British people always trying to articulate the essence of ‘Britishness’ and then an Irish book does it in half a paragraph lmao (exciting times by Naoise Dolan btw)

Memories

Middle school. 

Rusty benches, rotting lockers, and prepubescent children. 

8th period is when I learned that he would be moving away. He would get to move out of this hell hole and move to a brand new country. 

"Are you ever going to come back?" I had asked as I unpacked my History notebook from my bag. But before he could answer, his loud ass friends entered the room.  Mark was the type of guy who wasn't immensely popular himself, but people knew him and he knew people. Most were either jealous of him, or loved him, no in between. 

I would say I was more on the jealous side. Not only was he on the dance team, my friends wouldn't shut about how "nice he is" or "how adorable he is" or "how good he is at math". 

"Have you read his poems? Apparently he has a poem book."

It's not just my friends either, it's my parents too. Unfortunately for me, Mark's parents and my parents are part of the same friend circle. Which means constant comparison. Ever since elementary school. 

But it's not like they were wrong. And it didn't help that I liked him either. It may have been my 13 year old hormones, or the fact that his smile seemed to light up the world around him, but despite how sickly jealous I was, I was so entranced. I remember crying after hearing a rumour that he liked someone one day. A weird occurrence as I never cried over anything. The rumour turned out to be false because I asked him about it the next day and he said "No, who is that?". 

We were what I would call acquaintances. One of my friends dated one of his friends in 6th grade for a week before breaking up in the most dramatic way possible. 

"You know, I heard they kissed once," I remember telling Mark. 

He replied with a grimace and said, "Eww that's gross, why would you kiss someone?" 

I remember laughing and telling him that it wasn't a big deal. 

After that, we talked once in a while. If we were in the same class, we would ask each other about homework or make basic small talk if none of his friends were around. 

And so, as History class ended, the 13-year-old boy came up to me. "Sorry for ignoring your question earlier, uhh I don't know if I'm coming back or not actually. I think I'm going to be living in Korea for a while," he smiled. "Don't tell anyone about it okay?" He said playfully. "Shhh". 

He giggled, put on his backpack, and ran up to catch up with his friends. 

And that was the last time I ever saw him. 

Honestly, I was glad. I thought that the source of my insecurities was gone and that my crush on him would disappear. I was a progressive child, so I got over him quickly, but unfortunately I still had my insecurities. I thought I would never cross paths with him again and as bittersweet as it sounds, I preferred it over the constant conflict in my heart whenever I saw him. I got over my insecurities slowly, throughout high school. My life without Mark Lee, was great, wonderful even. So then why, at the thought of seeing him again, run at the chance to intern at his company? My desperate ass didn't even search him up on google because I didn't want to know what he looked like now. My view of him is still of a 5'4 teenager boy, with a high pitched voice and braces. So when I was met with a guy who looked too handsome to be real, you could expect that I was taken aback. 

Mark, who I wasn't sure was Mark, was wearing a plain black shirt and some khakis. He also had light blue hair that looked really soft but also looked slightly fried, perhaps from the dye. 

"This is Mark Lee right, I heard you were the one who was supposed to show me to the intern manager or something."

"Uhh yeah! I'm Mark, nice to meet you. What's your name?" He said enthusiastically. 

He didn't remember me. Or he just wasn't sure. I didn't want to seem insane by saying I went to his old school so I kept quiet. 

"I'm Hannah Wang, I'm from Vancouver", I shifted my weight onto my other leg nervously. 

"Wait, Hannah Wang? Did you ever go to Westwood Middle?" Mark asked, his eyes lighting up. 

He remembered. Holy shit, Mark Lee remembered me. "Yeah, I was waiting for you to say something." I said as we walked into the recording room. "You uh, glew up a lot, I could barely recognize you." 

"Ah really? You glew up a lot too- not that you weren't pretty back then- I mean not like that-" Mark panicked.

"So you didn't think I was pretty?" I chuckled. 

We began walking inside the building, and the recording rooms became visible.

"No I mean you were, and still are- ahh" Mark's face was now 3x redder than it was before. 

“You’re bold, calling me pretty and all” I laughed as I scanned the posters on the wall. “Who are they?” I pointed to a poster of 10 men who looked around my age. I noticed that Mark was on it. He was wearing a race car? jacket and had black hair with blonde highlights. 

Mark, who was noticeably all flustered, took a moment to respond. “Ahh that’s the group I’m in… one of them at least.” 

I looked at him. “You’re in another group?” 

He nervously laughed, “Yeah it’s no big deal. I’m in this one, NCT 127, SuperM and NCT Dream.” 

“Well wow…” After all of these years, he was still out here doing the most. “I expected nothing less haha” I joked. “It must be hard.” 

“Yeah.. well I like being busy so it’s honestly very fun.” He said with a smile. “Wait, you’re interning at SM but you don’t know the groups?”

“Dude, I’ve been so busy I haven’t kept up with anything. My friend told me to apply for an internship here and I accepted it as a joke because I didn’t think I’d get in. I didn’t know you became a k-pop idol until like a month ago.” 

“Oooh” Mark nodded understandingly. He started walking to some of the other rooms. “Uhh I think I’m supposed to show you to Mr. Kim? He told me to tell you that he was sorry he couldn’t meet with you in person. There’s a slight chance he might be infected..” Mark frowned. “I’ll escort you to a room where you can meet with him. You came kind of early so I need to get the other two interns as well.” He turned to look at me.  “Does that sound good?” 

I honestly didn’t hear half of what he said because I was staring at his face. “Yeah yeah sounds good!” I centered myself again. 

We went to an auditorium which was quite huge but empty. I assumed press conferences were held here. There was also a huge projector screen at the front of it which had Zoom open. 

“You can just sit at any of the tables,” Mark said. “Oh yeah Mr.Kim asked me if you were vaccinated yet?” 

I nodded. “Yep all good and immune to the virus.” I smiled. 

And then he left and I was all alone in an empty black room. I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until I exhaled. (Yes and the floor is made up of floor.) I also didn’t realize how fast my heart was beating. Honestly, he hadn’t changed at all. Looking at him unlocked so much nostalgia of my younger days and I blushed to myself at the thought of the journal entries I wrote about him as a child. I wanted to talk to him about so much and I wondered why I didn’t reach out to him sooner. It had been an insanely long time since I last thought about my old “rival”, and I only started pondering it when I realized I would be interning at his company. Him becoming an idol wasn’t actually too surprising, my journal entries told me that he was into dancing a lot and I do recall him performing a Shinee song at one of our “family meetups”. I don’t have a lot of memories from middle school but that’s one that I can recall pretty vividly. He was doing it with 2 of his other friends and the performance was really funny because one of the kids fell and hit his nose on the edge of the sofa. I wonder if he remembered all of this. 

I was taken out of my thoughts when two other people, accompanied by Mark, walked into the room. They were a guy and a girl who both looked a little older than me and they didn’t look like they knew each other. They both took seats at separate tables. Mark on the other hand walked up to me. 

“I think the meeting will start in a bit.” He smiled. “I have to go but good luck with everything! It’s insane how we met again after like… 7 years? Dude, I miss Vancouver so much I really hope we can talk later and catch up on everything y'know?” 

I laughed a little, glad that he felt the same way as me. “Yeah definitely! So many things changed after you left, I swear to god it’s like a completely different place.”

“Yeah I visited once on tour-” his phone started ringing. “Shoot, they’re gonna kill me. I have to go, Hannah. Uhhh I’ll see you around?” 

I smiled. “Yeah I’ll see you around.”

if walls could talk -- ceo!calum chapter 1

description: calum is the son of a very powerful ceo / owner of a PR firm - they had an agreement that calum could live his life as a young adult until his father retired.  calum didn’t expect his father to retire so soon, nor did he expect to meet a woman who would spill out all of her deepest, darkest secrets all because of some turbulence.

warnings: light mention of sexual situations, other than that nothing much.

word count: 3.4k

a/n: this is something i’ve wanted to post for so long.  i attempted a majority of a rewrite at one point, but here we are! please let me know what you guys think? also huge thank you to @softbabiestan​ and @calum-uncrowned​ for reading / suggesting edits along the way 

------

“This just doesn’t feel like the right time to do this.”

Those words had been said to Charlotte more times than she could count, in both her personal and professional life.  This time, it was the former, but that didn’t make the blow to her confidence any smaller.

Charlotte had been sent to New York in hopes that maybe she could convince this firm to sell to them.  The PR firm that she worked for was the top in the country, but they didn’t get there based solely on the fact that they were an amazing company.  Anytime another PR firm seemed like they were about to overtake them for the top spot, Everyday Joy Communications would make them an offer they’d be stupid to turn down.

“Please, Mr. James, if you’d just look at the graph that we’ve done up for you--” Charlotte started, but she was cut off by the man standing up abruptly. 

“Your company has been trying for over a year now to buy us out, and each time we’ve said no. It’s very clear to us that your company’s morals don’t align with ours, I’m sorry you wasted your time in coming here today.” Straightening out his jacket, Mr. James moved around the table to shake Charlotte’s hand once more, clearly eager for her to leave.

She had gathered her things in silence, but as she turned to leave she heard Mr. James clear his throat. “Miss--” he began, inhaling deeply before continuing, “You may want to tie your jacket around yourself. It appears your skirt ripped.”

Nodding her head, she left the room without so much as a ‘thank you’, the embarrassment crashing over her in a wave.

As if this day couldn’t get any worse.

***

The CEO of Everyday Joy Communications has announced his retirement.

One would think that in the occurrence of a life-changing event, you’d at least get a call beforehand.  But that wasn’t the case for Calum, the article reading as a slap in the face to him.  Calum was supposed to be allowed some warning, something that would allow him to get his life in order before he was set to take over, but no.  Here he was, receiving numerous texts, calls, tweets, and e-mails from those he knew asking what the next steps were, and if Calum was finally going to step forward and ‘actually contribute’.

When his father’s company first started gaining success, Calum had chosen to live in New York, rather than stay in Los Angeles.  He enjoyed the bustle of a busy city, but LA was full of people who wanted what was in your pockets instead of what was in your head.  Opinions didn’t matter unless they were linked to some financial gain, and it never sat right with him.

He was pulled from his thoughts by his phone ringing, his father’s contact info flashing across the screen. “What do you want, Dad?” The words were dripping with false affection, his father’s sigh evident on the other line.

“I wanted to tell you, Calum, I--”

“You seemed to be able to figure out how to pick up the phone now, how come you couldn’t before?”

The silence on the other end was deafening before his father offered another sigh, “You still have a week to catch up on things before you fully take over.  And you know that I’m just a phone call away.”

“Yeah, and what time would be best to call you? In between tee-times, or before you go in for your deep tissue massage.” Calum had come to the conclusion to hang up before his father had a chance to answer.  Buying a plane ticket and facing this head on would be better than working himself up in his loft.

As if sensing his distress, his dog Duke came padding into the kitchen, looking at him quizzically.  It wasn’t often Calum had an angry tone to his voice, and it confused the small dog.  Scooping him up into his arms, he sighed as he pressed a kiss to the side of the dog’s head. “How do you feel about moving to LA buddy?”

---

“Hello?”

“Ash, guess whose ugly mug you’re gonna see a lot more?” The overly excited tone in Calum’s voice was very much not him, and it gave away everything Ashton needed to know in that moment.

“Mm… Gonna take a shot in the dark here and say you?” Ashton spoke with a soft chuckle. Calum could hear the click of his phone, and he was assuming he was either turning his volume up or down - if he had to guess it would be down, because he knew that Calum was frustrated.

“M’sorry there’s no prizes involved, but you’re absolutely right!  I don’t know if you’ve read, but my father is headed into an early retirement, which means-”

Before he could continue, Ashton finished his sentence for him, “- You gotta break out the big boy pants, I know.  Is he expecting you to take over right away?”

Calum let out a sharp exhale from his nose, fingers dragging softly through Duke’s fur as he sat cross-legged on his couch, “I have a week to settle in before I take over fully.  I don’t understand how he thinks a week is enough time to shadow him in the office before I just…  Take over.”

“You did work there in the summers when we were in high school though, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but I don’t feel as though it’s quite the same.  Plus, that was eight years ago now. The things have changed at the office - expanded departments, new protocols.” Calum sighed, leaning his head to rest against his couch.  “It’s just a lot.”

“I know, but hopefully your staff will cut you some slack, plus you have the best coffee in the world less than a block away.” Ashton was right, that was a very small benefit - he was sure whenever was something was overwhelming he could sneak away to his friends cafe for a coffee.

The rest of the conversation was uneventful, Ashton trying to take his mind off of his impending flight later that evening.  The conversation went on for longer than Calum had expected though, because his alarm went off to remind him to drop Duke off at the Doggy Daycare he would be staying at as he moved his life away.

“Shit dude, I gotta head out to go take Duke to his lil’ doggy hotel,” Calum joked, ignoring the tugging at his heart strings at the fact that he would have to leave his baby behind for now.

“Okay mate, I’ll see you soon, yeah? Bring Duke by as soon as he gets in from his week away from his dad.” Ashton teased, them finishing saying their goodbyes before hanging up the phone.

***

‘Now boarding flight 32C to Los Angeles, California…’

“Finally,” Charlotte murmured to herself, gathering her carry on and making her way towards her gate.

There had been a three hour delay, and at that point Charlotte was ready to be home, curled up in bed watching shitty rom-coms.

As she stepped onto the flight, the stewardess looked her up and down with a sympathetic smile. “Long day?” She asked, placing her hand on Charlottes’ forearm.  Any other time, the gesture would annoy Charlotte, but she wasn’t one to take out her bad day on others.

“That obvious, huh?” Charlotte deadpanned, shoulders sagging ever so slightly.

“How about an upgrade to first class? No one checked in for that seat, and it’ll be our secret.” 

If angels existed, this woman - Angie - would be one of them.  With a small smile, and a squeeze of the hand on her forearm, Charlotte headed to the seat she had motioned to.

When she got to the seat, she saw a man on the outside of the aisle with his hat pulled low over his eyes. His strong jaw seemed tense, only relaxing as soon as Charlotte let out a soft ‘excuse me’.

Then, strong jaw man was talking, and Charlotte thought it had been to her.  “Do you wanna get drinks, then?” The man had asked.

“Oh, yeah I’ll--”

That was the first time she saw the man’s eyes, deep brown and looking up at her in confusion before motioning to his Bluetooth ear piece.  

What idiot still used those? 

Charlotte’s head ducked in embarrassment until he eventually hung up.  “I’m sorry about that, I thought you were talking to me…” Her words were meek, almost inaudible as she angled her body towards him.

“S’fine, you didn’t see the device.” The more he had spoken, the more Charlotte wanted to hear.  His voice was enticing, the type you knew could command a room if the occasion called for it. She kept thinking of ways to potentially get the man to speak to her again, but she was at a total loss for words.

All was well when the plane actually took off, and Charlotte was content to enjoy the rest of the flight in moderate silence until a violent shake of the plane jolted her eyes open.

 “Oh my God, what was that?” She asked, turning to look at the man beside her whose brows were furrowed in confusion.

‘Ladies and Gentlemen, this is your captain. We’re experiencing some slight turbulence. If you could please remain seated with your seatbelts on until the light turns off. Thank you.’

“See, it’s just some turbulence --” he started to say, his calm voice being cut off by her exhaling sharply next to him. “Do you really think he’d tell us if we were about to die, dude?” Charlotte snapped, trying to focus on anything but the fact that they were about to die. 

“I think… I think he’s legally obligated to, no?” The man’s thick brows furrowed further, the tiniest quirk of a smile playing at his full lips.

Charlotte narrowed her eyes at the man, this logical, beautiful man. Another particularly violent rock of the plane had her gripping on to the mans’ arm.

“I can’t die. I’m too young -- I haven’t accomplished anything with my life,” Charlotte breathed, squeezing her eyes shut.  “I mean, I haven’t had kids, I’ve never even been in love. My boyfriend is a joke to human kind. I don’t even know if I have a G-spot…” She definitely regretted the words as they slipped out, her hand tensing even more.

“Excuse me?” There was an almost comical tone to the man’s voice as he cracked a small smile.  As if he couldn’t get more perfect, his teeth had to be straight and white too?

“That’s not important--”

“It seems like something you feel is extremely important to you.” Who was this smug stranger beside her? And why did he find such joy in her discomfort? “My boyfriend -- He… Doesn’t know how to use his mouth. The way he uses his tongue, I told him I liked it. I told him that I’ve never experienced anything like it. Which is true, but it’s a dreadful experience…”

The conversation continued like that, and somehow Charlotte found comfort in telling this complete stranger her secrets. Especially about the meeting she completely messed up earlier in the day, how her skirt had ripped, and how much she hated her co-worker. It wasn’t until she overhead the stewardess speak did she realize that not only was the turbulence finished, but so was the flight itself.

“Why didn’t you tell me we had landed?” Charlotte asked, almost breathless from her constant monologue.

“It seemed like you had a few things you wanted to get off your chest. And let me tell you, I don’t think I know any of my friends as well as I know you, especially not even knowing your name, doll.”

Charlotte was about to tell him, but the man, this stupidly handsome mysterious man was up and out of his seat before she could even open her mouth. 

“Darling, we’ll keep this between us. I don’t need to know your name. Thanks for sharing all your dirty little secrets,” He had said with a wink before leaving the plane completely.

What the fuck did she just do? ---

Monday morning wasn’t any easier for her, memories of the plane ride haunting her thoughts the entirety of Sunday.  Charlotte wasn’t sure she’d be able to maintain her focus when meeting the new CEO if she could barely be attentive enough to brush her damn hair.

It was amusing to overhear the rumours that made their way around about the new CEO, and if Charlotte was having a better morning she likely would have joined in the fun. Sipping her coffee quietly, she glanced over at her friend as she began to speak.

“I heard once that he has a rolodex of prostitutes that he keeps for when he feels in the mood, doesn’t do relationships.” Charlotte rolled her eyes at Rachel’s words as they watched out of the large windows for the man’s arrival. “Holy shit he’s even hotter than people said he was…” 

It wasn’t long before the rest of them ran to their desks, appearing as though they were doing work as the new CEO headed up the elevator. When the elevator doors opened, they seemed to take the air from Charlotte’s lungs with them.

It was him. She saw his profile first, and she could have recognized that jawline from a mile away, or the seemingly ever present pout on his full lips. It was the handsome stranger from the plane, the one who now definitely knew about all the shenanigans that went on around the office when they all thought the person above them wasn’t paying attention. The stranger she spilled all her deepest, darkest secrets to. Their Director of Operations, Beth, came out of her office, a bright smile on her lips as she embraced the man.

 “Calum, the last time I saw you, you were just graduating high school --” she recalled fondly, the smile on the man -- Calum’s face was radiant as she pinched his cheeks. “Alright everyone, listen up. This is our new CEO, Calum Hood. As you know, he is David’s son, and he’ll be working from our offices to ensure everything is running smoothly.  You haven’t let me down before, don’t start now.” The words were said with a sweet smile, but everyone knew you didn’t mess with Beth.

“Thank you, Beth --”

A whisper from behind her did not fall on deaf ears, “His fucking accent though…”

“Keep it in your pants, Rachel,” Charlotte whispered back, her attention going back to the warm brown eyes that had now landed on her.

“-- I may be my father’s son, but I most definitely am not him. This company, at the very least, should have some fun. So if any of you have a suggestion or two on how we can improve, I’ll be in my office all day getting myself sorted.” Calum’s eyes scanned the room, freezing when they landed on Charlotte. Giving her a simple nod, the man’s warm smile was replaced with a tense one before he turned to walk into his office.

***

After seeing her, there was no way for Calum to focus. He’d hate to admit it, but ever since that plane ride he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about that girl. The confessions she made to him left him wondering so many things -- at least if she stopped in he could thank her for exposing so many secrets of the office.

Throughout the day, various people stopped in his office to introduce themselves; each woman coming across more desperate than the last.  He supposed he shouldn’t think that when these women were working for him. He’d be stupid, though, to pretend like he didn’t notice each lingering glance they’d give, or each lean forward to try and show off their clevage. 

A soft knock on his door towards the end of the day was the one who held his attention the most -- because it was her. He still didn’t know her name, but seeing her today, he felt a strange pang in his chest that made him want to know it. Calum knew he should have let her tell him on the plane, then maybe in another world if they hadn’t serendipitously worked together he’d be able to find her.

“Mr.Hood?” Her voice was softer than he remembered, but maybe Calum was just thinking of it in the form of terror she had expressed to him the other night.

“Call me Calum, please. And your name?” Calum asked with a quirked eyebrow, a small smile forming on his lips. 

“Charlotte,” she stated with a small smile as well, stepping into his office further. Her outfit was more indicative of her personality than her travel clothes had been -- her blonde hair pulled into space buns with wisps of hair falling into her face, the front of her pastel pink button up tucked into a pair of bright blue floral pants. Pastel pink and blue were not exactly a colour combination Calum would have gone with personally, but it suited her.

Calum realized then that he was checking her out, and by no means in a subtle way. “Uh, sit, please,” he gestured to the chair across his desk, wanting to make her more comfortable.

“I wasn’t sure I even really needed to come in here today, given the circumstances of the other night. But Rachel told me it’d be weird if I didn’t come to introduce myself to our new boss…” Charlotte had begun to ramble, and Calum couldn’t bite back the smile that pulled at his lips, the genuine kind that always made his eyes crinkle at the corners. Something about the smile made Charlotte’s breath catch in her throat, her body almost visibly stilling.

“It probably would have been weird to your co-workers, but if you’re uncomfortable here working directly with me, I can arrange it so you’re transferred to a different office,” Calum’s response was more an HR response than anything, wanting to make her more comfortable. But also maybe, just maybe, Calum was itching to reach up and brush the blonde hairs from her face. Transfer so that she wasn’t directly under him in the business sense, but could be directly beneath him in other ways.

He was pulled from his thoughts by the woman speaking up once more. 

“No, no. It’s not that--” Charlotte started, pulling her lip between her teeth. “I just don’t want it to be weird for you. I did after all tell you a lot about myself.”

“Speaking of a lot -- How’s your boyfriend?” The question was out before Calum could stop himself, the topic itself completely catching Charlotte off guard as she stilled for the second time in a span of 5 minutes.

“He’s uh, good. He works here also, in the IT department. I don’t know if I told you that part.” A blush spread across the woman’s cheeks, and Calum found the whole interaction endearing.

“You didn’t happen to mention that, no.”

“Yeah, you’ll probably meet him as you work your way through meeting the rest of your staff--” Her sentence was topped off with a shaky laugh, brushing a stray strand of hair back behind her ear.

Calum wondered very briefly if she was nervous around him because of the things he knew about her, or because she happened to be as attracted to him as he was to her. It was inflating his own ego, of course, to think the latter. Who said having high hopes were a bad thing though? “Anyways,” Charlotte said, standing up abruptly, “I should go. Getting towards the end of the day, and I promised my roommate we could binge season 2 of Sex Education.”

The irony of that statement was not lost on Calum, what with her exposing rather intimate details about her sex life to him only a couple days prior… And now she was going to go and watch a show called Sex Education? 

“Hold on,” The words sounded choked as they came from Calum’s mouth, likely conveying how desperate he felt to keep the conversation going. “What’s uh -- What’s his name? Your boyfriend, that is. I’d like to be aware of the relationships going on in the office.”

Charlotte grinned then, a mischievous glint in her eyes that had Calum sweating, “While we don’t have time to unpack all the relationship drama going on here, my boyfriend’s name is Gavin… Goodnight Calum, I’ll see you in the morning.”

With that, she was gone, as if their whole interaction had been a dream. and Calum was so fucked.

tag list:  @cals-wildflower​ @talkfastromance4​ @softbabiestan​ @roseycal​ @calum-uncrowned​ @boyfriend-cal​ @wildflowerirwin​ @irwindoll​ @gosh-im-short​ @atlcalm​ @thesubtweeter​ @heavenisapeach​ @ridingcthood​ @loveroflrh​ @wokeupinjapanisabop​ @talkfastdrummer​

The Best Intentions - Part 7

“You know, Joline, you remind me of someone,” Ansgar chuckled, lifting his fingers to wave languidly at the passing jogger. He laughed harder when said jogger did a double take and turned his head quickly away. “Someone I knew in America.”

“Really?” Joline replied. “I remind you of an American woman?”

He nodded. “You are very American in your demeanor, but in only the good ways.”

“In the good ways, huh?”

“Yes,” Ansgar bowed his head slightly. “In the good ways.”

“As opposed to like… the bad ways?”

Ansgar inhaled, his eyes widening. “Oh, there are many, many bad ways, believe me.”

“Like what?”

Ansgar snorted. “Like…,” he blinked, pulling down his lower lip in a slight cringe, “a bizarre obsession with American football and baseball, a love for tiger-piss beer, a craving for over processed foods, hyper-consumerism and and an overt label consciousness,” he frowned, still considering. “Not to mention a need to be considered independent paired with a constant demand to be pampered, kowtowed to, and fawned upon, and a tendency to be offended by the slightest thing and then post a crusade on Facebook about it. That sort of thing.”

She sucked air through her teeth. “Yeah, bad ways. I get it. So, who was she? This American in the good ways who I remind you of.”

“Her name is Kay. Kay Browntree. She’s in the construction business, a flooring contractor. Has her own business, very ambitious. But she has her boots on the ground for all of her work. Very hands-on. Grout under the fingernails and all that. I liked that about her.”

“A girlfriend?”

Ansgar sighed. “A potentiality that never came to fruition, I’m afraid. I was in Chicago on a project, she was one of my subcontractors. Unfortunately, I had to move on to another project across the country.”

“Why do I remind you of her?”

Ansgar lifted his eyes in thought. He crossed his legs as he twisted to face her, one arm draped languidly in his lap, the other remained perched atop the back of the bench. “Many reasons, I suppose. Kay makes me laugh – a rare thing indeed. She’s carefree. She gives zero shits about who I am, about my bank account or about appearances or personal hierarchies or societal proprieties. She speaks her mind, damn the consequences. She’s honest, transparent, hard-working, and driven. There’s nothing false about her. What I see is what I get. Much like you.”

In short, nothing like Faye. Nothing at all like Faye.

“Oh,” she intoned. “Tell me more.”

He laughed again, but his face softened. He reached toward her and brushed a lock of her dark hair away from her eye, drawing the soft strands gently between finger and thumb. “I see… I see a soft sophistication to you– a knowledge of art, a taste for luxury, an appreciation of the beauty in machinery and an admiration of the finer things. I see an innate grace in the way you move – in the way you shook out your hair when you took off your helmet, for example.” He shrugged. “She’s a lot like you in those ways as well.”

Her eyes widened, just that little bit, Ansgar noted, a microexpression of self-conscious surprise, a shiver at his touch. She shifted further on the bench, crossing one leg beneath the other, her booted foot dangling off the edge of the bench. She leaned against the back, her elbow hooked around the wood slat, her hand dangling just near her breast.

Ansgar couldn’t help but look.

And she caught him looking. She peered down at her own chest, and knowingly lifted her eyes back to him, her hand open in an indicative gesture. “Oh, I get it. Really, it’s just that she’s got great tits like mine.”

Ansgar choked, his eyes gone wide, his mouth formed into a hollow ‘o’. He recovered quickly, flipping a sardonic yet appreciative quirk of an eyebrow. “Noooo,” he crooned. “Yours are far better.”

It was her turn to choke. She sat bold upright, staring incredulously at him. “Excusemewhat?”

He formed his features into a comical ‘oops’ face, his eyebrows shot high, his lips puckered, his hand covering his mouth in a gesture of mock delicate prudishness. “Oh, did I say that out loud? Well. Hmmmmm.” His lips curled in a wicked half-grin. “That must mean that I find you sexy as well.”

“We’re doing brilliantly at keeping our partnership purely professional.” She dipped her head back to follow a bird in flight. “Nice alliteration.” “Thanks. It pops out sometimes.” She shifted on the bench, bending the knee under her to bring up to her chest. She tugged her foot as close to her bum, hugging her arms around it. Her other foot swung underneath the bench, her toes scraping an even tempo against the gravel. “Dad’s influence.” Ansgar saw her zealousness turn inward. The curse of loss taught him the same trick. He nearly opened his mouth to say something when she beat him to it. “He was American, you know,” she dropped in conversationally, without truly pausing to ask. “Got my guts, gumption, glory and grin from him.” A faux smile appeared, behind closed lips and a pensive look. “And my alliteration.” “But your surname… Lindberg, is Swedish, yes?” “My mother’s surname. My parents were… unconventional, never married, never lived in the same country. Scandalous!” She jazzhanded past that tidbit expecting outrage and judgement. When none came, she lifted her eyes to her companion. “Do you really want to hear all this? Or will you be reading the backs of your eyelids in sixty seconds?” Despite himself, Ansgar was intrigued by her. “Feel free to tell me as much or as little as you would like.” Jo’s eyes followed as a family of four chattered by, disrupting the atmosphere with all their ruckus. The baby cried, the toddler whined, the mother yelled and the father talked over all of them. “I’ll abbreviate. Dad worked for Zim International, that shipping company–” “I’m familiar with them. I held several contracts with them importing bamboo from Asia." "Oh, figures… all you executive types know each other.” He chuckled at the generalization, not at all offended by the stereotype. “I grew up here, near Gamla stan… until seventeen. I moved to America to go to uni, Norfolk it was, in Virginia. I stayed on there, graduated, worked, travelled…”

“And,” he flipped his hand, palm up in her direction, looking for another handout of information, “what made you move back here?”

Joline looked at him for a long moment, considering for as long as it took to make a decision on how much she should tell, how much was appropriate. She inhaled slowly, reciting the mantra on her arm over and over in her head.

Live life when you have it. Live life when you have it. Live life when you have it.

And so, she did. “I love my family; I needed them. I missed so much, my mother, my brother… He got married and had kids while I was away. I’d never met my sister-in-law. I didn’t meet my nephews until much later. My mother got sick. I missed so much. And then my marriage fell apart while I was living in Florida.”

“You’re married?”

“Was. Right out of uni. We were young and stupid and playing grown-ups, but we weren’t compatible. It was a mistake, one I’m glad to have made only so I don’t repeat it,” she sighed, playing at a rueful smile. “When there was no affection left in it, we went our separate ways. He went off to DC, and the offer for the Globe workshop fell in my lap. The Globe led me back here, put me in the running for the Opera House, and here I am.”

“I’m… I’m sorry,” he couldn’t find any other words to say. His thumb tucked in against his palm to follow that familiar track to the gold band on his ring finger. He didn’t spin it this time, only tapped it, reminding himself it was still there.

She smiled sadly, but there were no hard feelings of resentment or sadness in her features. “No need to apologize.  Sometimes two people aren’t meant to be together. That’s not always tragic or the end of the world.” She stretched out her legs again, unraveling from the coil she’d put herself into. “I loved him once and I remember that. A part of me, my younger self, the overgrown teenager self, still loves Steven… always will. But she’s not all of me and I’m not quite her anymore. I don’t know if it happened suddenly or over time, but one day I just knew. I needed my family… and they needed me.”

Ansgar nodded. “Family, yes…,” he he paused for a moment in thought, his lips pursed. His eyes focused on nothing in particular… a boat in the distance… as the impact of Joline’s story washed over him.

He thought of his own losses. His own journey, the ways in which he’d shed skin after skin, identity over identity over the past few years. The way in which he’d, as Faye had put it, gone soft. Soft in Faye’s estimation, however, was still as prickly as The Iron Throne to the rest of the world. He thought of Magnus, of Rebecka, and of their child. Their children, now, plural. Thought of the way they had welcomed him back into their home, into their arms, into their world – no questions asked, no consternation about him being for all intents and purposes dead for a year and a half.

And to know Joline had lived that, or something like it as well gave him the sense of a kindred pull to her spirit. A knowledge. An understanding, and the weight of it, the warmth of it settled upon him like a blanket.

“Family is everything, isn’t it?” he finished his thought at last. “I mean, when you come down to it, no matter what sort of shit you get into, no matter how much you hurt them, no matter what pain you endure, no matter how long you’re… you’re gone, no matter how much you change, no matter how hard you try to disappear, it’s your family that… that….”

The sound of a screaming child from just to his right yanked him from his reverie. He shook his head, blinking hard, and gave a breathy chuckle, smiling ruefully up at Joline. He sighed. “Well,” he shrugged, “let’s just say it’s a good job you had your family to come home to.”

He pressed his hands to the bench and shifted forward to stand, but she stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Ansgar.”

“What!?” he snapped, but his eyes softened in almost immediate apology. Live life when you have it, right?  “Look, Joline,” he sighed. I’m just going to come right out and say it. I think you’ve sussed by this point that I am rather… intrigued by you. Even more now that we’ve had this talk.”

“Yeah, I think I get that.” She smiled. “And I kind of want to jump your bones, too, so what’s the problem?”

“Complications,” he said, “albeit minor ones.” His lips curved in a melancholy smile. He stayed perched on the end of the bench, his knees spread wide, and he bent forward, elbows rest on his thighs. He clasped his hands together between, his thumbs working one against the other. “Things we should lay out on the table before we continue.”

“With our partnership? You’re not having second thoughts or…?”

“No! Of course not,” Ansgar sat upright. “That’s not what I’m talking about.”

“But,” she stood then and rest her hands on her hips. “What are you talking about, then? I mean… how can we even think of anything personal when we’re working together?”

“I’m very good at compartmentalizing,” Ansgar declared. “We simply need limits… understandings. I’ve done it before.”

She frowned, cocking her hip. “Done what before?”

“Worked closely with someone,” he took a long breath, his jaw jut forward. “Someone with whom I’d engaged in another sort of relationship.” He stood, then, and stepped nearer, peering down at her, his eyes hooded and intent. “I would like to know if you can do the same.”

She narrowed her eyes, tilting her head and matching his gaze with her own. “I can, I think,” she said slowly. “But, first, I need to know who.”

“Who? What do you mean, who?”

“Who was the someone you worked with? Who were you working with and fucking at the same time?”

He blinked, and his breath caught in his chest at the blunt force of her question. He kept his mask in place, however, his muscles barely moving, his eyes not wavering at all as he said slowly, evenly, “Faye Valentine-Martinsson. My former VP of Security. My wife.”

She lifted her chin, ever so slightly, and her right eye twitched. “Your… wife,” she intoned. She shook her head, her breath hissing from her flared nostrils. “Damn. That ring on your finger you keep playing with…. I should have known.”

“Joline…” Ansgar grasped her arm. “You don’t understand….”

She slapped his hand off, stepping quickly back. “You know, I thought for a minute that maybe you weren’t like that… how silly of me, how stupid! How…ah, fuck all of this… all of it!”  She turned and ran, bolting down the gravel path, her boots kicking up small white rocks in her wake.

“Joline! Wait!” He pelted after her, quickly and easily catching up to her to run beside her. “Joline! Joline!”

…Joline… Joline! Please don’t take him just because you can.

“Leave me the hell alone!”

She increased her speed, but again, he matched, overtaking her. He passed her, cut her off, and quickly turned around, He caught her as she caromed into him, clutching her hard by both of her arms. “Stop,” he commanded. “For fuck’s sake, stop!”

“Let me go, Martinsson!” She writhed, grunting and growling against him, her leathers creaking against his.

“Hey!” He held her fast with an arm around her back. “Come on now! Listen!”

“You can’t…do this,” she seethed. “I won’t… I won’t be that… that woman!”

“What… oof! Ohhhh, fuck!” He groaned, bending over but keeping his grip on her. She’d turned in his arms and threw her elbow sharply backwards into his ribs. “Christ! What… what woman?”

“The other woman!” She gnarled, her teeth grit. “Won’t be your fucking mistress!” She kicked backwards, landing the heavy wooden heel of her boot squarely in the middle of his shin.

“Jesus fuck!” He howled and split his legs wide to avoid more blows. Likewise, he craned his neck to avoid her fists that flew at his face. “You… won’t be! You’re not…. ouch, damn you! Stop hitting me!”

“Fine! Then I’ll do this!” She lifted her foot and slammed it down hard upon his toes. “Fuck! Off!”

“Aargh! Stop that! That fucking hurts!” Ansgar released her, but swiftly whirled her back to face him. He grasped her by the head, one massive hand on either side, and he stilled her. First with a small shake, and then with his gaze, penetrating and sharp. Then with his voice, firm and commanding. “Joline! She left me! I. Am. Not. Married. Anymore!”

… and then, with a growl, he pulled roughly on her, drawing her firmly to him where he silenced her, at last, with his lips.

Joline grunted, her eyes slammed shut, not unexpectedly, but for the control she lost in the situation. All her fight instincts took flight, leaving her defenseless to Ansgar’s kiss. She opened to him, having lost her protestations, denials, angry outbursts of sexual frustration, and let his lips do the caressing, manipulating the last of her vigor.

His tongue swept across her parted lips, a brush against her lower lip, to test her, to make sure she wouldn’t bite as hard as she kicked. Instead she moaned as he tipped her head back to deepen the kiss. Boldly, encouraged by the heady auditory approval, Ansgar plundered her mouth with as much possessive greed as she had entered his office… and his life.

Joline hiked up on her booted toes to erase the last bit of distance between them, wanting for be consumed by the torrential heat blazing off of him. The tangle of tongues sent the sweetest torture of sensation straight to her core, her body heavy with need. One of his hands dug into her hair to hold her captive against his mouth, the other pressed into the small of her back, tipping her hips against his. Dull fingernails scraped along his scalp when she took hold of his curls.

Lust played an undeniable force around them like gravity held them to the Earth’s surface. Slaves to it, but masters of it within their sphere of two. Their friendly jogger, his sights on Ansgar, now making his fifth lap past them, cut his losses and kept going to beat off his own arousal at the picture the two made, a smash of leather, denim and desire.

Ansgar was the one to end the meld of lips and teeth and tongues, regrettably. He knew that if they went on as they were he’d tear her clothes from her body and take her right on the spot, the wandering curious gazes be damned.

Joline herself felt ready to jump into her arms, coil her long legs around him and search out the closest surface to fuck against. He tasted of coffee, sex, danger and she already felt the addictive streams pouring through her body, her pores itching for his fingers and mouth as a balm.

His breath panted against her lips, swollen and pink from the pressure of their passionate kiss and the burn of his goatee. But—Fuck! She was a vision! His influence on her for all to see, he was almost… enchanted by it. He dragged his thumb across her lip, “You’re delicious. I simply cannot wait to taste what other flavors you’re hiding.”

Joline kept her eyes closed, concentrating on the bursts of heated breath spreading over her abused lips and the vibrations from his lips to hers. “God-fucking-damn it, Martinsson!” Only her voice had dropped to a seductive purr instead of the angry tones from moments ago.

He dropped his mouth to her ear, his tongue rasped at the fleshy lobe just once before her murmured, “Search out other art on your skin.”

The five ink decorated skin spots hidden beneath her clothes tingled, sending out a honing signal for him to lock in on. Joline pried her eyes open as he lifted his face to peer into hers. The brassed off woman had been somewhat tamed by temptation, he could see it in the flush of arousal and the relaxed scowl. “If this is what ‘intrigued’gets me, I’m fucked if I ever pique your interest,” she quipped in a delayed response to his comment that led to the heated argument and equally as heated kiss.

The pride and arrogance displayed on him in the forming of a Cheshire grin. “You’re fucked either way, as soon as I get you alone,” he replied confidently.

“I was half hoping you’d be shit at the kissing bit,” she groused. Her hands and the rest of her trembled in her heightened arousal, her libido blaring red to near overload.

He smirked, his fingers playing in her hair once more, wondering at her natural color, “Should I apologize or thank you for the backhanded compliment?”

She sighed dejectedly, “Which drawer have you shoved me into then?” Her words adopted a combative tone but she was still pressed salaciously against him.

The slight didn’t faze him as it would anyone else. He recovered within the blink of an eye, “Joline, I didn’t mean you and you know that’s not what I meant by compartmentalizing.”

She pressed her shaking hands to his chest applying the slightest of pressure to extricate herself from his intoxicating embrace. It didn’t help, she wobbled like a newborn faun, her legs unsure after his seductive kiss. “I just need to know where I fit in your cupboard of playthings. One night stand? Fuckbuddy? Lover? Experiment? Trying me on to see if I fit? Mistress?” She hissed the last word.

Defensively, Ansgar grabbed her arms again, nailing her with his piercing gaze, rooting her to the spot. “I told you. My wife left me,” he ground out between clenched teeth. “You can’t be a mistress when there’s no spouse to cheat.”

She couldn’t explain her petulance. They’d only just met, she had no room to make demands on him. But she felt so strongly about being labeled… “I’m not a homewrecker. I don’t go after other women’s men. That’s not me. I’m not that woman! I won’t be!”

Exasperation colored his sigh of impatience as he dropped his chin to his chest. Women infuriated him at times, tested his limits and busted his balls. Getting laid shouldn’t be this difficult, especially when he reduced the woman to a quivering mess clearly affected by his kiss alone, as he’d done with Joline. “Christ, Joline, you’re not!”

“You’re wearing her ring… still. The one that you promised to love, honor, in sickness and all that rot, yes? It’s still on your finger where she placed it. So are you married or not?” She then crossed her arms under her breasts as if to shield herself from the truth or defend herself from crushing disappointment when he dismissed this thing as not worth the aggravation.

Ansgar’s eyes shifted back and forth between hers, assessing her stake in this. “Why is this so important to you?”

The traffic in the distance had faded, the boats on the water muted, the fragrant breeze that smelled of licorice stuck, even the humans in the ceased to exist. All of that stripped away to leave two souls trying to find common ground to explore their attraction for one another.

“Because when you take me to bed, Ansgar, I want you fucking me. I don’t want you fucking the memory of your wife or ex-wife or whoever she is. I don’t want agendas or schedules or any other person involved.” She stepped into his space again, tucked her forefinger into the belt buckle and tugged him against her until their bodies clashed together, breast to chest, stomach to abdomen, center to groin.

She purred, “Pleasure… adult animal magnetism… orgasms for hours.” Joline nuzzled her hips against his, not quite a graze but something akin to it, a promise of so much more. “Dirty, filthy, raw sex – between two people and we’re the only two people in that room. I want sweat. I want sticky heat. I want shortness of breath. I want my body clamped around your cock.” She bit his lower lip, raking her teeth over the sensitive flesh. “I want the neighbors needing a smoke when we’re sated and too blitzed to fuck again. You can have me when I can have you. You can fuck me when that ring isn’t on your finger.”

The Dark Wave: Chapter 1

Boku no Hero Academia Male!Reader-Insert x Various

Rated M for violence (blood, gore, general villainy) and language. Link to intro post + index.

*Please note there’s a prologue before this chapter that you’ll need to read first.

Oh, you get it now.

That crying woman who’d brought you daisies was your mother. She was sad because her only son doesn’t even remember who she is (or who he used to be). After years and years of him missing without a trace he shows up in a hospital after getting decked by All Might, the #1 hero he used to idolize alongside some childhood friend he no longer knows.

He’d stopped a rather nasty fight between you and another villain after you’d learned your origin story was a fraud and went berserk. Someone with a mind altering quirk had planted false memories and completely erased others. It’s rattling to dwell on even now. Which memories are fake and which ones are real? You don’t know and you’ll beat it out of the bastard when you find him. In fact, the idea you’ll be able to get revenge on all the slimy losers who’ve ever lied and used you is a big motivator for becoming a “hero” yourself.

It’d been debated whether to try and reform you considering villains usually aren’t so young or to just lock you up and throw away the key. You’re still not sure why they didn’t discard you even now, weeks and weeks after the decision was finalized. Even stranger yet that they’d enroll you in the countries top hero school. And you can’t help but feel you’ve gone from being one sort of guinea pig to another. There’s this nagging tug at the back of your mind...like no one is telling you the whole truth.

Your mom must’ve been scared of losing what little she got back during the whole process.

Enjoy your first day! I hope you still like [food], it used to be your favorite ❤

Yet she still stuck a note to a homemade lunch and sent it to the school office for you to pick up. Knowing that her son is capable of and has done some terrible things she still hopes his favorite food is the same as when he was five. And though you have to live in a separate facility to be monitored (very closely) she’d informed you that your old bedroom was kept exactly the way you left it, waiting for you. She’d spent ten years dusting around Legos and hero figurines waiting for the day there would be a knock on the door or a phone call. Ten years!

Mom’s really are something else, huh?

“I see, so you couldn’t get to school the first few days because you were recovering from an accident.” Midoriya Izuku, the shaky mess that he is, must be confused as all hell. An entire album of childhood photos had been shown to you and it was stressed that this broccoli head was your buddy since diapers. He’s been doing most of the talking from his place across from you.

He doesn’t know why you’re here and you’re not supposed to tell anyone (obviously) so all he knows is that one day you weren’t around and the next you’re going to class with him and acting as if you hadn’t been MIA for a decade. “Ah, it’s been so long. You’re probably really different now from when we were little...not that that’s a bad thing! You’re supposed to grow up. Just...”

He may be a nervous, rambling puddle but he isn’t completely stupid. He knows something is up. It’s in the way he averts his forest green eyes and bites his lip with a frown. But he’s not the only one at the table so now wouldn’t be the time to bring anything sensitive up. A bubbly brunette sits beside him, watching on and trying her best not to look too curious and a few other kids from class 1-A babble their lunch break away within earshot.

And it’s no wonder he’s acting the way that he is. He knows your mother, she’s friends with his own. He’s likely seen first hand how desperate she was to find you. It’s not like you can pretend you’re back from a holiday. She’d put up posters and visited the spot you’d last been seen at over and over and over. She’d told you that herself after your release from the hospital.

“Congrats on, uh, you know...the whole getting in thing. It’s what you always wanted.” It’s awkward to speak up. It feels like you’re under examination and while you really shouldn’t give a shit what any of these preppy assholes think it wouldn’t do to slip up. You’re under a strict gag order, after all. “And also the class representative stuff.”

You’re not even sure what being a class representative entails or why a class needs one. Why anyone would want to be one in the first place is even more mysterious. You never actually went to school so these things are foreign. Everything you learned you learned on your own or through any of the sleazeballs in the League with enough patience to teach you. It was homeschooling of a sort. Even villains need to be educated...to a point.

As you pick at your food you vaguely wonder how shocked anyone at this table would be to learn a lot of the things villains do in their off time is frighteningly mundane. These aspiring heroes have probably walked past countless bad guys and criminal scum without ever knowing, shook hands with them, smiled at them. Perhaps were even neighbors.

Or sitting at the same table with one.

“Being here is a dream come true.” Midoriya perks up as he says this. He can speak for himself. You aren’t sure what to think of being here. While it’s still better than solitary confinement, you’re not exactly ecstatic about it. You? A hero in training? You can hear Him laughing already.

U.A. is just your way out.

“This food is a dream come true!” The girl beside him speaks up. It’s true that the cafeteria is well-equipped to the point of overkill and everyone’s trays are piled with expensive restaurant style food. U.A. doesn’t skimp when it comes to anything. Maybe you’ll try it out tomorrow if there isn’t another packed lunch waiting for you. “It’s nice to see people from other departments too.” She’d already introduced herself in class earlier but you can’t quite recall her name. Urara...rara...ra something.

Apparently her quirk makes things float? She’d happily demonstrated by making your pencil wobble in the air. Not sure how useful that is but she got into the hero course so she must be surprisingly capable. She’s admittedly rather cute but, still, she doesn’t seem like the type of person who’d even swat at a fly.

“Actually...I’m not so sure I’ll be a good class president.” Midoriya mutters into his bowl of rice. If he’s hoping to hide the embarrassed blush spreading from beneath his collar he isn’t doing a good job of it. Jeez, if it’s anything you’ve learned about him it’s that practically everything flusters this guy.

“Nonsense. You’ve got what it takes when it counts. It’s why I voted for you.” Iida takes a long sip of apple juice. Talk about taking things way too seriously. He’s so stiff and formal it’s almost annoying. And his black hair is so...so neat. His uniform has zero wrinkles. From his head to his toes he exudes cleanliness and order. It’s obnoxious.

You’d voted for Midoriya simply because you didn’t know who else to give your vote to. You can’t imagine it really matters who gets the role though.

“But I thought you wanted to be class president?” Rara girl asked Iida.

“Wanting something has nothing to do with being suitable for it. I made a judgement call that Midoriya would be the better candidate.” Iida responds with a firm nod. Just the answer one would expect from a kid who grew up in an upper crust hero family. Still, wouldn’t hurt him to loosen up a little.

“How noble,” You snort, ignoring the frown you’re given as a result. He’s dense in a lot of ways but at least he can recognize mockery when he sees it.

It sneaks in unbidden, like a snake slipping through tall grass, but you have the thought that Iida is probably the type who is easy to control by using civilian lives against him. Take a hostage, wreak enough havoc to the point he prioritizes rescue over capturing the person who caused damage in the first place...it’s always easy to use some heroes’ idealism against them.

But you shouldn’t think like that anymore.

EEEE! EEEE! EEEE! EEEE!

The alarm system.

You stand up like a bolt of lightning struck you and slap your hands over your ears. It’s so incredibly loud! You’ve never heard such an overwhelming noise before. The cafeteria erupts into chaos as students begin to scramble like panicked insects when the rock they’re hiding beneath is disturbed.

“Security level 3 has been breached. Please evacuate.” A disembodied, robotic voice announces. Barely audible with the alarm still wailing. This just causes everyone to freak out even more.

Great first day of school so far. This is leaving a wonderful impression.

You’re pushed and shoved along with the other students in a sea of bodies. An overwhelming and faceless swarm and all the while the ringing of the alarm about to make your ears bleed. It’s impossible to get away from, almost like it’s inside your head.

Someone latches on to your sleeve with a death grip. You’re about ready to spin around and tell them off when you look back and see it’s Midoriya with a concerned expression, worried about getting lost in the frenzied crowd. Either because you’re supposed to play at being his long lost friend (which you truly were you just can’t remember) or because there’s something about the look on his face, something bothersome you can’t find a name for...you can’t really find it in you to shove him off so you let him cling to you as you’re swept away out of the cafeteria and into the hallways.

You must’ve missed the memo about level 3 threats because everyone else is about to jump out of their skin. It almost reminds you of the wildebeest stampede in The Lion King. Hopefully no one actually gets trampled. That would be a mess.

“Uraraka, make me float!” You hear Iida scream. It’s hard not to recognize his voice, he has a very distinct way of speaking and can be very loud. Like a barking dog.

Before you know it he’s floating? overhead using a combination of Uraraka’s ability and his own to propel himself over the writhing students. Those weird engine legs rumbling and smoking. He shoves off the side of the hallway opposite the windows and lands awkwardly over the entry by gripping a pipe and placing the tips of his shoes on the protruding edge of the EXIT sign. He’s lost his glasses in the commotion but doesn’t seem to notice or care.

“IT’S OKAY! EVERYONE CALM DOWN! IT’S JUST THE PRESS!” He yells at the top of his lungs. “THEY’RE OUTSIDE!”

At this everyone quiets down almost immediately. You try to see out the windows lining the hall to check if what he says is true. Shouldering pass other students and pulling Midoriya along with you. He still hasn’t let go of your uniform.

Indeed, the press is outside badgering some of the staff. One of them you recognize as your new homeroom teacher, Aizawa. He’s too far away to tell what sort of face he’s making but one can imagine it’s an exhausted mask with unamused eyes. It’s like his entire body is constantly saying, “please get me out of here.” Even Present Mic looks unhappy having to deal with the parasites.

But what really catches your eyes is a familiar splash of silver-grey hair and a face obscured by a large hood. The cloth, the shadows, and the distance obscuring the man’s visage. He’s clad in casual clothing, all of it dark in color. His posture is slouched. You don’t think he’s changed his fashion (or lack thereof) or stood up straight since you were six years old.

His presence should make the pro hero teachers suspicious, standing off to the side like a creep. But the press is so hyped up no one seems to be paying him any attention at all.

“[Name]...?” Midoriya notices you tensing up, stiff as a statue. Like a hunting dog on point.

Tomura.

The gate that leads inside U.A. is crumbled behind him. Destroyed as easily as if it were made of sand. He must be the one who let the reporters in. Using the confusion that would ensue to...do what? He’s not here for you; you’re not exactly a prisoner. In fact, he probably considers you a traitor and he’d be right. A diversion...but for what? A test to see how well security at U.A. really is? Both? Perhaps he’s sending a message that you shouldn’t have defected?

“Big bro Tomura?” You’re a child. Dumb and reckless and tugging at the back of his shirt doesn’t seem a dangerous thing to do. Though everyone else is wary of him. He had told you that Tomura was going to be your big brother from now on and big brothers don’t hurt their little brothers. “Hey!”

“Stop calling me that.” He doesn’t pull his attention away from the T.V. screen, where he’s been playing a video game. Most of the levels he’s gone through look the same to you so it’s hard to say what he finds so enthralling about it. Seems awfully repetitive.

“Okay, big bro. Why do you hold things weird?” Your innocent question makes his eye twitch. There’s candy wrappers littering the scratched wood floor and they crinkle beneath your socks as you shift to stand beside him instead of behind. The place is spartan, cold, and dusty. But it’s your home.

“Ugh, Tomura, my name is Tomura. Use it.” He goes on smashing the buttons on the controller, all while holding it in that strange, four-finger grip.

“To-mu-ra!” You’re bored and there’s no one else around to entertain you. “Why do you hold things weird?” You repeat the question.

His jaw tenses. It’s so easy to bring his temper to a boil. Especially in his younger years. “This is why!”  He places all five fingers on the controller, holding it up for inspection as it begins to flake away into a pile of ash. Some of the residue gets on your toes.

“[Name]?” Midoriya pokes your bicep. “Let’s get back to class.” He’s finally let go of your jacket, acting like he wasn’t terrified of being flattened into a pancake beneath everyone’s indoor shoes just a few seconds ago.

Should you consider whatever plans Tomura is cooking up as a chance to get out from underneath the heroes’ thumbs and rejoin him? That would effectively mean if you’re caught a second time it would be game up. No more second chances. But to say the thought isn’t tempting would be a lie...

You follow behind Midoriya like an obedient pup, weighing your options as you head back to class. Being a “bad guy” is all you know but a way of life where you don’t have to lurk in the shadows doesn’t sound all that terrible. No more hiding and watching your back. But you aren’t the same as the kids here. You can act like a chameleon but you’re never going to truly be like them. A good person.

You’ll forever be stained.

“Oh, wow! That’s so cool To-mu-ra! Does it work on people too?”

.

.

.

“[Name], wait!” Midoriya catches you after school as you’re about to leave campus. His already messy hair is even more ruffled. At first look it appears black but when the sun hits it you can see it’s actually a very dark green, almost matching his eyes. “I need to talk to you.”

You wince, because you know where this conversation is probably going to go.

Behind him some other students are also leaving for the day. The sun hasn’t begun to set, of course, but the sky is warmer in color than it was earlier. There’s a slight breeze as well. It’s good weather. You wish you could enjoy it while making your way back to the tiny, single-bedroom apartment that’d been given to you (under constant surveillance...of course). Instead of this immensely uncomfortable situation.

“Are you okay?” He asks. Everything about him is in earnest. He’s genuinely bothered.

“I’m fine.” You grit out and shove your hands in your pockets. It’s ironic how this whole reforming into a better person thing is requiring you to be a massive liar.

“C’mon, I don’t want to seem intrusive but I...well, I know there’s something wrong. You’re acting weird. I-I know you just got back and I don’t know half of what you’ve gone through but...” He gives you the best stern frown he can. Like a mother disappointed that her child is hiding something from her. “I want to help if I can.”

How are you supposed to feel? You know this is usually the part where the other person opens up or at least reassures their friend that things are fine or will be. The part where worries and fears are put to rest. But...all you feel is frustration.

It’s ridiculous that he’s acting like hardly any time has passed at all. He shouldn’t be going on as if nothing has changed because everything has changed.

“I said I’m fine. Leave it.” You turn on your heel to walk away.

“But, [Name] I know--”

You cut him off with a glare thrown over your shoulder. “You don’t know. You don’t know me anymore, Midoriya.”

Lover

So as a Taylor fan, I of course waited until the clock struck 12 to listen. I was in my car and listened to it on my car stereo for the best sound so I could hear everything each song has to offer. I had some mixed feelings about the record but now that I’ve had a few days to really let this album simmer, I must say that I really do enjoy it. Is it my favorite Taylor record? No. But it has some very promising songs that are gonna stick with me for as long as I’m her fan...

Since the album is about love, I’ll be using the 💗 emoji to score.

Highest score: 💗💗💗💗💗

1. I Forgot That You Exsisted // 💗💗💗💗

So for me, this definitely sounds like a continuation of “This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things” off Reputation. I love that it’s not over produced and sounds like she’s talking about the Kanye situation one final time. To me, she’s pretty much saying, look, all that stuff really doesn’t matter to me anymore. This album is beyond everything reputation was about, so for starters- I’m chuckin the deuces to all my haters! Ahhhh I love it. Good way to start this record for sure!

2. Cruel Summer // 💗💗💗💗💗

One of my favorites off the album for sure. Everything about this track to me is pure genius. Sonically, just so beautiful. Ecspecially the hook, when she hits her falsetto notes and the instrumentals blare like they’re telling you to role down your windows and scream the lyrics at the top of your lungs! Pretty sure she’s talking about a past relationship one last time. She really wanted to get all her past negativity out of the way on this album before getting into her current endeavors. Plus, my favorite part of the song- when she growls in an echo like howl “HE LOOKS UP GRINNING LIKE A DEVIL”. My heart sank and I scream it everytime now. Love love love this track.

3. Lover // 💗💗💗💗💗

This song pulls on my heart strings quite a bit! I can definitely see why the album centers around this track. Y’all, Taylor is in love and she wants all of us to know, OKAY!? She’s pretty much talking about how she loves her man and how she gets jealous when people talk to him or how no matter what- she knows he’s the right one for her. Sonically and lyrically, this song is beautiful. Taylor also sounds so pretty when she hits those soft high notes. I also love how different this is for her, which I appreciate. Solid love song for sure!

4. The Man // 💗💗

So lyrically, I think the songs message is powerful. Women are still going through it and I love all these empowering anthems that are being released. My problem with the song is the instrumentals don’t match up to how important the lyrics are and what they’re trying to convey. It just sounds like a cheap pop song to me. Now it might be a grower eventually but so far , not one of my faves. In the song, she’s talking about how women have it harder then men, and if she was a man, how less taboo certain things would be in the industry for her. We see you Tay, we see you.

5. The Archer // 💗💗💗💗💗

When this song first came out, I was shook! Let me tell ya’ll, when she works with Jack Antonoff, they create some magic. And this song is a perfect example. So freaking breathtaking! To me, she’s talking about her past friendships. She’s taking responsibility for the loss of some and how she does mess up sometimes but wants those people to know that she understands what she’s done but is working on herself. One of my favorites off this album.

6. I Think He Knows // 💗💗💗💗

This cheeky little number is fun. Again, talking about her man. She uses this albums platform to let him know every single feeling she has for him. I love bridge in this song so much, it’s my favorite part! Cute song!

7. Miss Americana & The Heartbreak Prince //

💗💗💗💗

As the political track on the album, I absolutely love the metaphors she uses in the song. Comparing the sinister events in our country to a pageant...the lyrics are effective and it’s a pretty solid song with replay value. I dig it. Again, love love love the bridge when it sounds like cheerleaders are chanting parts of the lyrics. It’s a good one y’all.

8. Paper Rings // 💗💗💗💗

Yet another song that’s complety out of the norm for Taylor. It’s got a little alternative kick to it but the lyrics are so sweet. Another song talking about the man she loves and just letting him know that nice objects are nice but nothing really matters but him, she’s marry him with a paper ring bruh. Very cute, very different and stands out like a sore thumb on this album, in a good way!

9. Cornelia Street // 💗💗💗💗💗

One of my favorites off the album, it’s that song on the album that hits those heart strings HARD. This dude got her all in her feelings. She pretty much is saying in this song, that if she loses him, that things wouldn’t go back the same way like she’s been living for a while. Which is so relatable when people break up with their partner, adjusting is the hardest part. This is such a beautiful song and I love the intrumentals!

10. Death By A Thousand Cuts // 💗💗💗

So on the first initial listen, I didn’t like this track, but I have to say it’s growing on me. To me, this song is about being afraid of a relationship coming to a close and comparing it ending to death by a thousand cuts. Damn Taylor!!! It’s a decent track, I’ll listen to it more, but not my favorite.

11. London Boy // 💗💗💗💗

This song is so funny to me!! Taylor is like, y’all I just wanna be English okayyy. It’s a cute song. Obviously the London Boy is yet again, referring to her lover who is in fact English. So many rememberable lyrics in this song, “they say home is where the heart is, but god I love the English”. Okay Taylor, we hear you girl, you LOVE YOUR MAN.

12. Soon You’ll Get Better // 💗💗💗💗

I have some mixed feelings on this song but to start off, it’s a beautiful heartbreaking song. This definitely sounds like something from her Speak Now/Red era...and we know that her mom has been battling cancer so the song is pretty much how she’s been dealing with all of the events that happen when a family must deal with the awful “c” word. my only negative is the featuring of the Dixie Chicks...I love them but really didn’t understand why they were there? They really didn’t add anything to the song and I wouldn’t expect a feature on such an emotional personal track for her. Other than that, beautiful song.

13. False God // 💗

In my humble opinion, my least favorite song on the album. It just seems so off to me. As sonically different as Paper Rings adds to Lover, it still sounds like Taylor. Likes she’s taking a chance and those lyrics still have that deep meaning that makes you wonder. This track to me sounds like a failed experiment. I don’t like the lyrics or the instrumentals. From what I understand, the songs about the tough times in a relationship when shit hits the fan and your limits are tested. Again, don’t really care for the metaphors and this is just not it for me.

14. You Need To Calm Down // 💗💗💗💗

I’m calm I’m calm!! Well I wasn’t when I first heard this song. I adore YNTCD so much, it was definitely a fresh take on the album after she released the catastrophic first single, I saw hope for sure. It’s the LGBTQ anthem that we didn’t need from her but gracefully were gifted. Everything about this song is a bop and is one of those songs where certain lyrics make you laugh and some of them you just wanna scream at the top of you lungs! Love this song so mucho.

15. Afterglow // 💗💗💗💗💗

I crown this song my favorite track on the album. Oh man, where do I begin? Let’s start with the instrumentals, jesus this song makes me feel what she’s singing. the loud drums just get you going. and her voice sounds so good on this one! I even like the little use of auto tune on certain parts- it really works. So lyrically, in my opinion, this sounds like her apology song to miss Katy Perry. but that could just be me. She’s saying look, I’m taking full responsibility for the break in our friendship but I miss it and I want it back and what do I need to do to get it back? Relatable because we’ve all been there, and just flat out love love love this one. I wanna meet her in the afterglow :(

16. ME! // 💗💗

Soooooo let me tell you. When I first heard this, I was so disappointed. I was like, if this is what her freaking album is gonna sound like then I’m OUT. Thank god it wasn’t and this song is just a fluke. Now here’s the thing, I don’t hate this song entirely. I actually don’t mind the verses, it’s the chorus and the god awful bridge. Hey kids, spelling is fun! She was smart enough to remove that, but to me, this song sounds like a beginning theme song for a kids tv show. Not a song on a 29 year olds album. I just skip this one, y’all.

17. It’s Nice To Have A Friend // 💗💗💗

By far, the oddest song on the record. At first, I didn’t like it. But the more I listen to it, it has this creepy almost abandoned school yard feel that could’ve been played in Pretty Little Liars. I kind of dig it, but it doesn’t match the lyrical content for me. To me, the song is about a simple friendship where one might have more feelings for the other. But I don’t know, it’s gonna take some getting used to. Weird for sure for Taylor.

18. Daylight // 💗💗💗💗

Last track of the album and a beautiful way to end it as well. Ya’ll, Taylor wants everyone to know that she is happy, unbothered and has grown up. This track is about the person she loves changing her perfective on, well -love. One of my favorite moments on the album, she connects her song Red from 3 albums ago, saying she used to compare love to a burning red but now it’s golden like daylight. And ends the song and album with a person mantra that really stays with you.

This album is such a beautiful piece of work. I know I used that term a lot, but it’s how I feel.

I can’t wait to see how these sound in concert!

part 1 || self-para

wesley shot up from his chair, startling salem where she’d been leisurely munching on her dog treats, and raced over to the television on the opposite wall. he came face to face with the source of his nightmares, the source of his misery, the source of everything wrong in his life–

tw; mentions of murder, death, anxiety/panic attack, mentions of alcohol abuse

his phone was ringing again. 

wesley didn’t have to answer it to know it was his mother, trying to reach out for whatever reason that he couldn’t quite fathom. she kept calling from an unknown number, probably so that he couldn’t block her. he simply let her leave another voice mail that he’d delete without listening to. 

he stepped into the coffee shop with his dog at his side. the employees always looked forward to seeing him, if only because he always stopped by at the end of his morning walk with salem. she was a favorite among town. 

“good morning,” said the barista with a friendly smile. “and how’s our favorite customer?” 

“she’s good,” wesley answered, knowing they were not referring to him. salem stared up at the barista with pleading eyes, begging for the treat they always gave to her. “she’s energetic this morning, but i’ll try to keep her from hopping over the counter again.” 

the worker waved off his comment as they placed the cup of water and dog treat on the ground in front of salem. “you know none of us mind when she visits. i’ll get started on your usual.”

wesley stepped off to the side after paying, resting in a chair after the long walk and play time in the park. he vaguely registered the news station on in the background. 

“we’re excited to learn that such a large corporation will be spreading to the united states! mr. ratcliffe–”

wesley’s head snapped up. 

“do you have any comments on the status of your now international business?”

no. no, no, no, no. wesley was frozen in his seat with a white-knuckled grip on the arm rests. 

“i’m incredibly excited for such a big step forward in expanding my empire–”

NO.

wesley shot up from his chair, startling salem where she’d been leisurely munching on her dog treats, and raced over to the television on the opposite wall. he came face to face with the source of his nightmares, the source of his misery, the source of everything wrong in his life–

“i’ve been working on a move to the united states for some time! nearly a decade, in fact. but every time there was something that prevented us from truly moving forward.” his father practically oozed smarmy businessman arrogance. he looked older than wesley remembered. he had more wrinkles around his eyes, his jowls had sunken lower and his hair line had further receded. “but now, with our business so booming in the uk, we’re confident we’ll be able to bring the same success to the states.”

the scene cut back to the reporter at the desk. “according to our estimates, ratcliffe industries could very well offer upwards of two thousand new jobs in the richmond, virginia metropolitan area. the real estate tycoon jonathan ratcliffe continued to express his optimistic view on the new business venture, and has informed us that ratcliffe industries will be opening its doors for interviews at the end of the month–”

he felt sick to his stomach. no, that didn’t describe the feeling correctly. it was as if his insides were twisting together in terror, turning inside out in some futile attempt to escape. john ratcliffe was coming here, to the united states, in less than a month. the icy chill of fear — real, gripping fear that he hadn’t felt so intensely in so long — clamped down on his heart. he remembered at one point visiting london, trying and failing to confront his father over and over again. 

he’d been too scared, so he’d run away. as usual. 

he felt the urge to run again. go to another state, portland maybe. far, far away from the east coast. or perhaps another country, somewhere he was certain his father would never go. 

wesley felt a tug on his hand and it jolted him out of his terror-induced trance. he hadn’t realized how intensely he was breathing. he was practically hyperventilating. his gaze fell to the source of the tug, a concerned looking salem who gazed up at him with soft brown eyes. eyes full of infinite, unwavering trust and love, the kind of love that only an animal can offer. 

he couldn’t run. not now, not again. not after all of the progress he’d made. 

he was reminded of michele, of his friends, of the life he’d built for himself, however imperfect it still was. 

wesley hid his face in his hands and released a shaky breath. his breathing had calmed, though the terror still remained. 

“one black coffee, no cream, two sugars–” said the barista, placing the to-go cup in front of him. wesley couldn’t help the jolt that startled through him. 

“thank you,” he mumbled, taking the cup to go. his feet felt heavy, his body felt as if it was made of some impossibly heavy material, and he wondered how to move forward from this. 

the sounds of his office were just a haze in the back of his mind. copy machines droned on, phones rang, keys tapping, mice clicking, the coffee machine clacked as it forced out some horrendous caffeinated concoction.

all wesley could think about was the things he’d seen his father do. he’d been transported back, back to the scared sixteen-year-old boy hiding in a closet as he watched his father murder someone in cold blood. he could hear the man’s desperate pleas. the pleas of a man who had a family, that he’d pay john back, that he would be good for the money, sobs of please, please don’t, i have a daughter– 

and then the gun shot. 

it was a sharp sound, sharper than wesley would have imagined. he wondered how it was that people got away with shooting one unnoticed. to him it seemed like the loudest sound in the world. 

wesley sat terrified in that closet as john had his assistant clean up the blood. the stench had been overwhelming. it nearly made him vomit up his lunch from that day. 

“wesley–” 

welsey’s breathing quickened, heart hammering in his chest so loudly he was certain it was giving him away. 

“wesley.”

wesley jolted, harshly jerking his shoulder out of his boss’ grip. the sounds of the office returned to his ears, and the smell of blood was replaced by the smell of the cheap lemon-scented cleaner the custodian used. 

“are you okay? are you sick? you look like a ghost.”

wesley noticed he was breathing heavily again. he hard to force himself to speak, had to try and take some steadying breaths to even be able to force out a response. he wondered if this was what panic attacks felt like. 

“i’m just, not feeling great,” he croaked out. his voice sounded overly used, like he’d been screaming.

his boss recoiled with a grimace. “well then go the hell home. you know what this office was like when the flu went around, our entire accounting department was out the whole week. get out, go home if that shit is contagious.”

wesley nodded numbly. he had to go. somewhere else. anywhere else. 

the guilt settled in with the fear when he got home and sat down on his couch. salem was excited to see him as usual, and he’d gone through the motions of petting her as he stared blankly at the wall in front of him. 

he remembered the last time he spoke to his father. it was when he’d first enrolled in wdu. the school had understandably reached out to a guardian, wondering if this beat-up looking runaway had anyone who was looking for him. 

the phone call had been a screaming match. their first conversation in nearly three years, actually. john demanded that he come home, demanded to know what the hell had caused this–

the line had gone eerily silent when wesley revealed to his father than he saw him kill that man. it wasn’t a guilty silence, but a terrifying one. wesley could feel the fury radiating through the phone. 

“if you tell anyone, i’ll bring you down with me. i’ll ruin you.”

and then the deal. the deal that wesley cowardly offered up as something, anything, to get him away from his father. 

you don’t contact me, and i don’t tell. you leave me alone, and i’ll keep my mouth shut. 

that was when the self-hatred started. sometimes his therapist had tried to press him to ask when these self-esteem issues had first started. she’d said they often first arose during adolescence, often as a cause of natural insecurity and hormones that most teens went through. but wesley wasn’t an insecure teenager. he’d been blissfully unaware, living in the false reality his father had carefully crafted with fear tactics and threats. his therapist had dropped the subject for a while, though it was clear there was something he wasn’t telling her. 

and wasn’t that just the goddamn understatement of the century. 

john had threatened him, told him that if he ever said anything to anyone, he’d spend whatever money necessary to destroy wesley’s life. wesley believed him. and so, to protect his own skin, he’d kept the secret. 

for seven years now he’d been sitting on this, and for four years he’s hated himself for it. he recalled his first few months at wdu. he was the grouchiest then. no friends, hence the ever-present loneliness, and an overwhelming cloud of misery followed him everywhere. he remembered how he used to rely on alcohol and meaningless sex to feel something. to feel some sense of companionship. 

it was at one of those parties that he’d met will, and then later emmett. they didn’t go away after they were all sober, nor in the years to follow. 

it was during a sober day that he’d met michele. she’d scolded him on something, his attitude, if he recalled. he’d snarked back at her, and so the cycle had begun. he remembered how infuriating she was, how frustratingly stubborn. those qualities certainly hadn’t disappeared, except now his tune on them had changed. he remembered when their fighting turned to banter, turned to flirting. when their hatred for each other turned to mutual respect, to friendship, to infatuation, to love. 

he remembered feeling like his life was coming together for once, like maybe he could move on from this guilt and self-hatred. maybe he and his father could co-exist on opposite sides of the world in peace, never bothering of or thinking of the other. 

and then his mother, the same woman who’d left him a voicemail only hours before. 

wesley pulled out his phone and instead of hitting the delete button, he hit play. 

“wesley, i pray that you’re listening to these...” he found it off that he recognized her voice, even though he only really remembered their single conversation as an adult. “i know that you don’t want to see me, and i don’t blame you. i ran, and left you behind. but i can’t do that again. i can’t leave you behind without warning you. your father is coming. the news was announce officially announced yesterday. the rumors have been circling for some months, and you know i hoped that it was just another rumor. god i wish it was a rumor. ...i don’t know how you’ve gotten him to leave you alone for so long. you must have some secret on him...” the line went silent, and wesley thought was the end. 

“be safe, son. keep an eye out for him. don’t let him near you, please. ...i love you, let me know if you get–”

wesley quickly pressed the delete button. 

wesley’s walk to therapy was one he’d gotten used to. he went after work once a week now. he’d tried to do lunch breaks, but found that having a deeply emotional hour made it harder to drag himself back into work. 

“so, tell me what’s on your mind.” 

dr. lauren vaughn hadn’t started a session that way since he’d first started therapy. normally now they just chatted. there were some sessions that were more intense, some where deeply buried issues resurfaced, others were revelations were made. but they’d found an equilibrium that worked for them. 

“what makes you think something is on my mind?” he asked. he still often answered the too personal questions with questions of his own. it was an avoidance tactic both he and lauren were aware of. 

“you have been seeing me at least once a week, sometimes two or three, for nearly a year now–”

had it really been almost a year? he supposed so, it was almost summer. 

“i think i know when something is on your mind.”

wesley fiddled his fingers and stared down at the abstractly patterned carpet. it was a mix of beiges, browns and greens. earthy tones that he supposed were supposed to feel neutral and relaxing. 

“...do you want to talk about it?”

lauren had learned quickly that there were some things that he refused to discuss. she’d tried to poke and prod at first, only for wesley to leave sessions early and in a huff. she’d found progress was more steadily made when wesley was allowed to reveal things at his own terms. some people wanted to talk, but wesley was not one of those people. 

“...say you’re keeping a secret...”

wesley searched for words. how did he even begin? how much did he reveal? the thought of revealing all of it made his stomach twist in fear, and the thought of not saying anything at all made it writhe in guilt. 

he just couldn’t win. 

“say you’ve been keeping a secret for...a long, long time. a secret that you shouldn’t have been keeping, because keeping it...hurts people. but...revealing it hurts yourself. and– and you want to tell everyone, because it’s the right thing to do. but what happens when the right thing to do brings bad consequences for you? and...and the people close to you?”

lauren sighed, wondering what wesley could possibly be talking about. “well... keeping this secret seems to be hurting you too, doesn’t it?”

wesley paused. she...wasn’t wrong. 

“and maybe, doing the right thing would help in the long run, even if it’s hard in the beginning. maybe it would help others, and it would help you.”

Adimyos, Chapter 3

Chapter 3 of Adimyos!  Link to Google Drive folder >>here<<, and link to the first part/prologue on tumblr >>here<< I still don’t personally like reading long stories directly on tumblr, but i’ll paste it in anyway.

Chapter 3: How To Proceed? After some deliberation, Tanos ended up selecting a modest guest room as close to his room as possible to be where Rivis would stay for the time being.  It seemed like a no-brainer of a choice, but it did actually come with a few concerns for Tanos, mainly revolving around how much he could actually trust the odd prisoner.  What if Rivis’ tears and mannerisms were all just excellent acting?  What if Rivis was planning to harm him in some way?  Or worse, his family? What if Rivis’ story was a lie?  What if he was planning to feed the whole kingdom of Adimyos false information to aid the Ensin?  They were definitely risks that couldn’t be ignored. Tanos briefly considered giving him something a bit less comfortable, like a repurposed closet or storage room, as a way of making it clear that he wasn’t exactly off the hook, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it.  If it turned out Rivis was being completely truthful, he did want to help Adimyos, and he was forced to work with the Ensin, Tanos would feel absolutely awful about it, even if he was only being paranoid for the good of his family and country.  Ultimately, he simply chose the option of having guards watch the guest room to make sure Rivis wouldn’t try anything, and he also made sure all the guards and servants in the castle and on the property knew the situation so they could keep an eye out for anything strange. Rivis eventually came back, escorted by the same guards who took him to get medical attention.  It wasn’t the finest possible care, but it was decent.  He’d been bandaged and treated with medicinal poultices where needed, and given a white padded eyepatch for his swollen eye, but he definitely still looked like he’d seen better days. As Tanos showed Rivis where he’d be staying, Rivis let out a small gasp, and actually walked through the room on his tiptoes, looking around cautiously as if he weren’t supposed to be there at all.  “Are you really fine with wasting such a good room on me?”  Rivis said disbelievingly. “Unless I am proven otherwise, I will treat you as someone worthy of respect.  But if you seem to be acting suspicious, there will be consequences.  Is that clear?” “Y-yes, of course, Your Highness…  I promise not to be ungrateful,” Rivis said. “Good.  But for the time being, you should freshen up and prepare for dinner,” Tanos said.  “Someone will be bringing it to you soon.  I’ll be doing the same now, if you’ll excuse me,” Rivis gave the briefest questioning glance towards Tanos’ soft, bulging stomach, as if a bit surprised he was going to be eating again when he already seemed so full, but all he did was nod in response. Tanos quickly went to freshen up and change into clean clothes, which weren’t much different from his previous ones, but his new top was a looser, flowing, translucent black silk that only covered his chest, still leaving his stomach completely exposed and unrestricted.   Once he went to the dining room, it was largely the same as before, with the exception of the family all briefly slowing their feasting to look at him.  It was honestly sort of incredible that they actually heard him coming over the sounds of constant chewing and gulping, but they definitely slowed down to look at him. Once he sat down, the questioning started right away, some of it a bit muffled because no one would entirely stop eating. “So, what’re you gonna do with the thief?”  Thrin asked with a sadistic grin.  “Hard labor?  Sleeping on the floor in the basement?  Killing giant rats?  Gross food in tiny portions?” “I’m going to treat him with respect, of course,” Tanos said simply, causing the whole table to look at him rather oddly.  “ “But… he was planng to do something bad to Majos, wasn’t he?” said a girl just slightly shorter and less incredibly obese than Honjya or Thrin, but still quite similar looking. “I know, Iyin, but… It’s just… He doesn’t seem like a bad person… He just seems desperate and afraid…”  Tanos said. “Last time I checked, that’s called ‘acting’…” Lamtu said dryly.  There were a few snickers from others, but restrained enough to not choke or spit out drinks. “I admit I could be wrong.  But for now, I don’t want to be too harsh on him if there’s no proof I should be.  He’s not Ensin.  He definitely doesn’t look like one, and he says he was forced to fight,” “He said so?  He speaks our language well enough to explain himself?” Lamtu asked. “Apparently,”  Tanos replied with a shrug.  When some of the others stared at him with raised eyebrows and small frowns, he pushed his chair back slightly and sunk down a bit lower in his seat.  “I know it all seems suspicious, but…  I just really don’t want him to suffer more than he has to,” Tanos said. “I know how you feel, but… We’re just worried about you, is all,”  Honjya said with a patient smile. “If he should try anything suspicious, he’ll pay dearly.  Those who would lie to royalty in order to endanger Adimyos must be punished harshly,” the king said coldly, somehow making Tanos a bit nervous by proxy.  Although he hardly knew anything about Rivis, he desperately hoped Rivis wasn’t lying.  Not only for the sake of his home and those he cared about, but for the sake of Rivis himself. Dinner progressed rather normally after that, as everyone became too engrossed in eating to bother talking.  Even Tanos managed to painstakingly match his lunchtime intake, but he made another plate anyway in order to bring it to Rivis, which only elicited stares and murmurs from the rest of his family, to the point that Thrin actually got up and began following him, in spite of her heavily bloated, hanging stomach weighing her down. “Alright, let me see what in the name of Feylya is apparently so special and innocent about this random criminal that you want to give him some of the best food there is…”  Thrin said with a scowl, although her threatening tone was diminished somewhat by a loud burp afterwards. Once they made their way to Rivis’ room, Rivis was there sitting on a bed that was rather awkwardly much too big for him.  Once he caught sight of Thrin looking so massive, heavily obese, extremely full, and yet clearly powerful, he could do little more than stare completely frozen with his mouth agape. “H-hello, Princess… Nice to meet you…  My name- my name is Rivis…”  Rivis forced out, although he was hardly even able to look at Thrin at all.  Thrin just sneered rather coldly, as Tanos gave him the plate of food. “I… I couldn’t possibly…”  Rivis started.  “I’m grateful, but this is far too much food!” Both Tanos and Thrin just exchanged side glances for a moment before Tanos spoke.  “…Too much?” “I-I do not mean to say it wasn’t an incredibly kind and gracious thing to do, Your Highness, but…  my people do not have such marvelous stomach capacities…” “Too bad.  Eat.  My little brother is being nice to your scrawny, bony ass, so eat!”  Thrin said, as she took a step forward and stomped the floor hard enough to make the whole room shake. “Right away!  My apologies!”  Rivis said, as he took the food and immediately took a huge bite out of some kind of large meatloaf coated in a thick gravy.  Immediately, Rivis’ one good eye went wide, even tearing up slightly.  He looked as if he wanted to say something, but he immediately stuffed another large bite into his mouth and let out a moan of pleasure.  As quickly as he could, he sampled everything on the plate, moaning with pleasure and slightly blushing the entire time. After a couple of minutes, he regained control of himself long enough to speak.  “This is incredible!  The food is every bit as amazing as I’ve heard!” “Yeah, yeah, all those pale ass skeletons hear we have better food and spices than them and they come running over here like a slavering pack of dogs,”  Thrin said irritably.  “And you came right with them.” “I was forced,” Rivis said quietly.  “I had no choice…  I’m sorry…  I-I never wanted to submit to the Ensin, I’m Lyphorian…” “…Lyphorian?  Aren’t they a bunch of nomads and healers?  I’ve heard you help the Ensin all the time of your own free will!”  Thrin said. “That’s… how it used to be.  But the Ensin just act like that’s how it still is…  Our situation is actually like yours.  They wanted our land and resources for a long time, but they had no choice but to respect our independence because we had people skilled in so many areas of magic, to the point where there were things they completely relied on our help for…  And our culture emphasizes helping others.  We even willingly let them buy a generous portion of our territory for much less than it was really worth, and yet they still wanted more.” “Pfft.  Then we’re not the same.  Our country would never let anyone have our territory, especially not on sale!”  Thrin replied with a laugh.  Tanos just listened closely… For just a moment, he thought he saw Rivis’ good eye glow slightly, while the odd black metal rings on his throat and upper arms seemed to constrict slightly… But just as soon as he thought he saw it, it was over.   “Yes.  But please understand, Princess.  Things have changed.  They… don’t need us like they used to.  Their magic advanced.  They learned, they got richer, and now…  Now they just use us however they please.  They… they took me when I was thirteen years old.  They took my little sister and I from a poor, remote, miserable village in the dead of winter, when we couldn’t possibly stand a chance against them…  And made me into a soldier.  Do you know how Lyphorian magic works, Princess?”  Rivis said. “The more life force sitting around in the air, the more power, or some shit like that…”  Thrin said. “Exactly.  That’s why, according to the Ensin, a Lyphorian makes for the perfect soldier to invade Adimyos…”  Rivis said. “Yeah, or you willingly handed yourself over for money and you’re just making you sister up to make this story seem sadder…”  Thrin replied with a smirk.  Once again, Rivis’ eye glowed, but this time for a couple of seconds, and with more intensity, making it easier to notice.  The thick black rings began to smoke slightly and noticeably tighten, enough to make Rivis flinch. “Her name was Pavmes.  Pavmes Sivir.  And she existed.  She existed, and she had dreams and struggles… and she only lasted two years…  Because of them, she didn’t even get to turn eleven!  They killed her!  How dare you make fun of that?!”  Rivis said, his voice becoming cold and low as his one good eye glowed brighter than ever.  The black rings began smoking more heavily, while constricting so much they were elaving new bruises and Rivis began clutching frantically at his neck before the glow in his eye finally waned, and he was able to breathe again… although his breaths quickly became ragged and shaky as he descended into quiet sobbing, despite how he’d been blissfully happy over his food just moments ago. “…You’re awful, you know that?”  Tanos said coldly to Thrin, who just looked away from them rather stiffly as she slowly backed away a bit. “You know he could’ve been making it up!” “Would it harm literally anything to just believe that he had a sister?  Are you proud of yourself, denying him even the absolute bare minimum of trust?”  Tanos asked scathingly, while glaring up at his big sister. “…I apologize,” Thrin said, just loudly enough to hear, before stiffly turning and leaving as abruptly as her massive frame would allow. “…She meant the apology,” Tanos said to Rivis rather awkwardly.  Rivis calmed himself after a moment and managed to sit up straight.   “…Of course she would think I’m lying.  There really are people who do what she said…  More than I’d care to admit… People who give themselves up for money…  People who give their kids up for money…  But… it’s…  that’s how it is!  Royalty like you wouldn’t understand!  You wouldn’t understand the desperation, the helplessness, the pain, the terror…  You just live here, eating heavenly food until you’re tight and round and not worrying about anything!”  Rivis cried. “…You’re right,” Tanos replied simply.  “I… I’m sorry I don’t understand that kind of life.  That kind of pain,” “…I… thank you…”  Rivis said. “You’re welcome…  But… your food is going to get cold.  And you still never explained how you can talk to us so easily.”  Tanos said. “It’s an extension of my magic.  There are a few minor things these limiters I wear don’t prevent, especially now that I’m in Adimyos.  I’m a bit connected with any lifeform near me.  Our energy automatically begins to exchange in a balanced cycle.  It’s only a weak sort of thing, but with some practice you can manipulate it enough to more easily understand someone’s thoughts and feelings, and it works the same for them.” “Definitely didn’t seem that way with Thrin or the guards…”  Tanos said. “Like I said, it’s weak.  It works much better when someone is actually open and cooperative like you,” Rivis explained.  “Negativity and distrust easily disrupts it, but at least everyone still understands my words, so I suppose I can live with it.”       “Well, I’m glad you’ve finally cleared that up.  Now… please try your best to finish your meal.   You look far too skinny,” Tanos said. “I was expecting I’d get even skinnier, honestly.  But the food I was given as a prisoner here was already much better than I was expecting.  Sometimes better than what I was already being fed before, actually.” “Really?  You were actually satisfied with such sad portions?” Tanos asked. “Probably the best part of being a prisoner here, honestly…”  Rivis said, which just made Tanos shake his head sadly. “Just finish your meal, please,” Tanos said.  Rivis happily obliged, but hit a wall in only about twenty minutes, as his body began to realize his stomach was at its limit… And yet, his stomach was bulging several times less than Tanos’, which would be much fuller even after a lengthy nap.  Overall, Rivis had probably eaten only about three pounds of the very rich food, for well over 3,000 calories. Tanos merely sat on the end of the bed the entire time, even though he realized he could simply leave.  “Is there anything I can change about it, next time?”  Tanos asked. “It was perfect just like it was… I’ve never had anything so good…”  Rivis said, as he gingerly laid down on the bed to get more comfortable.  “It’s a wonder you’re still only that big, eating so much of this perfect food every day…”  Rivis said. “It’s a difference in the bodies of my people.  There’s a certain stage we need to get past before we can get too enormous.  It’s called the Great Shift.  I’m hoping mine will be over soon, I’m quite overdue by now,” Tanos said. “I… uhm… I wish you luck with that, Prince,”  Rivis said with a small smile. “Thank you… But you must be getting tired now.  I’ll leave you to rest.  Someone will come get the plate for you,” Tanos said, returning the slight smile as he left the room.   Although it was a bit of a strange situation, it wasn’t exactly unpleasant.

Today I took a silent, reflective, respectful minute out of my day to think about those who died in the Ibrox disaster.

That was one of the most tragic days in the history of this city and for football fans it has no parallel. It is quite simply the saddest, darkest, day supporters here in Scotland have ever known. I hope it is the worst we ever will.

I always hope that about every disaster. Some repeat like a record stuck on a bad player, but this one is different because it was preventable and lessons have been learned from it. Like all disasters created by human error they offer you one shining light, a guidebook for what went wrong and the ways to make sure it never happens again.

window._ttf = window._ttf || []; _ttf.push({ pid : 43792 ,lang : "en" ,slot : '.content .article-content > p,.teadsNative' ,format : "inread" ,mobile : false ,minSlot : 2 ,components : { skip: {delay : 0}} ,mutable : true ,css : "margin: 0px 0px 20px;" }); (function (d) { var js, s = d.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; js = d.createElement('script'); js.async = true; js.src = '//cdn.teads.tv/media/format.js'; s.parentNode.insertBefore(js, s); })(window.document);

Society didn’t learn all the lessons from Ibrox; it never really does.

There’s always a hanging thread, something to snag on later.

Had football learned every lesson it could from Ibrox I don’t believe we’d ever have had a Hillsborough. Antiquated grounds, fans herded like cattle, police and other authorities who looked upon supporters as the lowest dregs of humanity … those are the raw materials of those awful days.

Those things took longer – and a harder, more painful lesson – before they were fully assimilated into the consciousness of the sport and those governing in. Even today, I still wonder if we’ve gone far enough. You can’t see where things could have been made safer with modern grounds; they seem so perfectly planned and laid out. But that’s the way of it with disaster. The holes it seeps through aren’t always visible to the naked eye.

It’s always the thing you didn’t think was possible that ends in tragedy.

The great modern example was the Challenger Space Shuttle disaster; the explosion was caused by the deterioration of O-rings, like rubber seals. They were designed to keep the fuel in the solid rocket boosters from escaping during the fiery launch. They could resist high temperatures. What happened on that fateful day was that the rings had suffered catastrophic deterioration because of an unusually cold spell in the days before it – in Florida don’t forget.

Although the O-rings were capable of withstanding fire, no-one had ever thought to test them against extreme cold.

It’s always something, some little flaw, some tiny thing no-one’s foreseen.

So whilst I am confident that grounds have never been safer and fans more secure on match-days, that nagging doubt is always there, that worry never quite leaves you. You can’t have watched the footage from Hillsborough or seen that fire rip through Bradford and feel totally confident that attending a game is a pastime that carries no risks.

The dead remember every mistake we made. They haunt us on anniversaries. They are there every time you hear a creak in the stands at a big game when the fans are bouncing; you remember, briefly, that we’re all walking a high wire above a yawning chasm. Anything can go wrong. Everything can go wrong. And sometimes it does.

What you can do is react to those moments and those tragedies like a goddamned human being. The people who died in them were just like us; they went to a football match and they never came home. Can you think of anything quite so horrific?

I don’t care if you’re a Sevco fan coming to Celtic Park expecting a hiding or a Celtic fan going to Paris and knowing you’ll have to watch much of the match through your fingers; there’s always that buzz, that anticipation, that thrill that this is football, that on the right day you can sneak it, that it may end in glory.

And however bad it goes on the pitch, on the day, you know you’ll be going home with your mates or to the boozer with your friends, to talk about the next game and the one after that. It’s not supposed to end with someone standing over you in a morgue. It’s not supposed to end with people you love crying and talking about what a waste it all is.

Those who think that we, that football fans, are crazy enough anyway … what the Hell must they think on days like that? Hey, I don’t really give a shit what they think, but if they think we’re already a little nuts imagine how they view us when our response to those days is to go to every game for the rest of the campaign, in honour of the dead, and because that’s just what you do on a match day? Is there a word for that, other than “insane”?

Well it isn’t insane. It’s not insane at all.

What is insane, what is unforgivable, is those who see a tragedy like Ibrox as a weapon. And I refer both to the small number of Celtic fans who thing singing about is funny or cool or tolerable in any kind of society – I couldn’t hit them harder enough; on one occasion I did smack one around a Cambuslang kebab shop – and to those on the Sevco side who have invented stories about whole sections of the crowd doing it at our games.

There aren’t enough sick people in the world to make those stories true.

Who the Hell would want to use dead football fans as a way to score cheap points? What kind of mentality comes up with that? Thankfully they are few in number, but their continued existence irks me. In fact, it makes me furious. They are the same sort of people who constantly dredge up the spectre of child abuse as if that was an acceptable comeback to their club being down on its luck. What in God’s name goes through their minds?

One of the men they lambast, one of the men they slander, of course was there on the day of the Ibrox disaster, and helped the wounded, and cared for the dead and poured his heart out over it. He was haunted by those scenes until the day he died.

It makes me sick that I have to write this article. It makes me sick that these people exist at all, sharing space with the rest of us. What happened that day could have happened anywhere; Ibrox wasn’t the only ground that had problems.

I remember the Centenary Cup Final at Hampden against Dundee Utd, on those dusty terraces with their old wooden barriers.

That day we were packed in tight like sardines in a can; in hindsight that should have been a scarier day than it was. I think of that often, and of hearing my dad talk about Leeds United at the same ground on 15 April 1970, recorded in the history books with something approaching pride as the biggest attendance ever at a European tie; 136,000 fans … but it was lethally dangerous that night, which the histories rarely mention.

Other records are held by Hampden as well; 149,000 plus fans crowded into the old ground twice in 1937, once for a Home Countries game between Scotland and England and then for a Celtic – Aberdeen tie in the Scottish Cup.

How those events went off without disaster … luck, friends.

Nothing but luck.

What happened at Ibrox on this day in 1971 didn’t happen to Rangers fans; it happened to football fans. It is a tragedy that belongs to one club but it belongs to this city too and to the game in this country. It affected us all, in ways we don’t even understand. Those who died should be respected and honoured. That anyone would use them for illicit purposes is a stain on the soul of this nation. It ought to have been an event that brought us together.

It gladdens my heart to see so many on the Celtic forums and groups paying their respects today; most people do get it. They get what this is. They can wrap their arms around the magnitude of it even if they don’t know anyone who was there or whose lives were changed by it. All our lives were changed by it to some degree or another.

I wish it had made all of us better people, more tolerant, more understanding, more compassionate.

It’s not too late.

http://ift.tt/2DT1Wmq