#i am trembling i have to do this i can't afford it though i want to make lip gloss it'll be so much fun AAAAAUUGHHH
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That adhd moment when you suddenly get hyperfixated on wanting to do a project and the impulse to do it is so strong that you're fighting every fiber of your being not to buy all the supplies and do it for 15 minutes then get bored and now you have a bunch of supplies that might never get put to use again
(had to stop taking the meds a few days ago because very bad stomach issues and I can't afford them, so all I have is anti anxiety meds and caffeine. Other than that I'm going back into life raw pfffff-)
#tippy rambles#it's lip gloss i want to make my own lip gloss I need to make my own lip gloss i have a bunch of ideas for my own lip gloss#i am trembling i have to do this i can't afford it though i want to make lip gloss it'll be so much fun AAAAAUUGHHH#tw meds mention#meds mention#adhd feels#(it sucks because those meds actually helped me a little bit- but i was kind of dying? they weren't stimulants but they still worked a bit)#(they also helped me sleep way better too- I'm glad i at least tried them- but for now I'm just gonna hold off on anymore med stuff-#-other than the ones i already use)
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Kai has you sale bullets.
Warnings: violence, blood, AFAB reader
1.3k words
The sound of the car hummed. A few heads turned to glance at the all-blacked-out car. A dark tint that was surely past legal.
You watched the buildings pass as the driver turned down an alleyway. You and Kai sat in the back, a briefcase between you both.
"You understand the plan?" Kai asked gold eyes sliding over to you.
You nodded, as the car came to a stop.
"Good tell me," He urged.
"You want me to sell the prototype bullets to these guys, make sure it's the correct amount of money, then come back," you answered, fidgeting in your seat re-adjusting your much too tightly fitting dress.
"Emphasis on the sell, make sure they understand the true potential of what we're offering them. These bunch aren't too savory, so you'll need to be stern," he added.
"If that's true, should I be going in alone?" You asked, feeling the unease kick in. It was your first official sale and you wanted to believe Kai wouldn't put you in a potentially dangerous situation, yet your hands still shake.
"If I hear any unnecessary ruckus I'll come in," he spoke attempting to soothe your nerves. "Besides, it makes a better statement if it's only you. Shows our buyers we pose no threat to them, and we are confident in our product." He concluded.
You nodded and took a deep breath. Uneasily grabbing the suitcase.
"I'll be right here," he reassured you once more.
You gave him a faint smile before leaving the comfort of the car. The alleyway door was cold and grimy. It didn't look like the base for some dangerous villains, but you figured that was the point.
The door opened to a long dark hallway with a dim light at the end. You strode down the hallway attempting to have your strides sound as confident as possible, the sound of your heels echoing loudly.
Following the dim light, the hallway opened up to a plain room. It became clear this wasn't the real base for this group. Just a safe meeting point they had decided upon. Information you noted to inform Kai about later.
The room had one large table that five men were sitting around, one dressed in a vest lazily on top of the table feet dangling as his eyes widened at the sight of you.
The man who sat at the head of the table let out an amused laugh, "I didn't know the Yakuza had any women working for them," he commented. You recognized this man to be the leader of this group.
"Damn you aren't bad looking either," The man in the vest said jumping off the table to move closer to you.
"As flattered as I am let's get down to business," you redirected the conversation.
"Alright then, exactly how much is this product?" The leader asked you.
"As my boss probably already explained, these bullets eliminate quirks. To date there hasn't been anything else that's-," You began your sales pitch before getting cut off.
"Save me the speech, just tell me the price sweetheart," the leader pressured.
"First time it's 5 million Yen a bullet," you spoke, opening the suitcase to display the bullets inside.
"Wow, no wonder he sent beautiful women to give that news." the leader mused.
"For that price do you come with them?" The man wearing the vest asked stalking closer to you.
You attempted to keep your stance firm, but you couldn't help the way your legs trembled. It was painfully obvious to you that you were outnumbered in this room. It wouldn't be unimaginable that the men would gang up on you.
Kai wouldn't let that happen though, right?
"If you can't afford our product, what makes you think you can afford me?" You hissed back at the man drawing closer to you.
The man's face flashed with anger as he reached out to grab your face in his hands, fingers pressed firmly into your cheeks he directed you to look him in the eyes, "Do you talk back to Overhaul like that?"
"Careful," his leader called out to him. "Overhaul has a distaste for germs, he's not going to like you touching his things."
"Thing about germs hu? No wonder you look so scared. Not used to being touched, are you?" The man taunted further squeezing your cheeks tighter. "That's a pity that he doesn't enjoy you to your fullest potential."
Reaching your limit, you struck the man across the face with the back of your hand. The man stumbled back hitting against the wall. Your slap and the man thudding against the wall echoed down the hallway.
Loud enough for Kai to hear in the quiet alleyway, you thought. Yet the man was looking up at you with venom in his eyes now and Kai wasn't coming. Your blood ran cold.
Were you just another disposable pawn to Kai?
"Fucking bitch doesn't he teach you how to behave," the man barked, heavy hand coming up to slam your head against the table.
The commotion was now undoubtedly audible from the alleyway, but no intervention from Kai came.
Head pressed against the table the man continued to spew insults at you. Making a quick decision you grabbed one of the bullets from the suitcase and jammed it into his hand. Enough pressure that the quirk-eliminating effect was activated.
"The hell!?" The man exclaimed, stepping backward and freeing you from his grasp. Pulling the bullet out of his hand he began to panic. "My quirk won't activate!" he yelled and looked at his leader.
His leader simply shrugged, "I told you not to touch Overhaul's things. We'll take five of those sweetheart," he said sliding another suitcase across the table to you. "And make sure to extend my apologies to Overhaul for your head." The leader said noting the blood that now dripped down your forehead.
You opened the suitcase ensuring the correct amount was inside before leaving five bullets on the table, and scoffed, "No need to apologize, my head is exceptional." Giving a wink you turned to stride back down the hallway.
Hand gripped so tight on the suitcase your knuckles were white. Just hold it together for a few more moments, you told yourself.
Entering back into the car, a flood of emotions rushed over you.
Kai took one glance at the blood dripping down your forehead and scooted away, "You look filthy," he commented.
"I THOUGHT YOU WERE GOING TO COME FOR ME!" You yelled, the pent-up emotions flying out. The gravity of the situation you had just been put in crashed down on you.
"Stay on that side," he instructed, disgust on his face from your open wound.
But his comment was drowned out by your panic state, "I SCREAMED! DIDN'T YOU HEAR?!" You yelled at him. "I DON'T WANT TO DO THAT AGAIN KAI!" You cried, tears flowing down your face now.
"Quite down, and stay over there," he instructed once more.
"That man threatened me and what was I supposed to do- there were five of them!" you gulped.
Unmoved by your fear and the situation he had set you up to be in Kai removed the glove from his hand, swiftly pressing his hand over your mouth silencing you. You felt a pain that could only be described as every cell in your body being on fire.
"Do I need to remind you of your place?" he asked calmly.
Eyes widened, panic re-setting in, the reality of death set on your chest. You shook your head no, silent tears now running from your eyes trickled down Kai's hand.
You were just a pawn.
A pretty salesman.
In too deep to run away now.
sinners: @mintsbubbletea @lalachanya @unofficialmuilover @starieq @that-one-fangirl69
#overhaul x reader#overhaul x y/n#mha overhaul#overhaul mha#bnha overhaul#daddy overhaul#overhaul#mha kai chisaki#bnha kai chisaki#kai chisaki x reader#kai chisaki#mha chisaki#bnha chisaki#chisaki overhaul#overhaul x self insert#mha x y/n#mha x you#mha x reader#bnha x y/n#bnha x self insert#bnha x fem!reader#bnha x you#bnha x reader#slay writes
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A convo in the server about Bea's parents being mean and mother superion being possessive + Shannon, Mary, Lilith being protective
I can't plot or write for shit but eh, at least the idea is there ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
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Beatrice received a letter from her parents, informing her that they are on a diplomatic trip and will be paying a visit to the Cat's Cradle. The letter crumples when she clenches her hands, trembling at the thought of seeing them again after years.
She steadies herself, taking in slow, deep breaths. As long as she shows them that she's better now, they'll leave her alone. She doubts that they would cause a scene, considering that they are very concerned with appearances. But she's prepared for the possibility that it might happen, knowing their temper.
On the day of their arrival, Beatrice gives them a tour of the Cat's Cradle.
They expected Beatrice to be part of a convent, not some military. They scowled in disgust at the sight of the sisters training. When they returned to the main hall, which was thankfully empty - though unbeknownst to them, Shannon, Mary and Lilith were just out of sight, curious and concerned about leaving Beatrice alone with her parents.
"This place is not befitting of you. Risking your life fighting for what? We expected you to serve God as a nun, not a fighter. Pack your things, we're leaving." Beatrice's mother gestures at her to pack up, an eyebrow raising when Beatrice made no attempt to move.
"Mother, I will not leave this place. I am still serving God and fighting in his name is an honour." Beatrice could count the number of times she's talked back to her parents on one hand, because after the second time, she learned that she's not allowed to have her own opinions. But having to leave the OCS was something she couldn't bring herself to do. She's found a family here, people who accept her, who guide her with love. She doesn't want to give that up and return to hell with her parents.
A loud slap echoed in the hall, Beatrice's face turned to the side from the force. "How dare you talk back to me. I didn't raise you to talk back to your parents. You will gather your things and we're leaving this instant."
The moment she laid a hand on Beatrice, her sisters rushed out to stand between them. Lilith and Mary glared at them as Shannon checked on Beatrice, calming her when she realised that they had seen what happened. Shannon's heart breaks when she sees that Beatrice is holding back tears, eyes wide with fear.
"Sorry but Beatrice isn't going anywhere with you. You heard her loud and clear." Mary squared up to them but hoping that she doesn't have to punch them in front of Beatrice no matter how much she would love to.
"Beatrice is my daughter and she will listen to what I say. You can't keep her from me. I will bring this place down if I have to!" Beatrice's mother shouts at them fiercely.
Apparently the commotion had brought attention to Mother Superion, the sound of her cane echoing in the hall as she approached them made Beatrice shrink into herself, prepared to be punished for causing trouble. "What's all this about?"
"Mother Superion..! It's nothing of concern! I was just going to prepare to leave with my parents…" Beatrice immediately steps in to defuse the situation. She doesn't want her parents to cause more trouble for them. "I'm sorry, but I am needed with them."
"Like hell you are!" Mary turns to Beatrice with an incredulous expression.
"Language!" Mother Superion scolds Mary before taking in the situation in front of her. She sees how Beatrice's left cheek is red and swollen, how the girls are standing protectively between Beatrice and her parents.
"You must be the one with authority here. Please tell these girls to step aside and return my daughter." Beatrice's mother smiled politely.
"I'm sorry but I'm afraid I can't do that." Mother Superion's answer shocked everyone in the hall. "Sister Beatrice is needed here. She is a talented individual that we cannot afford to give up. And regarding your threat, I'm sure it won't look good for you if news got out that you would assault your daughter in a holy place. Beatrice isn't your daughter anymore, you've lost that right the moment you laid your hands on her. She's mine and she belongs with her sisters."
It would be funny to see Beatrice's mother turning red with anger at Mother Superion's words if it weren't for the fact that Beatrice was terrified of them and that they are on guard in case any of them lashes out. Luckily, they just shouted profanities and cursed them to hell before leaving the Cat's Cradle.
Mother Superion turned to Beatrice, reaching out to cup her uninjured cheek. "Are you alright?"
The soft and gentle way Mother Superion was being towards her, coupled with her words, sends Beatrice sobbing with relief as she moves to hug her. She simply rasps out thank you's between her sobs, grateful that no matter what happens, no matter how unsightly it is, she have a people to call family and a place to call home.
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Crimson hues
A/N: Re4 Leon is the hottest Leon. Change my mind.
Word count: 1,1k
WARNINGS: Barely proof read, fem!reader, 18+, frottage, breathplay
Minors this is NOT for you. Please click away from this filth!!!
"Phew that was a close call." A sigh of relief escaped (Y/N)'s labored lungs; right beside her Leon slammed the door shut, barricading both of them from the dangers of the horrific dogs that chased after them.
Once the effects of the adrenaline faded away, (Y/N) took a closer look at the room she and her partner found themselves in. It was a spacious bedroom, it's interior embodied a perfect balance of both minimalistic and extravagant auras. Gray toned wallpapers covered the walls in contrast to the vibrant blue rug, laying on the wooden flooring, scarlet curtains covered the tall windows, which revealed the view of the dangerous maze. Yet the highlight of the room was the abnormal in size red bed, placed opposite of the entrance. (Y/N) neared the bed with a puzzled look on her face, considering the fact that it must be one of Salazar's belongings.
"The gremlin definitely fancies big things." Leon commented in his usual sarcastic tone.
"As well as luxurious." (Y/N) added as she threw herself onto the bed, causing it to bounce
underneath her.
"I bet. Let's get going, we can't afford to lose any second."
"Oh come on! Don't ruin the moment." He gave her a stern look, but behind the serious expression he fought the urge to chuckle at her pleading gaze.
"Okay, I'll give you a minute while I look around for something useful."
"No stay here. You could use a break, plus I don't want you to break anymore vases. We've ruined enough pottery as it is." For a moment her mind lingered on all of the fine china she and Leon have absolutely demolished during their time in the castle, but what still confused her is the amount of ammo they found in them- as much as it was much appreciated it was also hilarious
"As you wish, your Highness." The agent jokingly rolled his eyes, before lying beside (Y/N). Rolling on her side, she gazed at Leon, admiring his flawless features- his sharp jawline, his rosy full lips, his golden strands of hair, that fell upon his ocean blue eyes. He was a sight for sore eyes and (Y/N) couldn't look away from him.
"What's bothering that pretty head of yours?" He teased; his playful gaze immediately connected with hers.
'A lot of things' She wanted to say, yet she didn't dare to share, because of the said things concerned their relationship. For all of the time (Y/N) had spent with him he had never stopped flirting with her, but was he genuinely attracted to her or was it part of his personality- that's what she wanted to find out and now seemed like the perfect opportunity to do so.
"It's nothing you should be concerned about, dear." She reflected his teasing: her index finger rested atop his mouth, shushing him, whilst she sat on his lap.
"What if I am?" Leon was quick to pin her down to the plush mattress, with his hand holding either of her wrists above her head.
"Then you won't be able to get anything out of me." (Y/N) replied confidently, despite being fully aware that what followed was completely up to him.
"Is that a challenge?"
"Maybe."
Leon huffed in attempt to cover up a smile that threatened to give away his excitement, though (Y/N) didn't have the chance to notice, for he was quick to bury his face in the crook of her neck. A whimper of surprise escaped past her lips at the sudden kiss he planted atop her sensitive skin. The agent smirked against her neck, content with how responsive she was to even the slightest of touches. Experimentally he grazed his teeth along her collarbone before sucking on her skin. Shivers ran down her spine, whilst her legs trembled in anticipation.
"You still won't speak?"
"Not even a word."
The agent sighed in disappointment, but his expression soon changed as an idea struck his mind. His fingers curled around her knee before pulling her leg so her clothed pussy was flush against his hardening cock. With his other hand he toyed with her breast, kneading it and pinching her nipples. Beneath him, (Y/N) moaned helplessly; with each second she felt how her panties soaked up her arousal, caused by the pressure of Leon's dick on her drenched pussy.
Driven by some animalistic urge he didn't know he possessed, Leon rolled his hips against hers all the while his hand wrapped around her throat. In response (Y/N) moaned his name at the sweet friction combined with his steady- yet gentle- hold on her neck.
"As much as I enjoy your pretty sounds it'll be better to keep them down, yeah?" He whispered in her ear all the while he tightened his grip. (Y/N) nodded obediently, knowing damn well he was right. For all she knew anyone of Salazar's nasty friends could cut their fun time short.
"Good." His voice grounded her back into the present moment. Letting out a deep breath, she relished the moment; how his digits were carefully wrapped around her neck while dick slowly rubbed her clit through the fabric of her clothes and how he occasionally groaned due to his own anticipation. It all truly felt like a dream she didn't want to wake up from, a dream that seemed too good to be true- yet it was.
Her hips jolted, her back arched as she felt the buildup pleasure threatening wash over her senses; Leon felt it too, for the muscles of his legs tensed to their limits, whilst his cock twitched from arousal. Determined to make her finish, he picked up his pace until gradually his humping grew faster and ruthless.
"Leon I-" (Y/N) trembled underneath him, unable to hold back a high pitched moan, indicating she was reaching her high.
"That's it's, sweetheart. Cum for me." Leon lightly bit her earlobe, before trailing his tongue around her jawline- and that's all it took to send her over the edge. Silenced by his plump lips, (Y/N) groaned in ecstasy as the desired orgasm washed over her senses. Leon let go of her throat, but he kept going until he too came.
In sync the two of them panted heavily as they slowly recovered their normal breathing.
"You never told me what you were thinking about." He reminded, his icy gaze searched hers.
"Maybe you'll find out. Once we find Ashley and get out of this place." (Y/N) sighed at the thought of their mission, which she forgot for a few blissful moments.
"Does that mean we'll get dinner when this is all over?"
"We could arrange that."
#resident evil fanfiction#resident evil x reader#leon kennedy#leon scott kennedy x reader#leon kennedy x reader
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A little otome-like adventure for @ayato-kisser in the frame of @favonius-library gift exchange event ;3.
Sakura petals danced around you, cheering along with your team to the success of the last book. Your watercolors and pencils skillfully peppered the pages, and you preened under Lady Yae's proud gaze, who waved you all off, to rest and have fun.
O-hanami in full swing whirled in Hanamizaka, and you were quite eager to finally have a taste of the festival. Where do you want to go first?
1) Check the food stall 🍡.
"Isn't it the person of the hour!" your childhood friend's, Heizou's, voice greeted you among fried shrimps, candied melons, and dango of all colors. "Enjoying your freedom from the spotlight?" he chuckled.
He nodded toward the improvised scene, where the writer kept bowing and thanking the seemingly endless stream of fans.
"You could certainly say so!" you laughed, joyous. "And you aren't on a case either. Rare!"
"Oh, could I not afford a tiny bit of rest?" Heizou raised his hand to his forehead, picking up on your dramatics. "You wound me, merciless, merciless companion..."
You exchanged glances and burst into laughter, so needed after tense days of work.
"Seriously, though," he continued a few minutes later, after you picked up a small arrangement of treats, "I just have a lead that I wanted some help about," you noticed how the strain returned to his smile, "and I heard he should be nearby. But that doesn't mean," Heizou nudged you before you could comment anything, "that I can't divulge some time to you! Bet I'm still better at catching fair's fish?"
What would you do?
2) Take Heizou up on his challenge 🎯.
"Bet I'm still better at hoops?" you quipped right back.
Giggling and lightly pushing each other, you made your way to the game corner...
Where, of course, a dart game caught your eye. It had no reason to be so colorful!
And require good aim as much as hoops did.
"What do you want me to win?" you winked at Heizou, confident in your abilities.
"Hm..." he tapped his chin, smirking. Two could play this game. "A plushie of your choice," his gaze laughed, as between the pair of you you were the one to favor those, "and I have something in mind for later".
"Later, you say?" you narrowed your eyes at him. "I better give my all, then!"
Now determined, you focused your efforts on striking as many balloons as you physically could, not noticing how Heizou's gaze wandered around the fair, searching.
But you did feel his arms snaking around you just as the shout of triumph left your throat.
"Nice job," he whispered in your shoulder. You felt how he forced trembles down, and the smile didn't reach his voice. A soft deer plushie the stall owner pushed at you awkwardly hang on your forearm. "Mind if I step away for a bit? I think I saw..."
And he needed a breath, you understood.
"Feel free to do whatever, 'kay?" he reluctantly let you go, his smile in place but not fooling you one bit. Yet, you knew that he'll be alright.
What are you going to do?
4) Keep Heizou company 🌊.
You whirled around and caught his hand, intertwining your fingers together.
Seeing him mope made your own uncertain sadness, held at bay by the fair's liveliness, rise, and who wanted that?
Not you, that's who.
His evident surprise warmed your heart, and you winked:
"Did you think your favorite companion would leave you?"
You tugged him to the shadow beyond colorful tents, hoping that your blush will become less noticeable there.
Repetition of the ocean waves soothed both of your fraying nerves, and Heizou leaned into you, laying his head on your shoulder once more.
"Eh, I am a mood downer today, am I not?" he mirthlessly chuckled.
You pinched his forearm, threateningly raising a hard-won plushie in a smacking gesture:
"Nu-uh, mister I-will-unearth-decade-long-mysteries, you are not getting such titles from me. Everyone needs a break once in a while. Besides," you lightly pushed him with your hip, "the moon over the sea is the most delightful".
A spark returned to his eyes:
"You are the most delightful".
"Flattery won't get you anywhere," you bit back, nonetheless confident you are as red as a tomato by now. And Heizou, no doubt, saw that clearly.
"Won't it?" he teased, grinning.
"Brat," you muttered with a flustered smile, returning your gaze to the waves.
Heizou let you, squeezing your side closer to himself, whispers of water the only sound between you now...
After some time, Heizou tapped your nose:
"Hey, sleepyhead, didn't you want to find trinkets for the folks back home?"
Mindreader, you thought to yourself.
What do you want to do?
4) Relish in nature 🌊.
"E-e-eh, they'll survive," you whined, "stars are far more attractive right now".
Heizou chortled:
"You would regret that decision tomorrow, dummy. Wait here, then".
And was it the atmosphere of the holiday or your sweet pouty look, but Heizou leaned into you to leave a small, but unmistakable kiss on your lips - only to disappear in the people's sea a mere second later, your dazed gaze following his steps.
You didn't notice how a tall figure in resplendent white froze on the edge of the crowd and quietly retreated back.
Left alone, you turned your eyes to the sky, winking at you through twinkling stars' dots.
Would've you thought even a year back that a brat you smacked with naku weed stems would grow into someone you would love?
Oh, love, such a fickle thing.
...didn't Lady Yae comment on how inspired you lately were? And you could swear it was always the places that reminded you of him.
You mushed your face in the plushie.
However embarrassed, you could not wait for tomorrow, and the day after that, and the whole life before you.
"Didn't make you wait for long, did I?" his breathy chuckle tickled your ear.
You both, together.
[Achievement unlocked: In intuition’s sphere]
...Kazuha caught up to the two of you once you were leaving the fair, and you cheerfully waved at him with your intertwined hands, getting a raised brow and amused chuckle in response.
...rumors said, Yashiro Commissioner became even more elusive lately...
...winds of the faraway lands ruffled your hair, passing, unbothered.
As for you two, Heizou and you continued as you always were...
If now a bit more entangled.
"Five more minutes," you muttered into his shoulder, burrowing deeper into the blankets.
"I should charge you for derailing the investigation," he teased, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.
A little plushie deer proudly sat at your nightstand.
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10 books to know me
thanks for the tag @fruity-individual < 33
i feel like this might be difficult bc i don't even know myself how am i supposed to tell y'all how to know me. nonetheless, here is a list lmao (also, i will be including poetry collections as books)
When I Grow Up I Want to Be a List of Further Possibilities by Chen Chen
queer child of abusive immigrant parents starter kit
A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara
i won't get into why or how this book would get you to know me. i just relate to jude a little bit bc he has very similar thought processes to me, okay shh don't worry about it...
Johannes Cabal the Necromancer by Jonathan L. Howard
to get to know my sense of humor
The Secret History by Donna Tartt
encapsulates the exact sort of genre i am obsessed with. i like books where you can't trust the narrator, you can't trust anything that you're being told. everything's morally ambiguous, just like the world we navigate. people are insular and obsessed with the idea of exuding a certain aura. you become obsessed with it too. there's a sort of a morbid curiosity regarding the life they live, and how that very morbid curiosity and pursuit of experience was what led to the characters' downfall. i like how richard papen paints himself to be an observer when he facilitates everything, a mistake i think real people can fall into, as well as the manner by which he was always self-sabotaging himself for the sake of maintaining a facade... i'm babbling. i love this book
The Trouble with Being Born by Emil Cioran
for those who want to see what sort of existential crises my mental illnesses afflict me with one the daily. like:
"Who am I? which is my real self: the self of the retort or that of the refraining?”
and “Everything exists; nothing exists. Either formula affords a like serenity. The man of anxiety, to his misfortune, remains between them, trembling and perplexed, forever at the mercy of a nuance, incapable of gaining a foothold in the security of being or in the absence of being.”
yeah...
Crush by Richard Siken
unfulfilled hopes, mourning, and blood-soaked imagery... very dramatic but that's what goes on in my head, except i lack what he has in experiences, for me it's just daydreaming and projection, mourning what i have never had whilst he's mourning what he's lost
Nausea by Jean Paul-Sartre
the paradoxical and existential nature of the main character's thoughts is strikingly similar to mine (yes this is concerning). the realization that we can become so hyperaware of our own existence that we do not even feel as though we're a part of it, we become so observant we dissociate from the world completely, we hope for peaceful moments whilst also realizing these moments may not exist at all, or maybe they can only be appreciated in retrospect. and all these thoughts do is push you farther away from this peace that you yearn for in the first place, and this realization hits you harshly with a wave of existential nausea you can't explain
The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde
to understand the way i run away from certain facets of life only to be ruined by it
The Stranger by Albert Camus
this was my favorite book when i was 17 and i feel like that in and of itself should tell you a lot
Vicious/Vengeful by V.E. Schwab
for understanding how i'm always giving away parts of myself for science... and also for this quote: “attachment was a vexing thing, as pernicious as weeds. he should have left before it ever took root… ‘be careful,’ she said. what a nuisance, victor told himself, even as he rested his hand on her head.”
ok uh that was long
anyway
no pressure tags!! (and sorry if you've already been tagged and i didn't see it haha): @cornishpixiez @arakhnee @otrtbs @dykegore @messrsage @pjxckson
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@ruinlost &&. said... ❛ we can be your family. ,you get two cool brothers-❜ farrow @ the modern verse !
❝ m'not crying. ❞ the boy insists — though his red eyes and trembling voice tell a different story. there's a newspaper clutched between both hands, text smudged slightly by droplets of moisture. even so, the name emblazoned across the front is DISGUSTINGLY familiar. a rising star. a prodigy on the stage. beneath the title is a photograph. the grayscale doesn't properly convey the extravagance of his outfit; it all blurs together, some indecipherable mass of patterns and tones. there are petals strewn about, gone blurry around the edges with movement, and in his hands he cradles a bouquet. it's a little funny; he's smiling. it's a little funny because he knows what kind of bitter thoughts swirl behind that CHEERFUL seeming expression. it's all fake. it's all a lie. he's just reflecting what he thinks everyone wants to see — maybe then, maybe if he's perfect, someone will actually start to CARE.
❝ i told her what day the performance was on. she knew it was important. she had to know. ❞ ren scrubs at his face with the back of his hand. a tremor runs through his frame anew as he mutters, ❝ why ... why does everything else always come before me? why is she always so busy? why am i never GOOD enough? ❞ he punctuates the question by crumpling the paper in his hand and throwing it — though its light weight doesn't afford it much distance. back pressing to the wall, ren then slides to the ground. he's glad they're the only ones who really frequent this corner of the rec center; he doesn't want anyone else to SEE HIM like this. ( pathetic. ugly. flawed. ) ❝ i just want her to remember i exist. ❞ he mutters, burying his face in his knees. ❝ and act like she's my mom ... ❞
but that's entirely the PROBLEM, isn't it? it's almost like she doesn't want to. he's old enough to recognize the way she looks at him — as if he's something PAINFUL to stare at. he doesn't understand. why was he even born if his own parent can't stand having him around?
we can be your family. ❝ ... ❞ and slowly, slowly ren looks up at farrow's response. there are tears streaming down his face anew. there's a pathetic sniffle, and another ill-fated effort to wipe them away. ❝ you can do that? ❞ he asks, genuine confusion filling his voice — as if it's a completely new concept. a slow blink. then, tilting his head, ❝ do you ... really want to? ❞ he doesn't even know what that would realistically entail — only that he wants nothing more than to say yes. ( hear yes in return. )
someone. anyone. please care about him. please care about him. please care about him.
ANGST SENTENCE STARTERS
#ruinlost#𝟎𝟏𝟕 : 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘣𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘱𝘰𝘯𝘳𝘺. ◟ v. modern .◝#( SLAPS YOU W/ ANGST )#( the start of the found family: modernverse edition )
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Oh boy howdy.....hi Thomaya nation this is my one (1) short story on them that I wrote eons ago and I still like it; really stuck with me how upset she was when Thoma got taken and also just uh, I really wanted Thoma to get a big hug after the nightmare of almost dying in public, so here.
I've decided to call this one "Shielded." I hope you enjoy.
"Thoma! THOMA!"
The blond raised his eyebrows in acknowledgement and then before he could react, Ayaka was barreling into him in an uncharacteristic display of raw, unbridled relief. "Oof," he grunted, hands raising up in surrender before they comfortably wrapped around her in an embrace. "Ah, hello my lady. I take it you missed me--" Ayaka's head whipped up so fast it nearly made HIM dizzy, and he was shocked to see tears streaming down her cheeks.
"Stop," she sobbed. "Please do not make light of this. You could've died," and his lips pressed into a somber line; the gravity of the situation beginning to set in. "I was so worried," she went on, words pouring from her lips like a river undammed. "When I heard about what was happening, I - there was nothing I could do, to save you, and knowing that, having my hands effectively tied, you, Thoma you mean so much to me and if I lost you I truly do not know what I'd do with myself."
Thoma, for once, did not know what to say. And yet he heard himself speaking anyway, somehow. "You would live without me. You could-"
"I CANNOT," Ayaka hollered, and he blinked in alarm as her arms wrapped ever tighter around his waist (her hands were shaky, he noticed). "I WILL NOT. A LIFE WITHOUT YOU IS A LIFE I DO NOT WANT."
"Ah, Ayaka, please... please don't cry," he pleaded, brushing away her tears with his thumbs, but new ones rushed to take their place.
"You've done so much, for the Shogun, for the people of Inazuma, for my family, for me. And yet, notwithstanding; she would make you a public example. As if you are nothing. Do you not understand, why I am so upset?! Our Archon cares not for us. I had hoped that...there was some semblance of love left in her heart, but I see now that I was a fool to think so."
"You're not--"
"I AM," she shouted, breathlessly, burying her face in his chest- perhaps the rhythm of his heartbeat was calming? He didn't know. "I don't know what to do anymore…."
"There is nothing to do but fight as we always have, Ayaka," he heard himself say. "Nothing will come of us giving up." His words are strong and sure and yet he feels anything but- he feels, like the ocean has clutched him in his deathly hold and carried him away, thrashing and flailing and helpless, helpless to the current.
I could've died. I was lucky.
"Thoma?" Ayaka called, but he did not answer, eyes hollow and yet filled to the brim with fear as he began to process what had almost just occurred.
Was it all in vain?
"Thoma!" Ayaka cupped his face with her hands, and he was jarred back to reality with a sharp breath. "Are you alright? You're trembling. . ." Ahh….that he was. He hadn't even realized it, but his hands were shaking like little leaves and he couldn't seem to get them to stop, so he gripped Ayaka's wrists for a sense of security. "I'm right here. I'm right here with you. I'm not going anywhere."
"I have to, though," he whispered. "The Shogun is out for me, too. I can't afford to stay here, not now." Ayaka's eyes are so broken he wants to cry, but he holds firm to his stance. "It's like you said before, Ayaka. You can't protect me, even though you want nothing more. If they find me, they may drag me back to Raiden again, and next time; I highly doubt I'll be as lucky as I was."
Silence, only broken by Ayaka's quiet weeping.
"I'll come back. I promise. This will only be temporary," and she swallowed hard, nodding, then hesitated.
"Thoma. Before you go -"
"My lady?" Her eyes looked to his, and then his mouth, and he blinked slowly before realizing what she was asking for, and nodded in return, afraid to speak.
The next thing he knew, her lips pressed to his, chaste and grieving, and he melted into her hold; the looming catastrophe that was the Decree momentarily forgotten. "Please be safe," she breathed when he pulled away, and Thoma brushed her bangs out of her eyes.
"I will. I promise."
She watched him go with her hands clasped to her breast, until he was but a dot on the horizon; and began to pray for his safe return. Already, things felt so empty. . . hopefully, this would all be over sooner; rather than later.
#thoma#ayaka kamisato#thomaya#thoma x ayaka#let thoma be vulnerable and scared im literally begging#my man almost got killed and watched the traveler get bodied how are you gonna look me in the eyes and tell me he's fine#i think not#these days i only think about thomaya every once in a blue moon#but when i do; i black out and wake up w tears in my eyes they make me so emo#anyway this was very self indulgent i again just really wanted them to hug & be vulnerable with each other#i must create the content i want to see#will I write anything else for them#who knows???#anyway uh feel free to leave critique if you want just don't yanno. be mean#thank u
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CREEL'S CLOCKS CHAPTER 5.
Summary: Halloween is a month-long affair, 001. We've been over this.
Warnings: Mentions of child abuse, mentions of animal cruelty, mild gore.
Eddie rests his chin atop the fence's wooden post. "Look at all those pumpkins, man."
001 looks at them. Pumpkins are strange round orange things that he's never seen before, and this field is further out than either of them have thought to go together. Behind the trailers and through the woods, rolling pastures and farmlands lay, a winding dirt road leading straight through the middle and, presumably, out of Hawkins. Sometimes, the boy thinks to slip out of whatever house he's hiding in for the night and follow that dizzy bend into the great unknown. He has no home, not really. He'd be leaving little behind.
"I am seeing them," he replies belatedly, voice flat while Eddie's trembles with tangible excitement. "You really want to take one?"
"We gotta." That's all Eddie says as he hoists himself up and over the tall wooden gate, a wide grin on his face as his sneakers hit the dirt on the other side. “C’mon. Now you.”
001 stares at him through a gap in the fence before his eyes flit to the side. There’s a moment of silence, and then the gate’s latch unfastens, opening with a slowly rising creak.
Eddie deadpans. “Showoff.”
Shoes are things that 001 is still adjusting to. The slip-ons at Hawkins Lab were more like socks, and the moment he’d touched ground that wasn’t pristine linoleum, he’d realised that they were about as thin as a sheet of paper. Much like his caretakers in that place, they’d shielded him from nothing. Conversely, Gareth’s old trainers that he’d dug out of his closet for him are thick and roomy, and the rubbery soles that protect his feet also threaten to trip him up as they traverse through the field. The uneven terrain annoys him
“Remind me why we are doing this,” 001 mutters, trying not to sound too rueful. It's only grass.
"Halloween."
"It is October 10th."
"Halloween is a month-long affair, my friend. We've been over this."
Eddie had spared him no detail when it came to coercing him into coming along to steal a pumpkin to serve as this year's jack-o-lantern. Just two hours ago, 001 hadn't even known there was a holiday this month; now he knows about scary movies and trick-or-treating and jack-o-lanterns — all things that Eddie has promised him hands-on experience with. He'd even said he felt he'd be 'good' at trick-or-treating, for he could use his powers to play tricks on people that were stingy with candy.
They walk into the main field, garish orange blinding their vision. Fall is a wonderful season, ripe with colour and temperatures that please 001 greatly, but this is a different kind of bright. A visual overstimulation that is most unpleasant.
"Why must you steal it?"
"We don't have the money," Eddie replies, his eyes scanning the field eagerly, intent on picking out the best one. "Or rather, we can afford a pumpkin, but I don't want Uncle Wayne to shell out to buy one that we're not gonna eat." He levels the other with a dubious look, eyebrow raised in silent challenge. "You care about stealing?"
"Not particularly. I have stolen a lot of food and water just to survive. But I thought it would be easier just to buy one from the store."
"Sure, it's easier. But it's more fun this way."
001 can't argue with that. He'd had little choice in the matter– before he found Eddie, he'd raided several convenience stores and supermarket aisles just to keep from starving, though he'd only taken things he recognised– but he'll concede that it tops standing in a queue and handing over what little pocket change Eddie has. As if they're not poor enough without capitalism draining the boy's pathetic four-dollar savings.
Their journey takes longer than 001 anticipated, and now they're in the centre of this field that seems to stretch on forever. In the distance, to his left, he notices a little house. It's a single story cottage-looking deal, with what looks to be a wooden fence surrounding the property.
"Somebody lives here?" He doesn't often get nervous, but the idea of crossing paths with another adult has apprehension curdling in his gut. More people to see him. More chances to identify him.
"Farmer Callahagn," Eddie replies with a nod. "I mean, somebody's gotta grow this shit, right? You thought it'd be empty?"
001's mouth presses into a thin line, gaze lingering on the house before Eddie's hand resting on his forearm realigns his focus. By now, he's learned not to flinch in the wake of his touchy nature. It's harmless. His skin still crawls, though.
"It'll be fine, dude. We'll be in and out, like an uncle at Thanksgiving."
001 makes a face. Given Eddie's uncouth nature, he can't make heads or tails of whether that was a very inappropriate joke or not. This only serves to amuse the other, a wicked grin on his face as he waltzes further into the pumpkin patch.
Eddie takes his time examining them, as if he's a connoisseur in all things fruit, before he spots one that makes him gasp and point. It's considerably larger than most they've seen, fat and ridged in a manner that's so aesthetically pleasing that even 001 feels slightly mystified. He never knew things that came from the soil could grow this large.
"Holy shit!" he exclaims through a laugh, his fingers curling in the back of 001's shirt. "This is it, man. This is the winner."
The boy watches resolutely as Eddie squares his feet, rocking back and forth on his heels before locking his hands around the desired pumpkin. With a strained sound, he tries to pick it up — and then quickly gives up.
“Damn, this thing’s heavy.”
“What did you expect? It’s huge. And you haven’t even freed it from its vine yet.”
001 squats, hands feeling along the pumpkin’s outer shell before he secures the vine in his fist. It’s thicker than he anticipated it being, vaguely rubbery in texture, and he doubts he can tear it with his strength alone. It's a job for shears — or a psychically gifted child. With a look of concentration, he stares at the thick green rope, envisioning it splitting, and it gives way with a sharp qwick!
“Try now.”
He backs up as Eddie takes centre stage once more. With planted feet and squared shoulders, he just about manages to lift it from the floor. Just about.
“You might have to help me with this one, man.” The strain in his voice is tangible, as is his smile.
001 sighs. “You’re quite foolish. You know that, yes?”
“Yeah.” Eddie beams as if a pretty girl has just called him cute. “Now let’s get outta here, before Old Macdonald shows up.”
“I thought his name was Callahagn?”
“Figure of speech.”
With 001 beside him to lessen the load, the comically large pumpkin becomes less of a burden. As they trudge slowly through the thick mud, they talk about what they can carve into it. 001 seems to think a typical face will do just fine, though naturally Eddie wants to go all out. A goat, he yells, impervious to his friend’s cringe. A goat DEMON!
The suggestion speaks to him in a way he doesn’t entirely like. He wonders if it’s because a handful of the orderlies at Hawkins Lab described him as such an entity. ‘Demon’ and ‘psycho’ had been their favourite descriptors — and after the things he’s done, he doesn’t know if he can say that they’re all that unfair.
[ “Let go, you little psycho!”
The taste of copper in his mouth, a chunk of worthless meat sitting heavily atop his tongue.
He spits it out before he can think to swallow it. It lands by Papa’s perfectly polished shoe. ]
001 shakes his head, and the memory dissipates like smoke.
“What do you think, One?”
“Huh?”
“About a—”
“HEY!”
Both boys halt, the harsh, unfamiliar voice prompting them to slowly turn around. On the porch of the little house stands an old man with a scraggly beard and a dishevelled head of greying hair. He’s clad in unfastened overalls and a stained white shirt, only one boot pulled on. A rifle is clutched tight in his right hand. A jolt of adrenaline passes through 001 at the sight of the weapon, brow furrowing as he looks hurriedly at Eddie.
He’s grinning like a maniac, arm reeling as he thrusts his middle finger up at the farmer.
“Finders keepers!” he hollers, tongue stuck out with an audible BLEH.
Some of that confidence wears off when the man descends his steps in a flurry of motion, gun aimed in their vague direction. It doesn’t occur to 001 that he’d never actually fire it at a couple of kids; he’s already turned tail, begun running, the pumpkin in Eddie’s arms becoming all the lighter as he hones his powers in order to make a quick getaway.
Why wouldn’t he shoot them? The fact that he’s a child has never mattered to anyone before.
A deafening crack sounds to their distant left, and though the bullet flies wide, nowhere close, all 001 can think about is how he feels as if he’s about to be shot. He may not feel much of a desire to live, but he doesn’t want to bleed out in a nobody’s mud, alone and in pain. It takes him back to how he’d breached the main door of the lab upon his escape— and how he’d barely had time to take a gulp of fresh, outdoor air before beginning his mad dash to the grounds’ main gate, bullets and darts tipped with god only knows what sedatives sailing over his head. That’s the fastest he’s ever run in his life, but he feels as if there’s time for that to change. He’s young, and he lives in a world that wants to eat him alive.
Impossibly, he runs faster, Eddie’s excited whooping adding to the ache blooming between his eyes. Blood drips from his nose, eyes deadset on the quickly approaching fence. Don’t lose focus, he tells himself sternly. If you lose focus, all will be lost. You’ll trip. You’ll drop the pumpkin. You’ll get a bullet in your spine. Uncle Wayne will lose a child.
“Get back here!”
“Shit!” Eddie exclaims, hands naturally scrabbling for purchase when the pumpkin suddenly flies out of his grip, launched up and over the fence by an invisible force. It lands with a dull thud several feet away, both boys scrambling up and over the gate before charging into the woods, prize in tow.
Surrounded by trees and pine needles, 001 finally feels the exhaustion take over. All at once, he staggers to a stop, then drops to his hands and knees, and the pumpkin in Eddie’s arms becomes too heavy to carry, bringing him to a halt too. Gulps of air are taken in greedily, crimson dripping steadily onto the dirt. He’s tired. His limbs ache. His chest is tight. Using his powers is one thing, but running for his life on top of that? There’s only so far adrenaline stretches before it becomes terror.
“Shit, dude—” Eddie’s hand settles on his back as he watches 001 pant through the heavy flow. He reaches into his back pocket, a black bandana decorated with skulls withdrawn before he begins to mop him up. The blood soaks through. “I didn’t know this’d screw you up this bad.”
“I am just tired—” He pauses to spit blood into the grass, the glob thick and red, and is wholly unsure how to explain himself. “I’m okay.”
How many times had he assured Papa of the same thing, even when he was completely exhausted?
The way Eddie rubs his back gently is soothing, even if it makes his skin prickle. As his heartbeat slows and his world comes back into focus, he finds the strength to stand up on his knees. He glances at his worried friend, then the comically large pumpkin. Then, he chuckles. It feels distinctly as if he’s cheated death, and the high that comes with doing so was simply late, not missing. Eddie’s eyebrows shoot upwards with evident surprise, though it doesn’t take long for him to join in. He has a stitch in his right side. The laughter isn’t helping.
“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised you can run like that, given your circumstances, but I am. I really am. You and your fuckin’— noodle limbs.” More laughter, breathless and silly. “You were like a rocket on steroids, man.”
“Rockets don’t have limbs,” 001 replies pointedly, head tipped back towards the sky, his breathing now level. The taste of metal lingers in the back of his throat. He’s not even going to ask what ‘steroids’ are. In this moment, he cares about nothing but the feeling of triumph.
“Whatever.” He reaches out to drag the pumpkin into his lap. He expected there to be some damage post-launch, but it doesn’t look any worse for wear. 001 must have used his wizardry to keep it from impacting the ground with too much force. “You were awesome. That guy must’ve been shitting his pants.”
001 glances at him, brow furrowed. He’s never really been praised for his abilities before. Despite them being coveted, he was reminded time and time again that they didn’t make him special, or above the rules. As if he misheard: “I was awesome…?”
Eddie grins wide, leaning back on his hands. “Truly metal, man.”
He pauses a moment, as if unsure what to make of the praise, before he mimics the gesture Eddie had performed in the field.
"What is this?" he asks, eyes drawing focus to his middle finger.
"You're telling me to fuck off, man."
Immediately, 001 stops doing it, fingers curled into a fist that he then holds protectively to his chest. Oops.
In the end, they're able to lug the pumpkin back to the Munson trailer. It currently sits on the table, just waiting to be gutted and carved into. However, before Eddie sinks his blade in, he wants a good idea of the design. That sees them at his desk in the bedroom, flipping through one of Eddie's sketchbooks together.
"You're good at art," 001 says, his stoic tone not lending itself well to the compliment.
"Thanks. I draw a lot for DnD." And during lessons. He'd often rather die than actually do any sort of maths. "I'm telling you, man, you should join in some time. I think you'd be good at it."
They've spoken briefly about DnD, given that it's such a big part of Eddie's life, but 001 doesn't know the first thing about it, and he's slightly intimidated by the sheer amount of rules. He tends to be good at guideline-heavy games— chess being a key example of this— but he's not sure if he can manage both the terms of service and high fantasy improv. He should probably learn the contents of the real world before attempting to commit a fictional one to memory.
"Maybe," he replies, his voice toneless, noncommittal. His finger points at one of the drawings that catches his eye. It's a cluster of bats flying in a downward arch. They're emerging from fork lightning. "I like that."
"Yeah?"
"Yes."
"I love bats," Eddie says with a grin. "They're so cool."
001 thinks about this for a moment. His relationship with animals in general is poor, given some of the things he'd been forced to do while being trained.
[ There is nothing to be nervous about, 001. Animals don't feel pain. Not like humans do. How can that be, Papa? They are not sentient in the same way that we are. They don't have the same capacity to hurt. ]
It had made so much sense to him when he was seven.
Hissing cats and skittering rats flash in his mind's eye, and it takes him screwing his eyes shut to have the images disperse. He doesn't want to think of all the poor creatures that he harmed under the guise of it being harmless. Psycho.
"I like spiders," he replies belatedly, voice slightly tighter than before. "I draw them a lot, too."
"You can draw?" Eddie is clearly intrigued by that. Every day, he learns something new about this strange boy. The more pieces of the puzzle that he's given, the more that he genuinely likes him. He can be odd at times, certainly, but hell— they're all freaks here. "Show me."
"Okay." Without much hesitation, 001 plucks a pencil from the desk and begins to draw a Black Widow spider in a free space on the page. He takes his time, each stroke methodical, until he’s left a fairly detailed depiction in the corner.
Eddie gawks at it for a moment before looking up at him with a grin. “Whoa! You’re good, too.”
He adds a single string, giving it the illusion that it’s hanging from the top of the page, and 001’s mouth twitches in the form of a slight smile.
Then, he's struck by an idea.
“Oh… what about…” Quickly, he draws a crude sketch of the spider he’d drawn before, then Eddie’s bats below them. The fork lightning crawls upwards until it connects with the spider web he’s drawn, successfully combining the two images together. “What about this, for the jack-o-lantern?”
Eddie stares at the image in silence for several seconds before slamming his hands on the desk.
“That’s the winner,” he declares with a bright grin. In truth, he probably shouldn’t be this excited to do it. It’s full of jagged edges and sharp corners, hell to navigate with a blunt kitchen knife, and yet all he can focus on is the fact that they did it together. “It’s gonna look awesome.”
“Metal,” 001 ‘corrects’, his plain tone oddly endearing — so much so that Eddie is left beaming.
“Yeah. Metal.”
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“"I kill people, you know."
We laughed quietly. But after a while, I stopped laughing. And he was still laughing.
"God, I hate that term ‘serial killer’, don't you? Something about it just makes me think of Flash Gordon or something. Old matinees."
"I never really thought about it," I said, checking to make sure I still had whiskey in my glass.
"Occupational hazard, I'm afraid," he sighed, leaning back in his chair. "You can't help but worry about the way you're represented. I'm thinking about suing someone."
"I imagine that'd be difficult." I had no doubt he was what he was telling me he was. This is my life, after all. But I couldn't help but be impressed with the way I was handling it. Small things bring joy, some days.
"Well, yeah," he said. "But, you know, when an actor or pop star has untruths published about them, they sue, and I kind of feel like I should have the same recourse. And justice for all, right?"
"But you kill people. Where's the justice there?"
"Oh, they had it coming. If people will dress like librarians and schoolgirls they should expect these things to happen. I don't see why they should be afforded extra protection for that kind of behavior. And in any case, two wrongs don't make a right. Slander is bad no matter who you're doing it to, surely?"
“Slander?"
"Let's get another drink," he said, pushing the service call button above his head. "You don't watch much TV, am I right?"
"Not really."
"I'll have a whiskey, and I believe so will my friend here. Doubles. Thank you. What was I saying? Yes. TV. Yet another documentary about me on TV the other week. One of these science channels. You'd expect intelligent coverage from a TV channel like that, wouldn't you? Of course you would. They got a good actor to do the voiceover narration, too. My age. Alan something. Used to be in that very black comedy show about the Korean War."
"Alan Alda?"
“Alan Alda! How he made me laugh in that show. And the women dressed well, too. Never enough blood, though. Which always made me a little sad. But I guess it was supposed to make you a litle sad, wasnt it? That rueful smile? Very clever show. He narrated the documentary about me. I'm not blaming him, obviously. He didn't write it. One day I will meet the mediocrity that Wrote that. I mean, do I look like the kind of man who has difficulty socializing?"
I had to be honest. "Actually, no."
“No. Of course not. I don't want to sound egotistical, but, really, do I look like someone who had problems meeting women? I've been married three times. And” - he leaned over the aisle and looked me right in the eye - "I only killed two of them."
"Huh."
“Yeah. How about that? They can stick that in their pipe and smoke it. So much for America's Terror: The Mad Virgin. I have four children. Had four children. Funny thing. I always thought it was a joke, about liking children but not being able to eat a whole one. But it's quite true."
I started stabbing my own call button.
"The Mad Virgin. My God. I could sue them, you know. Some of the others have been better, mind you. I collect them. Twelve documentaries about me. Three Hollywood movies using aspects of my work. I sometimes hoped to be played one day by Sean Connery. But you just know he'll use his own accent. I think that'd spoil it for me."
"I can imagine."
"You have a very understanding way about you. I appreciate that. Cheers.” He polished off a finger of whiskey. I tossed down about a hand's worth and resumed stabbing the service button.
"Yeah, thanks. Leave the bottle. My friend and I are very thirsty.”
"Good man," he said, holding out his glass. "So. You and your lovely companion. What business do you have in Sin City?"
"Trawling through America's sick underbelly in search of people who are holding a book the White House wants back."
"Now, that sounds interesting. What kinds of things have you seen? This is such a wonderful, rich country: When you look under the covers it holds to its trembling little chin in the night."
So I told him.
He considered, and then said, "Is that all?"
"That's not enough?"
"Young man, I have to tell you: if you think that constitutes a trawl of America's true cultural underground, you may have a nasty shock in your future. Let me ask you a question. Our meeting, here, tonight: do you consider this perhaps a waypoint in your perceived descent into the muck of modern life?"
"Sure. You kill people for wearing crap clothes, from what I can make out. The only reason why you're not trying to fuck my girlfriend in the gall bladder with a screwdriver as she sleeps is because you can see her boobs and she's wearing makeup.”
Yeah, I was pretty drunk. He took it pretty equably.
"Not as accurate a summation as you think, but, yes, I'll allow it. My point is that I'm not the underground. You think that drinking with a serial killer takes you into the midnight currents of the culture? I say bullshit. There's been twelve TV documentaries, three movies, and eight books about me. I'm more popular than any of these designed-by-pedophile pop moppets littering the music television and the gossip columns. I've killed more people than Paris Hilton has desemenated, I was famous before she was here and I'll be famous after she's gone. I am the mainstream. I am, in fact, the only true rock star of the modern age. Every newspaper in America never fails to report on my comeback tours, and I get excellent reviews."
"And what about… all the rest of it?"
"I think I've seen a lot of it on the Internet."
"I can't use the Internet. My ex sends me things. Photos.”
"Perhaps I should send you some photos sometime. Consider this, though. If I've seen it on the Internet, is it still underground? ‘Underground' always connoted something hidden, something difficult to see and find. Something underneath the surface of things, yes? But if it's on the Internet - and I do praise the Lord that I lived long enough to see such a wondrous thing - it cannot possibly be underground.”
"People show pictures of their asses on the innerweb.” (pages 130 - 132)
“"I am the chief of staff. You know how H.R. Haldeman described the job when he was chief of staff to Nixon? ‘I’m the president's son of a bitch.’”
"Fuck me, I think you said something honest just then. I feel faint.”
"These are hard times. I'm not going to be a child about the hard decisions. We're fighting what must be World War Six outside the country, and what is very probably Civil War Three within the country. You're going to help us bring that one to a conclusion. You'll save lives, I think. You'll certainly be saving a country and a way of life. Buck up, Michael. You're close to the end now. I can feel it in my bones. It'll all be over soon. And just in time, eh? You've got no money left, you're adrift in a state that should be hacked off the end of the continent like a tumor, and your girlfriend's upstairs fornicating with a lawyer. If that was my girl, well, I'd rather she were fucking a dog, wouldn't you? Or a donkey. I've seen those shows, down in Tijuana. Horrifying, really. Yet strangely hypnotic."
"Does it bother you at all that you make people's flesh crawl off their bones just by speaking out loud?"
"I run your country, son. It is only right and proper that the ordinary people should experience religious fear in my presence. I am the closest thing to God most folk will ever meet. And you, Michael: you are my personal Jesus. You are my intellectual child and the savior of that which I have created. I'm proud of you, boy. Its been a terrible journey for you, from your Manhattan Galilee to this, your California Calvary. But it's almost over now. I can feel it in my bone marrow."
"I think I'm going to be sick."
"Well, don't do it near me," he spat, scuttling backward. "These are new shoes. It's time for me to go. Go inside, now, Michael. Go and see your freak queen and her cockmonkey. Give 'em hell, boy. It's time to finish the job."”
#ellis#warren ellis#crooked little vein#transmetropolitan#siege#subterranean press#world war#civil war#paris hilton
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Puredistance I (Puredistance)
It has always existed, in a blinding variety of forms. It goes by many names, as if to confuse the seeker. It can be found everywhere, but only if you're looking.
If you travel to Polynesia, you will hear about mana, a spiritual quality found in people and objects of power. At Findhorn Garden in northern Scotland, they'll tell you about the tutelary deva that inhabits each flower and tree. The earthy and plainspoken Vikings knew it as vættur (wight) or álfr (elf)-- both personifications of a nameless, vital energy.
In ancient Rome, philosophers called it numen, ineffable presence; the Greeks called it a eudaimon and believed it responsible for conferring happiness on all mortal beings. In Japan, it is addressed as Ō-kami, honorable great being, and is reckoned mighty enough to shake the foundations of the earth.
Incarnated in this tiny sample vial, it is called Puredistance I.
For a perfume billed as one of the most exclusive on earth, it looks quite innocuous -- a glass tube full of rosy-amber liquid, enclosed in a clever white box which unfolds like a reliquary and snaps crisply closed as though it concealed a tiny, hidden rare-earth magnet. And it probably does. The full-bottle iteration of PI comes in packaging so deluxe that I probably couldn't afford it even if it came without the perfume. Sheathed in a protective block of Swarovski crystal as if to shield it from the world's contaminants, it is clearly meant to be perceived as a precious, even powerful substance, needful of careful containment. (If this were Pandora, the atomizer and cap would be made of pure unobtainium.)
Getting the sample vial open poses a challenge, as the plastic stopper appears to operate on a flexible ball-and-socket principle, ballooning slightly within the rim to create a hermetic seal. Obviously, if I want to gain access to the elixir inside, I'll be forced to work for it. My hands tremble during the procedure-- partly from effort, partly from terror. What if I should fumble and spill it? Would this be Joy all over again?
Finally the stopper slides through, and I hold the vial under my nose.
I suppose I've been conditioned to expect an aloof attitude from people and things of luxury-- a snobbish stance that questions my right to partake. But what wafts up to meet my nostrils was so friendly, so glad to greet me, I wonder if I'm imagining things. This isJoy all right; not Jean Patou's version, but the real thing. Who am I to argue?
I place my fingertip over the mouth of the vial, tip it, touch the perfume to the base of my throat, restopper the vial, and wait to see what will happen.
Over the next fifteen minutes, PI enters my aura and just-- proliferates. From a single point of contact on my throat, it seems to expand, multiply, fill my etheric body like helium. Sounds hippy-dippy? I agree. But I can't deny what it does for my energy. I have experienced the same effect when I've worn a particular quartz crystal next to my skin-- a thrum of electricity all through me, as if I've just plugged into a hidden power source. Although my morning began with various anxieties and tests of my patience, I now feel calm and grounded, all my tiny pinhole leaks repaired.
When you encounter it, you may be as incredulous as I am now. But there it is. So synchronized doI feel to Puredistance after half an hour that I forget I'm simply -- what do you call it? -- wearing a perfume.
Yet PI is a perfume. And what a perfume-- one of the loveliest I've had the pleasure to meet. Beginning with an awe-inspiring virtual sunrise composed of citrus-blossom notes, it wends its way slowly and meditatively through a garden of cream and butter-yellow flowers before coming to rest on a tender chord of musk. And the cassis? Irreproachable. PI contains blackcurrant the way a properly-mixed kir cleaves to the ratio of one-tenth crème de cassis to nine-tenths dry white wine. The result: crisp and sparkling, yet graceful and restrained. The implied presence of the round, ripe, glossy blackcurrant is far more effective than any crass surfeit of the fruit. (Got that, Thierry Mugler?)
Works of art perform many useful services for mankind, the greatest of which may be to liberate our emotions. Rare may be the perfume that accomplishes this feat; once encountered, it forces a shift in belief. I might have held PI at a skeptical distance if I had not experienced it for myself. Now, like one who has met the Buddha on the roadside, I understand why such great lengths have been traveled to present this fragrance to the world. It is precious. It is powerful. It goes beyond mere perfumery and enters the realm of the numen, the mana, the eudaimon.
I'll leave you with the one tiny word that changed a great man's fate forever. Is it any wonder he found it in an art gallery? Let him tell the story:
…I saw this ladder on a painting leading up to the ceiling where there was a spyglass hanging down. It’s what made me stay. I went up the ladder and I got the spyglass and there was tiny little writing there. You really have to stand on top of the ladder -- you feel like a fool, you could fall any minute -- and you look through and it just says "YES"…
Well, all the so-called avant-garde art at the time and everything that was supposedly interesting was all negative, this smash-the-piano-with-a-hammer, break-the-sculpture boring, negative crap. It was all anti-, anti-, anti-. Anti-art, anti-establishment. And just that “YES” made me stay in a gallery full of apples and nails instead of just walking out….
--John Lennon, describing his first encounter with the artist Yoko Ono, from a 1980 Playboy interview with journalist David Sheff
Scent Elements: Tangerine blossom, cassis, neroli bigarade, magnolia, rose wardia, jasmine, mimosa, amber, vetiver, white musk, and a mystery substance known as "parmenthia" about which I have been unable to find any information whatsoever, being that it never appears in anything but Puredistance ad copy and related reviews. Being an fan of Avatar, I like to think parmenthia only grows on Pandora, and is the "active ingredient" that fills this perfume with Eywa.)
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Sometimes waking up is difficult. You float in the limbo between being asleep and awake for a while, and you want to move and get up, but you can't.
Some days I wonder if that had been a sign to go back to sleep.
But I swim up through the murky waters holding me down, and eventually open my eyes. The headache that was once paralyzing immediately hits me, but I've grown used to it. I close my eyes again, pressing my lids shut strong as I can, and slowly reopen them, looking around.
There's not much to see in my room. Not much decor. Mattress on the floor, boxes waiting to be unpacked for a few months now. A stack of books serves as a bedside table, my glasses and my meds wait for me there, and the water bottle on the floor to help push them down. The headache begins to slowly subside.
I'm groggy from sleep, or maybe from waking up, who knows. The world's a little blurry, so I put my glasses on, and standing a few feet away from me, close to my bedroom door, is a man I've never seen before.
He was not there a second ago. I know this, because despite my faulty eyesight, I'm not blind. I'm also not deaf, I didn't hear any doors open or close. Or the windows. I should be panicking. The headache isn't fully gone yet, my body still adjusting to being awake. I wonder if I'll die today.
He looks around as well, finds a box to sit on. It's a cardboard box full of clothes and it scrunches up under his weight, bad choice on his part and he seems to agree, judging by the frown on his face.
I wonder how fast I can run to the window. If screaming for help would save me or kill me faster. I don't move.
"So this is it, huh?", he says, sitting awkwardly on the box of clothes.
I stare at him. How does one react to this situation? What does that even mean? Do we know each other? Did I do something to him? How did he get in my house? What is "it".
"Gonna be honest I didn't think this through very well. Thought it'd be easy.", he reaches behind his back, pulls out a gun. I don't have the power in me to be shocked. It was a given he'd have something. There's a strange pause while he looks at the gun and sighs in frustration. "Come in, take the shot, go back.", he laughs, but it's bitter, "Look at this room, it's a mess! You live like this? You?" the bitter laughter is back, something sad to it. "This is where it all began? You're just a kid, how am I supposed to shoot a kid?"
"You're not.", I hear myself say. My voice is weak, my mouth is dry, I'm still staring at the man with a gun in his hands, "Actually, you're not supposed to shoot people in general? You could just go, I won't tell anyone.", there's a desperation forming in my voice, "You don't need to kill me."
"I do."
He looks sad. I feel nothing. I think there might be tears in my eyes, but I'm not sure. I might be trembling, but I'm not sure. The headache hasn't gone away yet, it should've been gone by now.
"I guess at the very least, I could give you a reason. I'm from the future-"
I hear laughter fill the room and don't realize it's my own until my abs start to hurt. Something in my brain clicks, and I realize I must be having a nightmare. And suddenly it's not so scary. I push away my covers and sit up, cross legged, looking up at him.
"The future, huh? Do they have flying cars?"
"They hover close to the ground, but it's very new, most people can't afford it."
I laugh again. Now that the fear is gone, I see him. Salt and pepper hair, his beard only a stubble. Maybe forty? I can't recognize his face, and it makes me wonder if our dreams create new people or borrow faces from strangers we meet.
"You think I'm joking."
"No, I believe you. People can time travel in dreams, they can do whatever our brains want them to. Not sure why this is what I'm dreaming about, though."
He stands up from his makeshift seat and walks towards me. I'm startled, and it makes me laugh awkwardly. But he doesn't, hasn't since he arrived. He's either focused or sad. Have you ever felt pity for a dream person?
"You think this is a dream?", he's standing next to my mattress, hovering above me. It hurts my neck to look up at his face and nod, "So you won't believe whatever I tell you. It doesn't matter, I guess."
I'm smiling at him, waiting for his fun stories about the future, when I feel cold metal against my forehead. It's so fast, I'm still smiling when the cold sensation changes to a burn, something wet is soaking my hair, and I know it's not the tears in his eyes as his lips move to speak. I don't hear it.
I don't wake up.
Sometimes waking up is difficult. You float in the limbo between being asleep and awake for a while, and you want to move and get up, but you can't.
Something in me screams "go back to sleep".
But I swim up through the murky waters holding me down, and eventually open my eyes. The headache that was once paralyzing immediately hits me, but I've grown used to it. I close my eyes again,
pressing my lids shut as strong as I can, and slowly reopen them.
I reach for my glasses first, looking around the room. I'm alone. I don't know why that surprises me.
There's not a lot to see in my room. Not much decor. Mattress on the floor, boxes waiting to be unpacked for a few months now. A stack of books serves as a bedside table, my meds wait for me there, and the water bottle on the floor to help push them down. The headache begins to slowly subside.
There's no noise, of doors or windows or anything. He just appears on the same spot by my door as before. I don't know when before is, or who he was.
"That was too cruel. You were smiling at me, and... I don't get it. You're supposed to be a bad person, I shouldn't feel bad for doing the right thing."
"Does it form a new timeline when you travel again?", I ask. I don't know what my words mean.
He looks surprised. "You remember?"
Do I? Nothing makes sense, so I might be dreaming. No. No, I thought that before. Before when?
"I... Don't know.", is all I can offer him.
He lifts an eyebrow. "Weird. But to answer your question, it's my first time going back to the same spot. I don't know what happens, nobody does, so I was advised against it. But you deserve the truth, even if you don't believe me."
I push away my covers and sit up, cross legged, looking up at him.
He looks confused. "I'm not on the box yet, but you sat up."
I look around the cardboard boxes, confused. "I don't think they can handle your weight."
He smiles. That's new. The thought makes me pause. He's a stranger, of course I've never seen his smile. Yet, it surprises me.
"They don't", he sits on the floor. There's a silence as he looks seemingly at nothing. It doesn't last long as it's cut off by his own sigh, and he turns once again to face me "I'm from the future."
I nod. It doesn't make sense. Time travel isn't real. But I believe him.
He seems surprised by my response, but continues, "Not too far in the future, 30 or so years."
Another pause. I imagine he wants a reaction, so I nod again. Technology advances very fast, I guess they could create a time machine in 30 years.
He seems confused now. "I thought... Never mind. Well, in my time, some people have abilities. In your time you still call them superpowers, and believe it to be fiction.", he looks out the window, "The current me is too young, I don't remember the time before."
"Okay, wait, hang on.", I laugh a little. "You come from the future, I believe that. Not sure why, but I do. But now you're telling me people have superpowers?", I laugh through my words. "I don't mean to be rude, that's just a bit much."
"Well, I said I'd give you the truth, even if you don't believe it, didn't I? That's it. But that is starting now. And, as far as we know, you're the first one. That's why you get headaches. The medicine stops the pain, but it's holding you back."
I'm not laughing anymore when he says that. I feel cold and my chest is beating faster. He has a gun. I know this, I don't know why. I bite my tongue hard enough it bleeds, but I don't say anything.
"You're extremely powerful, it turns out. More than you ever knew, more than anyone ever expected. When you became the first real life superhero, the world was in awe. You were in awe, I imagine. Look where you live now.", he gestures around the room. "You get a lot richer. A lot. Some people think that's the problem, you know? Money corrupts people. But for some time crime was lower wherever you went. Who wants to fight a superhero?", he laughs for a bit and sighs again. "But then others showed up. Not everyone chose the hero route like you, but you fought them. You helped as much as you could."
"Do you think killing me will stop others from appearing?", I ask, unable to hold myself back anymore. I know why he's here, he knows I'll remember. The cold on my skin, the burn on my flesh.
He seems taken aback. "N-no. Whoever will turn, will turn. That's the way things are, if not you, someone else would've been first. And that doesn't matter. Your earlier years were great. I was a fan, myself.", another pause, he clears his throat, "There are others who use their abilities for good, you know? You made a team. Like in the movies and comics you watched. With people from all over the world, you led them. Some people think that's the problem. Power corrupts people."
The words are too similar. I wonder if he rehearsed this speech before trying again, or maybe it's something he hears a lot.
"So I turned evil? You're being a bit vague, there. You promised me the truth, right?"
He nods. Looks out the window and sighs again "Yeah. I did. Do you know right from wrong?"
"Of course I do?", I laugh at the absurdity of his question. He looks down.
"Maybe you do, now. Maybe you forgot. Maybe you got so lost in your morals that you forgot about real justice. And you have a strong following, you know. I remember once in an interview you said it's pointless to arrest supervillains if the prison system is barely good enough for normal criminals. They kept escaping you know? Hiring guards with ability was a whole other mess. If they didn't abuse their power, a fight would break out between them and someone else with powers, and those without it were caught in the crossfire. You weren't wrong, we didn't have the technology. Like I said, this will start soon. Not enough time passes for a solution to be found, and you take matters into your own hands. Do you believe in the death penalty?"
"No?", his question scares me. I don't like where this is going. "The government shouldn't have the power to decide who lives or dies."
"What about someone who's powerful, trusted, known to do good?"
"I killed people."
He nods.
"You can't arrest me, you don't have the technology. So you came to stop me before I got my powers."
He looks uncomfortable. "You didn't just kill people. You had others working for you, remember? They did it too. They trusted you, commited murder for you. Some people support you, still. There's this notion that crime went down. But what happened is the heroes are murderers now, which makes it okay? A lot of people are against you, for abusing power. There's protests. Your fans get violent at those."
"Thought you said you were my fan.", I try to joke.
"Was. Yeah. It's bad, now. It's a war we can't win, and you basically sit on a throne, above all. We can't stop you in my time. We can't wait for the technology."
"So the solution is to kill me while I'm still innocent? Isn't that worse?"
"It wasn't my idea."
"Then why send you?"
"I'm the only one who can time travel."
The silence goes on for a while, this time. I should've stayed asleep. I wonder if it would've been easier for him if I hadn't been awake when he arrived.
"What happens when you go back? That would change the timeline, right? What if someone worse takes over."
"That's a possibility."
"But you'd still kill a kid?"
"You're in your twenties."
"You called me a kid the first time."
"I did", he finally pulls the gun he had been hiding and looks at it sadly, as he always does.
"You lied.", I say, confidently. I remember now. "This isn't the second time"
I remember waking up, over and over. I remember being shot from a distance, no words exchanged. I remember trying to run, it never worked. I remember crying and begging and I remember closing my eyes and accepting my fate. I remember dying, over and over.
"I did.", he admits, "But it's true that I don't know what happens. I've never gone back."
"Why? Is killing me your new hobby?", I smile weakly at my own joke. It's not funny. I remember he cries every time.
I remember I eventually heard his final words one time.
"I can't. I don't know what will happen, if things might get worse. But what's scariest is the possibility that it works. I go back and the world is better. And I'm a murderer now, but nobody will be there to hear about the burden I carry, because nobody will remember you. And I'll have to live my life knowing I killed someone innocent. You're not her. You're not the woman I was sent to deal with. You're in your twenties, your life is just beginning. And I have to be the one to take that away. And if I go back, will two of me exist in this new world? Or will I be gone too, with you, and the remaining me will have no memory that this happened?"
He takes a deep breath, his voice is shaky, "You have a bright future ahead of you. And I have to take that away for a greater good. Something I didn't even volunteer to do. But nobody else can."
"That sounds unfair."
"It's for the greater good."
"It's selfish. They chose you without caring about your feelings. They want you to kill to stop me from killing. And it could not work, and you'd have to live with that. You're not a killer. You always apologize. And then you come back."
He watches me for a moment, regaining his composure. He pushes his gun away and runs his hands through his hair frustrated.
"You remember a lot. You never remembered before.", looking at the discarded gun, he says, "I can't do this."
"Then don't."
He hides his face in his hands, not looking up at me. The gun isn't that far away. I could end it all now.
But I don't.
"What's your theory?", I ask.
He looks up confused.
"Some people think it was money, others say power. What do you think corrupted me?"
"Pressure.", there's not much hesitation before he answers. It seems to be something he put a lot of thought into. I wonder if that was before or after his first visit. "Pressure can break people. Everyone expected too much of you from the start. You tried to live up to it and got lost. That was always what I wanted to believe. It's what I do believe, now that I met this you. But only one person knows for certain, and she's not very open about it."
"I think pressure makes sense."
There's another long pause. I see him glance at the gun every once in a while, but there's no desire in him to reach for it.
"I could do it for you."
He stops my hand before I can touch it.
"I'd just come back"
I smile. "Something else, then. Let me live. I'll find you when you're older, there's no reason to involve a kid in this, but you said you were a fan, right? I'll tell you everything, like you told me. I'll tell you about this, about how you're not a killer. And maybe you can help me not become one."
He thinks about it. Without saying a word, he grabs his gun.
And then he's gone.
Sometimes waking up is difficult. You float in the limbo between being asleep and awake for a while, and you want to move and get up, but you can't.
But I swim up through the murky waters holding me down, and eventually open my eyes. My bed is too comfortable to get up just yet. I look around the room, everything is perfectly clear. I haven't worn glasses in years. My walls are decorated with art and letters from my fans. The support gives me strength, and keeps me humble.
The door opens and a man comes in. Salt and pepper hair, stubble beard. Seems to be in his forties, about ten years younger than me.
It's funny to think he was once 20 years older.
"Thought you died in your sleep from old age. It's noon.", he jokes with a serious face and my heart warms.
I'm alive. I'm not a killer, so he never had to become one.
It worked.
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HIII ILY HAPPY 200 BABY!! <33
so, i listened to gehraiyaan and oh my god if you want to, pls write some hurt/comfort with spencer, maybe wife reader and him have an argument but they eventually make up and it's all happy in the end :) NO PRESSURE THO ILY!! <33
ILY! I wrote one inspired by gehraiyaan for Sam, I can certainly write one for Spencer 😤 HOPE YOU LIKE IT @lil-stark
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Gehraaiyan// Spencer Reid x Desi!Reader
Summary: Prison left Spencer Reid a changed man. Is he still the man you fell in love with?
Warnings: angsttttt, hurt/comfort
masterlist
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Prison changed Spencer. You'd think that all the things he'd been through in his life, he'd have lost his light a long time ago- but he hadn't. He held onto hope and searched for goodness in this hopeless world. But prison snuffed out the last flicker of light that shined through your husband's eyes.
He was still your Spencer though. You'd see the very Spencer parts of him peek through for a fraction of a second and it would be gone just as fast. He ate enough to get through the day, slept as long as his mind allowed him to, spoke just enough.
It was almost robotic.
But the part that was the most jarring was that he stopped saying 'I love you' back. He'd just smile with a sadness in his eyes, maybe kiss your forehead if he thought you looked hurt.
You promised 7 full lives together- this was just half of a promised whole.
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"You don't say you love me anymore."
Spencer sighs. You had hoped talking to him head on would get a bigger reaction out of him but all that escaped his mouth was a dejected sigh.
"Are you going to say something?"
"What do you want me to say?"
"Something! Spencer! You have been through more than any one person should and it breaks my heart everyday but right now you're the one shattering it! You don't even look me in the eyes anymore! I-"
"Well, I am sorry that I wake up everyday hoping there's some will left in me to make it through the day! I'm sorry that you're stuck with this broken shell of who I once was! I'm sorry that I can't say that I love you anymore because if I say it out loud, if I say how much you mean to me, how you're the one thing keeping me going, you're going to slip through my fingers and every last shred of life in me is going to be ripped away!" His eyes well up and he sniffles with a trembling jaw, "Because that is all that has happened to me- all that I love, I have lost and I can't afford to lose the one anchor I have left in this shitty life."
Spencer clenches his eyes shut, willing the tears to stop. They don't listen.
He feels two hand holding his face, the tremble in them breaking his heart- he knows it's you, yours is the only gentle touch he's familiar with.
"Spencer, look at me." You whisper.
"I can't."
"Baby, let me see those eyes I love so much."
He opens his eyes and meets yours. Your eyes almost mirror each other. There's so much to read in them- desperation, heartbreak, the desire to cocoon each other away from all the ugliness in the world.
"There you are," You brush an unruly curl away from his face. "Spencer Walter Reid, I am your wife, I promised to be by your side no matter what and I made that promise to myself way before I made that promise in front of God. You deserve so much more than the cards life has dealt you and everyday I feel this rage inside me when I look at your beautiful eyes and see all the shit you've been through. And that is exactly why I'm going to stick around. Because I want to salve every bad bruise you've felt with the love I have for you. I know I can't take away the pain but I can try to make it better. So I will be here, right next to you, no matter what the world throws our way. To hell with anything that stands between me and my husband. You hear me?"
Spencer looks at you with wonder, like he can't believe you dared to love him after all the evidence life has thrown his way suggesting otherwise.
"I hear you."
"Good." You move to place a kiss to his forehead.
"I love you."
You look at him, speechless. You throw your arms around his neck as Spencer tightens his around your waist, your face burrowing in the crook of his neck as your chest wracks with sobs. He keeps saying he loves you- it's like a chant, a prayer, a declaration of love and a plea for forgiveness all at once.
You knew your Spencer would come back to you. He did.
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A/n: God two fics in one day huh? This was a doozy, but a fun one. I hope you like it! Please reblog and comment if you do, keeps me going! Love y'all!!!
#spencer reid x desi!reader#spencer reid#post prison reid#post prison spencer#spencer reid x reader#x desi!reader#x fem!reader#criminal minds#matthew gray gubler
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OHMYGODDD JUST SAW YOUR LATEST POST I LOVE IT ANGST WITH A HAPPY ENDING IS JUST CHEF'S KISS. I WOULD LOVE TO SEE 42, 49 and 13 FOR NALU PLEASEEE CAN'T WAIT TO READ ITT
😳 Ya’ll really love angst huh? Lol okay, sure let’s see what I can come up with. 😊 “You can’t keep pretending it didn’t happen, cause guess what? It did!” + “I’m pregnant” + “Im too sober for this”
Lucy’s knees weakened and sent her crumbling to the bathroom floor. Why was this happening to her?! She’d just finished college and was about to start her paid internship with a local newspaper. ‘What am I gonna do?’ Lucy gripped to the stick in her hand as the tears trickled down her face. This could derail her future before it even started— all because of one slip-up. How was she going to tell Natsu… Not knowing who else to talk to, Lucy turned to her best friend Levy McGarden. She texted the woman and drove over to her friends apartment in dread.
“Oh, Lu…” Levy hugged her friend tightly before pulling her into the small apartment. She sat Lucy down on the couch, then made them both some tea. “How you feeling?” Levy asked as she handed the cup over.
“How do you think I’m feeling?!” Lucy groaned. “I feel like I’m in a nightmare.”
“Are you sure the results are correct? You know those home pregnancy tests can be wrong.”
“I don’t know, I mean I followed the instructions and it didn’t give an error sign.” Lucy pulled the stick from her pocket. “See?” She showed it to her friend. “Two lines.”
“Oh— yeah, looks like it,” Levy agreed.
Lucy pocketed the test once again and hung her head. Both hands cradled the warm cup, just holding it without a desire to drink from it. “Just thinking about this is making me sick. Maybe I can just pretend it’s not true.”
“Lu, that’s ridiculous. I’m pretty sure the growing bump on your stomach will make that difficult.”
“Ugh! I know!” Lucy shrieked. “Lie to me or something… Levy, I-I don’t think I can deal with this!”
“Well, you have to. And how am I supposed to lie about this?!”
“I don’t know, tell me this is a dream. Just a bad dream that I’m gonna wake up from. The test was wrong, something! Maybe it’s just a fiction story I’m working on cause I just don’t wanna think about it right now.”
“I’m sorry, but you can’t keep pretending it didn’t happen, cause guess what? It did! Lucy you have to face reality.”
“What am I gonna do Levy? I can’t be having a baby!”
“Well first things first, you need to tell Natsu— I’m assuming it’s Natsu.”
“Of course, it’s Natsu! I haven’t slept with anyone else.”
“Well you need to tell him. He deserves to know.”
“I know…”
“Natsu’s a stand up guy, I know he’s going to do the right thing.”
Lucy sighed, “that’s not what I worry about. I mean having kids is something that’s crossed my mind… just not anytime soon. We’re not even married yet. Ugh! I’m such an idiot.”
“Sometimes these things happen.” Levy placed her hand on her friend’s shoulder. “Can’t go back to the past, so now all you can do is figure out the now. Do you have any idea when it happened?”
“My guess is my graduation party, cause that was the last time we had sex. I barely even remember it cause I was so drunk,” Lucy whimpered, then started to sob. “We’re usually careful but… yeah, it had to be that.”
“Come here,” Levy pulled her friend into a hug. “You’re gonna be okay. Whatever happens, you’re gonna be okay.”
The women spent a couple more hours chatting, flipping between random topics, but often coming back to this one. Lucy struggled to even wrap her mind around the reality that this is real. That she was going to have a child, when she was barely an adult herself and all the factors involved only compounded her dilemma. Her new job isn’t going to afford a child. Natsu had a decent job, but even combined it would be a struggle. They’d have to find a place together, a two bedroom house or apartment. What about the medical expenses, and the baby supplies— babies are expensive! Where was the money going to come from?
When Lucy noticed the time and realized Natsu would be coming home from work within the hour, she thanked her friend for the support and bid her goodbye. Even though she had calmed down a little, she wasn’t ready, didn’t know what or how she was going to break the news to him. So, after arriving home, Lucy tried to distract herself by cooking dinner. It didn’t really work, but at least a meal was made. Her life until now had been going well in that she had a boyfriend who treated her right, supported her while she finished her degree, even pushed her to follow her dreams of writing. And now that her degree was finished, Lucy was on her way after landing the paid internship. If she passed the internship, they would offer her a permanent position at the newspaper.
But now all of that felt like it was slipping through her fingers. All her hard work for nothing because juggling a small child and going to work… Maternity leave is not paid, so they’ll have to rely on just one income for a time, then daycare is quite expensive. Sure, there are programs that she could apply for to help or family, but that’s not the point— the point is, they are sorely not ready to become parents.
“I’m home!” Natsu called out as he entered the apartment. “Something smells good!”
“Welcome home, Natsu.” Lucy called out from the kitchen. “It’s almost done.”
Natsu detected a change in his girlfriend’s tone. Usually when he gets home, she’s in a happier mood— but not today. He threw his keys onto the kitchen island and walked up, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “Everything okay?”
Whatever words she’d planned to say were thrown out the window as tears pooled instantly in Lucy’s eyes. “Natsu, it’s…”the words stumbled out, “um… I-I’m pregnant.”
“P-Preg…nant?!” Natsu took a step back in shock, his trembling hand moving to cover his mouth. “Oh, wow— I’m too sober for this,” he mumbled.
“Pregnant,” she repeated as the sobs broke free. “And alcohol is what got us into this mess!” Lucy snapped and sobbed louder.
“Oh, h-hey now, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that,” Natsu pulled her into his arms. “Don’t cry baby, please don’t cry, I hate seeing you cry.”
“Natsu, I’m pregnant, did you hear me?! Pregnant! I can’t be pregnant!”
“Shh… I hear you,” he gently coaxed Lucy to the couch and had her sit down, then sat beside her, cradling her close. “True, it’s not the best time… but we can make it work.”
“You don’t understand, I’m not ready, Natsu. I don’t think I could handle it…” all the reasons refreshing in her mind. “I have no experience with with kids. What if we screw up? It’s just…” Lucy sighed. “I think… I’m too overwhelmed right now.”
“Okay, well— they make those things now, the, um, end pregnancy stuff.”
“I don’t know…”
“Lucy, I’ll support whatever decision you make.”
“You say that now, but later you’ll probably resent me for… kil— doing that,” she mumbled.
“I don’t know that so neither can you. All I do know is that yes it might hurt— but you’re the important thing right now, and if you say you’re not ready, then I have to accept it. Kids are never easy, I doubt all the preparation in the world can really make a difference. But Lucy,” he took her hand and held it to his chest. “As long as I’ve known you, whatever you choose to do you’re great at it.”
“Really?” She looked up with hope filling her eyes for the first time all day.
Natsu smiled. “And who better to start a family with?” He cupped her cheeks and kissed her. “Then a smart, sassy, beautiful woman like you.”
Lucy’s eyes flooded with tears. “You really think we can make it work?”
He nodded. “As long as it’s something we really want, then yeah.”
After a momentary pause, Lucy let out a long stabilizing exhale. “Okay. I’ll call my doctor and make an appointment tomorrow to check.”
“Really? Y-You sure? Because I don’t want you to feel like I’m trying to coax you into this.”
“No, I-I’m pretty— sure. Things sometimes happen for a reason, right? Maybe it’s meant to be.”
Natsu pulled her in for another longer kiss. “Guess I better hurry up and marry you then,” he chuckled.
She snorted a laugh. “I guess so mister!”
He pulled her close again, hugging her to his chest. “I love you so much baby.”
“Mmm, I love you too.”
“My own baby momma,” he teased.
Lucy slapped his chest with a giggling shriek. “Don’t you dare call me that!”
“Oh,” he grinned, “I’m totally getting t-shirts made.”
#fairy tail#nalu#natsu dragneel#lucy heartfilia#nalu drabble#nalu fan fic#nalu fan fiction#nalu au#pregnancy
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of swords and rubies
synopsis: on athanasia de alger obelia's eighteenth birthday, she sits in the ruby palace awaiting her father's present - a sweet little mandate sentencing her to death. the news his personal guard arrives with, though, is quite the different from what she expects.
character/s: athanasia de alger obelia, claude de alger obelia, felix robane
part: one / ?
warning/s: mentions of death / execution, poisoning, tlp!claude is a shit dad, tlp!felix supremacy
|•| ruby palace |•| 10:45 am |•|
"a visitor from the emperor's place, your highness."
lilian york's voice has always carried the same gentleness. for as long as she can remember, athanasia has heard softness, music, safety, in lily - the voice of a mother. the realisation, long overdue, hits her as she inquires after her mysterious guest. i've never addressed lily as such, have i?
the brunette tries for a smile. "it is his majesty's personal guard, princess, sir felix from the robane duchy. i have hannah showing him to the visitors' lounge - perhaps the knight comes bearing good news?"
the blonde princess smiles, nodding hopefully. it's all she can do for lily, she guesses, the woman who cared for her like one of her own. just as lily's smile never dimmed once during the past eighteen years, athanasia supposes she must now return the favour.
but lily never saw her father's eyes that night.
lily hadn't seen his stance harden at the mere sight of her.
the malice, the poison in claude de alger obelia's voice wasn't directed at lily.
so lily couldn't possibly know. for all athanasia knows claude could be in his study, spinning a roulette wheel to decide how to have her executed. he'd want her gone by the earliest, she assumes, probably before jennette can wake and intercede for her - or evidence is found towards the actual culprit.
either way, if the least she could do was comfort lily somewhat with a little, hopeful smile, then the smile would be priority.
|•| ruby palace |•| 11:00 am |•|
"sir," athanasia greets, recoiling as the knight grins at her. she'd heard stories of the atmosphere in the imperial palace, the deceptive, snake-like nature of noble court - surely, with a father so prominent in both politics and obelia's military, felix robane was one to be vary of.
and - being her father's personal guard would require being similarly ruthless and cunning, would it not? this smiley knight could always be the one poisoning her father against her behind their backs.
"to what do i owe this pleasure?"
the redhead attempts lightening the mood with another bright grin. "greetings to the star of the obelian empire. may the gods' blessings be with you, princess. today, i have come as a messenger regarding his majesty's wish that you join him for breakfast-"
"-wh, what? no, i... i'm not going anywhere with you."
felix robane's natural smile falls. "what is it, princess?"
athanasia steps backwards in defense as the knight tries comforting her, a trembling hand raised to cover her mouth. "y-you can tell his majesty i won't...won't be joining him."
"but, princess-"
not daring to move her eyes from the redhead, athanasia reaches for an hourglass resting on the mantle beside her, holding it up in defense. "go back. go and tell the emperor to send me the death warrant himself. there's no need to build such a roundabout way of-"
felix grimaces. "you may be misunderstanding the situation, prin-"
"-don't 'princess' me. if he has the guts, have my father tell me his decision himself. you can't force me to leave. i won't, i won't be led out of my home with you pretending as if everything is fine."
the knight holds up his hands in surrender. "you have the higher status of the two of us, your highness, i wouldn't dare pushing you into anything you do not like. i'm afraid you cannot refute the emperor's word, however. but...but if your highness has questions, i can promise to answer with complete honesty."
"how can i trust you?"
felix taps his chin in thought. "as a knight, my value is measured not by my skill, but the trust put in me by those i am pledged to. my oath is to the obelian emperor. you, princess, are his majesty's heir, so as along as your commands do not undermine the emperor's, you are included in the oath."
athanasia blinks, studying the knight. he seems to be curling into himself so as to not be percieved as a threat. she watches his careful movements, irate. "i read a book once..." she starts, feeling self conscious all of sudden. do i sound like a madwoman?
felix robane nods eagerly. "i was told the princess was an avid reader."
she flushes, glaring at her lap. "...anyway, in the book, the king's sister married a traitor, and because they were technically royalty, he couldn't just kill them under charges of treason. so instead, the king had their food poisoned."
athanasia watches the subtext register on the knight's face. "your highness...no, i- his majesty has no such thing planned. i can assure you - the matter is actually quite the opposite."
"...is it?"
he stares at his lap before looking up at her determinedly. "i can't say i know how your highness feels about your father, but...he needs you right now." felix sighs softly, "as you know, her highness the princess jennette hasn't yet regained consciousness. this makes you his majesty's most favourable heir."
athanasia stares at the hourglass in her hand before setting it down. interest piqued, she eyes the fidgeting knight. "why would you bring this up, sir robane, and to me of all people? is the emperor perhaps...ill?"
the look in the redhead's eyes is more than enough confirmation. athanasia grips the arm of her seat. "he has been having the strangest migraines ever since...well, a little after your debut, actually. except lately, these headaches seem to be weakening him. quite a lot."
a cold sweat creeping up her neck, athanasia downs a glass of water before turning to the distressed knight. "i assume you want my assistance in hiding this from the nobles. since jennette isn't here."
"essentially, yes." he nods once more. "with all the commotion surrounding princess jennette, both the nobles and commoners are watching the palace diligently. the factions are too divided - of course, a large portion of the nobles support princess jennette as your father's heir, most of them being blood purists, while an equally large believe you are more competent, having been raised in the palace. regrettably, it isn't just the nobles - we have a delegation arriving at the palace soon enough to settle matters regarding the southern territory. we cannot afford weakening his majesty's image, not right now."
her eyes flicker to the obelian coat of arms on felix's shoulder, and the sigil of house robane embroidered on his cloak. "i don't suppose i have much of choice in the matter - but since urgency of the situation affects my country, i doubt i would've refused anyway. but, sir felix..." she pauses, studying his expression, "my father's palace doesn't garuntee my safety. so i must call on your oath as a knight now."
"of course, your highness." hesitantly, as if he held a china doll in his hands, felix murmurs, "it can be a chance to get closer to his majesty, too. er - that is, if only your highness wishes it to be."
nodding, athanasia stares at her hands. "...perhaps."
|•| emperor's palace |•| 3:00 pm |•|
with her father's stare scrutinising her every move, she bows deeply in greeting.
his gaze is different, athanasia notices. the malice is gone. the hatred has dissipated.
now, as if she were a complicated math problem, claude de alger obelia stares her down, a spark of challenge alight in his eyes. "don't worry your head too much about it," he starts, "i haven't called you here for any special reason."
"...i see."
he tilts his head curiously, studying her reactions still. "oh? what's this? no declarations of love today? no pleading for attention? you're strangely quiet for someone so full of demands."
she fidgets with her dress, a deep red blooming on her cheeks in embarrassment. "i apologise if my words troubled your majesty."
claude nods slowly, eyes tracing her unkempt hair. "you overestimate yourself, princess."
athanasia inhales sharply. what does he want?
"felix's method of conveying information is a bit... exaggerated, at times," the blonde emperor says, watching her grimace under his stare, "i'm here to clear up any misunderstandings he may have unknowingly planted."
"ye, yes?"
claude's hand lands on his sheathed sword. athanasia blood freezes as he pulls it out, slowly, eyes not moving from hers. "i'm assuming you've been told of the council being held tomorrow. it will be your unofficial entrance into politics, so i hope there won't be any...mistakes. you'll need the nobility's support."
she nearly snorts. you wouldn't hesitate in burying anyone who dared look jennette in the eyes, i'm sure. still, athanasia tries smiling - lily always smiled whenever she was unsure of what to say, after all - and lets go of her skirt, nodding. "there won't be any."
the last time she spoke to her father, she'd known that whether or not he decided on mercy, she wouldn't be talking to him again. thus the courage to empty her heart, lighten her shoulders. now... now, athanasia didn't know what to think. how to act.
she flinches when he speaks, hands tracing the edge of the blade lightly. "do think this sword is important to me, athanasia?"
an odd warmth courses through her at the sound of her name. or was it because of the voice, the owner of the voice? she honestly couldn't tell. "your majesty..." athanasia swallows - what's the right answer? - "i would assume so. i'm no knight, of course...but, a sword is effective for both defense and offense in battle. and i hear your majesty's swordsmanship is unrivaled in obelia, so...yes, i think."
she watches claude draw in a long breath, staring at the weapon. "it's interesting that you think so. but at the end of the day, the sword is just another weapon, isn't it? i can always have better ones at the flick of my wrist."
"your...majesty?"
a drop of blood runs down the emperor's finger as he runs it along the edge of the blade. "it is useful, isn't it? at least...as long as i decide it is. a simple tool's value will always be decided by me, after all."
cold dread settles into athanasia's bones. "i...i see, sire."
nodding approvingly, claude de alger obelia places the beautiful sword in her hands. "happy birthday, princess."
#wmmap#sbapod#who made me a princess#suddenly became a princess one day#claude de alger obelia#athanasia de alger obelia#anastacius de alger obelia#felix robane#felix robain
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JV Childhood: Part I
Summary: Jackie wished they would all just stop staring.
Author's Note: So this is the first part in my mini anthology for Open Heart. I've been saying a lot that we need to be telling the stories all the characters who are BIPOC because there is so much depth to those stories to explore. This first part of Jackie's childhood and part two is her adolescent years, up through high school.
Day Two of @choicescocappreciationweek!
Thanks goes out to @somewillwin. I asked her some of her headcanons for Jackie and I used it to help me write!
Her first experience of true hate was when she was nine.
She remembered her parents whispering in the living room, her mother’s voice trembling as Jackie sat in the living room with her siblings, partly distracted by the cartoons on the TV.
She hadn't really understood why her mother was so stressed out at the time. Her teachers had the same nervous energy and when she went down to their family store, all of the customers were walking with their head down. Even their employee Tom's smile did not quite meet his eyes and he kept glancing at the TV which had been playing the news.
“Jaikalina, Avi.”
She looked up from the table where she was finishing her homework to see her mother with her purse in her hand.
“I'm going to lock the door and go to the store. You're not allowed to open it for anyone, alright? Avi, you're in charge. Dev and Anika are both asleep."
“Isn’t Tom working?”
“He quit, Jaikalina.” She pursed her lips at her daughter, finding the right words in her head. “It’s… complicated but he’s scared. And I don’t blame him.”
“What happened?”
“I’ll explain later, beta.” Her mother pressed a kiss to her forehead before shrugging on her coat. “I’ll be back.”
Avi watched their mother go with a scowl on his face.
"Tom quit because he doesn't want to be associated with us. Don't let her sugarcoat it for you." He said cooly to Jackie. She turned to him in confusion.
"What do you mean?"
He looked at his little sister with a look of annoyance and a little bit of fear?
"It means that life is going to be different for us, behan. You'll see it soon enough." He went to his room and slammed the door behind him without another word.
-
Jackie was sitting on the couch when her mother finally got home. Avi hadn't come down the rest of the night and after finishing her homework Jackie had turned on TV to distract herself.
“You’re still awake, beta.” She said in surprise.
“Yes. And you told me you would explain later. It’s later now.”
In the dim light, Jackie could see the exhaustion in her mother’s still beautiful face. She gave her a sad smile before gesturing to the dining table. Jackie hopped down and sat across her mother who was focused on a spot on the table.
“You’ve always been straight to the point.” Her mother said sadly. “And I suppose you’re old enough to hear this and I want you to hear it from me before anyone else. Tom was scared because of the things that have been happening to our neighbors and people like us. Do you remember when the airplanes crashed? Well, the men who did it were of Islam and they didn’t like a lot of what America was doing.”
She thought about the moment she saw the planes hit the towers. “But those people are all innocent. And we didn’t do anything. The people who did that are not even our people.”
"But we look enough like them."
She frowned, remembering how her friend Vera had missed a few days of school.
"They hate us because of how we look." Her mother sighed. "We look like the enemy to them."
"That's not fair."
Her mother gave her a weary smile. "No, it's not. But our safety is most important, Jaikalina. I need you to go by your American names for now."
Jackie frowned.
"For how long, maan?"
Her mother didn't answer.
-
She remembered leaving the town about a year later. Despite having better prices and better variety than a lot of the other convenience stores, there had been less and less people coming in. It was mostly her parents' friends stopping by at one point but when it was declared that the country had gone to war, they were afraid too.
Avi had found himself getting trouble with the school. She couldn't understand why he had been so angry since that night but their parents had agreed that they needed new scenery.
So she found herself in a new place, right after the new year. Her father had found accounting work until they could afford to rent a storefront and her mother was working a secretarial job for a local nonprofit.
She felt the eyes of her classmates on her and she nervously tugged at her skirt in her new 5th grade classroom. Her mother had insisted that she dress proper for her first day of her new school and she felt like one of those kids at a snobby rich private school.
"This is Jaikalina-"
"I go by Jackie, actually." She corrected her teacher, remembering what her mother had said. Her classmates stared at her and one of them raised her hand.
"Where are you from?"
"We- we moved here from New Jersey-"
"No, but where are you actually from?"
She stared at the girl for a moment, unsure how to answer that question. Their teacher gave the girl a look and she put her hand down.
"We don't ask people questions like that, Hannah."
"Yes, teacher." Hannah said with a sacharrine smile. "I'm sorry for being rude, Jackie."
Jackie suddenly realized why her brother got into fights. She stood there frozen for a moment, before her teacher directed her to her seat and she stared blankly at the chalkboard.
She got her lunch from her backpack after morning classes and followed the rest of her classmates to the lunch tables. Jackie sat down at a table and pulled out leftovers from the night before.
"I don't want to sit next to her." Hannah, the girl from before said in a loud voice. "Her food smells and my parents say that people who look like her are terrorists."
Terrorist.
She had heard that word coming from the TV, describing the men who had flown the planes into the towers. She stared at the girl who had used the word and was shocked to see the amount of hate in her eyes.
She simultaneously wanted to cry and scream as the eyes of her classmates turned to them. There were pitying looks in some of their faces but none of them seemed to be willing to say anything. She turned back to Hannah who had a confident smirk on her face and Jackie had the urge to slap it off.
Then, a jolt of fear trickled through her bones.
If she hit her, will they label her as a terrorist? Would she get in trouble like Avi and be labeled a bad kid?
"Well, people who say things like you do because of the color of my skin are bullies." Jackie finally said. "And probably racist too."
There was an oooh from one of the other students and a few of them cheered. Hannah narrowed her eyes.
"You better watch yourselves around this one. She'll backstab you for her country." She retorted as she walked away.
Her country? She was born here, in the United States…
She was still thinking about it when she got home with her brother and younger siblings later that day. Her brother let out a big sigh and dropped his backpack on the ground before plopping on the couch. Jackie looked at him, her backpack still on.
"I think I finally understand why you got into those fights, bhai." Jackie said.
Avi looked at her with a wry smile. "I'm sorry to hear that. I hoped you'd be spared that a little longer."
Jackie sat down on the couch next to him and he wrapped an arm around her shoulder.
"The people at my school here- they put me in some of the 'lower' classes because they saw my old record. The kids in my class are mostly like us. I think the only black and Hispanic kids are in my class but they get it. They get the stuff we're going through."
"It's not fair."
"Naw, it's not behan. It will probably never be fair for us." Avi sighed. "I just hope that you'll be able to do better than I will. It's too late for me."
Jackie frowned. "You're only in high school."
"Yeah, I'm already in high school. It's going to be hard for me to get into college when the classes I'm taking aren't considered rigorous. I was never as into school as you were anyways. I'll probably go to community college for a while and then find a job. You though, Jaks, have time and you're smarter than I am."
"I can't believe your path is basically decided by the time you're 15."
He let out a humorless laugh. "A lot of your path is decided before you're even born."
-
"Jackie, wait. I want you to take this letter to your parents."
She froze, eyeing her teacher warily. She had mostly kept her head down in school, ignoring Hannah and focusing on her schoolwork. She didn't really have any friends, perse but she didn't mind. She had found a renewed interest in reading and instead of playing with her classmates, she would find a tree to sit and read at.
"I didn't do anything." She denied immediately, crossing her arms. Her teacher looked at her in surprise and her face twitched into a sad smile.
"I know, sweetheart. Just give this to them, okay?"
Jackie stared at the envelope and before grabbing it, stuffing it haphazardly into her backpack. When she got home, she slapped the letter on the table.
"What's this, behan?" Avi asked curiously from the kitchen. He had heated up some of the samosas from dinner the night before and was snacking on one as Jackie dropped her bag on the table.
"Something for mom and dad. Teacher wants me to give it to them."
Her brother took the envelope and opened it up. Scanning the letter, he looked up at his sister with a grin.
"Your teacher wants you to enter the advanced classes when you go to junior high. You have to take a test and if you pass, you can take them."
Jackie's face lit up. "Really?"
"Yeah." He ruffled her head. "I'm proud of you, Jaks."
-
"You'll be okay without me."
Jackie looked up at her brother. The summer before she went into junior high, he took a few classes over the summer and when school started again his grades had been much better than before.
So much so that when he graduated high school two years later, he had surprised everyone by telling them he was moving away and starting college in the fall. He had gotten accepted in a state school a few hours away. He hadn't decided what he was studying yet but the tuition was cheap and he had applied on a whim since his grades had improved.
"You'll start out high school right and I know you'll know what you want to do by the time you go to college. You'll be able to go to any school you want and you'll be the famous Varma, I know it."
"I'll miss you. Do you have to go?"
He laughed. "I'll miss you too. Take care of yourself and Dev and Ani too, okay?"
At the sound of their names, Dev and Anika, who had just turned 8 and 6, came forward and each grabbed one of her hands.
"Bye bye Avi. I'll miss you." Anika said quietly.
"Bye, Ani." He got on the bus and waved at them until the bus was too far away for them to see anymore.
#yoooo why is the read more break so hard on mobile Tumblr 😞#jackie varma#open heart#playchoices#missywrites#choicescocaw
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