#and so i went to look at my pile of refs and there's this song and specifically insta reel and it's | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thebeeduo · 3 years

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youtube

Ranboo: That's fine. That was on the ground by the way

Tubbo: I copped (the merch)

Ranboo: Wow, look at this. That is incredibly

Tubbo: I copped the merch! I'm not on brand

Ranboo: You too can cop the merch September 5th! *thumbs up*

Tubbo: *thumbs up*

Ranboo: That was good. That was a good transition

Tubbo: *laughs*

Ranboo: That was a good (transition)

[Lag]

Tubbo: (I did) I fixed it..

Ranboo: You fixed it? Ok, that's good

Tubbo: ..when I was inside. It does this weird thing where it goes grey..

Ranboo: Yeah?

Tubbo: ..every now and then

Ranboo: Okay..

Tubbo: That's because that thing got wet once and now it just keeps going grey randomly

Ranboo: Well, we hate it so.. *mouth fart noise* Maybe it was the tree demon

Tubbo: We don't hate me. That cost me a lot of money!

Ranboo: Maybe it was the tree demon the whole time

Tubbo: The tree demon is messing with the stream?

Ranboo: People are saying that the camera is still glitching. Are they just straight up lying?

Tubbo: That's cringe!

Ranboo: Are they just straight up lying?

Tubbo: I'll go see.. Um..

Ranboo: "It's Lani"? Lani is actually sitting right there so..

Tubbo: Uh.. Shake your hands around lots

Ranboo: *waves at camera* Greetings! I don't know what wrong with the camera

Tubbo: It's fine!

Ranboo: It's fine?

Tubbo: Yeah

Ranboo: You sure?

Tubbo: Yeah

Ranboo: Alright. Alright, "We're good now"? "It's fine now"? That's good. That's good. Alright. Subscribe for- Ok, whatever. Alright, mkay. What are- Ok, wait wait wait. We can use the ghost hunting app

Tubbo: I don't want to do ghost hunting

Ranboo: No let's see what words we can get. Let's see what words we can get with this

Tubbo: Ahh.. Can I talk to it?

Ranboo: I mean that's not the talking one

Tubbo: Hello Ranboo phone!

Tubbo and Ranboo: "Designate"

Ranboo: It actually changed as soon as it got to your hands

Tubbo: What am I designating bro?

Ranboo: What are you designating? It just gave us the words "designate" and I just don't know what that means

Tubbo: "Designated driver"? Am I the designated driver?

Ranboo: You cannot drive

Tubbo: Is this because I don't drink?

Ranboo: You just cannot drive

Tubbo: Yo, how ghosty are you? *puts phone to Ranboo's neck*

Tubbo: *Ranboo receives a notification* Oh. Well..

Ranboo: You got a notification as soon as you did that. So pretty ghosty I think. Alright, what's my ghost word?

Tubbo: Maybe if I just flip it upside down

Ranboo: No no no no, what's my ghost word? Let's put it, like, on me. What's my ghost word?

Tubbo: I'm designated *thumbs up*

Ranboo: Give me my ghost word. Give it to me

Tubbo: I'm designated

Ranboo: Give me my ghost word. It's not giving me my ghost word. You suck!

Tubbo: You're just not as cool as I am

Ranboo: You suck! and I hate you!

Ghost app: *growling/whispering noises*

Tubbo: *scared* Why did it just roar and why did it just get windy?

Ranboo: "Along"

Tubbo: You're "along", I'm "designate"

Ranboo: "Designate along". What does that mean?

Tubbo: Designate along..

Ranboo: At first I thought it said "among" and I was about to lose my mind. I was so excited for a second there

Tubbo: I really want to go inside now. Can we stop playing now?

Ranboo: No no no no no! Ok, here, let's use the radio one, alright? Let's use the radio one. Oh, I immediately get a negative.. sign

Tubbo: No, that's because I flipped off the ghost

Ranboo: Flip off the ghost some more, I wanna see what happens

Tubbo: Noo, no I don't want to. I feel like I've got spiders all over me. Ow

Ranboo: Come on! I want to be the one who got possessed, why is it you! Gosh darn it!

Tubbo: I'm not possessed

Ranboo: You sure? You're feeling spiders on yourself. That's kinda.. you know..

Tubbo: Maybe there's just spiders in your dress

Ranboo: I don't know! Let's start another seance thing. Let's do that, ok? Let's do it

Tubbo: *whining*

Ranboo: What is your name or are you here, answer one of those, I do not know.. Let us see

Ranboo: Are you here? Why are there so many bugs on the pentagram. There's like an unearthly amount of- There's actually so many.. Get the bugs off the [unintelligible]

Tubbo: Because bugs are attracted to light

Ranboo: Are you here?

Ranboo: I don't- It's just not moving anymore. You have angered it a lot

Tubbo: Nooo, I'm sorry

Ranboo: You realise as soon as you said it, it, like, turned it off

Ranboo: Do something! Please! Alright, you know what I'm gonna do? I'm gonna take some recommendations from chat on what shall we do. Let take some recommendations on chat, alright?

Tubbo: I don't want to..

Ranboo: "Among us". "Tubbo is possessed let's go"

Tubbo: I'd better not- If I'm possessed dude, I'm kicking you out of my house. Go somewhere else. Go get a hotel, I don't care

Ranboo: Dude, if you get possessed, that gives me ever more reason to stay because that means I get to live with a possessed person which is awesome!

Tubbo: Noo. If I get possessed, I wanna be left alone! I wanna be left alone!

Ranboo: Which is awesome. Alright, "Say goodbye to the demon"? No, I want the demon here. I wanna fight it. I wanna fight the demon. "Tell the demon to buy merch". So true, I love the VIPs in my chat.

Tubbo: I.. am.. unhappy

Ranboo: "Put salt"? *gasp* We should put salt on him.. and see what happens

Tubbo: No

Ranboo: Hmm... Hmm... "Ever since it counted down it stopped working". That is true, you did kinda..

Tubbo: I broke it

Ranboo: You did kinda- "Ask it to scratch one of you". Scratch one of us! Scratch me! Scratch me! That would be awesome

Tubbo: *punches Ranboo*

Ranboo: That was just a punch and that hurt!

Tubbo: Good. I'm not having a good time

Ranboo: Ow! O-Ow... That a-Ow.. wow

Tubbo: I mean, to be fair, it hurt me more than you. I punched with my thumb on the inside of my hand

Ranboo: Oh that was just your fault

Tubbo: Ow.. Yeah

Ranboo: Scratch me! Scratch me! Fight me, actually! Punch me, perhaps. But not like that *points at Tubbo* You notice how as soon as I asked the demon to harm me, you punched me? *staring at Tubbo* You know w- *camera glitches and cuts off audio*

Tubbo: I don't wanna be possessed

Ranboo: "Get a professional"? I am a professional. Right? Right?

Tubbo: I need holy water

Ranboo: *audio cuts off* What do you want me to do?

Tubbo: *laughs* Boil the hell out of some water *camera and audio glitch again*

Ranboo: What do you want me to do? People are saying "lag" *stream lag*

Ranboo: Ok, that worked. That actually worked as soon as I said that. I am so powerful. Ahh man

Tubbo: I don't wanna be a demon!

Ranboo: Well.. kinda too late for me at least

Tubbo: I don't wanna be a demon!

Ranboo: How do you think I became so popular on content creation in such little time?

Tubbo: By using the- No I can't- I'm under an NDA (non-disclosure agreement) I can't say..

Ranboo: Stop saying that I'm an industry plant and just say-

Tubbo: You're an industry plant!

Ranboo: I would rather be called a demon than an industry plant

Tubbo: You're an industry plant

Ranboo: I'm not an industry plant. That is not true. That is not true

Tubbo: Oh grey screen is back

Ranboo: It went grey again? I'm gonna- Ok we're fine

Tubbo: It only does it for like two seconds. Relax, holy crap

Ranboo: But the thing is though, like-

Tubbo: What's that Harry Styles song about the watermelon? *starts dancing*

Ranboo: What does that have anything- I'm explaining to you how I'm a demon

Tubbo: Maybe the demon likes songs. Wait, I wanna play a song to the demon

Ranboo: Oh wait! Yeah let's play a song to the demon

Tubbo: Wait, no, let me pick! I wanna pick one

Ranboo: Let's play a song to the demon

Tubbo: Um.. Ok! Does the demon like "Airplane Mode" *jamming*

Ranboo: I have something. Now, here, ok. You've got yours. Now let me play my song to the demon. *white noise*

Tubbo: *starts singing Boom Boom Pow by the Black Eyed Peas* When the beat drops, gotta get that that that that. Boom boom boom, gotta get that. Boom boom boom gotta get that *dancing*

Ranboo: So how come you enjoy this? Why do you suddenly enjoy this when I'm playing the music that's meant for the demon?

Tubbo: Stooop! I was just joking

Ranboo: The evidence is piling up, ladies and gentlemen. Tubbo is possessed, I think

Tubbo: I am not!

Ranboo: The evidence is kinda piling up quite a bit actually

Tubbo: Leave me alone! I'm not possessed!

Ranboo: Quite a good amount!

Tubbo: Stop saying I'm possessed

Ranboo: So how come you keep doing things that the demon- that I'm asking the demon to do

Tubbo: I literally just did a TikTok dance

Ranboo: Yeah, 'cause I said that the demon would like the music

Tubbo: The demon wouldn't have done that. The demon would've not "hit the woah" or the weird Q&A thing (ref: The "Questions I get Asked" TikTok dance)

Ranboo: Who do you think- Who do you think invented those things? Demons on TikTok

Tubbo: *gasp* What?!

Ranboo: Yeah, that's right. TikTok is run by demons

Tubbo: TikTok demons? Tik-emons?

Ranboo: TikTok is run by demons

Tubbo: I'm not possessed dude. They're all saying that I'm possessed

Ranboo: You might be.. You could be

Tubbo: I'm not possessed

Ranboo: No, out of either of us, honestly, I would be the one to be possessed.. Honestly.. I already am *stares at camera*

Tubbo: Heeughh.. I'm sus!

Ranboo: *does hands gestures* Yeah

Tubbo: This is comfy!

Ranboo: I mean, the thing- Wow so you're saying that my merch that comes out on September 5th is quite comfortable? Wow, what a great review from Tubbo himself!

Tubbo: Oh *facepalms* It also smells of sweat

Ranboo: No, it does not! I know it doesn't

Tubbo: *sniffs Ranboo's hoodie*

Ranboo: It does not

Tubbo: How sweaty are you? *keeps sniffing*

Ranboo: I'm not at all! He's just trying to slander me!

Tubbo: *intensely sniffing hoodie* It does smell like you though. Everything that you touch gets that "you" smell. It's kinda weird..

Ranboo: That's really really weird actually

Tubbo: Like..

Ranboo: I think you may be possessed honestly

Tubbo: No!

Ranboo: How do you have a sense of smell that does-

Tubbo: No, I'm not even kidding! Where you sit on my sofa, you make the area of my sofa where you slept smell like you, and I'm like *sniffs hoodie* Eugh!

Ranboo: *silent*

Tubbo: *pats Ranboo* No, you don't smell that bad. It's ok! There there

Ranboo: *moves arms away and stares at Tubbo*

Tubbo: I'm not a demon!

Ranboo: No, I'm not doing that because I think you're a demon. I'm doing that just because it's.. weird. Just incredibly weird

Tubbo: What? No.. Sympathy pats?

Ranboo: No sympathy pats

Tubbo: Oh..

Ranboo: No more

Tubbo: Oh I just got a text message from TommyInnit. All will be ok

Ranboo: That was in a group chat

Tubbo: Wait, who the hell is this?

Ranboo: That was in a group chat so..

Tubbo: Wait..

Ranboo: That was in a group chat.. That's kinda sad that you said you got a text from TommyInnit but it was just in a group chat. So that's kinda sad..

Tubbo: Do you know that number?

Ranboo: Nope!

Tubbo: Uh oh..

Ranboo: Anyway.. "Ask the demon if he likes the Dream SMP"? Will do. Do you like Dream SMP?

Tubbo: How big is your willy?

Ranboo: It said yes!

Tubbo: Did it actually?

Ranboo: The tree demon is a Dream SMP enjoyer! Woo! Welp, and now it's just spelling out words. "S" "T" "O" "P" "W" "H". "Stop while".. "Stop while you".. "Stop while you can"!

Tubbo: I.. really hate-

Ranboo: You would like that, wouldn't you? You wimp! You wimp!

Tubbo: *takes Ranboo's phone and throws it away* Knock that off! I hate this!

Ranboo: My phone... my phone!

Tubbo: Have my phone

Ranboo: You don't have demon apps on your phone!

Tubbo: I don't like it! It's being creepy!

Ranboo: What do you mean it's "being creepy"! I told y-

Tubbo and Ranboo: *stare at demon Ouija app's planchette moving on its own in fear*

Tubbo: *scared* Why is it going on its own?

Ranboo: It's going on its own

Tubbo: I just wanna leave. Can- I'm going to bed dude, it's past my bedtime. I'm honestly- I'm gonna go-

Ranboo: Can you at least grab me my phone?

Tubbo: Yeah.. I'm done

Ranboo: You're done? What do you mean you're done?

Tubbo: Why did it just say "No"? It said "no", I'm not done *scared*. I am done! Leave me alone!

Ranboo: You're not done. You're never done

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scandeniall · 4 years

Text

Dear Diary

song 1: dear diary | good & bad masterlist | prev | next

Pairing: sakusa x reader

Summary/warnings: life has been kicking your ass yet you don’t want to tell sakusa/profanity

WC: 1.5K

“How’ve you been,” you paused debating on answering honestly or not. Switching your phone to speaker, you fiddled with the covers resting beneath your fingers before sighing out. “I miss you Yoomi.” A silence comes settled through the phone line. “How are you doing?” The insistence of your well being causes another sigh to escape your lips. Of course he could tell that something was off even through the phone and a part of you curses his observational skills. “Im just--really fucking stressed,” you mutter out reluctantly.

“Have you been taking care of yourself? Eating real meals and getting proper sleep?” The questions being rattled off on the other side of the phone causes you to crack a small smile at his concern. You could only imagine the furrow in his brows at the thought of a lack of concern for your own health. You almost miss the ending of the questions as he tells you not to lie to him. Your silence causes Sakusa to sigh on the line.

“Sometimes I hate how much you really know me.” You voice the thoughts that had previously been in your head. Sakusa could hear the slightest of background noise as you maneuver yourself under the warm comforter and shifted to get comfortable. “Do you need me to come home.” The words aren’t phrased as a question, and that causes you to quickly shake your head despite the fact that he couldn't see that.

“No-no. Yoomi, it's fine. I just- I just need to get my mind right and relax. I just needed to hear your voice tonight, that's all.” You tell him, despite wanting nothing more than for him to be back with you.He’d been on the road for the last month, a series of away games and such. And right before he left, you’d been out of town on a major business trip. It seemed as if time nor luck were your friend. It’d been at least a month and a half since the two of you were anywhere near one another. He’d still be gone another month and all either of you could do was wait it out.

The silence that followed your response was telling. You could already imagine the way Sakusa has his eyes narrowed in thought. Thinking about whether he should push for your well being or let it go for now. The quietest sigh escaped his mouth from the other side of the phone. He’d made his decision. “I miss you too. I’ll be home soon.”

Life after that phone call seemed to grow progressively worse. Not only had you and Sakusa not been able to squeeze in another talk in the following week, but life sucked. Your job has been giving you more and more responsibility, and allowing you more freedom. On one hand that was great, a celebratory text sent to your boyfriend at the talks of you in for a promotion, however it was tiring. You were coming home later and later, exhausted and starting to neglect your own health.

It’s not you were intentional in the neglect. It just felt too damn hard to come home after a long day and cook a healthy and fulfilling meal. When you were home you were suddenly reminded of just how empty the apartment was without Sakusa. Dust that was normally absent due to his cleanliness began to appear. Dishes piled up more than he would have liked. Whenever you did bother to straighten up at least for his sake, it drained you.

Adulthood was really kicking your ass and it came to a head one night when you woke up sweating. As if life couldn’t drag you down even more, your AC had gone out right during the hottest part of the summer. Come morning you found out that your landlord had gone on vacation and could not and would not be able to fix the unit for at least a week.

So you’d done what you usually did. Sucked it up and forced yourself to push through. Not a word of your woes to Sakusa who had more important matters to attend to other than your slump. You went to work, exhausted yourself there and dragged your feet into the dreaded heat of your apartment.

Upon entering you were automatically hit with a wave of heat, making your already sluggish steps heavier. Kicking your shoes off you offhandedly waved hello to the person seated on the couch before dragging yourself towards the kitchen like it was completely normal. A moment later you stopped in your tracks. “Yoomi?”

The slightest nod from your boyfriend caused you to blink in surprise before launching yourself into his arms. “What are you doing here,” you muttered as his hands ran up and down your back. Pulling away slightly you eyed him. He looked tired. Eyes unusually sunken and you noticed the tiniest sheen of sweat across his forehead. You went to pull away knowing the touch paired with the heat would likely make him uncomfortable. To your surprise, the hands wrapped around your middle didn’t make any moves to release you. “You needed me so I came home.”

You felt a squeeze in your heart as your arms tightened wrapped around his shoulders. “But I didn't say anything—“

“Your voice. On the other week. And then your texts were different.” Of course he noticed. The conversation had already signaled to him that you weren’t the best. Your shaky exhales as you insisted that you were fine and that he didn’t need to come home. Then he noticed the jokes within your texts began to slowly subside. You’d also found yourself saying that you missed him more than usual. “So you came back?”

“I have a 3 day weekend this week. Then I’m back to practicing.” You nodded in understanding the two of you releasing one another and you noticed Sakusa frown. “Why’s it hot?” You explained about the broken AC and about the suffering you’ve endured for the past 2 days. “Did you get any more fans?” He looked annoyed once you denied purchasing any additional appliances knowing he’d had to get that done for you. “You know you’re more susceptible to nosebleeds in the heat right?”

“Thank you Dr. Omi,” you teased, laughing at his scowl from the nickname. The two of you settled onto the couch, your head coming to rest on his shoulder. “It’s common knowledge.” His replies allow a lightness to settle in your heart. One you hadn’t felt in weeks. The two of you settle into a silence for a little while his hand rubbing soft circles on your knee. “You need to take better care of yourself. And tell me when you need me.”

“I didn't want to take you away from your busy schedule,” you hum out. You feel the movement against your knee stop, a former grip replacing it. “I don't care how busy I am, I’m here. Now stop being annoying and tell me things.” You feel yourself jokingly roll your eyes before agreeing. However that wasn’t enough as you heard the scoff from next to you.

“I’m serious. You remember what you told me back in college”

“Pretty sure I told you a lot of things back then,” you tease, taking his closest hand and interlocking your fingers. “You believed in me,” he started catching your eyes. “Told me you always knew there was no limit to me. That means I can handle it. Don’t feel like you’re annoying me.” Your eyes widened at how he remembered that very specific moment.

It was around 4 years ago. He’d just told you that he signed to MSBY, something everyone around him was dying to know. Yet you were the first person he told. He remembered how your eyes beamed as you sat on his lap, your phone camera in his face recording the moment for memories sake. He didn’t even bother swatting it away like he usually did. He’d allowed you to place messy kisses all across his face despite the feel of your tacky chapstick. “Why do you remember that,” you questioned a soft smile gracing your own features.

You notice the shrug of his shoulders as he helped to to sit you sideways into his lap. “Doesn’t matter. Now tell me what’s wrong. And then we’re going to get some fans.” You nodded leaning so that your lips met his for a soft kiss. “I really missed you,” you murmured into the kiss. And while he was only there for the weekend it was enough. He came home for you. The one who has loved and supported him with open arms for the past 5 years. He’d be damned if he didn’t try to make up for it.

So you told him everything on your mind. Laughing every time he scolded you for the little things. “Don’t let the dust build up by the time I get back next month.” To “You need to sleep more.” And in return you got the same. You got the story from the exhaustion laced in his eyes. The hours it took to get to you, and the germs he forced himself to sit through to make it happen. And despite the annoying heat in the apartment, neither of you have felt that good in a while.

a/n: wow i FINALLY got at least 2 consective songs in a row done so now my prev/next is relevant for at least 2 parts. This took a different route than I initially planned for, nor is it exact in its storytelling. It was also started 2 months ago and finished now bc it was kinda hard for me. Anyways hi um did you catch the no limit to you ref? bc yeah i love that and to date still my fav piece ive ever written. you dont have to read that to understand this but its 5.4k words if you have some spare time.

anyways: im about to be on an 8hr car ride so feel free to request stuff. rules

#haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #sakusa x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu imagine #hq imagine #hq imagines #sakusa imagines

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holycalum · 6 years

Photo

vex c.h.

word count: 3.8k+

warnings: mentions of pregnancy, swearing, drugs refs, but it’s actaully not bad at all

summary: the one where calum’s the most™ annoying but it’s cus he’s in looooove (is tht enough??)

a/n: HI yeah i know i haven’t posted in years because um (: i’ve been the most busy ever. i have so many things i wanna post i have like million half written things and ideas i just don’t have the energy to finish or start i know its bad i miss writing. anyways i hope ya like it i know i suck at writing the good ending parts where the stuff happens but i’m trying. send me requests pls it might take a while but ill defo get to them! love yall the most!

“can you please shut the fuck up and stop chewing ice for like, five seconds?” “first of all, i have an iron deficiency, calum.” you sneer, “you know i’m sensitive about it.” “you know i don’t care about your blood iron content, right (y/n)?” calum glares at you, angrily sipping his drink. “maybe you’re pregnant.” you almost scream, “stop don’t say that,” you pat your stomach, “i don’t want to be pregnant.” “cal, it’s your turn to bowl,” ashton says, flopping down next to calum on the couch opposite you. “i don’t wanna fuckin’ bowl,” calum grumbles, crossing his arms and sinking back into the couch. ashton scrunches his eyebrows, “cal, it was your idea-“ “(y/n) should take my turn, maybe it’ll help her unborn child be a champion bowler.” he mused, making ashton do a double take. “honestly,” ashton squeaks, “i don’t wanna know, (y/n), are you pregnant?” “thought you didn’t wanna know?” you joked, placing two hands on your stomach. “no, i’m not, calum’s just being a bitch.” “m’ not.” he counters, “it’s just your pregnant lady hormones are rubbing off on me, i’m surprised we’re all not crying.” ashton just sits up slowly, backing away from the couch. “it’s just, fuck you calum.” you roll your eyes, leaning back into the couch. you turn your body away from calum, focusing your attention on the scoreboard. “you’re doing really badly.” “can’t show up your bowling prodigy child,” calum hardly misses a beat, as annoying as he was being, he was on fire tonight. “wonder who the dad is.” you pull at your hair, “oh my fucking god,” you want to throw a bowling ball at his head, “it’s like you want me to be pregnant, you’re insinuating i’m getting dicked down enough to be pregnant.” “big word, gotta set a good example for the baby...” calum trails off, trying not to laugh at his constant pestering. “are you?” “wouldn’t be your business if i was, or if i wasn’t.” “then who am i to believe you’re not pregnant,” calum shrugs, finishing his drink. calum’s neck looked like prime real-estate for your fists, you had never been so annoyed with him in your time knowing him. for a while you two were actually friends, but as of lately, he seemed to seize any opportunity to push your buttons. michael slid into the spot next to you, “yanno, boys are usually mean to girls when they like them.” he whispers in your ear, “doesn’t that promote an unhealthy association or something?” you roll your eyes, burning holes into the side of calum’s head. “i’m sure someone who likes you wouldn’t claim you’re pregnant every chance they got.” “calum’s not just someone,” michael sing-songed, “i honestly don’t know what sticks up his ass.” “apparently it’s not a stick, it’s my fake baby.” you crossed your arms, still glaring at calum. “ashton,” you piped up, gripping the back of the drivers seat. “can we please stop at mcdonald’s, i have to pee.” “no.” calum answered for ashton, “i recall asking ashton,” you snapped your head towards him, “but go off i guess.” “yeah.” ashton said quietly, switching lanes to get off at the next exit. “no,” calum grabbed the steering wheel, “you peed like 20 minutes ago.” “jesus fucking ch-calum please,” ashton threw his hand off the wheel, “don’t kill us please.” “wouldn’t wanna kill the baby,” calum grinned at you, sarcasm leaking from his dimples. jesus, you think, here we fucking go. “since when are you the dictator of my bladder?” you asked, face red. “peeing a lot is a sign of pregnancy, you know?” calum said, ignoring your question. “so, you’re an ob-gyn now too?” “i’ve taken up many practices since you conceived your baby,” calum insisted, eyes glued to his phone. you desperately wanted calum to turn his head towards you, to give you his full attention. this half assed argument wasn��t cutting it. “i’m honestly so uncomfortable, we’re almost at McDonald's.” ashton announces, “i am not fucking pregnant!” you shout, slinking into the back seat, “why do i even hang out with you?” “hey, (y/n), how you feeling?” luke asks, face grainy on your phone screen. “like ass,” you croak, you’d been throwing up all morning. you thought you were on the come up, and tested the waters with a piece of toast, but you were unsuccessful. “-is that (y/n)?” you hear calum ask, and your stomach lurches, you didn’t need to deal with him right now. “yeah-she’s sick,” “with what?” “i dunno, she’s throwing up-“ suddenly the phone screen shakes and calum’s face takes up the whole thing. his face holds an evil smile and you’re far too familiar with his jokes and you know what you’re in for. “you’re having morning sickness, (y/n).” he says matter-of-factly. you feel the last of your toast threatening to inch up your throat. “it’s cus’ you’re pregnant.” you empty your stomach into the toilet, “fuck you, calum.” you manage in between deep breaths. “i have food poising.” “if that’s what we’re calling pregnancy these days.” “i’m hanging up.” you throw your phone across the tile of your bathroom, leaning your head against the cool toilet bowl. you felt so gross, and calum’s comments were not helping in the slightest. you felt like crying really, he was being such a jerk to you, for no reason. a few fever naps later, you’re woken up by a knock at your front door. you drag yourself to the door, opening it to find a bag from the drug store, with a note reading ‘pregnancy kit!’ you immediately toss the pregnancy tests to the side, digging out the gatorade. you call calum, “thanks for the gatorade, but i don’t need the tests, wanna give them to your groupies?” you say as soon as he picks up. “ah,” he breathes, “of course, how could i be so silly, you don’t need to test something you’re already sure of.” “fuck off.” “i don’t need them,” he continues, “that’s not me anymore.” “ok, bye calum.” you throw your phone back onto your couch, dropping the bag next to you. if he wasn’t such an asshole, you’d think him going out of his way to bring you things would be sweet, but you’re sure it’s just an extra step he took to tease you. if he were anyone else you might smile and blush at the thought, but thinking of calum’s devilish smile while picking things out only made your skin crawl with heat. “(y/n)...” calum pushes the drink out of your hands, “you can’t drink while pregnant.” you nearly break the bottle over his skull, “are you like deprived of sex or something? is that why you’re so edgy?” “i just care about the well being of your baby,” he rests a hand on your stomach, “seeing that it-speaking if we should find out the gender soon. seeing that its father is absent.” you flick his hand off of you and ignore the way your heart speeds up when he touches you. “let’s find you someone, that sound good?” you ask, dropping his calloused hand from your grip, and scanning the bar for anyone that may peak calum’s interest. if you were being honest, the conflict between you and calum, that you dread, lit something within you. whether it was a match under your ass that kept you on your toes, or something warmer in the pit of your stomach, you found yourself red in the face and tingly every time you went back and forth with each other. calum was pissing you off and he knew it, he had wiggled his way under your skin, and you didn’t know how you felt about it. you spot a blonde girl across the room, and you set out to approach her. “no one that’ll take away from my ob-gyn practice,” he shouts as you walk away, stomping loudly. it almost hurts how ok he was with it. you return only a few minutes later, finding it very easy to convince a random chick to talk to someone in a band. “calum,” you stand in front of him, and he glares down at your smaller frame. “this is ally-allison-um, this is allison.” you introduce her, and she giggled loudly. “oh my god,” he drops his jaw, “you reincarnated michael jackson? for me? you’re too sweet, (y/n).” something inside you relaxes at his dislike for the stranger. “what?” allison cocks her head to the side, looking calum up and down. you catch yourself thinking, me too girl. “never mind,” you mutter, “allison said she likes music, you like that too!” “yeah, i go to a lot of raves.” she assures us, “have you guys ever done molly?” “no.” calum is short, “well, i have a few in my bag-“ “nice,” he responds, “we can do a couple,” “yeah for sure,” his eyes are in slits as soon as he looks at you, you shrink under his gaze. “let’s do molly, in some bar, with ally.” “allison.” she corrects, and calum already has your bicep in his hand, dragging you in the opposite direction of allison. your brain is split between wanting to punch him for being so rough, and letting him drag you along. you go with the latter. “we’ll be right back, ally, just need to converse with my colleague.” calum has no intention of ever speaking to her again, anyone named allison, he decides. soon, you’re standing outside the bar, shooting daggers out of your eyes at calum. if looks could kill, he would’ve been dead hours ago, and you’d be beating the dead horse. your feelings were all jumbled up, in a hot, flaming, pile of trash. “it’s cold,” you complain, rubbing your bare arms. “ok well, i can’t control the weather.” he snapped, making your stomach drop, he was being so mean. “what the hell is your problem?” “i don’t need you to meddle in my love life, (y/n).” he uttered, pulling out a cigarette from his back pocket. you snatch it away from him, and he’s left empty-handed. “not good for you,” you explain, “i’m not the pregnant one...” “no one is pregnant!” you shout, throwing the unlit cigarette on the ground. “sounds like something a pregnant lady would say,” calum hasn’t missed an opportunity yet. “i literally need you to stop,” you beg, shaking his shoulders. he lets out a quiet ‘woah’ but doesn’t do anything to stop you from violently shaking him around. “i don’t know what your problem is, but like, you’ve been at this since before i tried helping you out, so what gives?” calum only shrugs in response, eyes drifting to the people flowing out of the bar. his mind sails elsewhere, wondering if the guys would wonder where you two went, if they knew how he felt, if they cared at all. “cal, there’s gotta be like, someone in there for you, if you want a wingman-“ you babble, trying to push the idea of you and calum far, far, far, out of your brain. if he could just make out with someone, you could never think about him like that again, and then you could really get pregnant, and live a calum-free life. “there’s no one in there for me.” he says coldly, turning his shoulders away from you, making your arms drop down to your sides. you can feel him closing off. you roll your eyes, “how are you supposed to know that,” you soften your tone, you didn’t really know how to talk to calum like this. “cus’ i just do,” he’s slowly inching away from you now, trying to increase the space, trying to decrease the connection. “why should you care?” he turned his difficult feelings into coldness. “you’re my friend, i think, if you’re allowed to be so involved in my uterus, i should be allowed to try and get you some!” you fume, stepping closer to him. “i’m trying to be nice while you continue to be so mean.” “why try?” “i-“ you didn’t know, “i don’t know.” “well,” he barks, “if i’m being so mean and you can’t stand it, why do you hang out with me?” “why are you so mean?” you ask, both of your voices raising. “i don’t know.” he mocks you, “you have to know!” you were being far too dramatic for where you were, but you were so blinded by rage you found it difficult to care. “if you’re allowed to not know why you put up with me, i’m allowed to not know why i’m mean to you.” he turns to walk away from you, you grab the sleeve of his jacket, blood pumping rapidly. “don’t walk away from me, calum, that’s rude as shit.” “i am rude as shit.” “you’re not!” you cry, people walking out of the bar into the cool air taking a second glance at your exchange. “you’re not rude and that’s why i’m confused as to why you’re being rude to me, you weren’t like this before.” “before you started going out on dates and shit and getting pregnant,” he grumbled, shoulders slumping into himself. you gaped, “how does that have to do with why you’re being mean.” “m’ not mean.” his voice got quieter, head now lowered. if he couldn’t just box you out he could always try retreating into himself. “you just said you were,” you matched his volume. “m’ not,” he repeated, “n’ there’s no one in there for me.” “you’re all over the place,” you’re head is spinning, and you can’t connect the dots between anything calum’s saying. “cus’ the only person for me is standing outside the fuckin’ bar.” “have i ever told you, you have such a way with words,” you were trying to be so cool, because you doubted that the middle-aged businessman standing near the entrance was the one for calum, but he was making it really hard. “you’ll never guess what i do for a living.” he jokes back, but his chuckle ends too short to be real. “ok, so, why do you think i’m pregnant? like i’m still lost.” “can we please not talk about it,” he begs, finally looking at you. your stomach flips at his eye contact, and as wobbly as your knees are, you’re unmoving. you couldn’t “that’s not fair to me, cal.” “just not here then, please.” the sound of your front door closing was the first thing to break the agonizing silence between the two of you. “so...” you lean over your kitchen counter. calum rubs his face, and groans. “it’s stupid,” his words are altered by his cheeks being smooshed against his hands. a blush creeps up the back of calum’s neck and onto his face. he wasn’t getting out of this one. “yeah,” you agree, “it is stupid, but why?” there’s a long stretch of silence, “cus i like you,” finally cuts through the thick air surrounding you two. “m’ still a little drunk.” you spit out the sip of water you had just taken. “sorry,” you sputter, wiping your mouth. sure he had implied something of the sort outside the bar, but hearing him say it was sending you elsewhere. “i um,” “you don’t have to say anything back, but you wanted to know, so i told you.” he shrinks into himself, “no, cal, i just wanna know why you thought that was how you should’ve gone about it.” you weren’t saying you didn’t feel the same, but you also weren’t saying you’d let him off so easy. “i’m sorry, if it really bothered you.” he says instead, spinning himself back and forth on the bar stool. he was looking everywhere but you. “it’s not that, it was just-“ “weird?” “yeah.” “i know id be weird anyways, so i figures being mean weird would rule out yanno, me feeling things.” he explains, playing with the cuff of his jacket. “oh,” you whisper, studying how his eyebrows scrunch when he can’t button his sleeve. “you can’t just try and cancel out your feelings...like pemdas.” his eyes flicker towards you, “wrong, i did try, it just didn’t work.” “so you still like me?” you ask, “do all pregnant people ask this many questions?” he says under his breath, and you let yourself laugh because it’s kinda funny. calum smiles sheepishly as he continues looking down at his sleeves. “just me i guess,” you decide to play along. “yeah, i do.” “cool.” “that’s all i get?” he sits up straight, gripping the edge of the counter. “it’s cool!” you defend, giggles escaping your lips. “yeah well, what’s cool about it?” he tests the waters, maybe you were interested, maybe it wasn’t so crazy to think maybe you’d like him too. even just a little bit. he leans back against the chair. “i think it’s cool...” you trail off, biting your lip, “that someone so cool likes me.” “you think i’m cool?” calum’s tone is teasing, but you can tell he’s flustered by the way his usually low voice raises a bit and the blush painting his tanned cheeks. “mhm.” you nod slightly, the little bit of alcohol in your system making it hard to hold off. calum’s stature was especially enduring right now, his soft, sleepy eyes and messy hair, your heart swelled at the sight. “cool.” he said simply, eyes crinkling. you only let out another quiet ‘mhm’ in response, taking another sip of water. “so, is that it?” “is what it?” “is that all we say, and now i just have to stare at you until you kick me out?” he questions, face dropping. surely, he thought, you were only playing him. “bold of you to assume you’d even wanna stare at my face that long.” you counter, raising an eyebrow. he thinks for a moment, “bold of you to assume i wouldn’t.” “bold of you to assume...” it was getting really hard to go back and forth with calum now, his cocky smile getting under your skin instead of on your nerves for once. “bold of you to assume i’d kick you out,” “oh?” he grinned, leaning over the counter, mirroring my position. he widens his eyes at you, “better get used to it then.” “are you flirting with me, calum?” “bold of you to assume i’m not setting you up for the best pregnant joke of all time.” you roll your eyes at him, starting to move away. he grabs your hand suddenly, pulling you back over the counter. “i was only kidding, (y/n).” “figured,” you squeak out, trying not to faulted. you swallow hard, “but why do you need to be so close to me?” you were certain if anything was obvious is was the prominent blush splayed across your cheeks. you’d be surprised if he couldn’t feel the heat radiating off of your cheeks. “like seein’ you blush,” you were right, “sure, i could see it from down the street, but this is a better view.” “doubt it.” you bite your lip, “agree to disagree?” “turning down an argument?” you question, “i’m sure another opportunity will present itself.” he whispers, “you know i’d stay here, but it’s a really uncomfortable position.” you speak, after a moment of silence. “and i hate being in jeans. are you spending the night?” “what does that have to do with being in jeans?” he stays leaned over the counter after you stand straight again, and start walking towards your room. “i don’t have any clothes for you, i’d feel bad if i was comfortable and you weren’t.” “not something you’d ever cared about before, doll.” he spins around to face you, relaxed against the stool. suddenly your whole body feels hot. you gulp, “i guess you’re right,” you come back later, clad in pajama shorts and a long sleeved shirt. calum’s lounging on your couch now, feet kicked up on the coffee table. “glad you’ve made yourself comfortable.” “you weren’t going to,” he speaks, eyes not breaking away from his phone. you sit down next to him, legs folded underneath yourself. he glances over at you, a smile smile evident on his lips. it felt odd, not being genuinely angry at calum for more than an hour. “listen,” he speaks, “you don’t have to kick me out, i can leave on my own.” he looks down at his hands, twisting his rings. “you can if you want,” you say softly, covering your yawn with you hand. you hoped he didn’t want to leave, cause you’d be ok if he sat on your couch forever. “do you want me to?” he meets your eyes, you shrug, inspecting your nail polish, “don’t care,” “i mean, it’d be kinda weird if i stayed cus i like you and you don’t-“ “i like you calum,” you cut him off, darting your eyes back down to your nails. “oh,” he shook his head a bit, a grin creeping its way onto his face. “glad that’s out of the way,” you say, still not looking at calum. if you looked at him it’d be real and you’d given into him, who was bullying you for a fake pregnancy only hours before. it was stupid if you put it that way. but if you thought about it another way, it was never really that deep. “then, i guess i’ll stay?” he says carefully, nudging your thigh, eyebrows raised in anticipation. “cool.” you nod, making eye contact for a split second before turning back away. you could combust then and there. “you’d like that?” he teases, inching closer to you. you swear you feel your heart stutter. “if i stayed?” “mhm.” you laser your focus on your chipping polish instead of his body heat in attempt to calm yourself down. but you’re the furthest thing from calm. “ok,” he huffs, leaning back and throwing an arm around your shoulders. you stiffen under his touch, your entire body on fire. as of the last couple of months you’d been hot out of anger, not by whatever this was. calum’s gaze was fixed on you, his eyes fond despite his cocky manner. “you gonna relax, sweetheart?” the nickname dripped like honey from his lips. “you gonna kiss me to get it over with already?” you spit suddenly, wanting to end the awkwardness. you were sick of the jitters now, and all you wanted was calum. yet, you slap a hand over your mouth. he let out a laugh, “can’t with you so far away from me.” you roll your eyes, and lift yourself to turn yourself toward him. “much better,” he grins, moving a hand up to cup your face. fuck that, you think, grabbing the collar of his shirt and pressing your lips together. you feel the tension leave your body, as calum’s lips work against yours. it feels like heaven, his plump lips against yours, hands gripping whatever they can. calum pulls away, forehead leaning against yours, panting quietly. you take in his look, eyes closed, blissed out, beautiful. “bet your baby daddy couldn’t do that?” he jokes, smiling. “shut up.”

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enchantingkittengaditor · 5 years

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The MCU’s Daughters Prequel: Loser In Me

A/N: This is a Prequel, to my new story The MCU’s Daughter, inspired byBrie Larson’s album Finally Out of PE. Loser In Me was merely the inspiration for this piece and if lyrics are seen it’s probably just me listening to the song about 100 times writing this and editing it.

Summary: Long before she was the MCU’s Daughter. Before they were the Internet’s Daughters. They were just teenage girls trying to fit into a new system, a new country and a new school. Before all the fame and success two teens first became friends and teammates.

Warnings: Mentions of Depression, Anxiety, Epilepsy, Violence, Extreme Angst, THE FIRST HALF OF THIS TAKES PLACE IN A THERAPY GROUP. Extreme Fluff in part 2 though to make up for it, after an anxiety attack.

Master List

February 14th, 2016

Tegan

It was that time of the week again, no not the weekend. Therapy day. I’m meant to be looking forward to today. But I don’t. I mean, I sit in a room with 9 other depressed and anxious teens and an overly enthusiastic adult trying way too hard for 2 hours. Where’s the fun in that?

The way I knew it was therapy day was simple my alarm went off, my cat jumped on my face and my sister yelled breakfasts ready from the kitchen downstairs. I’ve gotta get up and out of bed, but why so I could talk about things people think I make up to a bunch of kids around my age. I know I shouldn’t have but I turned my alarm off and tried to go back to sleep grabbing my cat to use as a teddy bear in the process.

“TEGAN!!!” Alex yells again, this time from the other side of my door. I groaned getting up knowing my attempt failed and if I didn’t get up now my sister would enter my room. The one place I had left.

Dragging my brush through my tangled hair to make it look semi-presentable and grabbed a clean shirt from my draw and my leggings from my desk putting them on, not caring that they didn’t look good together. Because I don’t care. I would much rather be in bed or be somebody else because I’m getting really tired of myself.

I put on some mismatching socks and my teddy bear slipper and running downstairs to join my mother and sister for our traditional heart-shaped pancakes and fruit Sunday breakfast. One of the few things that hadn’t changed in the past 15 months. One thing I could hold onto. One thing that kept the memory alive. I know people behave like I do when a loved one dies but that’s not my story. My story’s worse because I was the one who died. Well not literally but figuratively for sure.

We chatted about meaningless trivial things. Until I noticed the time and said I should go pack my bag for therapy. The bag I had to pack for therapy contained my sketchbook, my writing pad, and my book. The writing pad and sketch pad were to show I was making progress and not just drawing and writing the same old memories. The book was a form of entertainment as my mum always dropped me early and picked me up late at the Library where these sessions were held due to my sister’s tennis lessons.

After the process of packing my bag, I shoved it onto my shoulder, turning to say goodbye to my cat. That was when I saw the photo frame. The photo frame that contained three of the most important photos in my life. One was of me and my best friend at my 4th birthday party laughing while eating cake on my Dora the Explorer map which for some reason was of Russia, Mongolia and China. One of the others was of me and my two best friends at one of their 7th birthdays with my arm in a sling. The last one was of me, my classmates and our teacher from the last place I lived. I could feel myself begin to cry as the memories began to flood my already drowning mind.

“Tegan, Vamos!” My mother yelled at me from the door so I grabbed my shoes and threw the photo frame down onto my desk careful not to break it.

On the short twenty-minute journey to the library, we laughed trying to sing along to the music on the radio. Or at least I tried. It wasn’t the same. Nothing ever will be. And they don’t seem to care. I know they do but I haven’t seen it.

Once at the library I said goodbye to mum and Alex, walking through the door I was met by the warm embrace of the library air and take a deep breath of the book scented filled air letting it fill up my lungs. This was one of the few places I could feel at home in. But everything good in this world has to be ruined by people, doesn’t it?

“Come in Tegan we were just about to start,” Madison, the human in charge, told me as she walked past me holding a takeaway cup, most likely filled with Irish coffee to help her get through these sessions that I could tell were just as unbearable to her as they were for me.

When It was my turn to share what I did this week I shared the news of becoming ‘friends’ with the new girl at school and everything I’ve done to improve my mental health, although none of it worked. They then asked me questions about the new girl, which lead me to say, “She’s been through similar things to me, well closer than anyone I’ve met outside the people I would call if anything went wrong.”

To which, much to my dismay, Julie told me the cheesiest thing I have ever heard in this cheese-fest of therapy, “Maybe you went through it,” referring to the moves I had endured 13 and 22 months ago, “so you could help someone else survive it.”

“Maybe, or maybe the world is a cruel heartless bitch, who can’t handle that some people were made for more and decides to shoot them down. Like Malala or Martin Luther King Jr or Ringo. The world destroys the souls that only want to do it good and sadly I fall into that pile. I may have had what all of you call the dream life, but it’s a living hell. A combination of amazing until about 5 minutes later when I get shot in the heart over and over and over again until I decide to give up or till the world gives up on me and I don’t know which one is worse. I have never seen myself age past 20. I don’t know why. Even in the before, the before everything went fucking wrong. And it went wrong spectacularly. It always does. My life from the outside might look good but my mind. My mind is slowly trying to kill me. Even on all my meds. My mind is poisoning itself because it always had, from a young age and it will until I’m six feet under and probably after that. If you believe in the afterlife,” I yelled in frustration at Julie and all of her positivity nonsense. She was the eldest person here and the only one of us who doesn’t have to come but she still does, because she thinks of us as her family. In fact, her positivity was so infuriating to me that I got up and walked out of the room towards the bathroom ready to cry my heart out. That’s what I needed. And that’s what I did.

February 15th, 2016

Simone

It was my second Monday at school in New Zealand. And it wasn’t going that well. So far I had walked in on Indy and her boyfriend Lachie kissing, my friend Tegan had been bullied by Scarlet, I had been lectured about Harry Potter by Alexandra, someone in year 6 had been punched, and I had been told off by the principal for not wearing a hat outside. Not a good start to the day especially considering we had just gone out for ‘fitness’ which happens at 11:30 in the morning.

That was when it first happened. The first time I saw Tegan for who she was under all of her layers.

In the middle of our class game of basketball, I noticed her starting to lag behind where she had been. Then she started becoming short of breath, her face started to drain of colour as she stood still in the middle of the court. I looked around the court only to notice that no one else was seeing her break down in the middle of the school.

So, I went over to her.

“Are you OK?” I asked her squatting down so I could look up at her and look her in the eye.

That’s when I noticed how hard she was struggling to breathe. I ran. I ran as fast as my legs could carry me over to Miss G who was reffing the game.

“Tegan can’t breath and I don’t know what else is going on, but I know she can’t easily breath,” I spat out in about 3 seconds flat pointing my index finger over to her almost colourless body standing in the middle of the court. Except she was gone.

“She seems fine Simone, she just went to the bathroom,” Miss G told me in a condescending tone.

“Well then, can I please go to the bathroom?” When she nodded her head in response and faced back to the game I walked back over to where the toilets were.

I raised my fist to the grey stall door and knocked.

“I’m fine. Really, but thanks for checking!” Tegan yelled from the other side sniffling.

“Just come out, please. You really looked like you needed a hug out there and I would love to give you one because I think of you as my friend. So please just come out here and talk. It’s only me.”

“And me. Tegan, I want you to come out here so we can talk. We can all just lean against the door while you tell us what happened so no one else can enter if you want,” Alexandra said as she walked into the bathroom.

“Only if you give this up.”

“What up?” I dared to ask.

“Trying to make me better,” She opened the door to reveal herself, “I’ve been trying for years to fix myself. I’ve been trying since I was 7 to fix whatever the hell is wrong with me. There is a giant loser who lives within me and currently in control and I am fine with that because it’s better than the giant demon that’s in there. I… I am just a shell of a broken child who will never be able to grow up. I’m so scared for her and her future because everyone is telling me to let her go but I can’t because she’s the me I only let a few people see. She is what is at the centre of all my thousands of walls and there’s a good reason for those walls. I’m broken. Defective. People only want people you fit perfectly with themselves. I don’t. I don’t fit with anyone unless their pieces are broken too and then we can become a beautiful mosaic. But, then again, nobody in this godforsaken country seems to realize you don’t have to put your pieces back in the same places to become whole again. And putting yourself back together exactly the same is hard, especially when you don’t know how the broken pieces fit together because you’ve been broken for too long. I… I was just having a panic attack that’s all. It happens all the time and nobody has ever reacted how you did and it scared me if I’m honest. Nobody ever really cares normally,” by this point we all had our backs to the girls’ toilets on the floor. Me and Alexandra had our arms around Tegan’s shoulder comforting her as she cried/talked to us about whatever was on her mind, “For the longest time all I’ve wanted is to have someone else’s puzzle piece and be compatible with others. All I want to do is order in and stay at how with my TV and guitar, and waste the day, crashing at home, without people. But I can’t because my sister or mum is always with me. I just want to run away from my so-called life. No matter how hard I try I keep losing my head and it keeps happening again and again and I can’t stop it.”

“Have you tried therapy?” Alexandra asks with the best intentions but I could tell by the way Tegan flinched that it was a touchy subject.

“Yeah, I go once a week to a group session for 10-18-year-olds who have dealt with loss. It’s on Sunday at South Library, but I hate it. It does nothing except make me want to punch a bunch of teenage girls in the face,” she responds in a post tear voice, I’ve come to know all too well.

“Well, I’m sure it’s good for you and it’ll get better. All of it,” I said with a smile, “After all, who’s going to show me how to get through moving away from everything they’ve ever known to here? Not Indy or Scarlett or Saskia. They all seem lovely but they don’t know what it’s like and you do. And that makes you special.”

“Ok. But should we head back out there?”

“I’ll go and tell Miss G that both of you are just going to stay in the classroom and I’ll come back and we can find some cat videos to watch together. Ok?” Alexandra said to Tegan’s question.

“That sounds good Bob.”

“Bob?”

“Her nickname,” She smiles to me as we get up and walk into the classroom and sit at the jelly bean table waiting for ‘Bob’ to get back.

Tags: @hollandarling, @wazzupmrstark, @hollandroos, @keepingupwiththeparkers

#the mcu's daughter #writing #finally out of pe #loser in me #the prequel

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lauxeyson · 6 years

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SUBMARINE

Pairing/Characters: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: It’s such and ancient pitch, one he finds so hard to resist. It’s so easy, so comfortable and so much more than what he ever could have hoped for. Slow dances and slow touches, slow kisses and slow hands are all that Steve wants for his birthday. 40′s AU + My prompt was “Optimistic”. Slightly based on “Witchcraft” and “Summer wind” by Frank Sinatra.

Warnings: Steve finally learned to dance, at least in this au, Professor Rogers, fluff upon fluff upon fluff and more fluff.

Word Count: 1,423

A/N: Written for @redgillan ‘s Steve Rogers’ 100th birthday challenge. I hope I did this some justice! And i hope it all makes sense and that i met all the requirements to the challenge and that you’ll like it. And I think I may have taken the prompt in a slightly different way than most but here goes nothing. I tried to put in some small refs to what living in the 40s would actually be like and I hope I didn’t fail miserably at it! GIF is not mine, all credit goes to the rightful owner. Feedback is VERY much appreciated!

MASTERLIST

That sly come-hither stare, your fingers in his hair. Your lips only inches away from his own, his hands around your waist. It’s such an ancient pitch, one he finds so hard to resist, and when he looks at you, all the little control he has vanish into thin air.

His back rests on the counter, pants hanging low around his hips. A silly grin dance across his features, his eyes gleam with joy, and you bite your lip as a wicked smile of your own claims its place. Your head snaps back, only slightly, as an idea fills your mind and you untangle your hands from the back of his neck, pushing away from him. Steve watches as you move away from his warmth, your eyes set on the record player he got for more money than what he could afford.

He has no defence for it. His heart beats so intensely in his chest when the music begins to play. The vinyl scratches as the needle hits it mark, the record spinning around and around, almost hypnotical. You turn to him, your arms held out wide in a silent invitation for him to take. Steve just cannot resist it when you arouse the need in him. The need to feel your hot, sweaty skin on his. To feel your chapped, breathless, breaths against his lips and to feel your arms around his body, clinging to him as if he is your only lifeline. He has never danced as much as he does when he is with you; never felt the pull to it, the crazy urge to get it out of his system. Working as an art professor, Steve does not get all the exercise his body craves, and his toned muscles scream in agony after a long day spent in an office chair, or on a small stool before a blank canvas, they beg for some kind of release.

And when it all seems broken, when the world’s judgment lie upon his shoulders and the scrappy economy of your time weighs him down, his body may say no even though his heart says yes to take a spin around the living room floor. He keeps on hoping, that it will all be enough, that you will be happy with him even when things are this rough. He hopes that he can give you everything you want, even if you have to ration out everything you eat and look for coins underneath your mattress every day. That smile you wear on your lips, like witchcraft, calms his mind and confirms what he so desperately needs to know. That you are happy, and you will always be as long as you are with him.

His conscious is stripped bare just by looking at you, feet already moving along to the steady rhythm. Your arms sway side-to-side, so unimaginably graceful, and the way your skirt flows along the lines of your body, the fabric seems to obey your every command, makes his head buzz.

You stop briefly to turn the volume up, your fingers dancing upon the buttons with such ease, it is close to enchanting. Steve looks at you with stars in his eyes, all the love they hold within them threaten to spill over for each second that goes by.

“Do you mind, professor?” Your voice is sultry, low, and dangerously close to making him interrupt you and the music, making him interrupt it all. His eyes meet yours from across the room, and he feels it again: the need, the urge, the pull.

Steve swallows hard, his jaw clenches and he allows the music to take control over his body. Each chord, each word, each beat seeps into his veins, into his heart, into his soul. He knows the words like they are his mantra, his prayer, and like they are the only thing that keeps him afloat. His mind races, you always play this song; you always dance to this song, your song.

“Proceed with what you’re leadin’ me to.”

He unconsciously snaps his fingers along to the tune; his feet take him over to where you stand, over to where your hips slowly sway side-to-side. The French doors of your shared apartment stand agape, the small balcony with the rusty railing stands as the only barrier between you and the buzzing city. The birds tweet happily outside, and the high sun is only climbing its way further up the sky, its rays shining through the shear white curtains that hang in front of the chipping doors. His left arm find its way around your waist, your eyes search his face and map its every detail, store it away in a vault so secure you can never forget them. Steve’s right hand grabs a hold of your own, it is warm and rugged and it fits so perfectly with your smaller one, like a puzzle finally being completed.

The two of you sway back and forth, slow at first, then quicker and quicker as you pick up your pace. And you let out a sigh of relief when the summer wind came blowing in from across the sea, when it lingered there, to touch your hair and whiff it around as Steve dips you down. It fills your gasping lungs as you let out a bright laugh, and his heart flutter by the sound of it. He brings you back up, his head coming down to meet yours, and it rests there, his forehead on yours, like a silent promise between you, two sweethearts dancing in the summer wind.

The heat is too intense for it; you are both out of breath. He brings you closer to his chest, press a kiss to your temple and he holds you, he just holds you. Your chest is heaving up and down, and the next track on the record starts to play. Even if none of you want to, you break away from each other, stretching your worn limbs and wiping down the beads of sweat glistening on your skin.

“Let’s go again, sugar,” he says and walks over to switch records, to find the next song you always dance to, make out to.

You laugh, again, louder this time as your breathing evens out.

“I need to sit down,” you say with a small chuckle and move over to the kitchen for a glass of cold water. “It is too warm to dance, it is too warm to do anything.”

He smiles over at you, his hands lingering over the stack of vinyl records that are stacked in piles on the floor. Steve knows exactly what he is looking for, and he doesn’t hesitate to rummage through them all, searching for that perfect song for a perfect day.

“Baby,” he says, almost pleadingly. “One more time,” he says and puts in a pause. “Please?”

You can only sigh and smile at his soft ask, his puppy eyes burning into your own. A far bigger smile finds its way to your features and you put the glass down, condensation dripping down the sides of it, your feet forcing their way over to him.

“We can make one more before we collapse of heat stroke,” he says and you cannot help but to laugh. “One more, I know we can.”

“Why do you always have to be so optimistic?” You sigh lovingly, your teeth grazing your bottom lip, trying to keep the smile at bay as you snake your arms around his back.

“You love that about me,” he tease and turns around in your arms, a small smile playing on his lips. “Please?” he whispers, and place a small kiss on your temple, once again, while his strong hands holds you tightly against his chest.

“Fine,” you say and throw your head back in an exasperated manor. “Since it’s your birthday and all, what harm can it do?”

He lights up, his lips connect with yours, at long last, and you can’t help but to smile wide into the kiss. His lips feels like velvet against your own and his fingers gently brush against your cheek.

Like painted skies, those days and nights went by flying, dancing, living; the world seemed new under a blue umbrella sky. You danced once more that night, and then again and again until you lost the track of time.

And he loves it, he loves and he thrives in every second of it. He swears, it’s witchcraft, and there is no nicer witch than you.

FOREVER TAGS: @imboredsueme @ex-bookjunky @daysoffuturepast @spiduhgirl @sgtjbuccky @deputy-orange-juice @sgtbxckybxrnes @sgtjamesbuchananbarnes107th @thatcraxygirl15 @cutie1365 @raindancer2004 @writingsofawaywardnerd @shieldagentofthemonth @lokiandbuckyaremine @teamironamerica @whatiswrongwithpeople @proud-of-being-me @mrs-dr-strange

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#stevesemotionalbirthday #steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #captain america x reader #captain america x you #imagine steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #imagine captaim america #captain america imagine #marvel imagine #imagine marvel #lauxeyson

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dcuglybooks · 3 years

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A short story collection featuring stories that are either mean and ugly like that turd that thudded you in school, or sweet and cuddly as a little gloomy kitten; or puppy if you’re more of a dog person.

Stories Christians don't have to read backwards. https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08LGB4HGN/ref=cm_sw_r_cp_api_glc_fabc_UIpaGb2VC4BBX

Here’s a free short.

WAP: WEIRD ASS PHANTOM

“There’s a ghost in this house. There’s a ghost in this house.”

Linda was getting tired of the shit. Every day at exactly noon her alarm would play this shitty overdubbed version of a Cardi B song. The original song wasn’t her cup of tea to begin with, this new version that sounded like drunk karaoke was even worse. Most times she would be sitting there and the sound of a drunk sorority girl would make her jump out of her skin. She couldn’t even find the song or alarm in her phone to do anything about it.

Linda and her girlfriend, Melissa, moved into this old house last month, the rent was so damn cheap; landlord said it was because it used to be a party house so he never charged much. The logic didn’t make any sense but at $300 a month and a mile outside of town, how were they not going to sign that lease?

“I think,” spoke Melissa one night while watching her phone float around taking pictures in the air, “the reason rent is so cheap is because it’s haunted.”

“You think?” Replies Linda while snatching the phone out of the air. “I just wish this damn ghost would stop posting pictures of our bedroom to our Instagram accounts. Did you see the caption last night?”

“Oh you mean ‘Pumpkin spice is almost here. Basic bitches, rejoice!’ The comma is what set me off. Why did she put a comma in that? Why bother? It wasn’t even used correctly I don’t believe.”

“We’re being haunted by a basic bitch.”

“I think that may be offensive.”

“I hear it all the time, it just...... yeah ok maybe. I guess I shouldn’t assume this ghost is a bad stereotype, I won’t say it again.”

“True, this girl may have more going for her than just these annoying social media posts from our accounts”

“Remember the mirror though?”

Last week as the couple were eating dinner they heard a clatter and crash from the upstairs bathroom. Running full speed ahead up the stairs and around the corner Linda saw all their makeup in a pile in the empty sink. She could see a pair of red lipsticked lips floating in the air while eyeliner was seemingly drawn onto the air in a cat eye shape. She sighed and said “What now?” These types of things had been going on since the first night so at this point it was old hat.

The lipstick went to the mirror and wrote “I am finally going to kill you.” Linda took a step back prepared to flee until the lipstick wrote below it “JK LOL YOUR FACE” and then the face floated off into the wall leaving behind the makeup like some sort of painting.

The first time anything strange had happened, a pizza showed up at the front door; delivery for an Amanda Perkins. The girl who moved out recently, they took the pizza because it was already paid for and assumed the girl had made a mistake. They were sure of this as they sat and watched old re-runs of home improvement and munched away; then they noticed the slice floating over in the air above the recliner and the chewed up pile on the seat. They screamed and ran outside, Melissa forgot her phone inside and Linda’s made a ding from inside her pocket.

“Hey I know this is really weird, it’s weird AF for me too. We can make it work though, ladies. I swear I won’t bother you, I already cleaned up my mess.”

They inched inside looking around like scared toddlers and sure enough the mess was cleaned up. After that they just rolled with the weirdness.

“Are you sure Amanda left, Mr. Morris?” Linda was on the phone with the landlord.

“Yes. Positive. Why would you think she still lived there?”

“There’s been..... some things.”

“Drunk college girl, she probably stumbled home one night and forgot she went home for the summer. Its no deal. Not big or small.”

“Are you absolutely positive there is no deal? Big, small, medium, or slightly larger than medium but not quite large?”

“What do you think? I know her ex and he killed her and then buried her body in the basement so now her ghost is haunting you. This is why I charge so cheap rent! No. I don’t believe what you think. I will be going.”

He hung up without ever realizing Linda never once mentioned any of that other stuff. Linda thought, Why does he talk like that?

Turned out that’s exactly what had happened. After doing a quick google of the ghosts name they found out she never came home. After a quick Facebook search they found her ex boyfriends page. After some scrolling they found a post that said “Amanda and I broke up again and I am going to kill her.” The post had six likes and four comments.

“Get her bro!”

“Bitch ain’t appreciate you anyhow bet!”

“U need any ting lemme no”

“Fuk gr8 ass tho. Mind if I hit her up?”

These people were insane. Did not a single one of these people see the part about wanting to kill her? Actually PLANNING to kill her.

The police found it interesting enough to look into it, they found reason to arrest the guy. After a long court trial Amanda’s ex-boyfriend, Brent, was sentenced to life in prison for murder. The body was exhumed and buried at a family plot. The rent got more expensive because Mr. Morris was in prison for helping cover a murder so his aunt took over.

You win some you lose some.

Amanda did not leave though. The ghost hung out still to this day four months later. The social media posts kept going. The pizzas kept getting ordered, only now from their pockets because Amanda’s parents closed her bank account. Amanda was irritated about that, she was cut off from her parents money and stuck living with two other people.

Linda and Melissa tried to make her feel as comfy as possible, they left a pen and notebook in each room so she could communicate with them. Usually the notes were always about how bored she was being a ghost and how if she tried to leave the house it got all bright and she started floating. Amanda was “for real afraid of flying” as she wrote on a notebook.

Amanda’s behavior got strange at some point. She began doing things like drawing stick figures on the bathroom floor in shampoo, she would wrap herself in toilet paper and roll down the stairs creating the illusion of her body disappearing, the worst of it was when she would lay in bed with Linda and Melissa startling them when she pulled the blanket. It was like living with an invisible insane person. Either her mind was slipping or she was just a strange character. She would turn the TV on and watch the same episode of “King of Queens” for ten hours straight while they were at work. They wondered what would happen if they deleted it from the DVR but didn’t want to face that at all.

The alarm kept going off too; Linda had to hand out awkward smiles and apologies when it happened at work or in public. One time she had to apologize to a middle aged woman when it went off in the cereal aisle while shopping and her son started singing the lyrics to the original version as loud as his voice would allow. The mother gasped at all the words her kid knew and knocked a shelf of maple syrup over. The bottles burst all over the floor, Linda tried to help clean it up but she was shooed away by a guy with a mop bucket and a face that said he wanted her dead as shit.

They asked her multiple times what they could do to get her to move along, to which she would always write “sno-cone” on her notebook with no explanation.

Linda woke up sick on a Tuesday and didn’t go to work, she came into the bathroom and seen a note written in lipstick on the mirror that read “Baby, all my life I will be driving home to you.” She blushed, Melissa had left her a really sweet note on the mirror. When Melissa got home she surprised her with a bout of some of the best sex they had ever had, despite Linda being sick she felt overcome with love for her partner.

“Wow. What did I do to deserve that?” Asked Melissa after.

“The note.”

“Oh yes. The note, got you good with that one. So, if it was so good mind telling me what it said?”

“You know what it said!”

“Of course I do.”

She didn’t know what it said. She had no clue, but she wasn’t going to raise a stink about what just happened. No way, no how. She got up and went to use the restroom, as she sat on the toilet she looked up and saw the words on the mirror.

“LINDA!” She yelled. “I DIDNT LEAVE THAT! THATS THE GODDAMN LYRICS FROM THE THEME SONG FOR ‘THE KING OF QUEENS!’”

Linda didn’t know what to say; she shook her head and internally accepted defeat on this one. The couple didn’t talk about it again, the ends justified the means on this one they silently agreed; thanks Amanda.

The trio had carried on life like this for months, seven to be exact, when they heard a bang and a crash from the front door. Assuming this was yet again Amanda doing some goofy nonsense they ran downstairs to clean up the mess only to find a man standing their pointing a shotgun at them.

“You’re the dykes who got me locked up, aintcha?” Said a freshly broke out of prison Brent. “You know, usually I’m cool with like loving whoever and like rights and like equality and shit but tonight is not your night. Go sit.”

They were tied together on the couch while Brent sat channel flipping on the TV.

“Amanda is still here,” spoke Linda “she’s a ghost, at some point she’s going to help us and you’ll probably get hurt. She’s probably posting pictures on Instagram right now so she’s a little busy, but I promise when she finds out she’ll come running.”

“No she won’t.”

“Ok? So you think her post is going to get a ton of likes then?”

“She’s afraid of me.”

“Ugh are you generic ‘I beat my girlfriend’ guy number seventy or not?”

“Not.”

“Then why is she afraid of you?”

“I’m bigger than her…… I guess?”

“She’s a ghost.”

“I’m still bigger.”

“How can you be bigger than an incorporeal being with no mass or weight?”

“See, she doesn’t way anything.”

“You didn’t think any of this through did you?”

“Not one bit.”

“It shows. Why did you kill her?”

“Hey I’ve never been what you’d call a planner. I killed her because she broke up with me for the fiftieth time that year and all my friends were giving me a hard time about how I would just crawl back to her. I said ‘can’t crawl back to her if I kill her!’ They all thought it was funny so I did it.”

“Ah………Makes perfect sense to me.”

“A guy has to watch his reputation, right?”

They sat there watching late night infomercials in silence for another half hour. Linda nudged Melissa as she seen a phone floating around taking pictures of a floating can of soup.

Of all the ghosts in the world, why was theirs like this?

“Brent, there’s some stuff on the DVR” Linda told him.

“Good I hate infomercials. Oh yuck, ‘The King of Queens.’ I hate that show, Amanda loved it. That fat fucking heifer guy gets to make it with that babe every night. Fucking loser ass UPS guy”

They could see the phone slowly lower and start hovering towards Brent. They let him rant.

“And that Deacon guy, what a fucking idiot, he leaves his wife at one point which is silly because she’s so fucking hot.”

The can of soup hovered behind him.

“That guy that dates the ugly chick from the bowling alley, now I can’t tolerate him at all.”

The soup can shook with rage.

“He ends up living with the other guy right? Like what the fuck? Are they like a thing or not a thing? I didn’t pay enough attention. I did pretend to though to get some action every now and again, show fucking sucks though. Here I’ll do you guys a favor.”

As he deleted the episode from the DVR the can came slamming down into his head.

Again.

They heard a voice yell “MY BONES ARE GETTING WEARY! MY BACK IS GETTING TIGHT!” As the can of cream of chicken turned Brent’s head into cream of Brent’s brains.

After the violence stopped the notebook hovered in front of them and said “Sorry, I was on TikTok, I’ll clean this up tho.”

Much like the first night that’s exactly what happened. They were untied and they watched as the mess was cleaned up. Brent’s body floated over to the ground and the can of soup was laid on the table. The phone floated over to Melissa who dialed 911.

After the legal mess was cleaned up they decided that having Amanda around maybe was not such a bad idea. No one could really kill them, it was like having a built in security system. They did eventually add a third line to their cell plan and let her set up social media for herself as a reclusive twenty something who couldn’t leave the house due to a skin condition.

Her pages were ok, they didn’t get much interaction or followers but Amanda was happy. Sometimes people would say they wanted to hang out with her because they lived close, Amanda just said her skin condition was contagious AF. No one ever thought to say “Hey, what exactly IS your medical condition?” People could be so polite sometimes.

Christmas morning as they all opened gifts Linda and Melissa cried as Amanda opened the complete series collection of “The King of Queens.” The three sat on the couch together that evening and watched all of season one.

Baby all my life I will be driving home to you.

The next day they heard a familiar song. Together they both smiled and thought that yes, there was a ghost in this house.

#horror comedy #horror novels #free short story #horror books

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redditnosleep · 6 years

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The Terrifying Note Addressed To My Six-year-old Son

by Creeping_dread

This story has a free audiobook available!

Carr picked up on the third ring.

Me: It’s Jay! Not Ray!

Carr: Wait, slow down…

Me: (I took a deep breath) Carrie looked at the church membership bulletin from 07. She recognized Jayson Fisher as the guy from ten years go...when she….

Carr: Okay….

Me: And he’s a tee ball ref. Umpire. Whatever you call them. He goes by Jay. And no one can reach him, not for the last several days. I think he’s got Andrew. We have to hurry…

Carr: Does your wife have an address?

Me: Address?

Carr: The bulletin. It should list an address. He may not still live there, but it’s as good a start as any.

Me: Okay, I’ll call you back.

I hung up and dialed Carrie’s cell phone. After five or six rings, her voicemail picked up. I hung up and texted her. Need Jay’s address. Check the bulletin!

I hopped off the couch and grabbed my keys in a mad rush to get to my truck. I climbed inside and waited, hand tapping on the steering wheel. I started to text Ryan to see if he knew Jay’s address, or could get it, when Carrie’s text dropped down at the top of the screen.

15 franklin dr

I texted her back: Thank you. Is Kyle okay?

Nursery at church. Fine.

I called Detective Carr as I whipped my truck out of the garage. When he picked up, I was almost shouting.

Me: 15 Franklin Dr. That’s his address.

Carr: Okay, got it. I’ve already radioed it in and I’m heading that way. Dean, are you on the road? (I turned down the radio, which was blasting some shitty pop song I’d heard a million times.) Look, you know this guy is extremely dangerous. (I heard his siren start its piercing wail). You and Carrie need to stay where you are and…

I hung up and tossed my phone onto the passenger seat. I knew he was right, but there was no way I was sitting this one out. Carrie and I had gotten Andrew into this mess and I had a sinking feeling he’d need at least one of us to get him out.

I called Carrie twice more on the way. This is Carrie! Leave a message. The second time, I did. Carrie, where are you? Are you okay? Please call me back.

Franklin Drive was only about ten minutes from our house, per my GPS, but I made it in about eight. The streets were always empty on Sunday mornings and I hit almost every green light. If Carr was anywhere near the police station, that meant he’d be several minutes behind me.

As soon as I turned onto Franklin drive, I felt like I’d been punched in the gut. Carrie’s white SUV was parked in front of a small brick house about three quarters of the way down the street. I recognized it immediately by the purple sticker on the back window. It was from Kyle’s school. In that moment, for some weird reason, the only thing I could think was: at least I told her I loved her. And that’s a brutal thing to have to think about someone you love.

I pulled in behind her and jumped out of the truck. I thought I could hear sirens blaring in the distance, but I couldn’t wait. Carrie was inside somewhere.

I made my way toward the front door, which was closed, but then I heard some shouting coming from the back of the house, and I saw the gate on the side of the house was wide open. I ran around the side and barreled into the backyard.

Jay was standing in the center of the yard, but he didn’t quite look how I expected. He was tall— over six feet—and had a baseball cap pulled down low over his eyes. The beginning of a wispy beard was showing on his jaw and neck and the hint of a belly protruded through the bottom of his one-size-too-small t-shirt. He stood as if his legs could barely hold him up anymore, like a prize fighter after a losing bout.

Andrew stood next to him, atop a box which sat on a tall kitchen stool. Duct tape was wrapped around both his eyes and mouth. He was standing perfectly still, hands at his sides, as Jay screamed at Carrie to stay back.

There was a noose around Andrew’s neck, tied to the branch of a sycamore tree which hung many feet above his head.

Carrie was standing in front of me and to the left, still in her dress from church. It billowed in the breeze around her thin frame.

When Jay saw me, he narrowed his eyes.

Jay: I wondered when you’d show up, Deano! Such a rude one, you are! Didn’t your mother tell you that wasn’t nice?

Carrie glanced back at me, but kept her body turned toward the threat in front of her. She mouthed I’m sorrybefore swinging her head back around.

Me: Just let him go, Jay! (I held my empty hands up). I’m sorry for being rude. No one needs to get hurt.

Jay: No one needs to get hurt? It’s too late for that, bucko.

Carrie: What do you want?

Jay: You, Carrie. It was always YOU!

Carrie: Why the note to the paper, then? Surely there was a better way to have me. Instead, you ruined me. And you outted yourself.

Jay: Because you lied to me! And I didn’t want you to lie anymore. If I’d come looking for you, you never would have had to tell Dean about our little affair. So, I pushed you. And then you had a choice! Tell Dean about your little secret, so he could put the pieces together, or keep it from him and let little Andrew die. Since you’re here, I guess it means you came clean. And what a wonderful little moment that must have been! Now everyone will know, and no one will want you, not even your husband! (He turned away from her). How's that wonderful marriage now? Do you like my sloppy seconds?

Me: Okay, you won, Jay. You won. What do you want to hurt Andrew for?

Jay: I don’t want to hurt Andrew! (He rubbed a shaking hand through his hair.) All this time. I’ve been good allthis time! When you’re good you’re supposed to get a treat! (He looked back at Carrie). You TOLD me you didn’t want to have kids. You said that! And then I heard them call Kyle’s name at his tee ball game, and I saw you in the stands, and I just…

He swayed a bit, and when his hip bumped the stool it almost went toppling over. Andrew reached out his arms, balancing himself, and the stool righted. But not before something fell from the back of the box—behind Andrew’s feet—onto the ground. Jay leaned down and picked it up. It was a large kitchen knife.

Me: You just what, Jay?

I needed him to keep talking. I’d heard the sirens for a moment, but they’d stopped. The police were outside.

Jay: Carrie was supposed to be MINE. And so was Kyle.

Carrie: How can we fix it, Jay? (She took a step forward).

Me: Carrie….

Carrie: Jay, how can we fix it?

Jay: We can trade.

Carrie: Okay, fine. Trade what?

Jay: Your life, Carrie.

I took a step forward, but stopped when Jay pressed the knife against Andrew’s side and shook his head. Then, he pointed the knife at Carrie.

Jay: Your life for Andrew’s. That’s the deal. That’s what all of this has come to! If I can’t have you, no one can. It’s the only way. And if you refuse…. (He brought the knife back and pressed it against Andrew’s side, harder this time). You’ll have to live with….

Carr: Drop the knife! Now!

Carr was standing in the gate, his service weapon drawn. Jay wobbled to his left and hid himself behind Andrew, putting his foot on the first rung of the stool like he was going to kick it over. Andrew was standing pretty high off the ground and I realized that if he fell, he’d probably break his neck before he had time to suffocate.

Carr: Touch him and you die, Jay! Listen to me! Put the weapon down!

There were two other officers beside him now, both with their weapons drawn.

Carrie: No, wait!

Jay paused, ignoring everyone but Carrie. His foot was still on the rung.

Carrie: It’s my fault, Jay. I know that. (She took another step).

Me: Carrie, what are you doing?

Carr: Both of you, stay where you are!

Jay: (A hint of a smile had crept onto his face). Do we have a deal?

Carrie: I can’t ever take it back. But I can make up for it.

Me: Carrie! It’s not your fault! I know he drugged you!

Jay: DO WE?

Carrie: I love you, Dean.

Me: Carrie!

Jay: DO WE HAVE A DEAL?

When Carrie said deal and charged at Jay, the entire world seemed to screech to a halt. It felt like she was running in slow motion, her tight blonde ponytail floating behind her as if gravity had no dominion over it.

I ran then, too, but I was several steps behind her. And I was too late.

Carrie— barely 120 pounds—who believed she’d made a terrible mistake and was now going to right it, and Jay Fisher—the 200+ pound tee ball ref—who had killed before and thought he owned the life of the one who’d gotten away, collided with a force that I swear was more than the sum of its parts. Ten years of shame and guilt and vengeance exploded underneath that sycamore tree, and as their bodies twisted and fell to the ground, a wayward arm knocked Andrew from his stool.

In that moment, which is now frozen in my mind, I had a choice: grab Andrew before he fell, or dive onto the pile and save Carrie. I don’t remember making a conscious decision. All I know is the next moment I was holding Andrew, the rope tightened around his neck just enough to make him cough, but not to cut off his airway, as I screamed for Carr to help Carrie.

Then I heard two shots, one right after the other.

When I looked down, I saw blood. So much blood. I wondered if Carr had missed and hit Carrie. But when Jay rolled onto his back, I could see both bullet holes. One in his chest and one in his stomach. So why was there blood on Carrie?

Once I freed Andrew, I knelt down beside Detective Carr. He was applying pressure to a wound in Carrie’s abdomen, where a red stain was spreading.

When I heard her cry, it was the greatest sound I’d ever heard. She was alive.

Yesterday, my entire world almost ended. Today, things seem a little brighter, but we still have a ways to go.

I’m sitting in Carrie’s hospital room with my laptop, watching her sleep. The knife pierced her large intestine but missed all other major organs. So far, there are no signs of infection, and the doctors believe with rest and time, she’ll make a full recovery.

I’ve replayed that moment right before Andrew fell in my brain a hundred times. Maybe a thousand. My heart tells me if I’d chosen Carrie, maybe she wouldn’t have gotten stabbed. My brain tells me Andrew would have died if I had. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to reconcile that choice, but one thing’s for certain: now I know how Carrie felt all those years.

It's a tough to look deeply within yourself, admit your sins (or mistakes) and seek redemption for them. I think that's exactly what Carrie did yesterday beneath that sycamore tree. She made up for the past. And I'm proud of her.

Andrew was returned to his father’s care completely unharmed. From what I’ve heard through Ryan, Andrew’s dad doesn’t believe any trauma—sexual or otherwise—occurred. This should mean that Andrew will be just fine, too. And that’s going to make Carrie very happy when she wakes up. Once their tee ball season gets started again—oh yes, the dads are already trying to get it going—I need to remember to sit down with his dad and explain what Jay’s note about Andrew meant. I hope he’ll understand.

Detective Carr visited the hospital earlier this morning. Jay Fisher is dead, of course, and the prevailing sentiment in the community is shock and disbelief. Apparently, Jay hid is true nature pretty well. He did use to be trim and clean cut, but word was he’d let himself go over the last couple years. Oh, and he never was an accountant. He’d applied to be an accountant, at the only tax firm here in town, but got rejected. He didn’t turn out to be a mall Santa or Easter Bunny either—so Carr got that part wrong—but they did find wigs and face paint in his home at 15 Franklin. He definitely had a thing for being a clown. And they found some other strange stuff, too. Other poems, just like the ones written to us, except about other people. Some written on paper, some in the white space of magazine pages, and some even on the walls. Carr’s checking into the ones that contain first names and other identifying information, but I doubt I’ll be privy to what he finds out. If I do, I’ll let you know.

We talked about 3 Orange Circle, too. Turns out there WAS a body buried down there, in a shallow grave about two feet deep.

Only problem was, it wasn’t Suzanne Kerrington.

Carr chuckled after he broke the news and he saw my face, but I knew it wasn’t mirth behind his smile. It was bewilderment. In a town like ours, you rarely come across monsters like this. For some reason, they gravitate to more highly populated areas, I guess so they can blend in with the crowd.

I asked him how they knew it wasn’t her. Turns out, Susie had fractured her left arm pretty badly cheerleading in junior high. Her Dad—who Carr said he’d called, although he hated to, asking for any features he could use to identify her— thought it was her ulna. I didn’t need those records, though, Carr told me. When someone gets a bad fracture, it leaves a mark when it heals. Like a scar on the bone. Whoever was buried down there in the basement had never broken either arm.

I asked him whether he thought Jay was the one who killed the woman (it WAS a women, Carr said, you could tell by the shape of the pelvis) and whether he thought he'd ever find out what happened to poor Susie, and Carr said We'll try to identify the bones, but we'll probably never hear the whole truth, now that Jay's dead. And maybe that’s for the best.

Who knows how many people Jay Fisher terrorized. Or how many he killed? There will be an investigation, and people will wonder, how did we miss this monster? Living right under our noses. And maybe there will even be some answers, despite what Carr thinks, but I think most of them are buried in the dirt with Jay.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart for all your help and advice. Carrie, Kyle, and I WILL have scars from this. Not on the bone, like Susie, but deeper. And after Carrie wakes up and gets back to her normal self, I’ll think we’ll all be able to go on, despite them. +

#creepy #horror story #kidnapping #stalker #series #author: Creeping_dread #terrifying notes series

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captainderyn · 7 years

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Raise Hell

In apology for the pile of angst in the last prompt...fluff? I wanted to play around with Rielay in her ‘natural habitat’. So here’s some humor mixed with some fluff.

(This or this is what comes to mind when Rie sings, if anyone needs some good ol’ sound ref)

Title: Raise Hell

Summary: A date on Nar Shaddaa turns into a bit of a reunion and Rielay indulges in a part of her past that she’s never brought up.

Esrin belongs to @delavairesslegacy

Nar Shaddaa was an ocean of memories for Rielay, worst, best and all inbetween. She had acquired a bounty on her head here, had her ship vandalised, but bought her first apartment all here. And she was back again, sitting at a table of a restaurant that was probably a cantina by any other planet’s standards, unarmored with only a vibroknife in her boot, sitting across from a soldier. Not even for the first time, this had been going on for a month or two at this point.

Well, he was a soldier by profession, Esrin by name. Soldier boy to her. By now, meeting without a conflict forcing their interactions,she hoped they had moved beyond being a soldier and smuggler only.

Near daily, at the very least weekly holo calls where business was not the subject and money was not changing hands were not something a soldier and smuggler did. Planning to meet out of uniform, unarmed was not something law enforcers and law breakers did either. But Rielay had been breaking the law, technically speaking in their first meeting, and Esrin hadn’t done a very good job of enforcing her breaking of the law. Instead, he had enabled her to go through with it and given her a free pass to continue. It was something she was still trying to figure out.

Figuring it out wasn’t her priority right now, not when she was smiling and laughing more easily than she had in a long time, the drink in her hand having not an ounce to do with it. Esrin was animatedly retelling an event that had happened in his last bout of training and she found she wouldn’t have cared if it had been the dullest thing to ever grace her ears because his enthusiasm was enough to have her grinning like a lovestruck teenager. She didn’t think she’d ever been a lovestruck teenager, but she imagined counting down the days until this meeting and being perfectly happy to just listen to Esrin talk qualified well enough.

It was a few hours later, when they’re conversation had started to drift into a comfortable silence as they enjoyed the last of their drinks that someone approached her.

“Do my eyes deceive me or is that little miss Taqq?”

Rielay looked over her shoulder, jaw dropping before she grinned from ear to ear as she recognized the old trandoshan looked at her from over the bar. “Vi!” She greeted enthusiastically, waving him over, already pushing her chair back to stand. “I’d be her, same ol’ Rielay Taqq.”

She had gravitated to this bar on purpose, she had frequented her when she was younger but she hadn’t expected anyone she knew to still be here. Not in Nar Shaddaa where the crowds tended to run on borrowed time. Her included. The trandoshan greeted her with a hand clapping down on her shoulder, nearly knocking her over. “Look at you, all grown up and still around to tell the tale. I think a few credits will be passing hands.”

Rielay laughed, tilting her head back to look up at him. “Who would’ve guessed, twenty-nine and still going strong. I’m hoping to break my personal record and get another year on.”

Vi’s laughter was deep and rough and he shook his head at her. “I remember when you were still a tiny little thing, singing here to scrape up a few credits.” His eyes took on a mischievous glint. “Still think you got a song or two left in you? For old times sake?”

“I still am a tiny little thing.” Rielay tapped her fingers on the edge of the table in thought, casting a glance over at Esrin. He looked mildly confused but most intrigued. Her careers between captaining the Resolution and the Promise wasn’t something that had come up yet and she was willing to bet that this wouldn’t have been the first thing that came to mind. He gave her a smile and she shrugged and looked back over at Vi. “I’ve always got a song for you old man.”

As Rielay and the trandoshan walked between the tables towards a small stage set up with the live band--she was surprised that it was still the same people from her time here, and she offered them a cheery wave,--other regulars started popping up as the recognized her and began calling out greetings.

“Here to serenade us, \Cap’?” She recognized the voice, an old, grizzles smuggler whose name she couldn’t recall. But she sure as hell remembered her nickname for him.

“You bet, Fuzzy! Betcha thought getting my ship would be the last of me.”

“Didn’t quite work out that way, huh Cap?” The smuggler called back with no small amount of teasing. “You’ve become quite a living legend here.”

Rielay laughed hard at this, feeling heat creep into her cheeks. She hoped it was her galant rebound that was being circulated, and not the circumstances of her run in with the Hutt Chixi’s bad side. “I’m nothing if not good at causing trouble.”

There was a chorus of “I’ll drink to that!” before Vi was nudging her away from the stage and towards the bar with a wink.

“Might as well have your old stage, aye?”

Rielay took his offered hand and stepped up into the bar stool before clambering onto her bar, giggling as she took in the view. She was able to catch Esrin’s eye and his smile widened at her own grin, which she didn’t think had left her face this whole night. “Sure feels funny being back up here.”

Chatter died down as the regulars sat back and looked at her expectantly while newcomers trailed off, eying the small redhead on standing on the bar with curiosity.

“What’ll it be leth?” It still amazed her that after all these years the twi’lek band member still remembered the nickname that had been given to her.

Rielay planted a hand on her hip, considering. “Well,” She smirked. “How about the very song that landed me my job here, yeah?”

It was like putting on an old glove when the music started playing and it only took a few seconds for Rielay to get into it, swaying along to the beat and singing just as she did when she was alone in her ship, if more on key. By the time the last chord of the song faded her regulars had been clapping along with even a few singing along with her. Her flushed at the raucous applause that followed, rolling her eyes at the enthusiastic and joking shouts added in for good measure. It was with no small amount of pride that put a bounce in her step when she hopped off the bar,

“You sure I can’t convince you to stick around, Taqq?” Vi asked wistfully. “We’ve missed having you around.”

“Nah, Vi. I’ve got laws to break, things to smuggle. There’s too much trouble to cause to back down just yet.” Rielay was only half joking, about her reasons for not staying yes, but all things considered she would almost consider staying and falling into that routine again. No, it wasn’t quite her time to yield the stars to other spacers yet.

“I didn’t know you sang in a bar as a job.” Not too long later Rielay and Esrin were walking down the street back towards the spaceport, his arm around her shoulders. “You told me you got drunk once and that’s when you were singing on a bar.”

Rielay crinkled her nose at the memory of how she had landed her job. “I did. That’s how I got the job. I was all of twenty and had just sold the Resolution and needed some extra credits to live on until I found the right ship.”

Esrin looked down at her with a surprised laugh. “You never fail to surprise me, you know that?”

Rielay nudged his side with her shoulder. “That’s my job. Someone’s gotta keep you on your toes.”

It was back at her ship that Rielay’s joyful high dulled ever so slightly, standing halfway up the ramp of her ship so she could drape her arms around Esrin’s shoulders comfortably. She had just pulled away from a lingering good-bye kiss when she tilted her head to the side with a sigh. “I wish you’d stay. I have a ship. There’s no reason for you to catch a shuttle back to Coruscant.”

“I would stay, but you’re headed out to Tatooine and that’s a little far to be flying out of your way.” Esrin kissed her again before stepping away. “I’ll see you in a few weeks though.” His look was playful but underneath the surface she saw the same worry she did whenever she went out on jobs alone. “Come back in one piece, please.”

She leaned on the strut of the ramp, offering her messy salute. “Sure thing, soldier boy.” With huff and pout she leaned her cheek against the cool metal as he left the hangar. “It’s only a few weeks.”

#my writing #swtor #swtor smuggler #oc: Taqq #other peoples ocs: Esrin #otp: Mischief Managed #See? I can write happy stuff too #these dorks I swear

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melliesy · 5 years

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Descriptive Essay

A Day Tour in Bohol

Bohol is one of the most famous and geographically distinct islands in the Philippines. With its pristine, clear blue bodies of water, white sand beaches, and unparalleled uplands, Bohol is never a miss as one of the most visited tourist destinations in the Visayas region. It was a cold, solemnly striking, the usual melodramatic midnight, when we left our house for our trip to Bohol. It was for the company outing of my mother. Our mode of transportation was a huge, fast ferry boat which has an estimated cruising speed of about 50 kilometers per hour. It is said to be one of the most convenient and cheapest way to go to Bohol. And as we arrived and explore the beauty of the island, I learned that Bohol is more than just its renowned Chocolate Hills.

Our first stop when we arrived in Bohol was, of course, the ever world popular, Chocolate Hills. The hills really looked like they were chocolates piled up, surrounded with green grasses and had a really bizarre landscape. According to the driver of the van we rode to go there, the Chocolate Hills consist of approximately 1260 hills. He also added that during the dry season the green grass turns to brown, thus the name. As I observed the astonishing view of the hills from above, some of the hills are green and grassy while some are really brown in color like chocolates. I was kind of confused if those were still parts of the Chocolate Hills. The locals there said that it was the reason why the exact number of hills is still uncertain. The hills were not that huge compared to the usual hills we see. They were almost uniform in shape and what made it more amusing is that no trees or any slumps grow on them. My cousins and I took a lot of pictures with wacky, fierce, model-like poses with the Chocolate Hills as the background. Our second stop was the Bamboo Hanging Bridge in Sevilla, Bohol. The bridge was just constructed with bamboo and steel cables. Some people say the first part might be daunting, But in my case, walking on the hanging bridge was entirely daunting. My feet were trembling, my hands were shaking and sweating, and the deafening silence of nature was for sure interfered by my scream of wild panic. And as I continued to walk, I held tightly on both sides of the bridge. But my uncle was really silly and began to wiggle, and jump multiple times to shake the bridge back and forth and tease me. I want to cry really hard at that time. Although it had steel cables to give more safety and stability, I still experienced some parts that swayed up and down and side to side to. It also bounced as if the bridge will fall down to the water. I also heard some creaking-like sounds as I made steps towards the other side of the bridge. Some parts of the bridge seemed to be broken and had lost some of its woven bamboo slats but it was still sturdy enough to carry a lot of locals and tourist crossing at the same time. At the end of the bridge we were welcomed by various snacks such as local delicacies like calamay and some chips. There were also a lot of souvenir shops selling ref magnets, wallets, ballpens, t-shirts and many more. The stores were just right next to each other and they sell almost the same products so it was really hard to choose. In the end, my mother bought three ref magnets, keychains and ballpens that were designed with the famous tarsiers of Bohol, tightly holding on a tree.

After the nerve-wrecking hanging bridge, our itinerary did not miss the tarsiers in Bohol. When we went inside the place, we had to walk in a little one-way trail surrounded with tall trees and plants which also had a lot of insects around. At first, we did not see the tarsiers but at the near-end of the trail we saw them hiding in tall, thick trees, their long-hind legs clinging vertically to trees and leaping great distances between trees. They have big, round eyes and they were really small in size which makes it difficult to find them behind the trees. The tourist guide asked us to turn off the flash on our cameras in taking pictures because they may be disturbed since they are nocturnals. They had thin, rough furs which were colored gray to dark brown. Since insects are ideal food for tarsiers, they are fond of climbing tall trees for it attracts insects such as grasshoppers. Before we left the place for lunch, I bought a hand-made, violet, dreamcatcher, as an addition to my collections of it. As we were traveling to Loboc Floating restaurant to eat lunch, we passed by the man-made Mahogany Forest which was located in the middle of the road. We went off our van and took a lot of pictures with the big trees. The man-made forest stood out because the uniformity of the height of the trees as well as the pleasing spread of their roots and branches made the road aesthetically capturing. The trunks grow resplendently straight up which seemed to reach the sky and the rays of the sun passing through made the place look heavenly and picturesque.

Our last stop for that day was the Loboc Floating Restaurant. There were so many people-- foreigners, locals, tourists, waiting for their turn to eat in the Loay Bridge where the Loboc River Cruise starts. Our group waited for almost two hours long under the heat of the sun and all of us were really hungry after the tours we had that morning. Luckily, after waiting for a long time, we finally went inside the boat filled with aromatic, mouth watering dishes, mostly Filipino cuisines. Everyone had a wholesome and, finally, a decent meal after the exhausting trip. It is not only the food that made me enjoy the floating restaurant. The boat also had a singer that serenaded the passengers singing relaxing songs that made me feel at ease. It made a few stops along the way. We stopped at locals dancing cultural dances and there were also few, tiny, mini-falls which gave calming sounds of water and nature. The river is one of the clearest and cleanest rivers I’ve seen in my entire life. The cruise lasted for almost an hour and the whole experience of it was really satisfying which made me sleepy.

We ended our day, staying in a resort which had clear blue sea and pristine white sand that gave one of the best views of sunsets nature can offer.

#bohol #philippines #tarsier #essay #descriptive #photography

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