man with dark hair and a white shirt on.

“Oh, If you’re busy I can come back later.” You said, about to close the door.

“No, no. S, I would like you to meet, O.” C said getting up from his chair.

“O?” You said walking into the room. You walked toward the man called O. He stood up, he turned to face you. He has a warm and welcoming smile as he places his hand out to you. You shook it.

“I’ve asked O to join you and your team,” C explained.

You turned to face C, raising a brow at him. “No one told me about this,” you said.

“It was a last minute decision.”

“Of course.” You said, trying to hide your doubt.

The meeting, if you could call it that, didn’t last long after that. C asked you to explain to O his new role and introduce him to the new office. So you did exactly that. You rushed through the office politics first. Small but important things like how you're expected to get everyone a round of tea and coffee once in a while.

After that you went on to explain what he would be expected to do. Your team's work mainly consisted of researching the public, in particular anyone who seemed suspicious or dangerous. Most of the time you and your team were wrong with your suspicions, the flaw of working in a somewhat dangerous job was that everyone was suspicious.

O followed you into the office kitchen, you put the kettle on to make yourself a much needed coffee.

“Want anything?” You asked.

“A tea please,” O said rather quietly.

You leaned back onto the kitchen counter as you waited for the kettle to boil. You glanced at O, quietly studying him. You could tell that he was still relatively new to MI6. The shy way in which he carried himself. There was also a certain naivety about him.

“So what were you doing before?” You asked.

“Same role but for a different department.” O said as the kettle finished boiling. “What about you?” He asked, helping to make the drinks.

“I was a field agent. Undercover work.”

“What happened?” O quickly said. He paused and quietly said “sorry, I’m being nosy.”

“It's fine,” you reassured him. “I got an injury and C insisted on putting me on desk duty.”

O simply nodded. He could read your mind, well parts of it anyway. Upon meeting you he knew small fragments about you, bits of your mind that were on show to him. Of course there were some bits of information he would like to know, but he would get them from you in good time. The best part about it was that you would never even know about it.

“So who are you currently looking into?” O asked, taking a sip of his tea.

“Several Politicians and some ex-spies,” you said. “But if you’re asking about the most known person then it would be Daniel Barton.”

O quietly and quickly noted how direct you were. He presumed it was a part of the job or perhaps the fact that you had no time or patients for wasting time.

“So,” O looked at you as you spoke. “Are you ready to meet the team?”

O nodded. In reality he didn’t want to meet ‘the team’, he didn’t want to be a part of ‘the team’. He didn’t even want to be here for that matter. He would much rather be back in his TARDIS, or miles away from Earth terrorising a planet. He knew it was going to be a long few years. He knew he was going to hate every moment of it. But the look on The Doctor’s face would make it all worthwhile.

Upon meeting them he didn’t think much of ‘the team’ which consisted of S and three other agents named G, L, and M. There was nothing special about the three agents. They were all predictable and weak humans, they would all become collateral damage once his plan had begun.

“O?”

He snapped out of his thoughts and turned to face one of the agents, it was L. Agent L was the tallest of all the other agents. He was lanky and looked younger than the rest of the team. You could see the acne scars on parts of his pale face, although most of his face was covered by a curly mop of brown, greasy looking hair.

“I’ve heard of you before,” L said. “Use to work with a mate of mine.”

“Oh really who?” O asked.

“He said you did a lot of research on Aliens.”

He withheld a frustrated sigh. It annoyed him that L completely ignored his question. But what annoyed him more was the smirk of the boy's face when he said Aliens. He thought the urge to strangle him right there and choose to innocently smile and nod.

“Well I can save you a lot of time,” O bit down on his tongue as L continued to speak. L’s tone was mocking, he made a small laugh before saying, “Aliens don’t exist.”

O faked a laugh and smiled. He walked away from him and went to greet the other agents. He didn’t want to but anything was better than L being am embarrassment.

He silently decided that L was going to have to disappear.

O kept to himself for the rest of the day. He had a small conversation with M and G but quickly knew all that he wanted to know about the two agents. M was a kind-hearted woman who hates her room mate and has a cat. As for G he was a man of average height but was incredibly built, he insisted on performing every task to perfection and had dreams of becoming a field agent.

“Just ignore L. He’s only picking on you because you’re new.”

He looked up to see S holding two mugs. He smiled as you handed him a cup of tea and went to take a seat opposite him. To O smiling seemed like the simplest reaction for most situations. No talking was involved, meaning he wouldn’t slip up by accident. Also humans seemed to appreciate it a lot. “It’s like being back at school.” He said. It was partly true, one thing Earth and Gallifrey had in common was that school was a nightmare for some people.

“That’s because L still has the mental age of a 15 year old school boy.”

O laughed at your comment. It was genuine, not a fake smile like before. You were the most bearable out of the team. Perhaps he would be nice for once and you wouldn’t become collateral damage in the years to come.

“L is rather young. He still looks like he’s at school.” He decided to keep the conversation going.

“Straight out of University. L might be childish but he’s smart.” You said, taking a small sip of your drink.

“So he’s still got a lot to learn?”

“Something like that.”

The next few months were not fun at all for O. The work was fine, the work was bearable. What he hated was the people. Listening to his colleagues talk about their personal lives and to act like he cared about them was perhaps one of the greatest challenges that he ever faced.

But none of that compared to L and his constant jokes about Aliens. O wished that he could show L everything. To prove the smug git wrong. He imagined what it would be like to show him the stars and then to throw him into them and watch the fear on his face as he slowly died. O dreamed pushing L into the sun or a black hole.

His desire to kill L was endless. As O realised that his lust for murder wasn’t going to end anytime soon he had to take a week off. Just a week to leave Earth and become The Master again. He thought that perhaps burning a world would stop his need to kill L for a while. He thought wrong.

“Hey!”

O sighed as he saw L. He was on his way home. He really didn’t want to deal with L. “What?” O grumbled in annoyance.

“Why didn’t you give C my research pack?”

“Because it’s not my job to.” O watched in boredom waiting for L to reply. He didn’t. “If you have nothing else to see then—” O didn’t finish his sentence. He started to walk off.

But he couldn’t shake off the darkness that overcame him this time. He turned around and marched up to L. His hand went to his throat as he pushed the agent up against the wall. He watched L struggle and whimper for a second, feeling a warm buzz.

“You know nothing,” He spoke darkly.

He smirked at L, his grip on the man slowly got tighter the more he struggled. As soon as L realised this he became limp. All of sweet and innocent O was lost. He was The Master again. The Master used his free hand to touch L’s temple, he was going to prove him wrong. He sent him a flash of images of burning worlds and creatures from other worlds. He stopped once he decided that L had seen enough, he let go of the man and watched him run. He let out a laugh of excitement.

But that came to a quick halt. He ran a hand through his hair, his heart's racing as he slowly began to realise how big he messed up. Adrenaline began to run through him as he thought about what he was going to do. He had to get rid of L before Monday morning. He couldn’t risk the possibility of L telling on him.

It was Friday morning. L hadn't been in work for a few days and The Master was still buzzing from what he did earlier that week. For the time being, that feeling kept his mind off of the worry that L still told someone or that someone saw him.

He continued to carry on with the week as normal, he would do his work quietly and not bother anyone. Occasionally he would glance over at L’s empty desk, he would lock eyes with M or G who were doing the same thing. He would mirror their look of confusion and mouth a “I don’t know,” when they asked if they knew where L was.

It was late afternoon on Friday when S came into the shared office asking for everyone’s attention. O looked up at S, he took his earbuds out. From the look on her face he could tell that it was about L.

“S, what’s going on?” M asked.

“L has gone missing. . .”

O watched to see what G and M were doing. He saw Agent G put a hand to her mouth in shock. He slowly copied, he placed a hand to his mouth and kept it there. It hid the grin he couldn’t help but show.

“You’re joking,” O gasped.

#doctor who fanfic #doctor who imagine #doctor who fic #dhawan!master #dhawan!master x reader #dhawan master #dhawan master x reader #the master #the master x reader #the master imagine

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raendown · 5 years

Link

Soooo this started as just a simple commission and then rapidly got out of control, as seems to keep happening to me lately. xD For you @copyninken for inspiring me with such an excellent commission prompt!

Chapter: 1/9 Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 4660 Rated: M Summary: Walking patrol around a university for mages probably sounded like a wild time but Tobirama has never found it all that exciting. He's not even technically supposed to be here. When responding to a tripped alarm becomes a desperate attempt to stay alive, however, excitement is the last thing on his mind. All he's ever wanted is a quiet life alone with his books until he finds himself bound to Uchiha Madara in the most impossible way and finally learns to think about more than just himself - in a way.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

Duality

He wasn’t even a professor. Tobirama scowled to himself and pulled the edges of his cloak tighter in search of whatever pocket he had dropped his warming stone in to. Such a simple rune and yet it was no help to him if he couldn’t find it. Of course, he wouldn’t need it if his brother hadn’t turned those puppy eyes on him and begged with his bottom lip wobbling pathetically, so disgustingly sad that Tobirama had agreed to do as he asked just to make that face go away. He wasn’t even a professor! He should not be out here in the evening chill performing a professor’s duties.

A huff of frustration escaped him and he dropped his handful of cloak, shoving it back so he could pat himself down for other pockets. His habit of misplacing things was the whole reason he’d started sewing extra pockets in to his clothing whenever he remembered to but the problem was that now he had too many pockets to look through and his things still ended up lost.

Fingers closing around something cool and smooth, he fought back the excess material to pull his hand out with a cry of triumph, expecting to see the warming stone he was certain he’d picked up that morning. Then he snorted in disgust when he found half a broken pestle instead. No one was around to watch him stomp one foot in irritation. No warming stone and now he was probably going to spend the rest of the evening wondering which mortar was missing its pestle. Had he taken someone else’s? Had he broken his own?

How was he supposed to properly grind faerie wings – willingly gifted, of course – if he hadn’t the right tools?

Contrary to his predictions, any thoughts of preparing ingredients for his various experiments came to an abrupt halt when he rounded the corner and saw the other person he was meant to be paired with for that evening’s patrol. Madara looked as dramatic as ever, clad in fiery red from head to toe as though his natural element wasn’t obvious in the way sparks clung to his hair and smoke rose out of his fingertips in fits and starts. Standing along one of the outer passages, positioned next to an opening in the wall, his hair rose and fell as the wind howled outside. The idiot would have frozen in minutes dressed down as he was if he wielded any other element.

After a few moments of standing in one place and scowling as hard as he could Tobirama accepted that the other man hadn’t noticed him there. White skin and sharp footsteps should have made him rather obvious in the dark but Madara had always been a little too wrapped up in himself to pay much attention to others.

Tobirama threw the broken pestle at him.

“What the fuck!?” Madara screeched in surprise when stone sparked against stone right next to his face, leaping away and spinning in a full circle until finally his eyes landed on where Tobirama had now crossed his arms with an expectant expressed. “Are you kidding me? I was supposed to walk patrols with your brother tonight; what the hell are you doing here?”

“Nothing pleasant, I assure you. Brother decided that planning a date with Mito on the same night he was scheduled to walk the halls with you was an excellent idea. One would think the security of his own university would be more important than gargling someone else’s tonsils but I have never claimed to understand how his mind works. And so here I am.” He smirked a little when Madara wrinkled his nose with disgust.

“Must you refer to it like that?”

“Have you seen them kiss? That is essentially what he is doing.” Tobirama slid his hands in whatever pockets were closest to ward off the winter chill. “Whatever you want to call it, he asked me to cover his duties while he is otherwise occupied.”

Visibly put off, Madara waved both hands aimlessly in protest. “You’re not even a professor!”

“I know!” It wasn’t often the two of them agreed on much but in this they were of the same mind.

Of course, Tobirama was more than old enough to be a professor here at the school should he have wished to be. He certainly had more than enough knowledge to teach any of several different subjects. Unfortunately for the masses he had very little interest in taking so much time away from his research, preferring to stick with his technical status as student and continue on in the life of a scholar. Nothing appealed to him more than the rush of discovering some ancient scrap of knowledge written by some unnamed mage and finding a use for it.

He did not appreciate errands like this one taking up precious time he could have been using to look more in to the effects of those crystals Touka had given him for his birthday a century or so ago. If his estimations were correct then they might have been formed from a naturally occurring phenomenon that only happened during a massive outburst of dragon magic. Such things had never been recorded!

“You’re off in your own head again already. Great. Well this is going to be just tons of fun, isn’t it? Babysitting you while looking out for students getting up to shenanigans. You know how they get when they catch the first hints of graduation! I’ve had three try to break in to my office in the past week and there’s still a month left of classes!”

“Looking for exam notes?”

“Obviously.” Madara snorted as though he hadn’t done the exact same thing when he was a student, sneaking a peak at his teacher’s notes so he knew exactly which spells he should study up on for the exam.

Tobirama snickered without bothering to hide it. Served the asshole right for being so uptight all the time. He hoped some of those students had got what they came for before Madara caught them. Later he would have to figure out who they were and provide them with the answers himself, having taken the class on a whim a decade or so back. The poor idiot probably didn’t have enough imagination to change his exam from year to year.

“Ugh, let’s just get this over with. We usually start with the western courtyard to make sure no one is trying to perform any summonings under the moonlight.” Spinning on his heel, hair and cloak flaring out with a wholly unnecessary amount of drama, Madara stalked away down the hall without waiting to see if he was being followed.

“I remember my first summoning.” Tobirama sighed wistfully. Ahead of him, Madara twitched.

Before he could get too far in to his reminiscing about the time he summoned a nether beast that took a liking to Madara’s hair – poor taste but it had probably been the funniest thing the university had seen in several decades – their patrol was interrupted before it could even truly begin.

As soon as the alarm went off Madara, long used to having it tripped by miscreant students, pressed one palm against the closest wall and murmured something in a low voice. The wards rippled under his touch and Tobirama could hear them deep down in the parts of himself that had been connected with the world’s magic since his very first breath. He knew as well as anyone else who had been here at the school long enough that the wards were alive in a way he couldn’t explain, although being a student he also knew that they wouldn’t listen to him as they did to Madara. More poor taste. That man had nothing to say that would be even half as interesting as the things Tobirama had floating around in his head.

“What have they to report?” he asked when his companion set off without saying anything, scurrying to keep up.

“The alert came from the northern edge of the property. What anyone is doing all the way out there is beyond me. If we’re lucky maybe they’ll fall in to the river before we get there.” Every word Madara spoke was dripping with offense as though whoever was out there causing trouble had done him a personal injustice by choosing to do so on the night it was his duty to watch over the massive castle housing their university.

Drifting along behind him, not half as worried, Tobirama snickered again at the image of someone falling in to the river. Long ago when the first mages had created this place of learning they had been just a wee bit suspicious of outsiders. History was a little vague on exactly which one of them did it but Tobirama’s theory was that it had actually taken all of them to convince the earth herself to raise up high and set the university grounds far above the rest of the surrounding countryside, sheer cliffs at every boundary line and only one set of stairs carved in to the eastern wall. Just imagining someone stupid enough to topple off the cliff and down in to the northern river left Tobirama smiling. People were idiots. If somehow a non-magic person had found their way to this hidden place and trekked all the way up a staircase that would be invisible to them he sort of hoped they fell back down the cliff just for being so insufferably nosey.

Neither of them spotted anyone on their way to where the wards had been disturbed, not another soul awake or at least none of them stupid enough to be up and about on a cold winter night such as this. Which was strange, actually, unless somehow the disturbance had come from outside the boundaries because if it had come from inside then they should have passed someone on the way to the scene. After exiting the front doors of the castle there was really nowhere for anyone to hide on the wide open grounds surrounding it.

As they drew closer, merely a few dozen feet away, Tobirama began to twitch.

“I don’t like this,” he grumbled.

“What?” Despite the fact that there was no love lost between them, he appreciated that Madara had the good sense to stop and listen to him. He did have his smart moments.

“The snow,” Tobirama pointed out. “It’s undisturbed. And there are no whispers.”

“Whispers?”

Cutting one hand through the air impatiently, he snapped, “Yes, whispers, the water in the snow. I can speak to my own element just as you can. No one has gone through here in the past few hours. If they had then the snow would remember.”

Madara eyed him contemplatively for a moment and then nodded. With absolutely no connection to water himself, he would have to rely entirely on Tobirama’s word for that. Unfortunately the fire in his veins did nothing to make him a cautious man, preferring to bull his way in to a situation while yelling his questions, and that tendency showed itself now. With a decisive slant of his brow he strode forward and stretched one hand out, probably intending to speak with the wards again and ask what they remembered about when the alarm had been tripped.

He cried out with surprise and stumbled back in to Tobirama, sending both of them crashing down in the very center of the glyph lighting up underneath their feet. Completely hidden by snow, diameter large enough that Tobirama could have stretched out completely and not been able to touch both sides, it glowed with a pale yellow light the moment Madara tried to pass beyond the far side and cast him back, trapping them both within.

“I told you I didn’t like this,” Tobirama murmured, already reaching out with raw magic to feel around the edges of the glyph.

“Shut up. What’s happening?”

“Oh, I really don’t like this.” That was all the answer Tobirama managed to give before the light doubled in intensity and the world around them began to warp. Madara screeched in his ear and Tobirama couldn’t help but agree – with the panic, not with the level of decibels he managed to achieve. This was definitely cause for panic.

They had barely a handful of seconds to process what was happening. One minute they lay in a heap together in the virgin snow outside of their beloved university and the next they were transported to what would have looked like an underground cavern of some sort if not for the wind blowing in from one end. Someone had forcibly relocated them to a cave. Someone was looking forward to an early grave when they found their way back home.

“If you even think the words ‘I told you so’ I will rearrange your face.” Madara sat upright just to snarl at Tobirama, covering his discomfort with the usual bluster.

“Now seems as good a time as any to tell you that my dearest wish is for you to someday learn to use your brain for thinking first before the yelling starts.”

“Fuck. You.”

“We may have to resort to that for entertainment, as abhorrent as the idea is. I’m sure you haven’t spent the brainpower to notice but we appear to be sealed in here.” Tobirama lifted one of his eyebrows and gestured towards where the cave twisted out of sight. No visible barrier could be found but he could already feel the muffling effect of some kind of dampening spell.

Not only had they been sent away but they had been trapped here. Wonderful. Tobirama wondered what he had done recently to piss the spirits off so much that he ended up trapped in a cave with only Uchiha Madara for company. Literally anyone else in the world would have been better – except for maybe Uchiha Izuna. Madara’s younger brother was probably the only person more annoying than him. Even worse, he somehow had less social tact than the world’s biggest buffoon.

Both men pushed themselves to their feet and moved towards the far side of the cave where a bend in the path would have led towards the outside world. A few meters before they would have reached it they were stopped, something unseen sizzling in warning. Neither of them were really all that interested in using themselves as a test subject to find out what they were being warned away from. At least, not without knowing who laid the barrier, what their element was, how willing they were to separate limbs from bodies, that sort of thing.

Edging backwards until the sizzling stopped, Madara dropped his face in to what was possibly the sourest expression he had ever managed, arms crossing and shoulders tensing until they were hiked up around his ears.

“This is bullshit,” he declared.

“I hate to say you’re right about anything but in this case I am compelled to agree.” Tobirama looked around for somewhere to sit, disappointed to realize there was nowhere that wasn’t covered in ice or snow. He ignored the offended the mess of huffs and snorts behind him as Madara tried to figure out if he was offended or smug.

After a while the man settled with, “Between the two of us we can find a way through it, why are you sitting down?”

“Because between the two of us I am not volunteering to get close enough to that barrier to make a physical inspection. If you would shut up for a few moments I could gather my concentration to look at it in other ways.” Scraping a small area clean with the side of one boot, he added, “Unless you also happen to have studied for as long as I have and understand how to connect yourself to another person’s magic? No? I didn’t think so.”

“Could you be any more of an asshole?” Madara snarled.

“Probably but they say imitation is the highest form of flattery and I have no intention of flattering you.”

While his companion took a few seconds to work through that Tobirama sat down on the cold stone floor, as free of snow as it was going to get, and turned himself inwards to the power flowing through him. Madara’s inevitable screech of anger went in one ear and out the other as Tobirama let his consciousness gather and then flow outwards, stretching himself until he could feel every inch of his surroundings. The bright sensation of fire-passion-fearless took concentration to think past, as Madara often did, but Tobirama forced himself to push farther towards the warm-forbidding-apology that awaited him at the mouth of their impromptu dungeon. Strange, he thought. Those weren’t the feelings he had expected to get from this little exploration. Whoever set up that barrier felt guilty while doing so.

Carefully brushing along the edges, Tobirama was able to feel for points where the spell was weakest and slip underneath them, filling the proverbial cracks with his own magic and leaving pieces of himself behind like those hidden landmines non-magical folk had been so fond of during their first couple of wars.

Retreating back in to his own body and opening his eyes felt like a loss. It was always a bit of a jarring experience feeling the world in such an intimate way and then opening his eyes to find himself nothing more than human once again. Existing as conscious magic made him feel free and unconstrained while coming back to his body left him overly aware of how cold his ass had become from sitting on frozen rock. Popping his eyes open, he grimaced and clenched both butt cheeks in an effort to encourage some blood flow.

“Well?” Madara demanded. “Did the oh-so-smart scholar find anything useful?”

“I’ve weakened the barrier but it’ll take time to fall apart completely. Until then there’s really nothing for us to do but wait.” Not the best news he’d ever had to deliver, although the irritation in Madara’s expression was at least a small lift to his mood.

“Seriously? We just sit here? And do nothing?”

“I have done something. That something will take time. If you have anything you would like to add to my efforts then be my guest.” Tobirama waited and when his companion gave no response he hummed in satisfaction. Being right was a pleasure all on its own but being right when Madara was wrong? That was always best.

Since it was already quite late his hope was that he could somehow fall asleep or at least doze off to pass the hours more quickly. Madara stomped around trying to find a place of his own to settle down while Tobirama closed his eyes again and told himself very firmly to ignore the cold seeping deeper and deeper in to his limbs with every passing moment. If he lost part of his ass cheeks to frostbite someone was going to pay very deeply for such a transgression.

More than an hour passed in complete silence after the other idiot with him finally settled down and yet still Tobirama couldn’t bring himself even close to dozing off. Water was his element of course but he certainly didn’t enjoy sitting around in the frozen form of it for ages on end. Around the time he realized he had all but stopped shivering he also realized that perhaps losing an extremity or two was the least of his problems, though it still ranked fairly high in his mind. His limbs were fairly important to his ability to perform certain spells.

Curious in a sluggish sort of way, he lifted one hand and tried to wiggle his fingers.

“Ah,” he murmured, voice slurring. “That’s not good at all.”

“What’s not good?” Madara’s voice demanded. Up until he spoke the man had appeared to be sleeping, hunched down with the snow around him melting, body heat raised to keep warm.

Tobirama forced his head to turn and meet his companion’s eyes. It took a few moments to process the sudden cursing, the way Madara scrambled across the cave to kneel in front of him. When large hands enclosed his own he felt nothing.

“Your fucking lips are blue! Actually blue!” Madara blew on his hands. Logically Tobirama could guess that he was heating the air but it appeared his fingers had gone entirely numb. At some point while he sat there and waited for sleep hypothermia had found him instead. Irritating. More so because he found thinking straight incredibly difficult once he actually tried to think about anything.

“Definitely not good,” he said.

“Why the hell didn’t you say anything?” Madara demanded.

“As if you would have cared.” Difficult as it was to concentrate on anything, the antagonistic relationship between them was as natural as his own heartbeat and required even less thought.

Predictably, Madara snorted, almost dropping his hands in retaliation. “Fine way to speak to the only one around who can keep you alive,” he snarled.

Contrary to his attitude he did continue to breathe warm air over the frozen digits between them. If they’d had a little warning before getting summarily evacuated from university grounds then maybe one of them might have brought along gloves or a scarf. Well, Madara wouldn’t have because he didn’t need either but Tobirama certainly would have bundled up a little more. Either their captor hadn’t thought of these particular consequences or they didn’t really care and he would only find out which if he lived through the cold night.

For the most part Tobirama sat still through Madara’s attempts to bring feeling back in to his hands, even if that was largely in part due to the fact that he was worried any movements would send him toppling over sideways. Only the fact that he had settle in place seemed to be keeping him upright. After a while Madara gave a frustrated growl and Tobirama blinked up at him wordlessly in question.

“This is taking too long. I can’t breathe the rest of you warm again – also that would be creepy and I hate the images in my head now. I need to warm all of you up at once.”

“So do that,” Tobirama mumbled.

“Well it’s not as easy as ‘just do it’! I could build a flame easy enough but it would burn you before it did much good. There’s…another option. But you’re not going to like it. Hell, I don’t like it.” At Tobirama’s grunt he took a deep breath and absently rubbed the hands between his own. “Open your pathways to me. Your core magic. I’ll merge it with mine and lend you my fire; that should keep us both warm.”

Staring at him in complete shock, Tobirama managed to ask, “Have you gone completely mad?”

It was, by all accounts, a perfectly understandable question. There were few things more intimate that one mage could do for another than allow them to touch their core magic. Not even most married couples would be comfortable bearing their souls in such a manner. To do so for someone he didn’t even like, let alone trust, the very idea was laughable.

Yet Madara was far from laughing.

“There has to be another way to get warm,” he insisted. Madara sighed.

“No. Your body temperature is so low, there’s no other way to warm all of you at once without killing you. I could wrap around you and raise my own heat but it wouldn’t work fast enough and you would burn.” Shaking his head, he frowned. “I wouldn’t have suggested it if I thought something else would work, believe me.”

Tobirama closed his eyes for a moment to think and realized a few moments later that there was no longer any time to do so. When he tried to open his eyes again it was a fight, a harrowing effort, and he recognized that Madara was right; he was too far gone.

“Fine,” he whispered.

Without asking he couldn’t be sure if Madara was doing this because he would never hurt Hashirama by letting his brother go out like this or simply because he was a man with enough morals not to let another human die right in front of him. Tobirama considered it but decided against asking. He probably wouldn’t like the answer and it didn’t truly matter. In the end he was still being offered a free ticket to survival, a one-time offer going fast.

At the very least Madara was merciful enough not to be smug about it. He nodded once before shuffling around behind where Tobirama sat and wriggling in between his frozen bulk and the wall to press their bodies together, chest to back.

“The closer we are the better this will work,” he said. “Don’t worry, I hate it just as much as you. One little cuddle and then we never speak of this again.”

“I’ll clam up if you do,” Tobirama assured him.

His companion grunted. With his body now slumped backwards against another form Tobirama found his head lolling forward to stare down at the hands interlocking with his own again to create two points of connection, making a circle of their pathways for their magic to flow along. Clever, he had to admit. Positioning them like this would leave them in a constant state of feedback with each other.

Despite already agreeing to do this, opening himself to Madara proved to be one of the hardest things he’d ever done in his life. Every instinct in his body cried out against the first touch of another’s magic where he should feel only his own and yet with sheer stubbornness he managed to keep himself from shoving the other man out. He expected the feeling of being invaded, the most sacred part of him violated when it should have remained pure only until the unlikely day he intentionally invited another in.

What he did not expect was the harmony. Madara’s core and his own merged together as easily as stirring the ingredients for one of his elixirs. Warmth suffused him as promised but it wasn’t quite the warmth he expected, less body heat and more a sort of inner peace the likes of which he’d never achieved in his life.

In the darkness his inner eye was blinded by a light, fire rushing along the rivers of his core magic, cool blue turned to burning gold and dancing in such a way he couldn’t distinguish fire or water.

And he wasn’t alone. Tobirama stared unseeing at the cavern around them and knew only the second presence inside his mind, the hesitant brush of a thought that wasn’t his own. Ever too curious for his own good, he pushed towards it and gasped as he encountered Madara’s mind, faint but there, the edges of that twisted and baffling mind just beyond an ephemeral and very much proverbial wall. He shouldn’t. Tobirama knew he shouldn’t. But his curiosity had gotten him in to trouble many times in his life and this would certainly not be the last.

He pushed. Just a quick gentle nudge, inching a little closer for a better look. What better way to understand a man’s actions and personality than to take a look inside his mind and the feelings therein? For a moment he could feel the edges of Madara’s curiosity echoing back at him and, incredibly, he got the impression that he didn’t so much break in rather than the door being willingly cracked open. It was a thrill until the unthinkable happened. He slipped. He fell in to Madara in a way that would have been impossible to describe to anyone who had not experienced the same thing before but if he hadn’t just given himself entirely over to another he would have had only one thing to say.

They were one.

#rae writes #commission #madatobi #madara #tobirama #magic au #modern with magic au #fanfiction

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fearfilledvirgil · 6 years

Text

Ivity and Anx: part thirteen

Summary: Patton has an internal struggle. Since he is bent on not remidying it himself, Roman gives him a way to solve the problem.

Warnings: abandonment issues, crying, self-depreciating thoughts, lowkey guilt tripping, pondering on thoughts, song writing

Word Count: 2708

Paring: Slowburn Prinxiety

A/N: I love how vauge I can make my summarys, okay? But. This is it. This is where things get interesting. Sort of. Sorry for the long wait again! I now have chapters written and planned out, so there won’t be a long wait again. Enjoy! (Taglist under the cut)

masterlist

Taglist: @rileyfirstname @verymuchanidiot @definentlynotjustanotherlemon @silversmith-91 @kanejandkruge @sander-fander-sides @lovecrazyjennybear @the-incedible-sulk @hexdream18243 @crows-with-hats @monikastec @definenormalifyoucan @i-am-absolute-fandom-trash @applecannibal @cats-with-blogs @bubblycricket @gay-girls-do-it-better @bunnyartie @quietlypondering @elusivefalsehoods @hghrules @royallyanxious @quietwords-loudthoughts @squishynonbinarytwink @sortablue @illogical-anxieties @savingshae @a-fander-named-skittles @thelowlysatsuma @ughthatsprettygay @im-so-infinitesimal @certifiedtrashxx @karmels-stuff @littlelogicstillcounts

The most practical next step of action was simple. Patton understood that. It was very easy to understand, but for the most idiotic reason, he couldn't. It wasn’t logical at all, but then again, logic was never his department. It was always Logan’s, and Logan was the problem. Not him himself, but he was heavily involved. The real culprit was time and education, although it was bad to blame anyone for the current situation. Patton liked to place blame, whether it be on himself or something else, because then who was right and who was wrong could be clear. In this situation, though, no one was at fault, so maybe that was the very problem.

Another sinking feeling in Patton’s chest made him open his mouth ajar, almost gasping for a breath. The sensation twisted itself into his gut, prompting Patton to screw his eyes shut, clench his jaw, and shake his hand. No, the problem wasn’t that simple. It wasn’t cut and dry. It was Patton, sitting criss cross on the floor of his bedroom in the dark with his phone in his hands, lit up, with his thumb hovering over Logan’s contact.

Patton felt a prick of pressure begin to build behind his eyes, the pressure traveling into his sinuses and making his nostrils flare. He didn’t want to cry, but here he was with his phone screen blurring. It was silly, really. Logan had only been gone for a few months or so, but the contact that the younger had with him tapered off into something nonexistent. The sinking feeling reared its ugly head once again, this time traveling farther into his throat instead of his stomach.

He really needed to get a grip on himself, considering that as he had this thought, his sleeved hand moved to his mouth to cover a sob. Patton was not good with change, nor was he good with people leaving him. The therapists called this “abandonment issues,” but Patton’s negative thoughts just told him he was insufferably clingy. That’s why he had let his and Logan’s texting routine die. He didn’t want to be a bother. Like Patton had thought before the waterworks started, this all could be stopped by sending a simple text. It was currently early morning where Logan was living in his dream collage, so it wouldn’t be a problem. Logan was such an early bird, always sending “Good morning, Patton. Was your sleeping satisfactory?” texts at 8:30 a.m. on the dot. The thought of those texts and the conversations sprung from them made a smile come to Patton’s face.

They would talk about how they slept after that: how many hours, if it was deep sleep or not, and if either had any dreams. Logan never had dreams, but he loved to hear about what crazy dreams Patton had during the night. The younger always loved those conversations, mostly because he loved to baffle the older. Patton thrived off of the confusion, having laugh attacks frequently. When he tried, Logan was absolutely hilarious. That wasn’t even mentioning how endering his fun facts were, nor was that statement saying how adorable Logan got when he was passionate about something. Patton let himself give a bittersweet smile between the heavy breathing that came with crying.

Patton didn’t know why he was reacting in such an extreme way. It wasn’t like he was dead, or like he didn’t have the power to text him at any moment. The problem, though, that was still very present was the fact that it was extremely hard for Patton to reach out first. He felt too clingy when he did that. It was the actual, real problem here. Not Logan, not time and education, not no one being at fault, and not even Patton fully. No, the problem was not talking to Logan anymore, and it was ripping a hole in Patton’s chest. It hurt the younger more than he could imagine because in the end, he knew Logan would leave eventually along with everyone else. Except Roman, apparently.

An incoming text shook Patton out of his mind spiraling down into the deepest, needist part of his mind. He blinked a few times, trying to get the remaining tears to get out of his eyes. At the same time, he furiously wiped the tears away with his sleeve. He sniffed, pulling down the notification window on his Android phone. He and Logan always had that in common, while their friends had iPhones.

Prince Roman: Padre? You good? You didn’t respond and I know how you worry

Pappy Padre Patton: I’m diddly darn dandy!!!!!

Prince Roman: You know I know that 5 exclamation points means a cry for help What is wrong, mi hermano más cercano?

Pappy Padre Patton: Logan and I haven’t talked in a few days

Patton was already feeling a bit lighter, now that he was starting to talk about his issue. Roman knew full well his “abandonment issues” that sprouted from being in the foster system, so he was probably going to pick up on his current conundrum fairly quickly. A small smile presented itself again on Patton’s lips when he did a quick translation of what Roman said in his head. My closest brother. His friend was such a sap, but the younger absolutely loved it.

Prince Roman: Text him!! If you don’t, I’ll give you a reason to text him

At that comment, Patton got very confused very quickly. What was Roman going to do, kick him out of his life? Do something so stupid that even Patton needed help on how to tell him he was wrong? There was so many possibilities and ways that the sentence Roman just sent could go, so Patton decided in about 0.001 seconds that it would be best to ask.

Pappy Padre Patton: What do you mean??

Prince Roman: I’ll write an angsty song and post it Without asking the label

Pappy Padre Patton: Roman!! That could get you into serious trouble! Think about the contract! You already follow it to a T. They are already waiting for a chance to reprimand you so no! Do not!

Prince Roman: I won’t if you talk to Logan

Roman was a dirty, dirty negotiator. He never tried to compromise with people he didn't know, just for the reason that he didn’t have leverage on them yet. He would find what his friend is most worried for him about, then use it to his advantage to get something he wanted. Luckily, the usually chivalrous boy did not use these powers for evil, but only used them to motivate people into doing something that they should be doing. Most of the time, that is.

Pappy Padre Patton: Fiiiiiiiiine You are a dirty negotiator

Prince Roman: You know you love me

Pappy Padre Patton: Te amo hermano always!

Patton smiled softly to himself, silently hoping that he didn’t mess up the translation of saying ‘i love you, brother.’

Prince Roman: That makes me happy Now make me happier by texting your Logan?

Pappy Padre Patton: Ok ok I def will!

And then he didn’t. Roman knew for a fact that his friend didn’t talk to Logan after their conversation, because there was a very specific series of events that happened after the two talk. It would start with Patton sended Roman many exclamation marks, then would turn into an explanation of the punctuation. Usually it would be something cute that Logan said, but sometimes it would be because Patton said something odd himself. Then the younger would go into the conversation in more detail, highlighting the cutest moments and becoming very flustered when Roman would ask questions about his feelings. It was routine, and Patton was not one to stray from routine since he started talking to Logan.

That was why as the sun started to get low in the sky, Roman got his guitar from it’s holder and his writing notebook from his desk. He splayed them out on the floor, sat down, thanked whatever was out there that his moms weren’t home, and began to brainstorm for a song. Brainstorm meant a very specific thing for Roman, as he was finding out. He was sit criss cross on the floor, his elbows on his knees and head in his hands. He would string his hands through his hair, rarely pulling on it when he got upset enough with this odd part of his creative process. He would collect his thoughts, focus on what he was feeling, and then go and do one of two things. The first would be to go through his notebook and see if there was any one liners or small sections of lyrics that he could expand on. If none of these felt correct to do in the moment, then he would ponder some more and write something completely from scratch. Latter options rarely happened.

Roman was feeling frustrated, to say the least. He wanted to talk to someone about anything, but he knew that Patton was off the grid for the moment. Anytime that boy faced a problem with texting someone, he turned off his phone and hid it under his many pillows. Patton was the soul person that he could talk to about these kinds of emotions anymore, considering that Anxiety had completely shut him out. Anxiety was honestly the main reasons for most of these emotions. Roman was sad that he was gone, mad at himself for all that he said to Virgil, and just generally frustrated with the whole situation. It would have been so much easier if he never signed up for the Sarrahs Project, but then he would have missed out on the amazing late night conversations that he and Anxiety had. Now that those were over, there was a empty spot in his chest that was waiting to be filled by confiding in Anx again.

It wasn’t fair that Roman had been lead astray to ridicule Virgil and make him feel like he had to be someone he wasn’t. Then again, Roman felt that way a lot of the time too. That’s why Anx and Ivity worked so well together, but it’s also why it hurt so much to not have each other around anymore. Roman wished that he could tell Virgil all of this, and just unload all of the truth onto him, but he understood that the other wanted distance. It was hard to put the pride that Roman always wore as Princey aside and let Virgil see that Ivity wasn’t a lie. That none of it ever was any kind of fabrication.

Roman breathed deeply, taking his hands out of his hair and looking down at his notebook. With all his feelings and emotions inside sorted, he could now try and sort through the one liners he already had written in his book. Rough, calloused fingers reached out for the leather notebook, ready to search to his heart’s content. He unbound the elastic holding the large and old book together, beginning to search through its yellowing pages for the lyric to make the next Princey single. Most of what he passed used too many masculine pronouns, but he passed those for a reason. Some name-dropped Virgil, and Anxiety, so those were also a line to stay away from. After pages upon pages of searching, Roman finally came to a halt.

“Can you be psychic for me? Please? That would make this easier on both of us.”

As soon as he saw the lyric, a million different words and emotions flooded through his head. Roman stared at the words for several more seconds, trying to process the sudden influx of ideas. It was rare that he had this many ideas at once, and even rarer so that they were all about mostly the same thing. Roman grabbed a water bottle that was sitting nearby, chugging half of the available liquid before grabbing his pencil. Upon further inspection on the page, there was also a few gems like “If you were in my mind, some scary things you would find (yes that rhymes score)” and “If only 2x or 4x (or something x).”

After Roman got all of the lyrics squared away, he put the book down flat in front of him. It was always easier to start out with lyrics, then add a chord progression, then work out the melody. At least, it was to Roman. Some would disagree, but they weren’t the ones writing songs all by themself getting into the Top 20 Hits. Momentary peddiness aside, Roman now had his ‘67 C-O-Classic Gibson guitar resting on his leg. He took a moment to run his left hand up and down the neck, then his right over the face of the body of the guitar. It was his grandfather’s guitar, the one he learned to play on by the same man before he died. The label tried to get him to play a different guitar, a newer one with “better sound,” but he couldn’t give up the sentimental value of this one. Especially with the emotion fueled lyrics of this one, Roman needed a guitar that he knew better than the back of his hand. Roman knew and understood this guitar better than he understood himself, and playing it brought emotions he harbored to the surface for him to handle. This guitar had gotten him through a lot, and it would get him through this night as well.

Roman started out with strumming a few simple chords, changing the order of three different ones, adding a fourth, removing two, and just generally playing around with chords until he found a good sound. Eventually, after he started fiddling with a good picking pattern, he narrowed it down to three combinations. While playing the different options, he sang the “If only” bridge that he wrote into the song. He tested the waters with a few different tunes and combinations for a while. Before he could comprehend it, the sun was set and he had a solid picking pattern and chord progression. He could hear his grandfather saying that technically the chords weren’t actually chords because he wasn’t playing all of the strings. A sentimental smile tugged on Roman’s expression of concentration, but he shook it away quickly in favor of attempting to sing over the song.

Surprisingly, Roman was able to get through the song he just wrote with few complications. He stumbled a few times, and stuttered on the lyrics occasionally, but it was overall a good first try. After, he tried again, making the wobbly parts in singing more and more stable. He was proud of himself for that, as sometimes there could be parts where he couldn’t get down until the fifth or sixth try. Luckily for Roman as of right now, the song which he was mentally calling Physic was an easy one to play and sing. Roman never said that the song he would be posting was a difficult one, but then again, he didn’t realise that it would be this emotionally powered.

As Roman placed his guitar steadily on the ground again, he pondered what the lyrics actually meant. While he attempted to balance himself on numb jelly legs, he went line by line and evaluated what he meant by each. It was clear to him as he grabbed his camera equipment that this song was obviously about Virgil. It was so clear that it was painful. There wasn’t any cleverly masked words or heavy emotions only hinted at in a word or two. This song was putting himself out in the open, bare and stripped of all the fancy editing that the studio does. This song would be a plea for help, a cry for someone to come and tell him that everything will be alright. It was a question, a desperate ask for Virgil to let him explain. If the dark and lovely one didn’t let him after this, then maybe all that time with Anx actually was a waste. And Roman desperately didn’t want it to be.

The Prince set up the camera and it’s microphone quickly and experienced, ready to make the worst–or best–decision of his lifetime.

next part

#fail’s writing #patton sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #sanders sides #ivity and anx #patton angst #i guess?#uhhhh anything else?#logan is at collage now my dudes #its the summer #i did that time jump #i think it was pretty smooth #so yeah thats a thing

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veridium · 6 years

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oc interview meme

I was tagged by the lovely @trvelyans to write a hypothetical interview of one of my OC’s! So, I did everybody’s favorite ice-haired toasted cinnamon roll, Theia!

1. What is your name?

“I have a lot of names nowadays, I suppose. Inquisitor, Herald of Andraste, Your Worship. Maker, someone called me “Sarah” the other day, and I didn’t correct them. I suppose that says something about how jaded I’ve become with all my misnomers.“

2. What is your real name?

“What, not Goddess? Well, if you were to ask my Father, it would be Theia Sofia Trevelyan. I was given the prettiest name out of all three children, I should add.“

3. Do you know why you were called that?

“The name “Theia” means “holy,” an adjective my family is particularly fond of, as I’m sure their reputation entails. My middle name “Sofia” means wisdom, so quite literally, my parents wished to imbue me with “holy wisdom.” Maker’s breath, isn’t that some sick joke now?“

4. Are you single or taken?

“My occupation would insist single, the gossip would say taken many times and by many people. But, the truth? Hopelessly taken by one remarkable woman. Please tell her I said that, so she’s softened up when I tell her I ate the last piece of peanut brittle.“

5. Have any abilities or powers?

“Are you joking? Who doesn’t know the answer to that question after all I’ve been through. You cannot hide the fact that your body is a walking lightning rod when it’s gotten you in and out of the Fade twice, closed a Breach in the sky, and survived weaponized time magic.

But, for the sake of not sounding egotistical, yes, I do. I am a Mage who focuses on ice and storm abilities. I also have this most inconvenient mark on my hand that is embedded elven magic. Try bringing that up casually at parties.“

6. Stop being a Mary Sue.

“It isn’t “being” anything if you’re honestly that good.“

7. What’s your eye color?

“Purple. Yes, purple. It’s a maternal trait that just happened to match with my powers. People think I’m so fashionable but I really could not help it.”

8. How about your hair color?

“Ice white, pale blonde? I switch between the two. Regardless of its category, it’s rather hard not to point out in a crowd. Another one of my family’s most generous gifts.“

9. Have you any family members?

“For better or worse, yes. My parents, though my Mother, Stefania Lisoleth Trevelyan -- Maker, she sounds as pompous as she was in real life -- has since passed. My Father, Tristian Trevelyan, still resides in the Free Marches. There’s my insufferable brother who is his namesake. My sister, Lucilla Victoire, is older and married to some nobleman I haven’t cared enough to get to know. You can spot us rather quickly, we’re the group of emotionally suppressed faces with icey hair.“

10. Oh? What about pets?

“I have a small cat whom I rescued from Crestwood. She is young and tabby in color, and I just adore her! I wish I was here more to actually bond with her. She wanders Skyhold rather freely, much to everyone’s chagrin. Her name is Obsidian, after the kinds of metals we found in Crestwood. I call her “Sid” for short.“

11. That’s cool I guess, now tell me about something you don’t like.

“If Ambassador Montilyet were to hear someone actually asked me to list out my dislikes, she’d be furious. I am rather obnoxious with my opinions. I dislike pretentiousness, disloyalty, and shallowness. So, perhaps I should say the vast majority of the Orlesian Empire.“

12. Do you have any hobbies/activities you like doing?

“Reading, practicing my magic, and provoking Josephine’s temper. I do not have the time for much else, these days.”

13. Ever hurt anyone before?

“Oh, plenty, yes. Pick a more specific category.”

14. Ever… killed anyone before?

“Are you joking, again? I swear you must be. If you must know, you can read whatever filthy periodical is making rounds in the towns and villages of Orlais.”

15. What kind of animal are you?

“This would be a fantastic question for Morrigan, I’d imagine. But as for me, I don’t shapeshift or liken myself to animals. Although, people suggest I look rather animalistic when I am in the heat of combat.”

16. Name your worst habits.

“I am very self-conscious and insecure at times. I take things personally, and I feel culpable when there is injustice. Though, I do not necessarily see that as a flaw all of the time. Plus, in this role I’m in, I feel it to be most fitting.”

17. Do you look up to anyone at all?

“Of course I do! After all, both the Hero of Fereldan and the Champion of Kirkwall are Mages, and women, for that matter. I would be foolish not to have admiration for them, and feel humbled in my own shoes. I also have quite a bit of respect for Cassandra and Leliana. They have stewarded this movement with courage and resolve in spades. I consider myself honored to be able to work with them and be a leader amongst their ranks.”

18. Gay, straight, or bisexual?

*A whole minute of feisty, jubilant laughter*

19. Do you go to school?

“I used to, if you’d call a Circle that. Most would say “formal blood-bath with books,” but, there you go.”

20. Do you ever want to marry and have kids one day?

“I didn’t used to, but then I met someone who sold me on such dreams. While I do not really allow myself to aspire to such domestic joys, I do find that they have grown on me as ideals. However, Josephine and I are two women who do not know how to keep ourselves out of work or trouble. But, if I were honest, I’d marry her tomorrow if given the chance.”

21. Do you have any fanboys/fangirls?

I try my best to be a combination of intimidating and austere, but, I do have a following. Mostly of children, actually, especially the children of the Mages here. They scarcely have examples of Mages who are not demonized or erased from history, so, when they see us walking the halls or grounds, it’s like storybook characters come to life for them. I take pleasure in providing them with someone to look up to, even when I feel that I fail them sometimes.

As for the adults, I would not wish to condescend and call them my fans, since they are putting their lives and livelihoods on the line for this cause. Especially those who joined us in Haven, when we had next to nothing. If anything, I am their fan.

22. What are you most scared of?

“Letting everyone down, and proving to be less than the person who was needed. Losing the people I love, or endangering them unnecessarily. Being a fraud or imposter. Oh, and accidentally throwing out Josephine's stash of chocolates.”

23. What do you usually wear?

“I prefer a good fit of a hunter coat and breeches and some boots. When we travel, I am usually armored very well. On my off hours, a simple night dress would do. People say I have a flare for style, but, I am really just a product of my short-lived upbringing in the Free Marches. Women there are always smartly dressed, if not modest.”

24. Do you love someone?

“Romantically? Yes, completely. But I also love my friends, and my community here. Love, to me, is a protective and honorable virtue. The way I fight for what matters is by loving the person or the cause at hand. Perhaps that causes me more trouble than it’s worth, but, that is who I am.”

25. When was the last time you wet yourself?

“How can you honestly expect me to answer that? Also, if you’ve ever asked someone who bleeds once a month, you’d be surprised.”

26. Well, it’s not over yet!

“Oh, joy.”

27. What class are you? (High class, middle class, low class)

“My family is noble in our region, so I would say lower rung of the high class. The Free Marches is a self-governing province, at least, as much as one can be in the shadow of two Empires. If you have an long-winded ancestry in the region, you’re allowed a lot of privileges.”

28. How many friends do you have?

“Too many, especially the kind that likes to get into trouble for the sake of being a hero. You need some friends? Take mine, and give me a break.”

29. What are your thoughts on pie?

“Mediocre at best. You want a pleasurable dessert experience? Go with cake, always.”

30. Favorite drink?

“Tea, actually. I drink copious amounts of wine, sure, but nothing soothes the soul like a good cup of tea. Solas and I have engaged in discourse about this matter plenty of times.”

31. What’s your favorite place?

“If I were to answer that honestly, Josephine would have my clothes set on fire. Something about “not disclosing the intimate nature of a Diplomat’s life” or whatever. So, I will name my second favorite: the Emerald Graves at dawn, when the colors of the sky foreground the greens and blues on the land. It’s stunning, really. I hope I can commission a painter to recreate it so that I may have a piece of it forever.”

32. Are you interested in someone?

“Hah, as Dorian would say, yes of course, I am a endlessly interesting person, after all.”

33. What’s your bra cup size and/or how big is your willy?

“Enough. They’re enough.”

34. Would you rather swim in the lake or the ocean?

“Swimming in an ocean? The thought of it brings me ecstasy! Ocean, of course. Imagine the trouble I could get into, maybe make a few glaciers, float on an ice sheet...nevermind.”

35. What’s your type?

“Someone with the utmost integrity in their deeds, who has a golden heart and knows that kindness and compassion are two of the most powerful elements in the world. Also, if they are a fiery-tongued Antivan, that melts my icey heart, too.”

36. Any fetishes?

“I have tastes, of course. Though, I keep the number of people who are aware of them to a minimum, need-to-know basis.”

37. Seme or uke? Top or Bottom? Dominant or Submissive?

“A capable fighter knows a little bit of everything. I like creativity the most in love.”

38. Camping or indoors?

“Whichever gets me in the closest proximity to food.”

39. Are you wanting the interview to end?

“Of course not, but, look at the time! I surely have to return to being the scourge on the land and Andraste’s chosen, right? Pfft, days were not made with my workload in mind, I’m afraid.”

40. Now it’s over!

“Fantastic. Do take care, and travel safe.”

I’m tagging @kvpowers, @the-rogue-apostate, @lelianasing, and @orlesianbard and anyone else who wishes to participate! Love and light!

#oc stuff #Theia Trevelyan #my poor bb theia #oc meme #oc asks

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supergirlimaginesfic-blog · 7 years

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Lena Luthor x reader (Yesterday, our history; today, for now)

Request: Lena x reader : lena gets jealous after seeing someone kiss you at one of her gala

a/n: guess which garbage monster decided to make a little childhood friends to present time drabble. THIS garbage monster decided to make a childhood friends fic, because I want it and I think it kinda fit this particular scenario. You’re a little bit of a big time fairtrade coffee mogul, it’s obscure and I’m craving coffee currently, so naturally this is what I come up with. Forgive me if it seems like I’m just spouting out terms... it is most definitely because that’s exactly what I’m doing LOL

For SOME reason I was in some grand mood to write something a little angsty and piney... for what reason? I truly could not tell you. Apparently I’m due for one of those again. Thanks for reading y’all!! :D

- - - - -

If you were to be candid and outright, you would readily admit that you resented the business world. You’re self-aware enough to understand the privilege of working hard and watching it pay off, and living comfortably is something that’s never been foreign to you.

You weren’t born into all the wealth you had now - you were proud to say you toiled for what you could call your own. In spite of the leg up you knew you got from certain family members, it humbled you and you never took your gains for granted.

As you found yourself standing in a giant room among the people who you should consider your peers, it went without saying you were jaded and unimpressed.

Where you could, you tried to withhold judgement; after all, not everybody was insufferable and irritating with their prestige, though you also knew a lot of them believed they were destined for it.

Self-worth is a subjective commodity, and where one person draws motivation could be quite strikingly different from the next. Still, you had enough interactions (far too many, you concede) with these kinds of people to be intimately aware of a certain unspoken but commonly held truth: if they’d lost all their money and power in an instant, it would be more than their net worth that’s lost.

Even so, you didn’t necessarily loathe the wealthy elite so much as you just can’t find many people worth respecting despite the all-encompassing competitiveness to have the unwarranted abundance of it.

Life, you know, is saturated with this mentality in general, and it only aggravated you now because you knew you were intended to befriend these people and maintain good rapport.

You wish it wasn’t so easy to give in to the sentiment of othering yourself whenever you contemplated your fortunate circumstances, yet you could count on your one hand the number of true allies you could rely on and vouch for personally.

When you glanced at the L-Corp gala invitation that you found in your mail, it was not your first thought to dread another night of reluctant obligation, but rather of one old friend you were much too aware of not having seen in years.

You wouldn’t say you were avoiding her - not entirely, anyway. You were simply distracted with the course of your life and needing to better it for yourself. You had a never-settling unease about not being good enough, and though this was a noble insecurity to have, it proved relentless and omnipresent.

Throughout your boarding school experience, Lena Luthor was as unassuming as she was brilliant. Though now, you surmise, she entertains the facade of grandeur, and you’ve still yet to put together how to reconcile what you know of a young Lena and what you’ve seen of her now.

You’ve always admired her from afar; that much wasn’t a surprise. What was a surprise, however, was the inexplicable draw that possessed the two of you and created an otherwise unlikely alliance of mutual understanding.

You were the new kid of freshman year, having missed three months of the beginning of school to relocating with your aunt and her family from Central City. Lena was the youngest acquisition of the Luthor family, and that particular news followed her like a shadow.

Still, you watched as she prospered in spite of it and just as you felt yourself falling into her gravity, you also somehow caught her in your orbit.

The two of you were an anomalous pair, you in your modest willingness to remain indeterminate and ordinary and her with the effortless dancing on the precipice of obscurity and greatness.

Even then at that young age, you had the distinct notion of not wanting to hinder her in any way you possibly could - even then, she would scoff at your foolishness. For as much as a friend could love you, she did. And for as much as you were pining for her successes and happiness, you did.

You dreamed often and you played often together, and as much as you did you also studied and philosophized and aspired. The adventure of youth was indeed a journey, and you would never change the reality of having Lena in your corner for those formative years if you were faced with the decision to start over.

You hadn’t thought much of it then, but the only time you ever stood up against anyone or anything was when someone by the likes of Veronica Sinclair gave Lena trouble; and there is much that could be said about that now in retrospect.

Lena gave you loyalty as fierce as your own, and though it often went unspoken, you knew you’d both felt it.

It was only with little sadness that you watched awe-struck and proud as she walked to the podium to receive her diploma, and you knew she would be heading off to MIT.

As for yourself, you would charter the route that just like any other wide-eyed, hopeful teen your age imagined for themselves would most benefit from in the long run. Your aunt, with her modest conglomerate of companies in a wide array of sectors, only asked of you to do what you could do best.

You’d graduate from an Honours International Development Studies program and sought after your pipe dream to not change the world, but to merely help it.

For years, you would hear stories from the wind of the Luthor scion and Jack Spheer trying to find the ever elusive cure to cancer, and you’d heard that they were making breakthroughs with their nanotechnology.

Even then, you’d felt rather inadequate, and much to your displeasure you found that in a room full off big business moguls and politicians you still felt just as small as you always had.

It was with great bemusement that you remember you’d finally accepted an invitation from L-Corp as you looked around you at the filling ballroom, and you’re usually not so absent of mind.

You begin to realize just how out of place you feel as you watch pairs of people filing through the entrance, all figures of prominence and varying levels of affluence trying to take up the most space in the room. You feel so very unprepared and not at all in your element and you almost regret your decision to go about this event alone.

It’s only for a few hours, you concede, and you’ll take your leave the very second it’s socially acceptable to do so. You wonder if you can even evade Lena again, though it’s becoming more and more evident how unlikely that will be. You don’t have the excuse of being in another country altogether to justify your absences.

Perhaps you’ve made a big mistake by coming here tonight.

You don’t have the time to ponder it further, however, when you feel a presence sidle up beside you.

“Now, I don’t usually act so brash and forward, but I must simply know why exactly it is you are without company this evening.”

You don’t recognize the woman when you turn to face her. At first glance you see she is conventionally beautiful with her dark brown eyes and an angular face.

She’s wearing a deep green gown and she seems the epitome of refinement. She seems rather young, perhaps only a few years older than you, and somehow much more... everything.

“That is, unless it’s only a matter of time before she makes her appearance and I learn yet another lesson regarding my presumptuous inclinations,” she adds.

You smile politely and already feel yourself get reluctantly pulled forward into the game of social obligation. Still, you are curious.

“Well, Miss... you would be correct in your observations. I’m afraid I don’t recognize you, and if I ought to then I apologize-”

“Beckett, and it’s absolutely divine to make your acquaintance.”

You have exactly milliseconds to both process and react to her moving in close to kiss you just near the corner of your mouth, and if there’s any look of astonishment and utter confusion on your face, she’s ignorant to the display.

You’re left stuttering and stumbling on words, and you’re vexed at just how out of touch you are with how to behave in these events and how to deal with such forwardness in general.

“Miss-”

“Oh, please, call me Alona, we can allow ourselves to be on a first name basis.”

“Right, yeah- okay-”

“I confess, I know quite a lot about you, (Y/N). You’re making rather significant waves that are crossing into my circles. I am most curious about your story.”

You’re still silent, standing before a woman and her force of nature as she glides easily from thought to thought, almost taunting you in a way to keep up.

“It’s the most inspirational anecdote. Your aunt, Theresa Everett, she’s such a character too. I’ve had the pleasure of knowing her while she was still active and the most prominent in 2013. And now, you’re an entrepreneur! You’ve really separated yourself from all that, haven’t you?”

You inhale shakily as you scramble to recollect your thoughts - there’s very little reference points you can bounce off of, but you force yourself to believe it’s enough. Having to talk about your work, at least, is something you enjoy and you don’t have to think too hard about that.

“Well, I wouldn’t necessarily word it like that. It’s not so much of a rebranding as it is just really focusing and cutting back the excess of resources at my disposal. I’ll take what I need and no more or less, and it’s proven to have worked out if the exponential growth of the farms I’ve overseen is any indication.”

For her part, Alona looks attentively at you, and if you weren’t so overwhelmed by her larger than life introduction you would perhaps be more than willing to indulge her conversation and speak in depth of your work.

You think there’s a hint of impudence to her when she smiles at you, but the observation is moot by the time you’ve detected it.

“I’ve always thought so highly of you, and it is so refreshing to see I’m not wrong in my high regards. What is it now, you have locations in Peru, Guatemala, Colombia if I recall correctly?

“I truly, truly commend you for your upholding the ethical crusade. It’s apparent that every single one present in this room has something similar in common with another, and perhaps this is what you and Ms. Luthor share; the unfailing resilience to chase a simple dream.”

Your eyebrows furrow slightly in contemplation and you regard the woman carefully. There’s an agenda hidden somewhere - there always is, and you’re just about close to scratching the surface of it. You’re suspicious, and part of this game is to do everything you can to make sure you don’t show it. You consider your next words as carefully as you can, but you’re just steps over the edge.

“And still I wholeheartedly believe a simple dream is the one distinctive catalyst that provides solutions where there might be questions, and curates possibilities where there are only hypotheticals.”

You inhale sharply and feel the broiling of your intensity and mild agitation. You think to try to reel yourself in - you’re well aware of the flurry you become when you get going about correcting people who are just so very wrong.

“But respectfully, I decline your belief in my upholding some crusade of ethics - as far as I’m concerned it’s pretty rudimentary that we treat every individual involved in our business relationships with the same amount of respect as we are given by default as the ones with the monetary resources. Business is a mutual give and take. It’s our responsibility to foster all aspects of the whole to benefit from the sum of all the little parts.”

Alona smiles at you again, and you’ve no doubt now it’s positively devilish in its scheming.

“I am so awed by your passion, how remarkably you guard your tenets. That tenacity should be harnessed. If you need any assistance in the form of governmental influence, which I’m sure you will no doubt encounter if you haven’t already, I will personally see to it that I have some sway in your favour.”

“Thank you so much, Miss Beckett, I can assure you we are quite self-sustaining at this time and it’s actually beneficial that we’re on the fringes of politics-”

Suddenly, you think you feel the air escape your lungs and your eyes widen almost comically. There’s a far off part of your brain that’s mostly shut off currently, but you can hear a distant echo of this is some bullshit movie moment, come from the depths of your mind when you finally see her.

You begin to think just how wrong you were to ever have stayed away from her. You think you should be rewarded for your ability to have ever done so at all.

Lena is so much more than you ever remembered of her. You’re only minutely aware of being cut off mid-sentence before you realize it was you who stopped talking altogether. You think you feel your jaw go slack, and Alona at least takes note when she acknowledges the new presence.

“Lena, you’ve outdone yourself as always.”

“Alona, your attendance always pleases me,” she says in greeting.

You can feel the distinct tension of various things left unsaid in your little trio, and when neither woman broaches the physical boundary tethering you all together, it’s Lena who decides to start severing the tie.

“How is Mr. Conroy? I’m sure Johnathan is doing well?”

“Yes, quite. He almost didn’t want to make it today, I’m sure you can understand, what with the last L-Corp event being quite the target for trouble.”

Alona smirks mischievously in delight and you can only watch in slight horror at the show you’ve inadvertently become an audience for.

“Of course, that’s justifiable. I almost thought it’d been best if we all just stayed home,” Lena says cuttingly.

“Oh, but here we are. Your bravery has always impressed me, Lena.”

Lena just smiles sweetly and she’s a considerable distance away from you - at least, as much as what you perceive suggests. You can just feel the tug of her and not a single part of her body is touching yours, and yet you feel the fire of your skin ablaze by her presence alone. She might as well have been playing matches on your being.

Somehow, and this has always amused you, watching people recognize the notion that they’re not wanted anymore becomes potent enough to become an entirely new entity, and you love watching how they react.

Alona decides to take her leave, but not before she kisses you on the cheek in departure and bids you a good evening, and you really wish you’d learned to expect the unexpected as if you hadn’t experience this same conundrum just several minutes ago.

You barely register that Lena’s sweet smile falls into a scowl. You’re not quite sure why exactly it is she has such a disapproving glare. You refuse to indulge the possible reasons why it would be there.

Even after Alona is gone, you and Lena don’t share a word for the next few moments.

When she finally looks up at you, she’s no longer glowering at some inconsequential woman you happened to have encountered, and you can see the imperceptible widening of her eyes as if she’s really taking you in.

You wonder if you should assure her that your presence isn’t a trick of reality - you can hardly believe it yourself, but Lena breaks the silence.

“You’re a lot taller than I remember,” she mutters teasingly.

“And you’re more radiant than ever.”

In spite of the long years absent from each other’s lives, the familiarity of Lena makes you feel both parts nostalgic and something akin to a return - like a conversation that picks up where you’ve left it as if it never ceased at all, and in a way, that’s exactly what you two are.

“It’s good to see you’re just as much of a kiss-ass as you’ve always been.”

You smile at her remark, and it’s decisively more than you can ever say you’ve had as of late; this alone should be cause for alarm.

“Naturally,” you grin. “To what do I owe this pleasure of your exclusive attention?”

“Don’t you know I only ever host these events to draw you out of whatever cave it is you’ve hidden in all these years? I should be asking you that same question.”

You see a flash of something like hurt and hesitance in Lena’s eyes. You know it because you felt it yourself. You think perhaps she can see it in you too.

There’s a compulsion in you to apologize, but for what, you couldn’t even begin to articulate.

There’s just too much and all the same, there’s very little to answer for at all. You wouldn’t change the way your life has turned out. Though, you can’t speak for Lena.

“I’ve been away,” is all you supply, and you marvel at your uselessness.

Lena smiles at you in a way that you can very much tell says, well no shit, but the fondness that’s there regardless has distracted you.

“Of course,” she says, and then, “how’s Theresa doing? She’s well, I take it?”

You’re thankful for the cop out and you take it.

“Yeah, she’s thriving as always. She asks about you often still.”

You barely register what you’ve said before you can even think to take it back.

Lena looks rueful when she replies, “I’d almost be shocked if she hasn’t kept up with the news as everyone else has.”

It takes everything of your being to will yourself not to hug her.

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“No, I do.”

You begin to realize the depths of your struggle, and the profoundly evident lack of knowledge you once had of your best friend’s life makes itself ever present all in one booming crash in your chest.

You grapple for something, anything to reach out to her.

“So... how’s Jack?”

Lena inhales sharply and her lips purse slightly, “he passed away.”

You feel it more than you hear it - the fall of something in your gut hanging in suspension in your lower torso.

“Fuck, I’m sorry-”

“It was either him or Supergirl,” she states softly.

You fiddle with your hands awkwardly. You’re becoming painfully aware of just how invasive your entire body feels in relation to Lena, and you wish you could just disappear or at least transport your being to some other timeline that has nothing to do with the current one.

You think to blame yourself entirely, of course when you concede that Lena has finally found someone worthy of her, the universe decides to muddle it up eventually.

You worry about just what that could mean for you.

“That must have been almost half a year ago. Often I wonder just how much more I can be put through the wringer before I snap. It feels like it’s simply a matter of time before I become everything I’ve always feared.”

You snap out of your reverie of contrite at Lena’s admission.

“You know you’ve always been above that. Plenty of times, you could have done just that, but you never have. And I think it’s because you’re just not capable of it. I’ve never once seen something you weren’t capable of handling.”

Lena sighs deeply, “I don’t think I want to find that breaking point.”

“I don’t think you’ll have to,” you say affirmatively.

You’re both silent in contemplation. Lena looks softer, and you wonder about it as you parse through the memories of the Lena you once knew and what you’re getting now.

Even if you didn’t know her as you did, you still believe entirely that she looks absolutely magnificent. She can fill an entire room without a single word, and you realize then with sneaking suspicion this is just how she’s managed to infiltrate every corner of your life you thought you’d abandoned.

The familiar sensation of pride swells in you again, and a sort of daze falls on you as you smile at the contentedness it gives you. It’s almost enough to distract you from the sad exhaustion you can see hiding just barely veiled within her eyes.

“So, coffee is it?” she asks.

“What?” you think you feel your entire body snap into another awakening as you hurl back into the conversation.

You see the slight uptick of her lips form into a smirk, and you don’t bother to resist thinking about how much you’ve missed it.

“Your business? Fairtrade coffee now, I suppose you never really intended to succeed your aunt?” she prompts, slightly teasingly.

You think you can smack yourself for your misgivings.

“Yeah, that- yeah. Right. I mean, I wasn’t always so deeply taken by what she had her companies’ shares in. It could be said that I’ve rebuilt, but really I’ve just tried to involve myself in areas that interest me and I can invest entirely in; not just monetarily either. My whole heart’s in it, and it’s much easier that way.”

Lena looks contemplative as she deliberates your words, and then, “it seems if it becomes personal that the stakes are so much more higher and there’s so much more at risk, do you find that to be the case?”

You tilt your head in consideration, you try to not give credence to the inexplicable longing you suddenly feel at having Lena so close, yet so very far.

“Arguably, maybe people’s expectations of me have deviated. The risks are only as substantial as the reward. The company’s interests may be refocused, but mine, at least, remain unchanged.”

Lena studies you meaningfully and you feel your body come alive under the weight of her gaze.

“I have always admired your determination to chase after your aspirations. I’ve also always envied your freedom to do so,” she says wryly.

You give her a small smile, “it took me a while to get where I am now. I haven’t always gone after what I really desired.”

Lena glances at you, and when you catch her eyes you hurry to distract yourself with more words, anything to keep you from falling apart for just a little bit longer.

“It takes a lot of trial and error, and without a doubt it’s taken its time... though it goes without saying that the answer sometimes has been right in front of you all along.”

At some point, you think your words have stopped having a singular meaning and you think they’ve become latent with more complex, underlying feelings you feel the least bit prepared to address.

You add hastily, knowing you ought to say it if it weren’t already evident, “for what it’s worth, Lena, it seems as though you’re doing great for yourself.”

Perhaps, you believe, she’s always appreciated your uncanny ability to understand what she needs to hear, to listen to what goes unsaid for her. Even now, you think you’re not just imagining it anymore and you can see the vulnerable adoration in her eyes.

Lena smiles at you, muted with the quiet tones of a lament for time lost and of time yet to lose. Still, you see the endless gratitude that goes unuttered but entirely indisputable.

“When will you be flying off again?” she asks.

“Not for another few weeks.”

I missed you, goes unsaid.

“If it weren’t already plain, it should be mentioned just how much my evening has been made now that I got to see you.”

I’m proud of you, goes unsaid.

“Well, rest assured I feel exactly the same way,” you say earnestly.

I thought I’d lost you, goes unsaid.

There’s a tension palpable enough to cut through, and you feel it stifling you quickly, filling you like concrete.

You’re tired of the feeling of having unfinished business with Lena - for as long as you can remember, your story has never felt quite finished, and you don’t suspect either of you are willing to let it get to that.

“(Y/N), this doesn’t have to be farewell.”

The sentiment doesn’t help in maintaining your pretense of composure.

“No, I don’t want it to be.”

Not again, goes unsaid.

“Then why waste any more time? We may not know the future, but at least we have now.”

I won’t give in to the fear of having lost you wilfully again, goes unsaid.

Lena’s eyes make a slow descent from your eyes to your lips, and you can feel the slow drag of them trail to your bowtie. She lifts her hands and fixes it, taking gentle care in lingering more than a stranger would.

Lena’s not a stranger though, not entirely.

She’s grinning fondly at some secret joke.

“You always refused to wear just a regular tie. You thought it was too conventional.”

You grin at her observation, “I was a pretty pretentious kid.”

“Well, that’s quite alright, you looked much better in these anyway,” she smirks.

You feel the rising warmth of a blush rushing to your cheeks. Somehow, you think you’ve experienced equal parts death and renewal all at once. Somehow, you know you’ll both do better this time.

#lena luthor x reader #lena luthor #lena luthor imagine #lena luthor fic #katie mcgrath #lena luthor fanfic #katie mcgrath imagine #dating lena luthor #supercorp #supercorp fic #supercorp fanfic #supergirl imagine #lena luthor x you #supergirl imagines

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kpopkrappykraftbin · 6 years

Photo

This is part 2 to my Vampire! Jun series and is the final

So OG this was gonna just be an edit but as I’ve said before, I’m extra so let’s get this angsty vampire! jun bullet list started

It’s pretty fluffy but ends very angsty (also kinda long)

Warning: Character death (not of old age)

Masterlist

- You and Jun had met at a company party

- You hadn’t really wanted to go but the company had made it mandatory to impress the bigwigs

- You were standing a few feet away from the food table trying to avoid your slightly tipsy co workers when Mr. Handsome caught your eye

- He also looked like he didn’t want to be there. He was bored but the emotion seemed more intense than suited the mediocre party

- Because you were staring too long he eventually looked back at you

- He smirked half heartedly at you before picking a few toothpicks of hors d’ oeuvres to put on his plate and approaching you

- He leaned against the wall next to you and you pretended to not notice his presence

- “You look like you’re enjoying this party as much as I am.”

- You turned your head towards him

- He seemed to take pleasure in your somewhat childish action in refusing to have any fun

- “I’d much rather be at home or doing something productive around less...” you looked at your rowdy coworkers, “people.” you cleared your throat

- “Aren’t these your turbulent years? Parties, energy, bad decisions, all that jazz, you should be in on it” he joked

- “Well then what about you? You don’t look old, yourself. Why don’t you have a good dose of intoxication?”

-“I already am,” he paused looking into your eyes at an uncomfortably close proximity for strangers, “by you” he broke out into an open mouthed laugh

- you snorted. the handsome stranger was most definitely a joke

- “Also it’d be looked down upon if one of the heads of the company got wasted at the annual get together.” He continued he said nonchalantly

- he was also apparently your boss

- “I’m Wen Junhui, in charge of this particular countries branches” he smirked devilishly at you, “nice to meet you...” he waited for you to supply your name

- “Y/N.” you blushed your title wasn’t nearly important enough to mention

- “HR department?”

- “Yes sir.”

- “There’s the fake polite social service voice” he chuckled

- You looked down feeling awkward he had called you out for faking politeness

- “I liked it better when you looked at me like I was a nice meal rather than a weapon of mass destruction, Y/N, you can call me Jun. And do me a favor and forget my title. I’m just here for the snacks.” he emphasized by putting a whole meatball on a stick in his mouth and smiling tight lipped at you

- absolutely cheeky

- you took that as incentive to bite into your own snacks, though out of the corner of your eye you could swear you saw Jun shudder as he swallowed

- maybe you should stay away from the meatballs

- after that conversation flowed a lot more smoothly

- Jun hailed you a cab at the end of the night and bid you farewell

- You wondered if you should have tried to get his number

- The next day you received an email from Jun’s work email

- Meeting at 2 o’clock sharp in the break room -J

- Of course you showed up

- And Jun was there in a nice button up and slacks sitting at the small break room table

- You stood in the doorway confused as to why you were the only one there besides Jun

- “Have you ever tried chocolate filled rasberries? They’re delicious.” He insisted holding a small box of them out to you

- You took one with a small thanks popping the small fruit into your mouth

- “You know typically a meeting would have more than just two people. What could a figure head like you want with the HR lady?”

- He turned his gaze away from you looking slightly abashed, though he didn’t have the decency to blush

- “A date maybe?” he said looking at you from the corner of his eye

- You were surprised Mr. Handsome had even wanted to talk to you again let alone see you on a personal basis

- “No offense, but this date sucks.”

- He looked at you wide eyed and sputtering

- “I guess that means you’ll have to take me on another one.” you finished

- Jun let out a short laugh

- “I guess so.”

- For you two the rest was history date after date

- Some extravagant

- Some at his house with take out and a movie

- If you had to pick something you didn’t like about Jun though, it would be his tiny appetite, he never seemed to actually eat any of his food, just push it around

- That’s why he never let you touch the kitchen

- “There’s no need for you to waste time in the kitchen making something I’ll barely eat only to have you get mad at me and ignore me for a week, when I can just keep you in my arms and have food delivered.”

- Or maybe the fact that he was always cold

- Cuddling in the summer with him was a dream

- In the winter-- a nightmare

- It wasn’t until after a year of dating that you found out why

- It was Jun’s birthday and you were determined to make him a cake

- And gosh darn it he was gonna eat it

- You had decided to make it at his place as he said he had gone off with some friends for something or another

- You opened his apartment with your spare key to let yourself in

- after reading the directions on the box a couple of times (though it seemed it should be easy enough to go through only once)

- You had gotten all the ingredients out except for the eggs

- Opening the refrigerator door you were surprised to say the least

- No eggs

- But plenty of bags of blood

- Which obviously even though being a vampire is a far fetch you’re like oh shit is Jun a vampire

- Then your rational mind tells you no, it’s gotta be something else

- So you’re just stuck in the kitchen with the fridge door open, letting all the cold air out and panicking

- Jun has great timing, so this is of course, when he walks through the door

- You turn to face him slowly and see his face tense at your position

- “I can explain.”

- “What, that you robbed the local blood bank?” you asked near hysterics

- “Well... yes.” he said before shaking his head “but that’s not important. Y/N, there’s... something you need to know.”

- He reached slowly for your hand, never breaking eye contact with you

- You let him lead you away from the kitchen and onto the couch in the living room

- You both sat down Jun not letting go of your hands

- You sat still ramrod straight and sweating

- You didn’t know what he was going to tell you, but it couldn’t be good

- “There’s something you deserve to know. And... and I should have told you earlier but... I was scared.”

- “Jun, you’re scaring me.”

- “Please no,” he pleaded with you, eyes looking wet “Not me, never me. I would never give you any reason to be scared of me, Y/N. I love you so much. Never be scared of me.”

- His grip on your hands tightened slightly before relaxing again

- “The reason those blood bags are in there is because I need them. To live.” he elaborated

- “What?” was the most intelligent thing you could come up with at the moment

- “I,” he hesitated before closing his eyes shut tightly “I’m a vampire.”

- You literally could not comprehend the information being passed as true to you

- Jun opened one eye at a time looking at you nervously

- “Vampires aren’t real Jun”

- “They are,” he said gently, “You’ve been dating one for the past year,” he rubbed his thumbs over the backs of your hands, “and I’ve been one for the past one hundred.”

- It took a bit more convincing and some of Jun having to try to calm you down but you did accept the truth

- It took you a few good days to process everything fully

- And another week to finally come to terms that your long term boyfriend could potentially live forever and that his favorite food was blood

- Jun was extremely patient with you throughout the whole process and gave you plenty of space

- “I know you probably don’t want me around right now but, I’m here when you want me. I won’t leave unless you ask me to.”

- After about a month you were able to become comfortable enough to start cuddling with him again

- And when you finally decided to kiss him

- The way he kissed back was like a starving man

- Practically has his hands on you all the time, never leaving you alone for longer than he absolutely has to

- When you asked him about it he claimed to be making up time

- That’s when you realized your time was limited with him

- You were going to keep aging and eventually die while Jun stayed paused in time

- When you brought it up to Jun it made him very depressed

- “I know”

- He must have thought about it before and you could tell that thinking about it now was nearly insufferable for him

- You didn’t bring up the topic of becoming a vampire with him immediately

- And when you did Jun seemed reluctant

- It was obviously a huge decision to make

- You two decided to wait another two years before deciding

- In the mean time he would tell you everything he could about vampirism

- After nearly all the time was up everything was still going great and you couldn’t deny that you truly couldn’t imagine living without Jun

- Or how much the idea of making Jun live without you and imagining him alone physically made you sick

- Jun was coming back from a business trip the week from the set time

- You two had planned an early retirement in a large home on the country side where you wouldn’t be disturbed and had plenty of space to get used to your new urges

- The house was huge and extravagant, you didn’t even want to think about how much money Jun had put in for it

- But he insisted that if it were going to be your new home, it needed to be the best

- You were on your way to the airport to pick Jun up, only a forty minute drive and you couldn’t wait to see him

- Jun had already landed and was waiting for you outside the terminal, his flight had landed early

- He was nervously thumbing at a small box kept safely in his pocket

- You were anxiously trying to make it through traffic

- You were bummed that you weren’t there to meet Jun at the gate and you were only becoming more late the closer you got to the airport

- You remember turning a corner and then darkness

- Jun was very nervous

-Something seemed wrong or was he just that anxious?

- He waited another twenty minutes for you

- He had expected you to be late but not this late

- He checked his watch again before being interrupted by his cellphone

- He dropped his bags and sprinted to curbside to get a taxi

- He rushed to the front desk before being told where you were

- When he stepped into your room the first thing that greeted him was the sound of your heart moniter

- You were alive but not awake

- If he was going to turn you, now would have to be the time, you were not in stable condition and who knows how long you might actually last

- Even now, Jun wasn’t sure your body would be able to make the change; so much of you was broken

- He knelt down beside you ready to bite you, to save you

- But a doctor came in and Jun had to hastily retreat

- “You’re her emergency contact?”

- “Yes” Jun answered quickly hoping the faster he had this conversation the sooner the doctor would leave

- “Sir, am so sorry.”

- Jun looked at him surprised

- “But her heart,” he began “It’s still beating. She’s still alive.” Jun began arguing adamantly

- “Yes her heart is fine but her... she’s not all there. The trauma she suffered has caused her...” the doctor paused looking into Jun’s desperate eyes before looking down at the ground. “She’s brain dead sir.”

- Jun stiffened, he couldn’t see anything and for a moment he forgot to breathe

- He couldn’t save you. He couldn’t fix this

- Bones: venom could heal, muscles: venom could heal but death of any tissue-- death was irreversible

- Jun wailed over your unresponsive body soaking your hospital gown in tears; the doctor left him to have some privacy

- Jun knew it was no use but he couldn’t stop, he had to try

- Through teary eyes he looked frantically at you before moving your hair from your neck

- He bit and bit but got no response, only blood staining his hands as the held you close still he couldn’t stop-- he needed to save you

- He finally stopped at seeing what he’d done to you

- Neck littered with punctures

- He had destroyed you

- And he couldn’t bring you back

- No matter how much he needed to

- He gently wiped you neck sticky with drying blood

- He sat back a bit looking at you, tears still constantly falling down his cheek and off his chin

- He sniffled as he dug his hand in his pocket to retrieve that small box he had been so nervous about earlier

- He opened it

- “I know I don’t deserve you. And that I let you down.” he paused trying to hold back a sob “but I was yours from the night I met you and” he looked away trying to pull himself away from the edge of screaming at the heavens or God or whoever took you away from him, “I always will be... So please let me call you mine.” he finished slipping the ring on your finger

- He bit onto his own fist again trying to hold back the waves of pain before getting op to get some bandages

- He carefully wrapped your neck delicately holding you close to him

- After he was done, the white looked nothing but innocent on your neck and blended in with the rest of your injuries you had gotten in the car accident

- With a final kiss placed longingly on your forehead he left

- The hospital tried to contact him multiple times as to what to do with your body, you couldn’t be on life support forever

- He never answered

- He couldn’t

- He couldn’t be the one to pull the final plug on your life

- Eventually they stopped calling

- Jun couldn’t get drunk, but he sure as hell tried

- Anything to stop the hurting

- Anything but forget you

- He could never do that to you

- He had finally moved into the house you two were meant to spend the rest of your unnaturally long lives together

- Most of the time he thinks about how happy you would have been

- He imagines your laugh and your smile and how it felt to have you next to him

- Perfect

- And how lucky he would have been to be yours forever

- But vampires aren’t lucky

- So he takes another sip of vodka from his glass and watches the trees from inside your now crumbling dream home

- He himself forgotten

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rxsie-the-demon · 3 years

Text

Brooklyn Baby | JJ Maybank

chapter summary: Nikki and the Pogues devise plans for revenge. However, something they’re not aware of may completely skewer these plans! JJ and Nikki bicker, while the latter works to learn as much as she can about the Cameron family.

warning: marijuana usage. i don’t think this should be triggering for anyone but nikki and topper are smoking and i go into a bit of detail (shoutout google research lmao) and also swearing

a/n: lmao i said i wasn’t gonna disappear again and i did just that. a lot of the things mentioned aren’t canon- they’re just from my imagination btw

SERIES MASTERLIST | chapter one | chapter two | chapter three | chapter four

Chapter 5: High by the Beach

John B’s POV

I kept wiping the same spot on the counter, trying to suppress my nerves. Maybe she’s just a few minutes late, I told myself. But I had to laugh. She was never late. In the six months I knew her, she was never late.

I glanced over at the drink I had set out for her. I hope it wasn’t getting warm. I needed today, just today, go to well. If everything goes according to plan, then it’ll all finally be worth it.

I heard the door of the bar swing open, and saw the lady I had been waiting for walk in. She was an intimidating woman, with deep, mahogany skin and long, curly hair. She was wearing black heels, a black women’s suit, and was clutching a suitcase. Her hands, almost always perfectly done with red nail polish, were closed tightly in a fist.

But it was her eyes that carried her power. She was the kind of woman who made you nervous when you walked into a room, who made you straighten your posture and nod your head.

Miss Agumanu is a lawyer working for a firm that’s notorious for taking criminals as clients. One of these clients is a bank that holds black money, and at 4 pm sharp for the past six months, she would walk into the bar of the hotel Sarah and I had been working at since we wound up in Nassau.

It was completely luck; she wanted to become a lawyer to get rid of criminals and ended up landing a job helping them. I had very vaguely mentioned my situation, and through lots of hints from both sides, we finally figured out that she indirectly works for the bank holding the gold- my gold- in the Bahamas.

She placed her suitcase down on the chair next to me, and I jogged over and pushed the drink towards her. She chuckled, her Jamaican accent present when she said; “Am I that predictable?”

I chuckled a little. She downed the whole thing, and I felt my heart drop. I went on to make another. “So, I’m guessing bad news?” I mumbled, not wanting to turn around.

“No, John B. Not at all, actually.”

I spun around and almost dropped the bottle of rum. “What?”

“Make the drink and I’ll explain.”

I threw the ingredients into the shaker, pulled a chilled glass out, and poured the drink. I guess she could tell I was nervous, because she laughed and told me to calm down. Once she downed her other drinks, she started.

“For some reason, I don’t know how or why, but the bank cannot hold the gold. My guess is that they don’t have enough money to ensure it because the gold is worth a lot. So, this Saturday, they’re sending it back to the Outer Banks. This has been the plan for a few months but it only got finalized today.”

“Doesn’t it seem a bit rushed? It’s only, what, Wednesday?” I narrowed my eyebrows. I trusted her, but this seemed too good to be true.

She shrugged. “I’m too tired to explain all the nitty gritty details, but the main point is that the gold is going back to your home, which means you and Sarah can go, too. The gold is most likely going to be stored in Ward Cameron’s property- maybe his yacht, or one of his other boats, or even in his house.”

“Somewhere secluded would be smarter, though, right?” I asked.

“Yes, it would be. He seems like the type of man to build a place for storage but I am also aware of the fact that he barely managed to escape murder accusations, so he’s trying not to draw any unwanted attention towards himself.” Miss Agumanu shrugged. She got up out of her seat, grabbed her suitcase, and turned to shake my hand. “It was nice meeting you, John B Routledge. I hope to see you soon, but not too soon.”

I shook her hand and smiled. I was going home.

*********************************************

I flopped down onto our bare mattress and stretched. I was exhausted, having to work for from 3 in the afternoon to 2 am with only a half hour break, but it was all worth it. Sarah, who was in our shared bathroom, came out and crawled into bed next to me and pulled the thin, faded cotton blanket over us.

The nice luxurious hotel we worked out gave us the smallest employees quarters, with only a bathroom to accompany it. No bed, nothing. After all, our employment was suspicious. But we took it. We had no other choice.

A part of me felt bad for dragging Sarah into this. After all, she’s a Kook. She wasn’t used to this type of lifestyle. I was, so it didn’t bother me. But she wasn’t.

But when she smiled at me, I knew she wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. “We’re so close,” she whispered into my ear. “Just one more week.”

I turned my head to plant a kiss on her forehead. “I couldn’t have done this without you. Words really cannot express how grateful I am for you, for all of this, Sarah.”

After six months of struggling, of working countless hours in this stuck up, Kook-like resort, of sneaking food in from the kitchen to our small living quarters and almost getting fired at least 3 times each, and of countless sleepless nights spent planning, Sarah and I can finally go home.

And we can finally bring that cunt Ward Cameron down.

*********************************************

Nikki’s POV

I snatch JJ’s phone from him. “We are not getting pineapple as a topping!”

“AND WHY THE HELL NOT?!” he snapped, jumping up from his seat on the couch to try to take his phone back. “Just ‘cause you- you cultureless mainlanders can’t appreciate real flavor-”

“REAL FLAVOR? Ok-” I dodge an attempt for him to grab it. “Listen. First, I’m a New Yorker. I think I know pizza. Second! Pineapples are delicious!! When they’re 30 feet the fuck away from the top of my pizza. They don’t belong there. Sweet. Does. Not. Belong. On. Pizza.”

“You’re a rich brat, you don’t know real pizza!”

“Pizza is pizza! Being rich doesn’t have anything to do with it!”

He tries to grab it a few more times, but I spun around and ran into the kitchen, where Kie and Pope sitting on the counter next to each other and giggling.

“Yes?!” JJ and I shout at the same time.

“Nothing,” Kie laughed

“Hey, if you’re laughing about the pizza, it’s not my fault this one here lacks flavor.” I jerk my head towards him, and he groaned in annoyance.

“Gimme my phone back.” He stomped around to face me and extended is hand out. “Now?!”

I smirked. “Why, so you could order that sad excuse of a pi-?”

“HAVE YOU TRIED IT?!”

“I HAVE, AND IT IS NOT THAT GOOD.”

“GUYS!” Pope shouted. “I get it, we’re hungry, it’s noon. We’ve been working hard researching the Royal Merchant. Nikki, please give JJ his phone back.”

I pouted and handed him his phone back. He stuck his tongue out at me and I kicked his shin.

“OW! Did you guys see that?”

“Guys.” Kie warned. She pulled out her phone and sighed. “I’ll order pizza with no toppings. Sound good?”

I nodded and JJ groaned. “Sounds good to me.”

JJ mimicked me in a falsetto voice, to which I spun around and said: “Something you want to say, Maybank?”

He snorted. “Nothing, Pillow Princess.”

“Ok, you know what-”

“Guys!” Pope and Kie shouted.

“Sorry, sorry!” I raised my hands up defensively, walking over to ice box in front of the fridge and opened it.

Inside were some glass Coke and Corona bottles. I shrugged and took a Coke, then walked outside to where there was a little campfire type thing with foldable chairs and ripped up bungalows.

I sat down on one of the ripped up couches and opened my Coke. February was coming close, and it was starting to warm up again. Luckily, today was really nice; 63 degrees with barely any wind or clouds. I closed my eyes and rested my head back. Oh, how I’ve missed this weather. It’s like spring in New York.

I felt a shadow pass over me and heard the sound of someone clearing their throat. “Ahem.”

I peeped an eye open and saw JJ to my left. “Yes, Maybank?”

“You’re in my seat.”

I opened both eyes and looked around sarcastically. “I can’t see your name anywhere.”

He huffed. “I always sit there. Always.”

I took a sip of my drink. When JJ was about to add more, I held up a finger and took another sip. “Yeah, I can tell. It’s nice and comfortable.” I turned to him and smiled. “Thanks!”

JJ covered his face with his hands and exhaled loudly. That’s when I noticed one of his three silver rings, the other two being plain with no design, had a skull on it. “Ooh, that’s a nice ring.”

He removed his hands from his face and smiled sarcastically. “Thanks! Can I have my seat?”

“Oh my- if it’s such a big deal, here, O Great Prince of the Pogues!” I stood up and bowed dramatically, making sure not to spill my soda. He flopped onto the seat happily

“Could you grab me a beer, sweetheart?” He smiled.

I bent down, picked up a handful of dirt with my free hand, and cocked my arm back. “What’d you call me?”

He put his hands up defensively. “Woah, woah! I just got this shirt!”

“Oh, please. That shirt is as dull as your personality.” I dropped the dirt and shook my hand, not wanting to wipe them on my jeans.

“Oh, fuck you, Kook. Not all of us can afford Gucci or Channel-”

“Chanel,” I corrected. “It’s French.”

“Whatever!”

I huffed. Yes, JJ Maybanks is an annoying prick, but he’s friends with Kie and Pope, so I have to deal with him. “I’ll get you your beer if I can sit in the seat.”

“We could share it.” JJ made a show of scooting over a bit and pointing at the empty spot.

“You’re insufferable. Even my baby sister wouldn’t fit. What do you want me to do, sit on your lap?”

“Oh, don’t act like you wouldn’t want to.”

My face flushed red. “You-” I began, but I didn’t know what to say; it was like my brain short circuited or something. JJ saw my reaction and covered his mouth to laugh.

“Oh, you’re so easy to tease, princess.”

I flipped him off and jogged toward’s the front of the house. I threw my empty soda can in the trash, then opened the door too see Kie and Pope making out in the kitchen.

“In front of my SALAD?!” I gasped loudly, hoping to scare them. Kie off the counter and Pope turned, saw me, then felt onto the ground in a panic.

“I hate you.” Kie covered her face.

“WE WEREN’T EVEN HAVING SEX!” Pope added, getting up

I laughed and went over to the sink to wash my hands, then I grabbed two Coronas and kicked the door open to go back outside. JJ was leaning back in his seat- ew, no, THE seat- with his hands behind his neck, head rested up and eyes closed. I tried not to notice, but I had to admit, he was attractive.

He was wearing a black Metallica hoodie, jeans, and normal, black vans. A simple outfit, but it fit well on him. And the way the sun fell on his tanned skin and blond hair made him look like what I’d imagine Apollo, the Greek god, would look like.

If only he wasn’t such a stuck-up ass...

I approached JJ and lightly tapped his shin with my foot. He peeped an eye open and squinted. “Could ya move just a bit to the-”.

“No.”

“But my poor eyes!”

I took a right diagonal step forward to block the sun from JJ’s face. He opened both eyes and clapped his hands together

“Perfect!” He smiled and stretched his hand out. I raised the beer up above my head.

“Say please.” I said sweetly. He raised his eyebrows and stood up. I took a step back as he took a step forward, and he leaned in close to my face. I awkwardly lowered my arm, and gulped nervously. What the fuck was he doing? Why was he so close to me?

He smiled and took the beer from my hand. “Thank you, Princess,” he said, then he flopped back onto his seat and opened his beer.

I took a deep breath. I felt like my brain short circuited, and when I had gathered the mental strength to say something to JJ, when Kie and Pope came out. “PIZZA’S HERE!!” Kie shouted.

I turned to JJ. “Hey, you said I could sit there!”

“I said you could sit here with me.”

“You little bitch-”

****************************************************************

“Alright, let’s go over the plan in parts again.” I shuffled nervously in the seat that I was sharing with JJ. I wasn’t going to sit in it, but Kiara more or less dragged me over and said I needed to start getting along with JJ.

She did also wink at me, but I have no idea what she was trying to do there.

The sun was setting, creating a kaleidoscope of purples, pinks, oranges, and yellows, and we had decided to have s’mores.

“Alright,” Kie said from the foldable chair across from us. “Basically, all you have to do is what you’re doing right now; get close to Rafe and Topper. Kelce was never much of a threat-”

“Except when he jumped me and JJ that one time we were delivering groceries.” Pope interjected.

“You deliver groceries?” I asked.

“My dad owns a boat and gets groceries. Like stuff you can’t find on the island.” Pope clarified, leaning over to hand me a s’more. I thanked him and took a bite.

“Basically,” JJ leaned close to me. “His dad’s the plug.”

I felt my heartbeat start to pick up. Why. Was. He. So. Close. To. Me.

“NO, DO NOT-” Pope started.

“Pope, I’m not going to ask your dad for drugs. JJ, shut up. But ok, get close to Rafe and Topper. What about the other Kooks?”

“Scarlett is fine, she’s not a bad person,” Kie scratched her head. “Kelce...ok, keep tabs on him. Rafe and Topper are our main threats. Especially Rafe. I know you think he’s changed, but we can’t trust him. Getting close to him and his family is our top priority.”

“It’ll be easy for you to win Topper over, if you haven’t already,” JJ said, shrugging. “He wants to bone you.”

I made a face. “Gross.” I turned my head back to look at Kie. “But he’s right, Topper does wanna fuck me.”

“Ok, who else does that leave?” Pope asked.

“Ward Cameron.” JJ responded through a mouth-full of his s’more. “The fucking psycho himself.”

“My family and I have to get close enough to the Cameron family to gain access to the house on a regular basis.” I began.

“And be able to go in one day when Ward and Rafe aren’t there to search the office for anything incriminating.” Kiara said.

There was a silence after she said that. It’d be bad, and I mean bad, if I got caught. Ward Cameron isn’t a gangster by any means, but he’s a rich, powerful man, who covered up a murder once. Who’s to say it wouldn’t happen again?

“But I got it,” I said dismissively, “This will be a peace of cake. Topper wants to hang out tomorrow after school by the beach. I have a plan on getting his guard down.” I winked.

Pope gasped. “That wink...GIRL ARE YOU GONNA- YOU KNOW- ?!” He covered his mouth with his hands. “IN PUBLIC? DAMN.”

JJ chuckled. “Wow, didn’t know you were into that.”

I was confused for a second, before it hit me. “Get your heads out of the gutter!. First, a friend of mine likes Topper-”

“Who?” All three Pogues asked.

“It’s a secret. Second, I meant weed. I’m gonna get him high. So, JJ, do you have any weed and wraps to spare?”

JJ looked at me with utter disbelief. “You want me to give you my weed, so that you and Topper can smoke it together? Hell fucking no. It’s bad enough you’re a Kook, and now you want to give my weed to someone who literally tormented all of us?”

“NOT EVERYTHING HAS TO BE ABOUT POGUES AND KOOKS, JJ!” I stood up out of the seat. This whole Kook-Pogue thing wasn’t funny anymore; JJ was beginning to really piss me off.

“Listen, sweetie,” He stood up as well. “You haven’t been here long enough, but everything on this island is about Pogues and Kooks.”

I raised my eyebrows in disbelief, and from the corner of my eye I could see Kie and Pope shoot him a dirty look, but he kept going.

“Sorry if your privileged ass can’t see it-” He pointed a finger at me when he said this- “but that’s just how it is. Pogues and Kooks don’t mix. We aren’t friends. Kie and Sarah were the only exceptions.”

“This isn’t about Pogues or Kooks!” I shoved him. “This is about your friends- not mine, by the way, died. This is about the fact that I’m risking my ass for two kids that I’ve never met while you sit around here and do next to nothing.”

JJ was silent. He looked away, and I could see he looked embarrassed. But I kept going.

“I get you hate people from Figure 8. I do. I’m sorry that your life is hard. But you don’t have to make me feel bad about it all the time, especially since I’ve never done anything to you.”

I expected him to snap back at me with something but there was a look in his eyes when I finished that made a part of me regret going off the way I did. He awkwardly sat back in his seat and I walked across him to sit in one of the cold, empty chairs.

I took a bite of my s’more. The silence was uncomfortable, and I was going to apologize for going off when Kie said, “I think we should head home. We have school tomorrow. Nikki, let’s go,” she shot finger guns at me.

Pope stood up and stretched. “Yeah, you’re right, we should head on home. See ya!” He started to walk towards the house, and Kie walked around the fire towards me to head to my car.

I took a couple steps before I stopped and turned around. “Isn’t he gonna go home?” I whispered to Kie. JJ was still sitting on his seat, hands stretched towards the fire. It’s not because I cared or anything, but it was weird that we were all going home and he hadn’t moved at all.

She hesitated before she answered me. “Uh, yeah, he will. His dad works late so he’s probably gonna stay here til he gets off work.”

A part of me thought she was lying, or there was more to it, but I shrugged it off, figuring that it was none of my business. “Alrighty, let’s go.” I nodded towards my car.

Kie kept turning to face JJ, who was now just sitting in his seat, facing the fire. I couldn’t see his face, but it seemed like he was sleeping or resting; his hands were in his hoodie’s pocket and he was slouching. There’s definitely something going on there.

But it’s not my business.

“Last one to the car loses!” I shouted, sprinting towards the car. I wanted to cheer Kie up, and it worked. She spun around and cried out, “NO FAIR!” Before proceeding to sprint after me. But I had won, and smacked the top of my car.

“Ok, you know what’s my fav part about this car?” I inhaled loudly, resting my hands on my knees. Kie stumbled to a stop and shook her head.

“No, what?” She put her hands on her hips and steadied her breathing.

I straightened myself up and pressed the unlock button. “The doors.” The my two car doors, which one would assume would pull out, went upwards like wings instead.

“You’re such a show off,” Kie sighed. “But you’re right, every time I sit in your car I feel like a celebrity or something.”

“Right?!” I exclaimed, beckoning her to sit in the car. We got in and buckled ourselves up. “The best part about it is that this particular Aventador is that it’s a hybrid car. Better for the environment.” I put the car in reverse and began to back out, then turned it around and drove forward to get onto the road.

“Wow.” Kie sounded impressed. “You sound like you know what you’re talking about.”

“I don’t, actually, I’m not much of a car person. But I researched this car!”

“Well, don’t tell that to JJ. Between you and me, he likes your car.”

I tried my best not to turn my head to face Kie, because I wanted to keep my eyes on the road. “Wait, actually?”

“Well, who wouldn’t like an Lamborghini? But he’ll never admit it to your face. He doesn’t want to give you the satisfaction of knowing something Kooky impressed him”

I rolled my eyes. “Of course not. Maybe I’ll be nice and offer to drive us all somewhere so he can sit in it. But he better not take any pics of the car. At least, not without me.”

Kie through her head back and laughed, and I joined her. It seemed both of our moods had improved.

*************************************

I flopped onto my bed and sighed. I had dropped Kie home, took a shower, did my skincare routine, and now I lay in bed.

One of the agreements I had with Krish and Mal was that I could decorate my room however I wished. My walls and bed set were both a light purple. My bed, dresser, and hanging mirror were black. Behind my bed, which was pressed against a wall, was a black and white sun and moon tapestry; a picture of the moon with a face on it, and two halves of the sun beside it.

TikTok lights, like, the stereotypical ones, lined up the walls near the ceilings, set to purple. And purple fairy lights were on the wall across from my bed, near my dresser. And lastly, at the farthest end of the room, was a small, purple couch.

It’s safe to say my favorite color is purple.

One of the best parts about moving to the Outer Banks was, in fact, my room. I didn’t feel comfortable in Krish and Mal’s house in New York, even though New York is my home. It didn’t feel right, it felt like I was intruding.

But here, it was a fresh start. Even if it was abrupt. A fresh start meant no more nightmares, no more panic attacks, no more -

Beep!

I turned my head quickly, and winced when I got whip lash. I was so lost in thought that the notification on my phone spooked me.

I grab my phone, still having my hand on my neck, and unlocked it to see who texted me.

“Who the hell..?” I whispered. It was an unknown number.

‘Hey’ the text said. I frowned. I saw the area code and searched it up quickly and saw it was a North Carolina area code. I didn’t open it immediately, and saw the person was still typing.

‘Come by the Chauteau tmrw before you get to school’

I narrowed my eyes again, then I put it together.

‘is this jj?’ I asked.

‘Ye’ he responded. I quickly added him to my contacts. A part of me wanted to say more to him, but I didn’t.

At least the texts sent blue, I joked to myself. I put my phone down and dimmed my lights. My phone beeped again, and I picked it up.

‘Sorry about earlier’

‘it’s alr idc’

To which he left me on read. A part of me thought the ‘I don’t care’ was a tad bit harsh. So I added. ‘i’ll see u tmrw. gn jj’

‘Goodnight’

******************************************************

“You sure you don’t want me to pick you up?” I asked Kie through Facetime as I leaned right into my mirror to applied some mascara.

“I’m good, don’t worry. I’m gonna hang out with Pope and have breakfast with him before I go to school.”

“But are you sure-”

“Girl.” Kie laughed. “I promised JJ isn’t gonna murder you or something.”

“You never know...” I said. Closing the mascara tube and readjusting my outfit. I was wearing a dark blue cardigan crop top with white and light blue squares on it, like an argyle style. Complete with high-waisted patchwork jeans and black vans.

Kie smacked her hand against her forehead. “Just get the weed and smoke with Topper. And try not to get caught, ok?”

I laughed. “I’ll try. But wait, were you the one who gave him my number?”

Kie gave me an evil little smile through the screen as she walked throughout her house. “Perhaps...Look, I know you may think otherwise, but I know JJ and he’s totally into you, he just doesn’t know it yet.”

“Um...girl? No fucking way. And I don’t want to be with someone who’s so rude to me.”

“I know, I know, which is why I’m gonna tell him to get his shit together so he has a chance.”

I scoffed. “He hates Kooks, and he reeks of bad boy energy. He’s probably going to get me arrested or something. And let’s say he does get his act together, he’s gonna have to do a lot of hard work on his end to make up for the shit he’s said to me.”

“He means well! And despite what you think, there is a sweet side to him.”

“Mhm, right. Totally.”

“Just trust me. And don’t tell me you aren’t attracted to him. I see the way you guys look at each other, it’s like you want to rip each other’s cloth-”

“ALRIGHT, alright, I’ll admit he’s attractive, but that’s it. He’s funny, can be nice, and is hot. That’s it. That’s all there is.” I rubbed my temples.

Kie scoffed. “I call it- you guys are going to keep having your little moments, but still argue a lot. Then things will happen, the two of you will be vulnerable to each other, then you’ll actually become friends and then you’ll date.”

“You read way too many fanfics.”

“I actually see the two of you long term together!”

“I- Ok, we should probably get going now. See ya!”

“Bye! Don’t forget what I said!” Kie hung up, and I chuckled a little.

I grabbed my hairbrush and combed out my straightened hair, which fell a little below my shoulders, then put the brush down. Cute outfit, straight hair with middle parting...what am I missing?

A belt. I went to my closet and pulled one out, a melt chain belt, like rings or loops, and quickly looked it around myself.

Wow, I’m hot.

I grabbed my Kanken backpack and ran down the stairs.

I headed to the kitchen, where Diya was sitting on her height chair, with apple sauce all over the tray, her face, her hands, and the floor. “Good morning, gremlin” I leaned over to kiss her forehead, and took the seat to her right. She turned to me and began giggling and babbling. I picked up the apple sauce-covered spoon and scooped the tiny bit that was in the bowl in front of her and put it near her mouth.

“Open sesame.” I said. She opened her mouth and bit the spoon. I fed her a couple more bites before she shook her head and refused to eat more.

I shrugged, taking the bowl and spoon and placing it in the sink, then grabbing a napkin and quickly wiping up the floor, being careful not to get any on my clothes.

“Oh, Nikki, you didn’t have to clean up.” Mal sighed, walking down the stairs. I stood up and turned to see her. She was in sweats and a shirt, and her hair was tied up. “I was changing because this tiny gremlin got apple sauce all over me.” Mal laughed and ruffled Diya’s hair, who seemed confused. Probably because she didn’t even realize her mom left.

“It’s alright,” I got a fresh napkin and wiped Diya’s face. “She finished her food. But I’m not cleaning the tray.” I made a face and we laughed. Diya laughed, and I leaned over to kiss her again. She squirmed and giggled.

“That’s fine. But make sure you eat something before you leave!” Mal picked Diya up and put her on her hip. Then she stopped. “Wait, why are you leaving so early?”

I blinked twice. “Uh. I need to go to something.”

Mal laughed, and Diya reached for her mom’s hair to pull it. “Like what?”

“Uh, my friend needs to be dropped off at...the other high school. Kildare County High School. It’s in The Cut, and they don’t have a car.”

Mal looked at me for a couple seconds, than rolled her eyes. “You’re an awful liar.” She proceeded to go upstairs. “Whatever you do, don’t make bad choices!”

“I won’t!” I shouted back. “Wait, where’s Krish?” I asked, pouring myself some cereal.

“He had an emergency surgery. Nothing super serious, just someone’s appendix burst or something.” Mal shouted from upstairs. “Don’t clean the tray up, I have the day off so I’m gonna catch up on some house work and go shopping with Diya. Just eat and make sure you’re at school on time. Krish packed a sandwich and some apple slices for you in the fridge if you want it!”

“Alright!” I shouted back. I grabbed the food from the fridge, an ice pack from the freezer to keep my food fresh, shoved it in my lunchbox, and finished up my cereal. I grabbed my keys, shouldered my bag, and headed to my car.

I threw my bag into the seat next to mine and buckled up, then hooked my playlist up and pulled out of my driveway.

When I arrived at the Chauteau, I saw someone sitting outside on the steps with their hands on their head. They were wearing a black hoodie, and it was pulled up over their head so I couldn’t see who it was.

As I got closer, I realized it was JJ, and he was wearing the same outfit from yesterday.

“Hey!” I called out to him. He looked up and gave me a quick nod, then beckoned me to come inside. I obliged and slipped my keys into my pocket, then jogged quickly to catch up with him.

“The weed’s in my room. Just wait on the couch and I’ll get it for you.” He mumbled as held the door open for me, then headed inside. I nodded and flopped onto the couch. JJ reappeared a couple seconds later, holding a black dispensary bag with a smily face on it and some paper wraps.

He headed to the kitchen and put them in a gallon sized Ziploc bag, then walked towards me. I noticed that, the entire time, he had his head down, and his long blond hair was parted to cover his left eye.

“Here.” He said, not meeting my eyes.

I grabbed the bag and bid him a farewell, then turned around to ask him if he wanted a ride to his high school, when I saw his swollen, bruised eye underneath the wisps of his hair.

“Wait, do you ne- Oh my God, JJ, what happened to your eye?” I walked towards him and covered my mouth. Shit, I thought. It looked pretty bad. The eyelid above his eye was swollen and beneath his eye, it was an ugly purplish blue.

“For fuck’s sake, dude,” he groaned.

“Woah, woah,” I raised my arms up in defense. “I just asked. Anyone would’ve if they saw someone with a black eye.”

He flopped onto the couch. “I’m fine. Fan-fucking-tastic.”

“Your eye is swollen.” I said firmly.

“And your eyes work.” He sassed back.

“Oh my- I have an ice pack in my car. Do you want me to grab it, or do you want to sit here and be a bitch to me?” I crossed my arms.

JJ raised his eyebrows at me. I stared back.

He sighed. “Whatever, I don’t care.” I scoffed to myself, thinking about how ungrateful he is, and ran out to my car, grabbed my lunch box, and ran back inside. I told JJ to sit down and I pulled the pack out and handed it to him.

“Just press the pack against your eye.” I told him. He gave me a look.

“This isn’t exactly like a bag. It’s a big blue block of coldness.” He put it down on the couch and flexed his hand. “And it’s really cold.”

“Well of course it’s cold, it’s an ice pack! Are there any paper towels here?”

“Under the sink, yeah.”

I walked towards the kitchen and ripped out a couple, then went back to the couch to wrap the ice pack. I held it for a couple seconds so that the napkins would start to get cold, then I turned and handed it to him.

He picked it up and brushed his hair back. I flopped down onto the couch and checked the time on my phone. I still had a good fourty minutes before school started, so I was fine.

JJ pressed the pack against his eye, then pulled it away. “I don’t feel anything.”

I took it from his hands and scooted next to him. I reached my hand out towards him and he leaned back.

“Uh, what are you doing?” His eyes were wide.

“Icing your eye for you. Because apparently this big blue block of coldness is too difficult for you to use.”

He squinted his eyes. I sighed.

“That was a joke,” I explained. Then I beckoned him closer to me. “But come on, now, I need my ice pack for lunch. So either you do it or I will!”

He mumbled something about not being a baby and scooted closer to me. I brushed some of his hair aside and he flinched. I pulled my hand back immediately.

“Shit! I’m sorry, did I touch your eye?” God, this is so awkward.

“No, no, I’m fine.” He quickly reassured, awkwardly brushing his hands with his hair. He looked down and was fidgeting with his hands.

This is so, so weird. I touched the pack against my hand, and felt for where it was the coldest. Then, I gently brushed some of JJ’s hair away from his eye and pressed the cold pack against his eye.

He pushed his hair back and scooted closer to me. “This feels good.” He whispered under his breath; I almost didn’t hear him.

I felt a hint of a smile forming. “Well, I’m glad,” I laughed. “My dad’s a doctor. He’s Chief of Surgery, I think, at the hospital on the next island over. The one here’s pretty small, but that’s one’s big. We moved here, though, because we had a house here.”

JJ nodded. “Cool. What does your mom do?”

“She’s a lawyer.”

“Wow. Ok.” He laughed. “That’s chill. My dad’s a professional alcoholic.”

“I- Oh.” I clamped my free hand over my mouth.

JJ pulled away laughing. “It’s ok. You can laugh. It’s funny.”

I shoved him lightly. “That’s not funny. Are you alright?!” He looked at me with a smile.

“You’re laughing.”

“I’m not- Oh my god, I’m laughing.”

“It’s fine, Nikki. Really.”

I rolled my eyes, but then I got serious. “But, he isn’t the one who did this to your eye, right?”

JJ looked away from me and cleared his throat. “Nah.”

I saw his hesitation, and

“Nikki, I’m chill.”

He nodded. “Much. Thanks...Kook.”

I kicked his shin. “You’re so annoying.”

“OW! That hurt.”

I grabbed the plastic bag and ran out to my car. “Bye JJ!”

“Fuck you, Kook!”

***************************************************************

The cool sand between my toes felt strange. I was always used to sand being burning hot, or at least warm, but this was a nice, cool feeling. Wintertime in the Outer Banks wasn’t freezing, which meant I could still visit the beach.

The sky had turned grey, but the sun was still shining bright between the clouded sky. The ocean, though, had taken on a very dark blue-green color.

I spun around, shoes in one hand and backpack in the other, to see Topper a couple feet behind me with something in his hand. I raised a hand above my eyes and squinted.

“Whatcha got there?” I questioned while beckoning him to follow me farther. In order for the plan to work, I needed the two of us to be alone. Which meant sitting farther away from where the people and lifeguards were.

“A surprise.” Topper winked. Whatever he had in his hand was slipped into one of his pockets. I feigned laughter and ran up ahead. There was a nice secluded area on the beach; no one was there, and better yet, it appeared there was a little place for people to hide behind big, dark rock formations on the beach.

“Hey! There’s a place for us to sit over there!” I beckoned Topper without turning around and went ahead near the little hidden area on the beach. I plopped down onto the sand and dropped my bag and shoes next to me. Topper appeared behind the rock formation a couple seconds later and threw his stuff onto the ground next to mine.

He sat down next to me- wearing khaki cargo pants and an orange polo shirt- and kicked his flip flops off.

“So,” I began, “This is nice. Right?”

Topper pulled whatever he slipped in his pocket- a small, white sea conch- and handed it to me.

“Yeah,” he smiled brightly. “This is nice.”

Oh, goodness. It’s painstakingly clear that Topper had feelings for me and I need to shut that down, fast. So I said the only thing I could think of.

“Hey, Top, did you know one of our friends has a crush on you?” As soon as the last word left my mouth, I regretted it. I can’t out Kelce, but there’s no way I can just avoid this.

Topper’s neck snapped towards me. “HUH?” His eyes went wide and his mouth dropped, and I fought back the urge to push his jaw upward to close it.

“Yep...” I turned around to grab the weed from my bag, hoping Topper would just drop it. But I knew better.

“Ok, but like who?” He asked. I paused. UM. I needed to think of something quick.

“Um, can’t say,” I shrugged, trying to play it off. I took the bag out and placed it on my lap. “I was sworn to secrecy.”

“Oh, c’mon!” He threw his arms up in the air, then crossed them and pouted. Gross.

“Yep, my lips are sealed.” I decided to just say it: “It’s also the reason I don’t do anything about your...flirtiness. Our friend likes you, and I don’t see you like that. You’re like...a brother. A good friend.” I smiled.

Topper nodded, then reached for his bag. Confused, I leaned over, then I saw him pull out a cheese wheel.

“You want some cheese?”

I slapped my hand over my face and laughed. “Do you usually care around cheese wheels?”

He shrugged. “No. I only bring them when I’m hanging out with special people. People who are like...sisters to me. Good friends.” He winked.

I chuckled. Then I pointed at the bag on my lap. “Do you wanna get high?”

Topper dropped his cheese wheel. “Is that..?”

“Yeah, it’s weed. Oh, c’mon, hot stuff, don’t tell me you haven’t smoked before.”

He shook his head. “Usually, uh, Pogues smoke weed.” The emphasis on the word Pogues ticked me off a little. But I knew Topper didn’t know any better, so I brushed it off.

I snorted. “Well, where I’m from, everyone smokes weed. I personally don’t love doing it, but it’s a good feeling. So we’re going to, too. Unless you’re not comfortable. Or allergic.”

Topper shook his head. “No, not allergic. I’ve just never done it.”

“Right, but you’ve done coke.”

“Oh, shut up.”

I pull the tiny, black bag holding the weed out of the Ziploc and open it up. Topper, who was peering over my shoulder, threw his head back dramatically at the smell of the plant.

“Oh, gross!” He gagged. I looked at him.

“Weed itself smells fine, it’s when you smoke it does it actually smell bad. Stop being so dramatic.” I brought the bag to his face. “Here, smell it!”

Topper was hesitant, but I beckoned him closer. “Trust me, your high is gonna be really bad if you’re nervous. Just try to relax.”

He sat up and took the bag from me. Topper sniffed the bag, then sniffed it again. “It smells...minty, kind of.” I pulled out the weed grinder JJ had packed for us out and took the bag back from him.

“See? Not too bad, right?”

He shrugged. I rolled my eyes and dumped the weed into the weed grinder. Topper looked over at me curiously as I ground the bud into shake (kind of a powderish leftover), then set it aside.

Next, I pulled the paper wraps out. I stuck my hand into the bag again and felt around carefully. I hoped JJ packed a- found it- blade for me to cut the wraps with.

I began to cut the wraps vertically, lengthwise, then lifted it to my tongue and licked it just a bit so that it’d stick.

“That doesn’t seem very hygenic,” Topper said through the cheese in his mouth. I turned to face him and opened my mouth, and he broke off a piece and fed it to me.

“The weed only smells bad when you smoke it,” I explained to Topper, then lifted the blunt up to show him the finished product. “Ta-da!”

Topper’s eyes went wide. “It’s so perfectly wrapped.”

“Yeah, I dabbled in origami as a child.” I fished around for the lighter, then lit the blunt and started to twirl in between my fingers to make sure the blunt burned evenly.

I put the blunt to my lips and breathed in, feeling the smoke fill up my lungs. I breathed out, took another hit, and passed it to Topper. I pulled a water bottle out and set it down next to him. “You’re gonna need this.”

Topper took the blunt and scoffed. “I’ll be fine,” he said, and proceeded to take the tiniest drag and cough his lungs out.

I took the blunt from his hand and took a drag, then handed him the water bottle. “See?” I exhaled. “Told you you’d need it.”

“Why-” he hacked, “-did I-” hack, “agree-” hack, “-to this?”

“Because of my amazing persuasion skills.” I could start to feel the high get to me; it felt like an out-of-body experience and my head started to feel light. The only downside was the god-awful smell.

I smacked my lips together. The back of my throat was really dry, but the euphoric, light-headedness I was feeling made it better. I passed the blunt back to Topper, who took a smaller drag, held it in, and exhaled. Then he took another and handed it back to me.

Topper seemed to be getting the hang of it, and pretty soon his eyes were red and he was laughing at everything.

“Can I ask you something?” I took a drag of the blunt and handed it back to Topper.

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“What’s, like, Rafe’s deal? I hear all these shitty things about him and stuff and he doesn’t seem like that at all. Like, what’s this whole...drama shit with him and like Kiara’s Pogue friend group?”

Topper’s eyes were as wide as half-dollars when I finished my question. It made me glad he had exhaled the smoke, otherwise he’d have been coughing his lungs up for another couple minutes.

“Um, well-” he handed the blunt back to me. “It’s like- ok. The Pogues, Kiara’s friends, they’re Pogues, right?

“Well, yeah.”

“Yeah.”

“Ok, but like, what’s wrong with Pogues. Just because they’re poor doesn’t mean they don’t deserve our respect.”

“Well, yeah, but like...” Topper trailed off. “I forgot what I was gonna say.”

“You were talking about why you and the other Kooks hate Pogues.”

“Right! Yeah, ok, so it’s like...they just don’t care about anything? They have no regards for anything, they don’t have any morals, or ambition, or anything! And I don’t just mean JJ and Pope and them, I mean all of them.”

I held back a scream. “Have you considered their, uh, ‘lack of regard and amibition’ stems from the fact that they’re stuck in a cycle of poverty? It’s easy to lose hope in things getting better when everything around you tries to bring you down.”

Topper shrugged. “I guess you’re right. But like, our groups have just hated each other for so long. And it’s not like it’s just us who hate them, they hate us back!”

“Well, yeah! You- we- flaunt our wealth in front of them and treat them like trash. Like, ok, fine, we’re rich, but that doesn’t mean we have to rub it in their faces. And treat them like trash. And jump them. And-”

“OK! Ok, I get it. But like...I don’t know. Rafe, on the other hand...he...well, he isn’t like this anymore, but he always had to prove he was better than everyone. That he was the best at everything.”

I nodded. Topper kept going.

“Don’t tell him I told you this, but Mr. Cameron always put Rafe and Sarah up against each other, and Sarah always won. Sarah was the smarter one, the nicer one. She didn’t fuck up, and when she did she could fix her mistakes and get away with it. She could do whatever she wanted. Rafe...couldn’t. He’s the black sheep, the screw up.”

I tried my best to hide my surprised face. Rafe, the screw up? He seems like the perfect Kook, if there had to be one. “And he took this out on the Pogues?”

“Yeah. This plus the fact that he was raised a Kook and Kooks are- I mean, think they are- better than Pogues, made him really butt heads with them. Especially JJ.”

“JJ? Why JJ? If John B was the head of the Pogues wouldn’t Rafe butt heads with him?”

“You’d think so, but Rafe and JJ are both very- well, you’ve met them. Hotheaded. Opinionated.”

Emphasis on hot, I told myself.

Shut up.

I was about to ask more about Rafe’s childhood when Topper’s phone buzzed.

“Ah shit, it’s Kelce, he’s outside my house. I forgot him and I were supposed to play FIFA.” Topper began to stand up and put his cheese wheel away.

“Do you need me to drop you off?” I got up as well.

“Nah, he said he’s on his way. You want us to drop you off?”

I waved my hand dismissively. “No, it’s alright. I’ll stay here for a bit.”

Topper waved and jogged away, and i turned and face the ocean. I could see that the sun was starting to set- I guess we had been here for about an hour- and the sky was turning gold. Most of the clouds had dispersed, so the sight of the sun near the water was a pretty one.

I inhaled. The warm sunlight against my skin was peaceful, and I didn’t want to go home yet.

Home. The Outer Banks is a nice place to live, but a part of me longed for New York. I missed ditching school with my friends and driving around the city. And eating at my favorite restaurant at the food court of the Manhattan mall.

Yet, New York feels...wrong. So foreign, and far away. Too filled with painful memories. Watching my father die in front of me left a permanent scar somewhere deep inside of me.

Will I ever feel at home here? Or anywhere?

A cool ocean breeze swept over me, pulling me out of whatever trance I was in. I checked my phone, and saw that JJ had texted me to ask that I drop by the Chateau. I shuffled around for a minute, not wanting to leave yet. I picked up the shell Topper gave me and put it in my bag.

I stood up, dusted myself, and headed towards my car.

**************************************************************

“Ok, what did you learn from Topper?” Pope asked once we all settled down around the coffee table.

“A lot, but it really depends on this. I need to know what you guys know about Rafe and his childhood.”

We all turned to Kie. The dim orange-brownish lighting made my head hurt, especially since Kie’s back was to the light and her faced was covered in a shadow, but I managed to focus on her while she talked.

“Um, Rafe’s childhood...ok.” Kie pulled her hair up into a ponytail and rubbed her temples. “I know that Sarah and Rafe- Sarah especially- had a difficult relationship with their stepmom. Their mom, the first Mrs. Cameron, passed away when Sarah was two. So she didn’t really remember her mom, just bits and pieces you know?”

JJ, who was spread out on the couch across from me, nodded grimly. He ran his ringed fingers through his hair and had a sad look on his face. I squinted, but before I could process, Kie continued.

“Rose married Ward less than a year after Sarah and Rafe’s mom died, and then had Wheezie soon after-”

“Sorry, I just never understood what sort of name was Wheezie.” JJ laughed. I bit my lip to hold back my laughter. Couldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s actually funny.

“It could be short for Elizabeth or Louise or something.” I rebuttled. JJ raised an eyebrow.

“Elizabeth? For Wheezie?”

“It’s common for people to have unique nicknames for fancy names.”

“Sounds like a rich person thing.” JJ rolled his eyes. “Oh yeah, can I have my weed back now?”

I clenched my fists. Him and I were fine this morning! Why was he being like this? I pulled the Ziploc out of my backpack and threw it at his head. He caught it with one hand and winked. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me sweetheart.”

“Sorry, Pillow Princess.”

“CAN YO-”

“Ok, back to what I was saying.” Kie interrupted. “Yeah, so from what I gathered, Rafe never liked Rose when they was younger. I guess he thought she was trying to replace their mom? But as he got older he just didn’t care as much? Or at least that’s what Sarah thought.”

I nodded slowly. “Ok, so like, Sarah never noticed anything weird about Rafe growing up?”

“Well she always thought of him as like, problematic? Which is clear in his behavior. And dramatic, too. He always took things too far, and she never knew why. Her best guess? His issues shifted from the mom figure to the dad.”

I nodded again. “Alright, alright. That makes sense.”

“What did you learn from Topper?” Pope took his arm off from Kie’s shoulder and leaned forward. “Did something happen in Rafe’s childhood?”

“It fits with what Kie said. I think Ward neglected him in favor of Sarah. I know I’m not a doctor, but it’s kind of obvious when you think about it; he’s fueled by rage. He’s angry because he feels like he’s never enough. He goes out of his way to try to be the best, the greatest, the biggest, all to do what?”

It was silent for a second, when I saw it click in JJ’s mind. “Praise. He’s desperate for Ward’s praise and approval.”

I snapped my fingers and pointed at him. “Exactly. A neglectful yet present paternal figure that he’s desperate for the love of, and the absence of a caring maternal figure. That plus his previous drug addiction sounds like a recipe for fucking disaster.”

When those words came out of my mouth, I could see JJ’s face drop for a second time. Kie didn’t notice, and neither did Pope, and when JJ saw me staring at him, he just looked away.

Pope said, “We know Ward favored Sarah, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have her issues- uh, no offense, Kie.” Pope gave her an apologetic look and ran his fingers through her hair.

“No worries,” Kie dismissed him. “Rose was never particularly warm to her, and regardless of if you’re the favorite, being raised by someone like Ward Cameron is going to give you some sort of damage.”

“What’s Mrs. Cameron’s deal?” I asked. “Did she hate Sarah and Rafe?”

“No, not that,” Kie said. “It’s not that she hated them, she just isn’t a warm person. I guess their relationship never progressed passed ‘dad’s wife’ and ‘husband’s kids’.”

We stayed silent for a second, collecting our thoughts. Finally, Pope said, “Ok, so we know Rafe’s, uh, past-” He put past in quotation marks, “-behavior was fueled by trauma, not solely because he’s a bad person. That helps confirm what John B had told us about Ward before he died. And it’s possible Rose is abusive, or at least knows and doesn’t care.”

“You don’t think she could be a victim?” I asked, leaning forward.

Kie snorted. “Trust me, Rose Cameron could never be a victim.”

“So Rafe is trauma-filled, Ward is mentally abusive, and Rose is absent ...that’s good to know about Rafe, I guess, if we want to do some psycho-fucking with him or whatever, but how does that help us?” JJ jumped up off the couch and stretched.

I thought for a second, then a thought occurred to me. Then another, then a few more. I slapped my hand over my mouth. “Wait, fuck, holy shit. Oh my FUCKING GOD.” I also stood up from my seat.

“What is it?” Pope asked, getting up as well. JJ squinted and walked over to me.

“Ok, so, this theory is so out of pocket, I’m probably really wrong but it just came to me.”

“Just tell us.” JJ said.

Kiara got up to stand on my other side. “What are you thinking?”

“So Ward’s first wife died when Rafe and Sarah were young, and then like almost immediately after he got married to Rose and had another kid?” I asked.

“Yeah why- wait a second...” Pope said, eyebrows furred. Then, his eyes went huge, and I mean huge. “You don’t think..?”

“What?” JJ asked, then turned to me. “What is it?”

“What is Ward and Rose were having an affair and killed Rafe and Sarah’s mom?” I asked. Kiara gasped.

“Ward and Rose were both from the Cut! They could have been, like, childhood lovers, which could have explained why Ward ‘moved on so fast’.

Pope added, “And because Ward wasn’t rich before, that could explain the lack of a prenup. So when he got rich and his wife found out he had an affair...”

“He offed her before she could divorce him and take the money!” JJ finished, covering his hands with his mouth. “Ok, that is super far-fetched, BUT, considering everything that happened, I would not be surprised if this ended up being true.”

“So, what are we supposed to do? If this is true, this is a crime from years ago. How would we even be able to solve this?” Kiara rubs her temples.

“I don’t know, but it’s worth a shot, right? I can still try to sneak into Ward’s office to try and find something.” I offered.

“That was part of the original plan, but now the stakes are higher...what if you get caught?” Pope asked.

I shrugged. “I’m in too deep anyway. And this isn’t about me, it’s about Sarah and John B. They deserve justice. They don’t deserve to have died for nothing.”

Kiara smiled at me and gave me a hug. “You are awesome.” She pulled away and hugged Pope, squealing. “Finally! We can bring that fucker Ward to his knees.”

Pope kissed Kie, and right then, Mal texted me asking me to pick up some yogurt on my way home. “Ah, I should probably get going.” I said. “See you guys tomorrow?” I asked.

“Yeah!” Pope and Kie smiled. I waved, then went to grab my stuff while Kie and Pope went off to talk about something.

As I was heading for the door, I felt someone grab my arm. I spun around and looked up to see JJ glancing around nervously.

“Hey, uh, thank you.” He mumbled quietly. He cleared his throat and looked me right in the eyes to say: “Thank you.”

I didn’t know what to say. “Is this about this morning?”

He opened his mouth, then closed it again, then ran his hands through his messy, longish blond hair. He was still wearing the same clothes as yesterday. “Yeah. And right now.”

We were quiet for a second. I didn’t look at his eyes; rather, I was trying to look at the floor, or something below his eye level, but I could feel him trying to look into my eyes. He kept speaking.

“We were all in a kinda shitty place before this and we had no idea how to go about any of it. So, thanks, Kook.”

I sighed and rubbed my forehead. “Here you go with the Kook stuff again. You’re welcome, your Pogueness.” I bowed dramatically.

JJ scoffed. “Oh shut up! God, you’re so annoying.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I lightly kicked his shin. “See you, blond.”

“Bye, Kook.”

*************************************

me: i’m back and i won’t take a hiatus again! also me: ...

but for real, i’m out of school soon which means YAY more chapters. however, i should note that i will most likely not be following the plot of season 2 of OBX, since ik it’s releasing soon. my fic is my interpretation of what i would like season 2 to be, so it’s solely based on season 1

#jj #jj x oc #jj outer banks #jj obx #jj obx fic #Outer Banks #outer banks fanfic #outer banks fanfiction #john b #john b routledge #pope #pope heyward #kie #kiara carrera #john b x sarah #kiara x pope #jj fluff

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phobio2000 · 6 years

Text

The Copper Key ("Ready Player One")

July 30, 2018, Monday At Home

Church has just been ridiculous good. My whole life I have never been so helped, encouraged, and inspired by a church before. It really exceeded my expectation.

The Bible says “Where sin abounds, grace abounds even more.” I think the context is about our personal struggles with sin, but to me, I feel that, while I am going through a very difficult season in my life, God’s grace abounds even more in unprecedented way. It blew my mind. I think I am just experiencing how good God can be at an ever increasing level, like his goodness never ends, that there is always something more, something new, things that are beyond my expectations or even more than what I could have ever imagined.

Yesterday our church had its first Worship Night, just a night of musical worship and prayer. Oh boy I felt so full afterward. And I feel that I’ve reached a place where I got nothing left to write about. I mean, I do, as there are still different ideas floating around in my head. But that sense of inner urgency that kept compelling and propelling me forward is sort of at rest right now.

I mean, if I were to write something, I could write about how the Lord restored my soul. Because, for the few readers out there, or those who know about my life, it has always been a tug of war between love and conformity, and over the years, God kept adding more weights, upping the ante, and then I would be challenged to choose between love and whatever it is that love is pitched against.

But in the last few months this war has been especially daunting and outrageous. Is it God making his final push, is it God separating the wheats from the tares? It has always been an escalating battle. Like, I hate to keep repeating myself, but imagine how hard it is to continue to believing in love when you got evil neighbors up stairs constantly messing with you. The level of atrocity is so great that there is not really a place of refuge and rest where I can regroup, and recommit and make another push or keep steadfast. And it’s hard to believe in love when your livelihood is always on the balance, and that the bad people at work seem to be completely indifferent about my situation. And I feel like I just kept on getting stripped down to less and less and less while still facing the decision of whether to stay faithful or forfeit. And the thing is, the more stripped down I get, the ever more clearer that decision is, like there’s no way to sort of fuzzy and fudge my way through anything. And then the accusers attacks got so bad…, now I think we can all relate to the work of the accuser, the devil, like how we can relate to darkness. But the Book Revelation mentioned of a darkness that can be physically felt, really next level stuff, that’s the best I can explain it. So my inner sanctum got stripped away from me, as well. And then comes the worse part still, being mocked and betrayed by people I thought I could trust, people that I’ve opened my heart to, encouraged, inspired, invested in, and helped, and just one by one they all did pretty much their worst to me, when I wasn’t even asking for much, very little, in fact–what has this world come to?! Unbelievable. And the storm is unbelievable, as well.

Every day I just try to do my best to hang in there, trying to reach out to God the best I can with what’s left of myself, trying to just do the next right thing, that perhaps somehow I can squeeze through the incoming currents and touch the edge of Jesus’ garment and find just a little bit of relief. That’s how life has been, very difficult, with pretty much no one helping me but everyone against me, and my only earthly help seems to be just going to church and get soaked up with God, yet the distractions was so great that even that was gradually getting compromised.

And I have to conclude that life is pretty much ruthless. For thee most of last week I just felt deeply that nothing in this world is real, that you can pretty much assume people are ruthless unless proven otherwise, with ruthless meaning entirely ruthless, that even when you are already in a bad situation they will still ruthlessly try to take from you, strip you bare, and that, the level of ruthlessness is so bad that, it’s because you are in a bad situation that they saw the opportunity to do their worst; had you been better off there would have been a more sense of deterrence: this is humanity’s true color, it’s far worse than I could’ve ever imagined.

And of course, the accuser, being the leader behind it all, never fails to seize the opportunity to rub this new finding in my face, kept on hurting me and stabbing me in all ways and directions without rest, being, of course, ruthless.

And like I said, the more the darkness attacks, the more the path of light is clear to me, so that, it just felt more and more like, the only way to find relief is to deliberately surrender to the darkness and bow before it, or keep holding on to the Lord and wait for the day of his deliverance.

And then I felt like it happened.

On Friday, when I as in the cafe, which I felt was the place that God wanted me to be, even though it’s not really a place I enjoyed going anymore because it seems like a really convoluted place, the way it’s run. It feels like an endless mind game where certain people are always out to alter other people’s state of mind and sense of what’s right and wrong and appropriate in order to have things their way. It’s like, I believe that the head of a place sets the atmosphere of the place. There seems to just be a spiritual aspect to this that is more than just rules and policies. For a long time I just felt like it’s a place I have to be because God says so, rather than a place I really enjoy being, and while there I’d be wondering why God wants me there and if there’s an option of not coming as often. I used to enjoy the place a lot more, but things changed at one point… But towards the end of Saturday night I felt the Lord saying that I’m done, that I don’t have to come anymore, and I felt the Lord saying it again during Sunday morning’s service. So that’s why I am home right now. It’s not cheap going there, gas + beverage, it adds up, that even if I were working it would still be a substantial expense, but God wanted me to go so I obeyed him.

I mean, there are things I like a lot about the place. There are a few people that are just so sweet and I totally enjoy seeing them. And I enjoy worshipping Jesus there by tuning in to music and I enjoy praying. It's just the negatives have become so insufferable... Perhaps the Lord will strengthen me and kept sending me back, who knows, but one way or another, I just want to obey him and do his will and lay down myself.

And then on Sunday morning Pastor Brandon Brown of Hillsong SF was praying for those who are sick, which I think is an area of his gifting, and I just felt different afterward. My mind felt different, like that sense of deep brokenness and hurt kind of got lifted. I would reflect on various memories that would make me feel hurt, but there would be a power that overcome the hurt so that it doesn’t, just pure grace of God at work, just think it and then whatever it is working inside me would cover it, so I’m feeling so good right now. I think one thing that drives me to write is that sense of pain that just pushes me to, maybe that’s why today I feel less motivated to write, and the feeling I am having right now while writing is different, as well.

And then on Sunday evening we have to worship night, led by Brooke Ligertwood and her team. The presence of God was so strong there. By the time we are done I felt like everything that happened in the last few months, all of the disappointments, the hurt, the stabbing, they suddenly feel like another life ago, or something that happened to someone else, sort of. And those so called friends and what they did to me, suddenly they don’t matter at all to me anymore. I no longer feel any pain about what they did. They just feel like people I know, but I feel no deep affection towards them, like they are mere acquaintances now, which is AWESOME–JESUS HAS SET ME FREE!

So I got home, feeling so relieved and excited, so I ate a lot and still wanted to eat more. I watched “Ready Player One”, which I felt is so appropriate for the occasion (I rented it without knowing what the story’s about). I like it a lot better than Avatar, which is just a glorified Pocahontas, stupid and boring, only the special effects were impressive. But Ready Player One is absolutely fantastic, and it carries a beautiful message, which I think it’s also a message from God to me. I can write about it, but it sort of just got absorbed into me, for the most part.

I think the story talks about life, a lot of the story I still couldn’t quite make sense of, but part of it I did, or at least I got the main message.

The villain’s company’s name is IOI, which stands for something technological, but I interpret it as “I, oh I” (all about the I). And when you work for IOI, you lose your freedom and get reduced into just a rat running on an exercise wheel, yielding most of your energy for the master of the system. Even though there are promises of advancements, once you are in, they would gradually raise your rent and living expenses so that you progress very slowly and can never get free. And throughout the movie you got those IOI slaves running around without a clue trying to figure things out. I mean, practically, I think there’s a lot of truth to that, yet at the same time, it does not imply that everyone should just follow the teachings of that book “Rich Dad, Poor Dad”, which feels like a shame that is selling a fantasy, a lie that makes people pay through the nose for while really doesn’t offer any practical help, as not everyone has the talent to run their own business and achieve that sense of “financial freedom.” I mentioned before that we are cursed to bear yokes, while our nature was not made to; it was the result of sin, thus we feel frustrated about the yokes, and this false teaching merely exploited our pain and offered a lie, a mirage of freedom that most people really cannot attain, for all practical intents and purposes, really… But nevertheless, we can take small steps over a long period of time towards improving our situations, but that’s another topic.

But what I think the movie is trying to say is that, it is not worth it to sell your soul into those systems, you will not be free, you will not be happy, and whatever they promise you is a lie, that in order to live a happy and fulfilling life, you must try to understand it yourself and make things work for yourself. You can’t depend on others to pave the way for you, unless it’s your parents or someone who truly love you, because it’s a ruthless world and nobody will give you anything unless they can take from you even more. And when you knock on doors and they see that you cannot offer enough for them to take from you, well, ruthlessness reveals itself in all of its gory (yes, “gory”, not a typo).

Another recurring theme of the movie is fear. Because people were afraid, they volunteered to become IOI drones. They fear uncertainties, things that aren’t sure things, so that they’d rather do that than facing the brave new world. And then there’s the fear of loss, the things that they accumulated a little bit at a time, that if they take any chances, they could lose it, and that fear becomes a chain, but more than that, it becomes their primary motivation that dictates their way of life. In the Oasis virtual world, the avatars don’t bleed blood, they bleed coins.

The heroes of the movie are independent rogues, who hate conforming to the political lifestyles of being a part of a clan or even the IOI. They seem to detest the hypocritical and chains of the social system and would prefer to just be self sufficient, which has also been my preference, until the Lord directed me to Hillsong Church, where I now believe that being a part of a group that love God and pursue after God together and encourage and uplift one another is actually possible.

I think another reason why they don’t clan up is because they are dreamers. When you become a part of the clan you kind of become a social animal who is trying to thrive under the given social structure provided. Perhaps they have bigger dreams and greater desires, and that the ways of being a part of a clan would not be sufficient enough for what their hearts desire to do.

But at the same time, the main character is the only one that would try to high-five people, attempting to make that deeper connection with people, opening his heart, taking chances, which his friends were not willing to do. Because, life is ruthless and people are cruel so it’s just better to clam up and keep things moving. Opening your heart is just volunteering to get stabbed and hurt, like what happened to me over and over. But like, if we are to live for Jesus and try to make this world a better place, and realizing Jesus’s ideals for the church, we sort of have to, right? We just have to keep on believing that love never fails and never give up and keep trying when it’s appropriate, feasible, and safe, right? I mean, I’m really jaded and have had numerous really bad experiences, but I still want to try, believing that love is still a possibility in this world. Sure, we can say that nobody is true anymore, but hey, there is still me, and I get to make my own choices, regardless how the rest of the world operates, and if God can move me and compel me to love relentlessly and unceasingly, who is to say that God will not raise up others who are likeminded?

And this sort of conveniently leads to the theme of the story, the search for the three keys: the copper key, the jade key, and the crystal key.

The contest for winning the green key is a race that is impossible to win, with the finish line in the form of a beautiful gated garden. The farthest anyone ever got was with the finish line just in front of them but with King Kong getting in the way, destroying anyone trying to pass.

The clue to how to win the race came at a scene when the creator of the virtual world was distancing himself from his long time friend and partner. I guess as the business grew things got more and more complicated and he decided to force his partner out. At the end of the conversation he started having a random thought, “What if you can go backwards really fast, as fast as you can, going full throttle?” And main character saw that as a clue and drove backwards towards a brick wall and then discovered a secret passage underneath the race track that guides him effortless and whimsically through the race. And as he looked up he saw all the other drivers getting destroyed by the various obstacles while he’s being safely delivered into the gated garden, where he obtained the copper key.

I think the copper key symbolizes friendship. This race symbolizes life. As life goes on the obstacles get worse and worse, and people become more and more for themselves and stopped thinking about beautiful and noble things like friendship anymore. And then they got close to the finish line, looking at that beautiful gated garden from afar, desire to get in, but the invincible King Kong is in the way, making it impossible.

But in order to get in you have to deliberately drive backwards, as fast as you can, going full throttle, return to childlikeness. Steven Spielberg is Jewish and I think it influenced him in the directing of this movie.

Yet in this life, who is willing to drive backwards? I remember reading the Christian classic, Pilgrim’s progress, there was a part when the guy went the wrong way, and rather than trying to fix things and find another way, he just forfeited his progress and went back the way he came, all the way back to the point when he started to go down the wrong path, and then make a different decision to walk the right path. People are not willing to do that, forfeiting all the tangible progress and the efforts and resources invested just to make things right and for the possibility to get back on the right path again. But it’s actually more than that, it’s not just the measurable loss, but the way of life and skills of dealing that helped them make the money to begin with, that would have to be given up, as well, and nobody is willing to do that. And going back to that scene when the game’s creator was ditching his partner, it was a moment of culmination, his last chance to go backwards and save this friendship, but he could not do it.

In the movie there were five people who were willing to drive backwards and they became best friends. I am willing to drive backwards, I have been, setting my priorities differently than that of the common downward spiral that gets you temporal gains at the cost of losing your own richness of life. I sow in tear by faith for the Lord, trusting in his promises, and I believe that in due time I will reap, that God will bring like-minded people into my life. Amen.

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ghozt1ng-blog · 7 years

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Chapter 1 - Rescued from Boredom

It was the Monday before Thanksgiving and all Trick could do was glumly look around at the half filled classroom. So many people had already skipped town with their folks to visit with family or go on an early vacation. As usual, he had to stay put with his parents. Susan Brown’s work usually kept her occupied all the way to the night before Thanksgiving. It had been years since they even had a turkey! And without half the people here who made this high school semi-interesting, Trick felt like he was stranded on a deserted island.

There was also the fact that his life was suddenly so normal again. So incomprehensibly and unapologetically boring! For Pete’s sake he had fought with supernatural monsters, helped solve a crime the FBI couldn’t, and defied his parents in the most epic way imaginable! Running off with a girl he barely knew to investigate a case handed to the most dubious and ill-fated division of the FBI, the Q Files. Thinking of which, Naomi was still not talking to him. Not that she was angry with him or anything; she just had a ton of other stuff on her mind and was busy getting three months ahead in her school work and polishing that already glowing application for her future university career.

Meanwhile, Trick was finally free from his recent grounding and the prank he had pulled a month ago was old news. Since then some people had tied egging him on to try the next big thing. He had declined. After solving a supernatural case and using all of his skills to dupe adults and teens alike, pulling a simple prank was beyond sophomoric. The very idea was freshmanoric! Yes, he was going to make that a new word!

He sighed and doodled in his notebook while his teacher presented a boring slideshow on the events leading up to World War II. Seriously, how could someone make one of the coolest subjects in history, the only event that anyone cared about since the American Revolution, sound so boring? The presentation was nearly as boring as his life had become in the last month. Trick had hoped beyond hope that Agent Conturbatio, often referred to as the Sphinx, would suddenly show up and tell him that he was needed for some new, dangerous investigation. But there had been neither hide nor hair seen of the strange man. Trick still couldn’t pin down from which show he had seen Conturbatio’s likeness before.

Now twirling his pen absentmindedly, Trick stared into the middle distance. He half wished that the pictures on the projector would suddenly come to life and interact with him. It was something like what some nut jobs had said had happened in Provo a few days back. But that was obviously a domestic terrorist attack. Not only had his mother confirmed it, but there had been word from the Department of Homeland Security as well. They had a lot of solid evidence in favor of their claims.

He jumped when he suddenly heard his name getting called. I’m not doing anything! He thought frantically. He then saw that his teacher was waiting with a student messenger. There was a note in her shriveled hand. He got up and accepted it. The old hag calling herself Mrs. Hudson glared at him as though he would transform the note into a bomb. If only I could do that. Then maybe this short week would actually be worth something.

He was even more surprised to see what the note contained. It was a message from his mother that he was going to get picked up in an hour from the front office. He was excused for the day from the rest of his classes. He was going to meet with Agent Conturbatio for lunch and discuss something. It was all he could do to keep his jaw from dropping.

Startling the remainder of the class in their seats, Trick jumped into the air, pumped his fist, and let loose a whoop. “Yes! I’m back in business!”

Everyone started giving each other looks and then darted their eyes to the nearest exit. They all expected something really bad to happen. Fortunately for them, they were too boring of a lot for Trick to waste his time and considerable mental capacity on them. He then realized that the next hour couldn’t pass fast enough.

Naomi’s phone buzzed next to her computer as she typed up a report on the effects of different combustible fuels in cars and how they compared to the newest electronic and computer driven models. Mere child’s play for her; she could have a report like this researched and written to perfection in under twenty-four hours. She was even playing an episode Gravity Falls on a hidden window. That show really made her laugh. She would then switch over to an episode of My Hero Academia once she was done. It was one of the newest rising series out of Japan, and she was loving every bit of it. It was nice to have some privacy for her nerdy exploits, but right now someone was intruding on her personal time.

She raised an eyebrow when she saw who was calling.

“Agent Conturbatio, I thought my mother wanted to screen all future communications between us. Especially after what happened last month.”

“That’s all water under the bridge,” Conturbatio said airily. “I have something that I want to discuss with you.”

“You have piqued my interest,” Naomi admitted. “But can you please be quick? I have an essay to finish.”

“Is that Gravity Falls I hear in the background?”

Naomi flushed a little and answered, “It is. How do you know about that show? Don’t you have a job?”

“I love a good show that has a plot and mystery element that goes way over kids’ heads,” the agent replied smoothly. “In any case, I will be brief. There is a new case that I am taking on. One of the primary witnesses is a teenager, who most adults find hard to deal with. I was hoping that you and Patrick could come with and help mull things over with him?”

“That would be Trick’s area of expertise,” Naomi huffed. “I think you’ll be fine without me. Last time was fun, to say anything about it, but I am very occupied right now. I have a lot to get done before Thanksgiving.”

“I understand of course, but you see, Patrick knows how to talk to people, but you have a greater sense for more, um, technical things. And from what I hear playing in your room, I think you will have some good insight on this case. That is, if you know anything about fan-fictions?”

Naomi grinned behind her cell. “Of course I do. There is a lot I can tell you, and even more about the original source material.”

“There’s a good girl. I’m about to meet with Patrick to discuss the finer details of the case. I wanted to see if you might be interested as well. If so, would you be able to meet up with Agent Miles in half an hour? She’ll come over and treat you to lunch and tell you the particulars.”

Naomi wanted to groan. She wasn’t a fan of the woman, especially after she had been so condescending to her the last time they met. But she figured she should at least the bigger woman and swallow her pride. This case might be interesting, and it sounded like a free lunch after all. She took up the offer. Conturbatio hung up on his end and Naomi pulled out an energy drink.

“Alright. Let’s see about getting this done before Agent Miles shows,” she said, opening the can and then taking a deep drought. With some of this juice coursing through her veins, it should be an easy task!

Trick greeted his mother in the front office. As usual, she looked annoyed and very official. Once they were in and on their way she explained that they would be meeting up with Agent Conturbatio at Los Roberto’s, the only legit Mexican restaurant in twenty miles. The gray clouds overhead finally broke and let loose a soft rain. It was going to be a cold winter, Trick thought. As they drove along, he needled his mother for details about the case he was summoned for. He couldn’t help but let his excitement show through.

His mother gave him a sidelong glance and then sighed, “I’m not sure that you will enjoy this case that much, son. It’s not really your thing.”

“Are you kidding me?” he fired back. “I have been rotting at school for a month now! There has been nothing interesting! Nothing to stretch me! Not after all the craziness we went through. That was amazing. Real life is terribly mundane by comparison. Any case with the Q Files sound better than listening to Mrs. Hudson butcher the Second World War!”

Agent Brown shook her head and replied, “You don’t even know what you asking for.”

“But I do know! Don’t worry mom, this will be just fine. I am surprised that you agreed to this though. I thought you wanted me away from the Bureau from now on.”

“That is true, but Conturbatio made a pretty good argument for bringing you two in.”

“Two?” Trick asked, trying to keep the hopeful air out of his question.

“You and Naomi. You are both needed it seems,” his mother said grimly.

“Why’s that?”

“Because you are supposed to interview an insufferable, anti-social geek and learn everything you can about a curse he believes is stalking him and hurting others.”

Trick paled. This was not something he wanted to do. He could be around nerds and geeks at school. But spending large amounts of time with them beyond the school’s gates. Nope! He had the sudden urge to throw himself from the speeding vehicle and into the cold rain.

#my writing #mysteries of the q files #sphinx #school is killing me #fun times ahead #teenager

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seabeechick-blog1 · 7 years

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Story of a “Bee”

I have never been so far from home, as I was when I set foot onto the scorched, arid, sands of Kuwait. When I stepped off the C-17, the heat engulfed me; the domineering wind pelted my face with stinging pellets of dust particles, threatening my eyes. I was corralled with the rest of my battalion in a holding place just outside of camp. Hurry up and wait. A phrase learned early in one’s military career. We were surrounded by camo-covered bunkers; the cobalt sky peeked through tattered overhangs, and the sound of large aircraft engines screamed in the background. This was the rest stop on our way to where we would spend the next six months of our lives, Afghanistan.

I am a Seabee. Not many know what that word means, but I am very proud to be associated with this group. The Bees are the construction force of the Navy. We are called on for a myriad of duties, humanitarian relief, rebuilding nations after natural catastrophes, and assisting on and off the battle field. We are trained in combat, and our motto is “We build. We fight.” On this deployment, our battalion had many missions to accomplish, but I was assigned to the water-well team. My crew was tasked with drilling for water in a land known for desiccation. We knew it would not be a cakewalk, but we were eager to undertake the tasks apportioned to us.

“Line it up!” our company commander ordered. It was time to issue weapons. As I awaited my turn, I felt a sting of nausea in the depths of my abdomen. I took my clammy hand and swept cold sweat off my brow. The realization of where I was and what I was doing was setting in. I had been suppressing my anxiety about deploying to a war zone for the past four months. I felt there was no use in worrying about it, but at that moment all the fear of uncertainty engulfed me. The feeling lasted a moment. One of my best abilities, which I am very grateful for, is to be able to adapt to any circumstance as it presents itself. There are many different levels of fear; we as humans are perceptive of this emotion to assess life and death situations, and fear can be useful. I have had a great many “sphincter-puckering” moments, and it seemed that during those times, I performed my best. I took my M16 in my hands; it would become a part of me, another extremity. After attaching and adjusting my sling, I moved on to explore the camp we were occupying.

Kuwait, at the time I was there, was not an immediate danger zone. It was a bit more relaxed. There was not much to look at, surrounded in the middle of no-where, just sand and dust as far as you could see. The facilities were somewhat built up, and there were running toilets and working showers, always a plus. Since we were in transition, we had a bit of down time. I used this time to sleep, because it was too hot to do much of anything else, and once we laid boots on the ground in Kandahar, we would be lucky if we got a full five or six hours of uninterrupted slumber. We stayed in Kuwait for a couple of days, and before we knew it, we were shuffling onto a C-130, an in-country aircraft definitely not made for human comfort.

We piled into the military’s airborne workhorse and sat decked out in full gear. Our bullet-proof vests weighed about fifty pounds and left little room in between us. We looked as if we were no more than cargo, neatly stacked together between the meshwork. These plane rides always felt the longest: no way of stretching out, no way to rest our heads, and definitely no in-flight movies. We flew into Kandahar, Afghanistan, at night. The flight was dark, and after a bumpy 2 ½ hours, we were wheels-down. As I stepped off the aircraft, the cool night air surprised me. I realized how little I knew about this country. I assumed we would be constantly sweating from the heat of a tenacious dessert land. The reality of our surroundings was that of a mountainous range. The valleys, encumbered with infertile rock and soil, allowed the dust to haze and form thick clouds around the base. Once we all departed the plane, we were herded into a small building; this is where we would hear the in-country brief, a lecture of what would be expected of us, and all the rules we needed to know before we could set up camp. This made for a very long night. It was somewhere around 2 a.m., when we finished the brief and set out for our accommodations.

We entered the area where our battalion would be housed; at least, we were in somewhat hardened buildings and not tents. Each small room contained a unit for heat/air and a couple beds with real mattresses, not just canvas cots. For my team, we would only get to have these luxuries for a few weeks. I located my room, and even though a female in the military does have perks, there are so few of us that we are able to spread out. I almost always had my own room, where the men would have to share with two or three others. Tiny lodgings piled high with all their gear, makes for an incredibly uncomfortable stay. I did not envy them. Finally, we settled down for a few hours of sleep, and too tired to grasp the realization of where I was, I instantly passed out.

“DDDDDDDDDDDD……d d d d d d,” The sound flung me from my coma. I never heard anything so disturbing. It was as if a fifty caliber machine gun had been fired outside my door. A steady stream of bullets hailed, followed by the bang of the shots piercing into a hillside. Panicked, I crouched on the floor and waited for sirens to go off, indicating we were being attacked. My mind flourished, and then my senses came to me. I was certain that the sound had come from the sky, and I knew the enemy was not equipped with that kind of weaponry. I concluded that it was a test fire from an AC-130, pissed at the fact that anyone would have the audacity to run a test at 3 a.m. I covered my head with pillows and tried to sleep. The next day, I found out that I was exactly right, a test fire. A warning would have been nice, and they could have added that to the briefing when we arrived! As the weeks passed, I would like to say that I got use to these insufferable echoes rattling in my head night after night, but I never did, not even a little.

Although we were trained on what to do during rocket and mortar attacks, the first experience of an actual occurrence of one can be confusing and alarming. I thought that when I would hear the sirens in the country for the first time, I would hear the typical shrill sound of loud obnoxious horns. Instead a very polite, British accented, female voice broadcast over the intercom system. Along with sirens, “Rocket Attack…..Rocket Attack…..Rocket Attack.” It was eerie. All I could think about was playing the video game Resident Evil, a similarly creepy voice is used to guide you through a slew of flesh eating zombies. In the moment of time I was in, everything felt a bit apocalyptic.

The drill is to, at first sound of the alarm and no matter where you are, lie face down on the ground and cover your head with your hands. After two minutes pass, run to the nearest bunker. The bunkers were slabs of concrete squared together to make small tunnel-like encasements. Everyone piled into them. Sometimes, we were sandwiched in. After the, now all too familiar, mysterious woman called “All Clear,” we would have to find our leaders and be accounted for. At times, we would be hit two or three times a night. The base was so big that most of the time we did not know where the attack occurred. It was easy to quickly become complacent. After a week on the base, a rocket attack was more of just an annoyance than a scare. This complacency would follow me to other bases I traveled to in Afghanistan. However, I would learn how that thinking can get us hurt or worse.

Our first mission was to drill a well on a remote Romanian camp, nearly 100 miles from Kandahar. This distance seems meager when I think of traveling on U.S. roads, but when faced with driving down narrow, unimproved highways with the challenge of keeping a long convoy of trucks, trailers, and equipment together, and not knowing if we would run over an improvised explosive device (IED) that 100 miles can take hours. I was tasked to drive a seven-ton flatbed truck, over loaded with twenty-tons of steel pipe, and hauling a huge air compressor trailer. With all that weight, I could only accelerate up to sixty mph at best.

We left our home base, before any respectfully sane person would be awake, and slowly shoved off into the murky, dark morning. Our route took us through a few small villages. As we passed, children would run along the road after us, waving and giving a thumbs up signal. It was not a gesture of welcome. I soon realized they were motioning us to throw water to them. It made me think of the parades enjoyed by thousands in America, where loads of trinkets and candy are tossed into the crowd of happy onlookers. We were no parade, and there was no denying the desperation on the dusty, emaciated faces of those kids.

Once the sun ascended to its perch unleashing the unrelenting heat of the day, the road quickly became animated with small rusty cars and mopeds that death-defiantly dodged in and out of traffic. There were donkeys, sluggishly trotting along the highway, and what are known as “jingle trucks,” vibrantly decorated, piled to the sky, and brimming over with any material imaginable. It was a comical sight and seemed to violate the laws of physics. When we were not avoiding collisions with the assortment of traffic, we were trying to focus on what we trained for. We knew of the possibility that any part of that broken, depleted highway could explode. Keeping our minds focused on the possible threats interring beneath the surface, especially after hours in a stifling, uncomfortable truck, can be the greatest challenge.

Our final stint of the journey ended at the top of a large plateau, after making it up a steep, treacherous incline, and all of our vehicles and equipment made it to our destination. We parked and off-loaded the immediate necessities and found our way to the barracks. The relatively small base had plenty of unused accommodations, but the catch was the water trucked in once a week was scarce. We had plenty of bottled water for drinking, but showers and running toilets were a luxury. It just so happened that the nearest port-a-potty was a five minute walk away. I remember the first time I woke up in the middle of the night, with an urgency to go, as if I were holding back Niagara Falls. I opened the door ready to “Forest Gump it” to the latrine. I was so enamored with discomfort, I hardly noticed the three inches of snow blanketing the ground.

About fifteen feet from the door, I had to assess the situation and came to the conclusion that the only solution was to hunker down in the closest bunker and handle nature. Come to find out the guys were doing the same thing all the time. I took note that if an imminent attack were to happen, I would steer clear of that bunker. For the next few weeks, we worked around the clock in shifts. The weather turned cold, then frigid, and we endured thunder-snow, and half of the time our equipment froze over. When drilling water wells, mud is used to keep the bits cool and flush out the debris from the hole. It is made from water and chemicals and looks like mud. We were covered in it, head to toe every night. It was difficult to stay dry, and when the temperature drops to a -2 degrees F., we had no choice but to continue the mission at hand. We called this “embracing the suck.” The best we could do was to keep the coffee flowing and our little burn barrel near the worksite blazing.

There were many unpleasant discomforts on top of that hill, but I will never forget the peace and solitude I felt on some nights. I never felt so close to the universe, as I did on that tranquil, discreet minute base. The night sky shrouded me with twinkly little treasures. It reminded me of how insignificant we are in the big picture of life. It reminded me that mankind and all of his accomplishments could be wiped out in moments, and no one out there would be the wiser, of all the knowledge we acquired, all the wars we fought, the lives lost out of ignorance and hate, all the great writings, art, leaders, and heroes, just gone. It was in that humbling moment that I questioned humanity. “Are we really a superior species? Is this the best we can do?” The undeniable truth is that the world is full of suffering, violence, greed, and ignorance. We have a long way to go until we can truly be superior; it would take humans maximizing their individual potential, and then collaborating together, in order to discover what we are truly capable of.

We completed our mission in about a month, and by this time, the brief winter season was giving way to the sweltering desert heat. We had effectively drilled through some of the worst conditions imaginable, and our well was very successful. Finding water in a place known for desiccation brings a sense of accomplishment and pride. I feel grateful to have been a part of that mission. Maybe, this was only one well, but it would bring life sustaining water to hundreds of people. We packed our trucks and waited for our security team to escort our convoy back to Kandahar. Our next mission would not be as simple.

Our convoy arrived safely at our home base; we were welcomed by the unmistaken aroma of a radiating cesspool, commonly known to base locals as, The Poo Pond. On warmer days, its stench could reach well outside the base. Passers by the pond can take a photo on the make-shift beach where a fake life guard post sits along with a few plastic pink flamingos. I ran a couple of 5k races that seemed to be close to the pond, and when the wind hit just right, my eyes would burn, and I would have to bend over in dramatic dry heaves.

It was several weeks before we heard of another well that we would be tasked with. This time it was considered high priority and turned into a critical operation. We had less than a couple of days to ready all of our equipment and supplies. The location would be a small Army post deep in the mountains. Our crew would not be driving on the convoy, as we did the prior mission; this time we were to fly out on a C-130, land at a remote camp, and await a Chinook helicopter to take us to another location where a smaller chopper would drop us at our destination. We base hopped. Our crew was split up, and we were stuck at one base for a few days at a time. The excitement of the journey was wearing thin, as we were told to be ready to fly and drag all of our gear to the loading dock, wait for hours, only to be told that the flight was postponed for a day.

One of the bases we were stranded on was a hotspot. My roommate and I just found our hooch where we would be set up, and we had yet to check our surroundings, find showers, and the latrines. Exhausted from the trip, we decided to lie down first. It was then that a colossal force threw me off of my cot, and I landed awkwardly on the floor, but my vest and helmet were right beside me. I put them on and grabbed my rifle. The sirens were now coming into focus, but I did not notice that my hearing temporarily was disabled. The rocket hit about fifty meters from us. Our next move was to find the nearest bunker, which would not have been an issue, had we gotten our bearings when we first arrived. Instead, we were too worried about resting. We had no clue where the protective bunker was. As the only females on our crew, we were separated from the men’s barracks. They did not know where we were and vice versa.

We finally found a bunker, and one of our guys happened to be there, too. He had been searching for us. After the all clear, our leaders decided it would be safer if we stayed together. That particular base was known for assaults, a danger for any woman where ever she goes in the military, but here, there were reports of attacks even on men. This is difficult to imagine when everyone is carrying a loaded weapon. When joint operations with several other countries are involved, no one can be too careful. Our crew had become a family, so sticking together was the safest plan. We spent the next couple of months in close vicinity.

After a week, we finally made it to the tiny base. We were there, but all of our equipment and supplies were still en-route. We did not know when they would arrive; unfortunately, it would not arrive for a couple more weeks. Everything up until this point had been moving so fast, the work was steady and tiring, and there was not much down time. Now that everything was on hold, homesickness was consuming me. As a mother of two children, being away from my babies never gets easier. I was free to let myself dwell on everything I was missing out on at home. What holidays would pass? What school performances would I miss? Would I get to hear their voices on Mother’s Day? The outpost we were on did not have much for communicating back home. It was very difficult to receive mail; anything sent to us would be held at home base until we got back. I could not wait to start drilling.

The convoy arrived mid-morning, and it was more than relieving. We set up our drill site in record time; we did not waste a moment getting started. Everything was back on track. The weather was cooperating with us as well. The sun shined most days, and the nights were clear; we did not need a flashlight to get around. A few of us would hang out in the trucks at night and watch movies on our laptops. One night, we were interrupted by a firefight. The entrance was attacked. It was safer to stay in the armored trucks, so we sat there and watched as fifty-caliber rounds flew above us. It was terrifyingly beautiful. I put my headphones on to drown out the sounds of the machine gun blasts and watched in dismay and wonderment. When the fight was over, we were told that while the base was under fire, an IED hit an Army convoy not far from us. They did not give details, but we knew someone was mortally wounded; it is base policy to turn off all communications until the family is contacted. Again, we were reminded of our surroundings; that could have been any of us out there. The next day, we were back at work, with even more of a drive to complete this mission.

After another month of slimy mud, grit in my mouth, eye-stinging sweat, along with perseverance and commitment to duty, we finished the job. Another success. We wrapped up and awaited the chain of helicopter rides back to Kandahar. The deployment would soon come to a close, and our entire battalion, around five hundred people would all make it home safely. We were fortunate to be unscathed; however, we were changed. Soldiers who serve their country, in whatever form that may be, have their own stories. I would go back and do it all again, if that was needed of me. Going into a war zone, not knowing what will happen at any given moment, made me grow as a human. I am grateful to have had the opportunity to volunteer with my fellow Seabees, to do our part for our country. War is never a good thing. It breeds hatred, lies, conspiracy, and death. Some frown upon the military and what they do. I am thankful to be able to tell this story; it is only a small example of the many challenging, rewarding things the military does. I am proud to have served with the men and women who signed their lives away, so others would not have to.

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