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incidentreport31 · 3 years

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Episode 2 - Secure TRANSCRIPT

[You can listen to the show wherever you get your podcasts.

Recorder clicks on.

SFX of a mug being set down on a counter. Water pouring and then the clink of a spoon against ceramic. Then, an abrupt almost dropping of said mug as Zach begins to speak.

ZACH:

Tea? Really?

ARCHIVIST:

(stammering)Oh, hi, hello, can… can I help you…?

(beat)

ZACH:

You can help yourself by getting some coffee. Tea isn’t gonna do anything for you, you know. It won’t keep you going for the whole day. You’ve gotta get that good ole cup of joe to start your morning.

ARCHIVIST:

I’m… sorry?

ZACH:

You can’t tell me that you actually like that garbage, right? I mean what kind are you even making?

[shuffle as he grabs the box off the counter]

English Breakfast? Really? English? Compensating for being in the US are we?

ARCHIVIST:

(defensive for no reason beknown to the listener but painfully known to them) I happen to like it, actually but- no actually wait a minute, who are you? Do you work here?

ZACH:

(also defensive for previously explained reason) Yeah, I do. Do you?

ARCHIVIST:

Yes, indeed I do. I’m actually the head archivist. May I ask what in the hell you might do around here? Other than, of course, critique drink choices?

ZACH:

Oh. (beat) Oh you- (another beat) You’re the archivist?

ARCHIVIST:

(huffing out a breath) Quite right. Once again. What the hell do you do here?

ZACH:

Oh I’m Zach. Zach Baker. I’m sorry I didn’t realize you were… my… boss.

ARCHIVIST:

(hurried and with false confidence) Yes, of course. I’m Val West… your boss. Which means that I’m in charge here. Which then means you should… watch yourself in bothering me about these small things. Yes.

ZACH: It’s not my fault you have the worst taste in drinks-

ARCHIVIST:

(coughs to cut him off)

ZACH:

Well, you do. I’m just saying, okay? And- hold on, are you recording this?

ARCHIVIST: Hmm? Oh, yes I suppose I am.

ZACH:

Where’d that thing come from anyway? It looks ancient.

ARCHIVIST:

It is, from what I can tell. But Mr. Banks has instructed me to record all of my (said with distaste because the archivist is a dick to account givers) “little stories” into it. Apparently, silent reading does not do much in the way of furthering the plot of a story told in an audio format.

ZACH: Yeah, I guess he has a point there.

ARCHIVIST:

Fair enough… Either way, I'm not the biggest fan of the old girl, but she hasn’t broken down on me so far, so that counts for something I reckon. Not that there aren’t better ways of recording things, but I digress.

(a beat)

But, I guess I’ve just gotten in the habit of turning it on when it seems like I’m about to do something noteworthy that might further the plot, you know?

ZACH: Like… making tea.

ARCHIVIST:

Yes, yes, I believe you’ve already expressed your opinions on tea, but some of us prefer it to that… grimy coffee that you seem so attached to.

ZACH:

(flustered and compensating, sputtering his words out) Well you can defend your tea all you want, but I am still objectively correct and everyone else definitely agrees with me too, even if the coffee pot goes missing once a week-

ARCHIVIST:

The coffee pot what?

ZACH:

(feeling like he shouldn’t have said that as it seems to have hurt his argument, starting slow and getting increasingly heated) I… it goes missing sometimes… and I haven’t figured out who keeps taking it yet, but trust me I will, and anyways in the meantime, it’s a bit inconsiderate of you to continue trash talking my drink choice-

Recorder clicks off.

Recorder clicks on.

ARCHIVIST:

God, I had to cut that conversation off… It was getting quite past the point of relevance to anyone listening. Pointless debate. So… back to what I was hired on to do, I suppose. (clearing their throat) For the consideration of Boston College: Jordyn Mackenzie’s encounter with an odd child in her parents’ neighborhood, and her request to be exempt from her midterms. No date, once again. [mutters] I am starting to question my predecessor’s competency when it came to filing these out. Her story begins:

[ACCOUNT START]

Every Wednesday night, I make the drive over to my parents’ house to have dinner. When I first moved into my dorm, I had stubbornly been forced into these dinners, as if they were ripping away my freedom so shortly after I had received it. As time went on, however, those Wednesday night dinners have become what I look forward to most. After a while, the glamour of college began to wear off, and I got homesick easily, even if my mother and I didn’t always see eye-to-eye. There’s something so comforting about being able to step away from the bustling atmosphere of campus, and go somewhere quiet, and familiar. We’ve lived in that house almost all my life, and even with all of the bad memories attached to it, I can’t help but think of all the good ones. Perhaps that’s because I always try to see the glass as half full.

(beat)

It’s not just the house I enjoy. My parents live in a small gated community, just about twenty minutes away from school. The houses are all fairly new, with that white picket fence quality to them. In spite of that, each house has its own personality and charm to it. My favorite is probably this blue one with rabbit figurines out front. There’s a park in the neighborhood, too. Not a fancy one, just some monkey bars, a couple of slides, and a grassy field, but it’s great for picnics. Though, in all my time living there, I’ve hardly seen any other children there. I just assumed there weren’t many young kids in the neighborhood.

(another beat)

Thus, you can imagine my surprise when I met this particular child. Now, after dinner each night, I go out on a walk around the neighborhood. It’s small enough to walk the whole span of it in less than half an hour. My father used to come with me, but he’s been having troubles with his knee, so now I walk alone. The weather this time of year is near perfect for a walk—cold enough for it to kiss your face and wake you up, but not enough to freeze to death.

ARCHIVIST:

(mutters) Good lord, spare me the bad poetry. Would love to get to the actual point soon. Anyways.

[ACCOUNT]

It was on one of these walks that I first encountered the kid.

ARCHIVIST:

(mutters) Thank you.

[ACCOUNT]

As I previously stated, there aren’t many kids in the neighborhood, so it took me by surprise to see a new face. He looked to be about seven or eight, with unkempt, dirty blond hair, and blue eyes that were almost unnaturally large on his face. He wore a basic white t-shirt and jean shorts, and sure, I liked the weather, but a kid dressed like that must have been freezing, right? He did not shiver, however, hardly even emoted. Just walked right down the center of the road, staring dead ahead, carrying a bright orange toy gun.

(beat)

Of course, I worried for the kid. Where were his parents? Why was he out so late by himself?

I called out to him. He looked up at me with a surprised look, as if he was shocked to see me actually speaking to him. I asked him what his name was, but he didn’t answer. I tried to ask him lots of things—where his house was, why he was out so late, if he needed help or if his parents were nearby. He wouldn’t respond to anything I said. Just stood there and stared intensely into my eyes. I have to admit, it made me a bit squeamish. Eventually, I just walked away, hoping that whoever was responsible for the kid knew where he was, and that he would make it home safely. I tried not to think about it too much after that. The following week, when I went to dinner, I didn’t go on a walk. My parents had decided they wanted to play a board game, and I was more than happy to comply. The event with the kid had left me feeling unsettled, so I was a bit wary of going on a walk regardless. After another week, however, I had finally gotten over it. I figured it was just one weird kid, nothing more. I mean, looking back, I couldn’t blame him for being scared to talk to a complete stranger. I mean I wasn’t even certain looking back that the expression on his face was all that disturbing. It likely had just been fear, right? Surely, his parents knew where he was, and he was simply out for a post-supper stroll like I was. It was a fairly safe neighborhood, after all. So, the next time I went to my parent’s house for dinner, I went on another walk. There was a slight breeze, but my body heats up as fast as an oven with the slightest bit of exercise, so I welcomed the blasts of cold on my skin. The leaves in the trees rustled, and combined with the sound of windchimes, it was like a symphony of nature’s design.

ARCHIVIST: dropping down papers

(frustrated) I thought I said no more poetic imagery, christ- oh good it ends.

[ACCOUNT]

It was lovely, up until it wasn’t. I saw the kid again, still standing in the middle of the road. He was wearing the exact same outfit as before, the shorts even having the exact same grass stains they did before. It was uncanny, sure, but I figured it was just a coincidence. This time, I harbored far less discomfort or worry. It was just a kid. What could he do to me?

(beat)

A lot, turns out. (stumbling through the sentence) A lot meaning… scare me, but you know what I mean.

Before I even opened my mouth, I realized he was staring dead at me. As if his doll-like eyes were drilling holes into my skull. The weight of being watched hit me like a freight train, but I tried my best to shake it off. I apologized to him for being so invasive the last time we met. Again, he didn’t answer, just continued staring. I wasn’t quite sure what to say after that. It would be hypocritical if I began asking him questions again, immediately after I had apologized for doing exactly that.

ARCHIVIST:

Not sure a child understands what hypocrisy is, but, if it lets you keep the moral high ground, Ms. Mackenzie.

[ACCOUNT]

I didn’t like the way he looked at me, though. My desperate need to fill the silence was an instinct of some kind. As I stood there, teetering back and forth on my heels as I tried to think of what to do next, something strange happened. The kid, still staring at me, slowly began to raise his arm. In his hand was the same toy gun as before. He raised the toy gun until it was pointing directly at my head. Well, what the hell was I supposed to do with that? I knew it wouldn’t actually hurt me if he fired it, yet I still found myself frozen in place.

That was when the car, driving far too fast for a neighborhood, came barreling around the corner. The kid didn’t move. Didn’t even look to see the car coming. My feet lept to action before I processed what I was doing. I ran out into the middle of the street and tackled the kid. We stumbled towards the sidewalk on the other side as I dragged him. The momentum knocked us to the ground. Pain surged through my shoulder and my hip, but I hardly processed it until later, when I saw the large bruises that had formed. We had just barely managed to clear the car’s path. The driver didn’t even stop to apologize, or check to see if we were okay. Didn’t even slow down. I didn’t get a good look at the driver’s face, or the license plate. All I remember is that the car was black and might have been a Honda. Wherever they are, I hope karma did a good deal on them for their reckless driving.

Before I could focus on my injuries, I checked to make sure the kid was okay. Other than a scrape on his knee, he appeared to be fine, but it was hard to say. Even after all of that, his expression still hadn’t changed. For some reason, this made me indescribably angry. How could you almost get hit by a car and then still act completely neutral? Regardless,if he was in any pain, there was no way I could tell. I offered to take him back to my place and clean up his knee, but he shook his head. I noticed he was staring intently over my shoulder. When I turned around, I realized his toy gun had been destroyed. Orange and yellow plastic bits covered the street, almost like broken glass. He stood up and walked towards the remains. As he picked up what used to be the trigger, his face was still blank, but if I looked closely enough, I could have sworn I saw something adjacent to sadness. Disappointment, perhaps. For the first time since I had met him, he opened his mouth, and—god, I wish I had stuck around long enough to learn more. I wish I had pressed harder, since I now knew he was actually capable of speech. Hearing what he said next chilled me, though. I can’t quite say why. All I know is that after he spoke, I got up and ran back to my house, never wanting to see that kid again. Do you want to know what he said? The only words I ever heard him speak? It was this, with no further details or elaboration: “He’s not going to be happy about this.”

Paper shuffling.

ARCHIVIST:

And that seems to be where it ends. Jordyn gave us the name of the neighborhood this took place in, as well as the exact street the incident happened. The problem is, as she stated, it’s a gated community, and none of our staff had a code to get in. It says here in an attached slip of paper labeled: Incident Report, (sighs) date not given, that they contacted the head of the community in an attempt to gain access, but the head of the home-owner’s association said to, quote, “shove it in a place the sun doesn't shine, you conspiracy theory creeps.” Luca writes here that there was an issue involving a cup of… tea… thrown at their face… what a waste.(mutters) Rich people.

Because of this, there’s not much we can do. Without a stated name for the kid, or any known relatives, it’s hard to try to track this kid down. Frankly, I don’t think Jordyn’s story is all that concerning, other than the incident with the car, which we also could not find due to her vague description.

(beat)

It’s likely the child she met was simply shy, or possibly processed his emotions in a different way than she was used to. Her university certainly agreed with me, since it seems she was not given her requested time off. Thus, as far as I can tell, this is another instance of someone making something deeper than it needs to be and then trying to get an extra vacation. I can’t blame her, I suppose, since nearly seeing a kid get run over would certainly be upsetting. It does appear that Oliver, our resident psychological consultant, did recommend her a therapist, but she never went.

(beat)

Trust me, Jordyn, I would love to take a break as well, but post-grad school is expensive, and I doubt Mr. Banks would give me paid time off even if something worthwhile were to happen. It’s the world we live in, I suppose. Gotta pay off the student loans one way or another. (sigh)

End recording.

Recorder click off.

CREDITS:

Incident Report Number 31 is a podcast made by Three-Eyed Frog Presents. This episode, “Secure,” was written, directed, and produced by Val West and Luka Miller with sound design by Luka Miller. This episode featured Val West as the Archivist and Kaleb Piper as Zach Baker. Music is produced by Luka Miller. To keep up with the show and find transcripts, make sure to follow us on our Twitter at @IR31Pod and on tumblr at @IncidentReport31. To contact us with any questions or concerns, feel free to email us at [email protected]. Thanks so much for listening!

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sanderssidesfanfiction · 3 years

Text

If There’s a Place I Could Be - Chapter Thirty

If There’s a Place I Could Be Tag

March 25th, 1999

Toby knocked on Remy’s bedroom door, but Remy just sat against it, not allowing him in. “Remy, come on, talk to me, please?” Toby all but begged.

Remy didn’t reply.

“Rem, please. I want to talk to you,” Toby said.

It took all the willpower Remy possessed, but he managed to keep the door closed. Toby had been his one positive influence from someone who could pass as an adult for...as long as Remy could remember, really. And then his parents had to screw that up, and lie about Remy, and make Toby write less and less until he didn’t write at all. To make matters worse, if he got Toby to write him again there was no doubt in his mind that their parents would rake Toby over the coals for it.

Just once, for once in his life, Remy wanted an adult to like him, to be proud of him, to trust him. He wanted respect. Not that he deserved any, but he wanted it anyway.

May 26th, 2001

Remy played with his hands in the car, breathing very carefully so that he didn’t have a panic attack. Emile was constantly sending him glances, and even with music playing in the car, the atmosphere was tense. “You know, Rem, my parents are going to absolutely adore you,” he said.

“But what if they don’t?” Remy asked. “You’re not a mind-reader, you can’t just magically know if they’ll be okay with me dating you or not!”

“Maybe not,” Emile allowed. “But I do know that in everything I’ve done over the years, so long as it makes me happy and it’s not hurting anyone else, they’ll support it. And you make me... very happy.”

“But...but...I can’t even bring you home to my parents,” Remy said, cheeks flaring red. “Because I can’t even bring myself to tell them I’m gay.”

“That’s a safety issue, Rem. You’re not ashamed of being my boyfriend, are you?”

“Of course not!” Remy replied, hands balling into fists, ready to fight.

Emile slowly pried one of Remy’s fists open and Remy sighed, letting his grip go lax. “Then they’ll love you. Because you love me and I love you back, and you make me happy.”

Remy took a deep breath and let it out slowly, nodding. “All right,” he breathed.

Emile pulled to a stop at the curb and gave Remy’s hand a squeeze, stepping out of the car. Remy slowly opened his door and did the same, standing at the edge of a small lawn, while Emile spoke to a man and a woman who had to be his parents.

They turned to him, and he cleared his throat, scratching the back of his neck. “Nice to meet you, Mister and Misses Thomas...”

Misses Thomas stared at him for a few seconds, before turning to her son and asking, “Emile, when are you going to marry this young man?”

“Mom!” Emile exclaimed, going red as a tomato, and Remy wasn’t much better.

“Well, the way you speak about him, he clearly makes you happy,” she said. “When are you going to pop the question?”

Remy was torn between dying of laughter and embarrassment. Clearly, his fears about Emile’s parents not liking him were unfounded.

“Mom! I’m not proposing to him! We’ve been dating all of...like, a month!” Emile said.

“Never too early to start planning,” Misses Thomas said with an enigmatic smile.

“Yes, it is,” Emile said. He turned to Remy and said, “I’m so sorry.”

“Still not worse than my parents,” Remy choked out.

Emile choked on his laughter and Remy managed to crack a small smile. “You’re right, and I hate that you’re right,” Emile said.

“Your father and I made a whole plan to figure out whether or not we need to adopt your boyfriend and in two sentences you undo all our hard work!” Misses Thomas scolded Emile with no real heat behind the words. “Remy, we’re adopting you one way or another. If Emile doesn’t make you our son-in-law we are legally adopting you.”

Remy turned to Emile, squinting. “Did you tell them about my parents?”

“No details!” Emile rushed to assure. “But, they did sorta need to know why we were moving off campus, and over Christmas I mentioned that you were going solo...and they asked why...and...well, my parents know when I’m lying.”

“Everyone knows when you’re lying, honey, your poker face is terrible,” Remy said.

Emile sputtered and Remy’s smile grew into something more relaxed, more natural. “How dare you!” Emile exclaimed, putting a hand over his heart. “I’ll have you know that I have lied to you before and you haven’t known about it!”

“Okay, first of all, that’s not really something you should be admitting,” Remy said, holding up a single finger. “Second of all, I know you were lying about saying that blue shirt doesn’t make me look like a girl, I know you were lying about witnessing Theo and Clara’s drinking games, and I know you were lying all the way back on the day after Halloween when you said I didn’t say anything about liking anybody. Granted, the last one I realized looking back after learning your tells, but yeah, you suck at lying.”

Emile still looked offended and Remy just shrugged with a little smile. “Sorry, but it’s true.”

“You suck,” Emile said.

“I mean, if you ask nicely, but really? In front of your own parents?” Remy laughed.

“I—what? No! No, that is not what I—” Emile cut himself short as he blushed furiously while his parents both laughed.

Remy beamed proudly and Emile was both glaring daggers and blushing as red as Remy had ever seen him blush before. And he had to admit that making Emile blush was kind of fun. Not fun enough to torture him with it, but every once in a while he might make a jab.

When Mister Thomas finally came up for air, he put a hand on Remy’s shoulder and declared, “I like you already.”

Remy blinked in surprise and turned to Emile. Despite furious blushing, Emile said, “Yep, he really means that.”

“Oh. Okay,” Remy said. He wasn’t entirely sure what to make of that. He had never met any of his boyfriends’ parents before in the capacity of being a boyfriend, but the parents he had met were fiercely protective of their sons from any girl coming within a ten mile radius. But to make his boyfriends’ parents laugh genuinely, and to have them like him, for real...he was getting a little choked up.

Emile walked closer, until they could almost touch foreheads if both of them moved a few inches. “You okay?” Emile asked in a low whisper.

“Not used to...positive attention from people older than me,” Remy said.

“Theo gives you positive attention.”

“Theo is also still in college, and therefore by most people’s standards still a kid,” Remy shot back. “I mean like. Actual adults who have done their taxes several years in a row.”

“So like...people you perceive as adults while still technically being an adult yourself,” Emile filled in.

“I guess,” Remy agreed. “Regardless of semantics, I’m still surprised.”

“I said my parents would adore you, I’m not sure why you’re so shocked,” Emile teased.

Remy shrugged. “Uh...trauma? Or something?” he asked.

Emile sobered and nodded. “Yeah, I guess so. You saying stuff like that makes me want to hug you, though, I’ll warn you.”

“I won’t object to hugs from you...right now, at any rate.”

No sooner had he said that than Emile wrapped his arms around Remy and held him tightly. Remy offered a light hug back, knowing it paled in comparison to Emile’s hugs, but feeling like that was all he could give in the moment.

It felt like a scene from a rom-com, almost overused and most definitely too common for most people’s tastes, but to a select few, it meant the world. And to Remy, having a select few moments where he was allowed to take in Emile’s warmth, his scent, his everything in unfamiliar territory, well...he hadn’t felt this safe since before Toby went off to college.

That revelation made Remy stiffen minutely. He felt just as safe with Emile as he had with Toby, possibly more so. How was he supposed to understand that? How was he supposed to share that? Emile pulled away as Remy stiffened and Remy moved his hand down Emile’s back until he could grab Emile’s hand and interlace their fingers. He opened his mouth, but no words came out.

“You okay?” Emile asked again.

“Um. Yeah.” Remy scratched the back of his neck. “I’m fine since you’re here.”

That seemed to have a semi-successful message, because Emile gave Remy’s hand a squeeze with a warm, knowing smile, and Emile dragged him to the trunk, where their stuff was. “We can both share my old room, Mom,” Emile said. “Provided that’s okay with you, Rem?”

“Would we be...sharing a bed?” Remy asked.

“No, I had a bed I used for sleeping and then I had another one for guests, and to stuff massive amounts of pillows on,” Emile said. “We probably wouldn’t fit on one bed. We’re both pretty tall.”

Remy snorted. “True.” He took the suitcase Emile passed him, which he recognized as his by the distinct lack of cartoon-y stickers covering it. During this, Emile never let go of his hand, which Remy appreciated. Emile grabbed his own suitcase and closed the trunk, before taking a breath and saying, “Shall we go inside? At least long enough to put our suitcases in my room?”

“Oh, of course, sweetheart. Do you need any help with your bags?” Misses Thomas asked.

“I think we’ve got it, Mom,” Emile said with a small smile. He didn’t let go of Remy’s hand until they were in his room.

Remy wasn’t sure what he expected to see with Emile’s room. There was a stuffed animal or two, and pillows on two perfectly-made beds, but the paint was fading in different patches all over the walls, patches where posters must have been. The closet was open and empty, and there wasn’t anything on the desk in the room that screamed “Emile lived here.” It was...too bare-bones for him to really understand that Emile grew up in this house, slept in this room. It felt...wrong.

“Hey, Rem?” Emile asked softly.

Remy hummed.

“Can we talk a little bit about what you said?”

Remy turned to look at Emile, who had sat down on one of the beds, looking like he saw a ghost. “Yeah. Though I have to say, this room doesn’t look like an Emile Thomas room, not without cartoon posters and figurines and stuffed animals everywhere.”

Emile smiled, but it was strained. “You said you felt safe since I was here. What does that mean?”

Remy swallowed. He still wasn’t sure how he was supposed to share that. “It means...it means that you feel safe, in my head. Toby was the same way, when we were kids.” Remy began to pace, hands flying around his face as he tried to explain. “Toby was the one who made sure I was okay when Mom and Dad fought. Vanessa never did it, for one reason or another, but Toby would help me calm down and stay quiet and out of the way. So Toby grew to represent safety. He’s...yeah. He’s still safe, wherever he is, and the reason it was a sucker-punch when I lost him wasn’t just because I lost him, but I lost that safety too. But...but when you hugged me today, I realized that I get the same kind of comfort from you now. You just...you feel safe. I can’t describe all that entails or why you feel that way, but you do.”

Emile took a breath, and let it out slowly. “Oh...okay.”

“Is that bad?” Remy asked.

“No! No, it’s not bad,” Emile rushed to assure, standing up and walking over to Remy, taking his hands. “I’m honored to be your safe space. I just...I didn’t realize I was. I didn’t realize...that you trusted me that much. I guess that’s my bad for assuming, huh?”

Remy shrugged. “It’s whatever, don’t worry about it. I didn’t realize that I did that either, until like five minutes ago. And your parents seem really sweet, but I’m still lowkey terrified.”

“Oh, I know what will change that,” Emile said with a grin.

“What?” Remy asked.

Emile bounced to his bedroom door and hollered through the house, “Hey, Dad! Can Remy and I help with lunch?!”

There was a faint, “Sure!” from somewhere inside, and Remy blinked.

“Well, I didn’t expect him to agree that fast!” Emile laughed. “My dad loves to cook, and the more you cook with him, the more you get to know him. He’ll make sure you feel right at ease while you work. I’ve been learning how to make stuff from him, although I use shortcuts when I can. You might enjoy helping him cook from scratch.”

“Sounds fun,” Remy admitted.

“It is fun! Do you want to head down now and help figure out what we’ll be eating?” Emile asked.

Remy offered a small smile and a nod. “Sure, why not?”

#if there's a place i could be #sanders sides fanfiction #remile #emile picani #ts sleep

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cythians · 4 years

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Tsukino Pan-ya - Sweets and Melon-pan - KakeKoi

Koi was running around the small bakery both he and Kakeru worked at, they had a special event today and it was super busy that Koi could barely keep up. His mind trying to remember like 5 orders at once while bringing other orders to the right tables. Man, did he want a taste of that shortcake as well. Koi closed his eyes for a second to daydream about said cake he would most definitely share with Kakeru during his break. The two never really had matching work schedules, but with the rush today, Koi was asked to be an extra.

✩

The rest is under the cut~~

He and Kakeru worked in a bakery that started out as a small local shop but branched out to sell coffee, tea and other beverages along with their cakes and bread. They were both broke college students and needed the money to pay for their apartment rent. When Koi went to university he was looking for rooms he could rent that were close to his campus.

✩

One day when Koi was out shopping for groceries he looked at a post-it board with a small note that said:

“Looking for a male roomie at XXX-campus, call XXX-XXX-XXX”

Koi was delighted but kind of confused at the lack of information on the note, but still decided to call it anyways because it was exactly what he needed. Once his phone rung a few times he was picked up by a panting “Moshi moshi?” This seemed so very odd to Koi but he decided to ignore it.

“Is this the person from the note saying they need a roommate on XXX-campus?” Koi decided to ask to get straight to the point.

“Yes! Yes!” The other responded as he went quiet for a second, seemingly rummaging through something as he could hear noises from the other side of the line.

“I am so sorry! I was rushing to pick up the phone! But yes, I am looking for a roommate” He finally answered, steadying his breathing and voice, it falling to be a lot softer and less rushed.

“Great…!” Koi started unsurely, but he gave this guy the benefit of his doubt. “My name is Kisaragi Koi, is there any time I can come by?”

The one on the other side hummed. “Yes! I am Shiwasu Kakeru-” He interrupted himself “Kisaragi? Is your sister Ai?” Koi had to blink at that question for a second. This guy knew Ai? That didn’t spell much good for his tendency of jealousy.

“…..yes” Koi said slightly irritated.

“Oh! The world is quite small it seems” Kakeru chuckled on the other side “…I know Kurisu, a friend of Ai’s” he said with a giddy tone.

“I am currently at work but if you have time after 4 pm?” Kakeru asked expectantly.

Koi’s jealousy seemed to dissipate and he regained his eager again. “Yes, that would be fine” he replied cheerily.

“Good! Can I use the number you called with to text the details?” Kakeru asked him happily.

Koi could only reply in a small yes as he said he had to go again to get back to his shift again. But he would text him. Koi couldn’t help but think he was sneakily texting during his shift as they were talking for a good thirty minutes after their call. He didn’t mind though, he felt that he and Kakeru would be a good match.

✩

Koi had taken a train to the campus site as Kakeru had said he would pick him up near the front gates as it was on his way home anyways. He stood in front of the gates as he had texted Kakeru that he had arrived, the other responding saying he was nearly there. Koi was looking at his phone when he saw someone approaching from the corner of his eye and he looked up. The other did so as well, grinning at him. Koi was met by a blonde guy with golden-like eyes. Who was also a bit shorter than him.

Koi pocketed his phone and smiled at him. “Shiwasu-san?” He said unsurely of the honorific. The other grinned and let out a chuckle. “Yes, but please call me Kakeru, if we’re going to live together” He said with a slight bow. Koi put a hand behind his head in slight embarrassment. “Then, call me Koi” He smiled as he also bowed. Something about them seemed to already fit, it was a good comfortable atmosphere that surrounded them, and they didn’t seem to be that far apart in age.

Kakeru pointed the way as they walked to the apartment. It was only about ten minutes before they arrived and Koi was surprised at how neat the apartment looked. A small wow escaping his lips that Kakeru seemed to notice, another grin forming on his face. But before he could make a comment a small poodle came running up to them. Letting out happy barks. “Ah! I forgot to ask, but are you afraid of dogs?” Kakeru said as he shielded Koi from the poodle. Koi shook his head as he called out for the puppy and it happily ran of to Koi who crouched down. He started licking his hands and as he was picked up moved on to Koi’s face.

“You’ve already got him in the bag I see” Kakeru commented, watching his dog lick Koi’s face all over. He placed a somewhat annoyed hand on his hip. Koi grinned cheekily at Kakeru. “What’s its name?” He said in between snickers from the ticklish licks.

“Croquette”

Koi looked at Kakeru to see if he was serious and he was. Shaking his head.

“That’s way too difficult” he said as he nuzzled Croquette.

“Right~ Korokke?” He barked happily at that as Koi put him down again.

“Did you just rename my dog?” Kakeru gave him eyes of disbelief.

Koi just shrugged his shoulders as he gave his attention to Kakeru again.

“Moving on…”

✩

After that Kakeru showed him around the apartment, Kakeru’s room would be next to Koi’s. They shared the bathroom and kitchen. They were also talking over what kind of people they were as they sat at the dining table with a cup of coffee. They settled with the fact that they were both morning people but Kakeru had a tendency to oversleep. Their energy’s also seemed to match and Koi was good with the dog. Kakeru felt he would be the right choice to share his home with.

“So….” Kakeru started as a silence fell in between them after a good conversation. “What do you think of the apartment?”

Koi set down his cup as he took a sip. Glancing at Kakeru’s eyes, looking at his expectant expression. “I like it, I’d love to stay here” he beamed as he said it, genuine happiness displayed on his face.

“I feel like this could be our home” Koi said as he looked at Kakeru before sipping his coffee again. The choice of wording caught Kakeru off-guard but he brushed it off, returning a beaming smile to the pink-haired boy.

“That’s great!” Kakeru raised his arms in excitement before returning to a more serious expression. “But on a more serious note, do you have a job?” Koi seemed to be caught off-guard by that and rubbed his neck again.

“Not at the moment, I am still looking for a job but I do have savings for at least 4 months” He said as he smiled awkwardly and somewhat sorry-like. Kakeru hummed as he nodded.

“That’s fine, I can probably help you find a job” He offered and Koi nodded eagerly. Kakeru thought for a second. “You seem friendly enough so I can try to ask if they have a spot at the bakery” he said more to himself than his new roommate. A finger on his cheek in thought. What he said piqued Koi’s interest and he looked at Kakeru with puppy-like curiosity.

“What bakery do you work at?”

Kakeru snapped out of his trance and his golden eyes met Koi’s pink ones again.

“Tsukino Pan-ya…” He said as he looked at the one across from him.

Koi lit up. “!” “Now I know how you know Ai!” Glee forming in his eyes at his own mention of his sister. “She never stops talking about the sweets. She even promised to take me there when I came here” Koi smiled widely. Kakeru chuckled at his excitement.

“Well, I won’t take your first time from you” Kakeru stopped a second to think about his own wording. Koi also seemed to notice but the blonde ignored it. “You should let Ai-chan take you there first” he tried rephrasing himself in his realization and blessed Koi for not making a comment.

“Sure, I’ll ask her to” he snickered.

✩

A few weeks had passed and Koi has gradually moved all of his things into his one room. Saying Kakeru was only surprised at his figurine collection was an understatement. Koi proudly told him to which series each of them belonged to and what kind of cool features they had. Kakeru could only listen fondly as the two of them had grown closer over just a few weeks, sharing texts each day and talking whole evenings about all kinds of stuff.

When Koi found out about Kakeru’s tendency for bad luck he burst out laughing as he sat on the floor comically covered in flour. Mentioning something about seeing something like that only in anime. Kakeru pouted as he was made fun of by the pink-haired jerk. But Kakeru wouldn’t let it slide to let only Koi make fun of him. He liked telling their (now shared) friends about Koi singing anime openings in the shower without constraints. Even sharing a recording in a group chat. It had Koi embarrassed for weeks.

And then the day came when Kakeru came home all excited. “Ko-iii! Taidamaa!” He said giddily while he kicked of his shoes. A pink head of hair raising himself from the couch, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “O-okaeri, Kakerun” he said as he yawned, suddenly awoken by the rush that was Kakeru.

Kakeru ran over to him excitedly shaking a paper in his hands. Beaming as he held the paper in front of Koi. “They accepted you!” Kakeru’s expression then turned to something more sly. “By recommendation from me of course!” He said proudly.

Koi then suddenly rose to his feet and grabbed the paper from Kakeru, eyeing it over before looking at the blonde again. “I get to work with you?” Kakeru then nodded happily.

“I could kiss you” Koi said jokingly as he sat back down on the couch again.

“Please do” Kakeru mumbled.

Koi then looked up at him. “Did you say something?”

Kakeru couldn’t bring his heart to say it again so instead he shook his head. Before he realized something. “Oh! And you start tomorrow, you didn’t have anything planned right?” Koi looked at him with wide eyes. “N-no but, agh, it’s fine” he said as he stood up again to hug Kakeru. The blonde a little surprised but did hug him back.

“Thanks for getting me a job” Koi said as he looked into Kakeru’s eyes fondly. Kakeru couldn’t help but almost swoon over it.

#tsukiuta #six gravity #shiwasu kakeru #Kisaragi Koi

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imjustthemechanic · 6 years

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The Stone Knight

Part 1/? - Two Statues Part 2/? - A Curious Interview Part 3/? - John Doe Part 4/? - Escape Attempt Part 5/? - Making the News Part 6/? - Fallout Part 7/? - More Impossible Part 8/? - The Shield Thieves Part 9/? - Reality Sinks In Part 10/? - Preparing a Quest Part 11/? - The Marvelous History of Sir Stephen Part 12/? - Uninvited Guests

Because clearly what our heroes need at this point is more nasty surprises.

Natasha had met Dr. Yancy Hughes once or twice at university events, and had seen her on the news when she was interviewed in connection with the criminal cases she'd worked on. The woman's maiden name was Chandraprakesh, and she joked that she'd married a man named Hughes deliberately to get rid of it. She was tiny and plump, with dark skin and thick black hair that made her pale green eyes all the more striking.

When the party arried, Dr. Hughes was in her lab giving some students advice on electrophoresis gels. She looked up and smiled at her guests and said, “forget something?”

“I'm sorry?” asked Nat.

“Well, you're back,” Dr. Hughes pointed out.

Nat could feel her stomach sink clear down to her toes. “Was I already here?” she asked. She'd seen Zola take her shape in Inverness. There was no reason why he couldn't do it again.

“Yeah, about twenty minutes ago,” said Dr. Hughes, confused. “Are you okay?”

“Didn't I tell you to ask me for ID?” Nat asked.

“I did!” Dr. Hughes said. “You showed me your driver's permit! It had the little chip on it and everything.”

Nat felt cold. Why hadn't she specified the type of identification? “That would be my Scotland driver's permit?” she asked. Those had a chip in them, like a credit card.

“Yes...” said Dr. Hughes uncertainly. Her students had set their gels down and were watching, curious what was going on.

Natasha pulled a passport-sized booklet out of her purse. “I'm a foreign resident on a teaching visa,” she said, opening the booklet to . “I travel constsantly. I have an international permit, not a Scottish one!”

“Then why did you show me a Scottish one?” asked Dr. Hughes.

“Because that wasn't me!” Nat said.

“It looked like you!” Dr. Hughes protested. “You had ID!”

“Never mind,” Natasha decided. If she tried to explain Dr. Hughes would probably think she was crazy. “Twenty minutes ago, you said. Did you give me the shield?”

“Of course not. Just a sample,” Dr. Hughes said, thoroughly confused. “You said you needed one to get a date from, and you took it from behind the big metal bit in the centre so that it wouldn't...” she stopped talking when she saw her guests' horrified expressions. “Well, where were you planning to take it from? That's the only spot that we can be sure doesn't have any blood on it.”

She didn't even have to explain, Nat thought. Hughes already thought she was crazy. She turned to her companions. “Spread out,” she ordered. “Look for... he won't be me anymore.” How did you recognize a shapeshifter? “Look for anybody suspicious. If you meet with another of our party and you're not sure it's really who it appears to be, the code word will be Volgograd.”

“Got it,” Carter nodded.

“Wait!” Dr. Hughes protested, as they all headed for the door again. “What's going on?”

“We don't know,” Nat replied, which was in a large measure still entirely honest.

At the front door of the Life Sciences building they split up. Carter crossed the street to check around Belmont Flats. Dr. Wilson went to circle the building, Sir Stephen went south to try the car park there, and Nat headed north to check the other lot, outside the Institute of Sport and Exercise. There were three rows of cars there, with three or four people currently getting in or out, or looking for something in the boot. Nat ran up and down the rows, checking back seats and looking at each person and what they were carrying. She got some odd stares, but didn't find anything.

Of course she didn't. Zola had been smart. He'd only taken what he needed, rather than the whole shield, and there was absolutely no reason why he should continue using Nat's appearance after he had what he'd come for. Any one of these people might be him, or they might all be totally uninvolved. Once he was gone, there was no way to ever find him again, and he had a twenty minute head start. He could be halfway to Ediburgh by now.

Several people were staring at Natasha from various corners of the car park. A young woman, all dressed up for some special occasion in a sky-blue sari that kept blowing in her face. A tall man in a dark suit and green tie, frowning in deep disapproval of whatever it was he thought she was doing. A couple of students who had just gotten out of their car, looking worried that they might have done something wrong. Nat sighed, gave them a halfhearted wave, and turned to trudge back to the Life Sciences building.

Dr. Hughes was waiting there. “I had a look around the building,” she said. “Some people said they'd seen you come and go earlier, but nobody saw anything they thought was weird.”

“Password,” Nat prompted.

“Huh? Oh. Volgograd,” said Hughes. “Seriously, what's happening here? Do you have an evil twin or something?”

“Would you believe me if I said yes?” asked Nat.

Hughes thought about it for a few moments. “Maybe?” she admitted.

The others drifted back, one by one, and each gave the password when Natasha demnded. They all looked deeply disheartened, and none of them had found a thing.

“We don't even know who to look for,” Carter said. “He could be anybody.”

“Um... I'm sorry?” Dr. Hughes offered. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Not really,” Nat said. “Don't worry about it, it's not your fault. As far as you knew, you were giving it to me. I mean, I had ID and everything, right?” Technically, Dr. Hughes hadn't done anything wrong.

“I guess,” Dr. Hughes said uncertainly, and Nat knew it was going to spend days trying to think of what she could have done differently. Natasha didn't like seeing people feel guilty for things that weren't their fault – that was a waste of guilt in a world where people who did do awful things did them without a qualm.

The group went back to their car, but instead of getting in they stood there leaning on the vehicle, trying to figure out what to do next. This time, it was Dr. Wilson who took charge.

“All right, Sir Steve,” he said. “You obviously had to see this map at some point. What did it look like? Where did you think it was leading you?”

Could they figure out where the Grail was based on a verbal description of the map? That seemed unlikely – after all, at the time Sir Stephen had been turned to stone, or whatever it was that had happened, he still hadn't found it despite having the map itself.

“It was engraved on the back of a piece of blue-green stone, the upper surface of which was carved as an Egyptian scarab,” Sir Stephen explained. “Or so its keeper told me, at least. I do not personally know what sort of beetles they have in Egypt. Has anyone a quill and some vellum?”

Carter passed him a pen and a notepad without a word.

“There were thirteen marks, or so we believe,” Sir Stephen said, drawing dots on the paper. “The stone was quite damaged and it was hard to tell if some of them were intentional parts of the engraving. Twelve were in an oval, and the thirteenth was here.” He drew a rough ellipse of dots, and then one at what seemed to be one of the foci.

“That looks almost like an astronomical diagram,” Natasha observed. She'd seen drawings in textbooks that were supposed to be planetary orbits – according to Kepler's laws, those were ellipses with the sun at a focus. But Kepler hadn't come along until the seventeenth century, well after Sir Stephen's time. Not to mention a scarab signet, which was what Sir Stephen seemed to be describing, would already have been over a thousand years old by the time anybody gave it to him.

“What did you think it meant?” asked Dr. Wilson.

“Supposedly there were at one time six such scarabs,” Sir Stephen said, “which together made a map to where the sorcerer Hermes Trimegistus had hidden objects too powerful for any human being to use. The other five had been destroyed or lost, but this was passed down by the Magi. It looked to us like one of the circles of stones you find in the north.”

“Like the ones near Gran's place in the Orkneys!” DI Carter said. She studied the diagram a moment, then pulled out her phone. “Google Earth, don't fail me now!” she said, and began typing something in.

Sir Stephen and Dr. Wilson moved closer to look over her shoulder, but then Nat's own phone rang. She pulled it out to see who was calling, and found that it was Sue. Hopefully it was something important – Nat didn't have time for frivolous stuff right now. She stepped away from the group and put the phone to her ear.

“Hello?” she asked.

“Natalie, oh, thank goodness!” said Sue. “Are you still on campus?”

“Yes,” said Nat. “I'm... I'm at Dr. Hughes' building. We're... trying to find an address,” she said, glancing at Carter and her google search.

“I need you up here in the office,” Sue said. “Quickly, please.”

“Why? What's going on?” asked Nat, as her imagination tossed out a dozen horrible possibilities. Was Zola in thre? Was a crazed gunman holding the department hostage? Had the row of fairy figurines Sue kept on the shelf above her desk come to life and started causing mischief? It didn't seem like today had room for anything else to go wrong, but at the same time, with the rules of the universe apparently out the window, the possibilities for what might go wrong were endless.

“Just come up,” Sue said. “Hurry!” And with that, she ended the call.

Nat groaned out loud.

“Now what's wrong?” asked Dr. Wilson.

At least he agreed with her that this was getting to be ridiculous. “I don't know, she wouldn't tell me,” said Nat. “Come with me, my office is this way.” She had a bad feeling about this, and wanted the others with her. That way if she ended up facing any more nonsense, she'd at least have somebody to share it with. She stuck her phone back in her purse, and took off at a fast walk across the campus.

The building was still standing – that was a good sign. Even so, Nat decided she couldn't risk taking the elevator and instead ran up the steps as fast as she could. Sir Stephen was right behind her, with Carter and Wilson bringing up the rear. The closer they got, the worse was Nat's sense of foreboding. What had been going on that Sue could make a phone call and ask her to come, but not tell her why? Nat thought back to the people she'd seen in the car park. Who had the man in the suit been? Was he involved in this? Was the woman in the sari really Zola in disguise?

By the time she reached the doors of the archaeology office, Nat was running. She burst into the room, startling Sue, who jumped up from her desk with a hand over her heart.

“Oh, it's only you, Natalie,” she said.

Nat looked around. Nothing was obviously out of place. The only other person presentwas a man with shaggy graying hair who'd been helping himself to coffee when Nat's entry surprised him, too. Everything appeared to be normal... which made Natasha's spirits sink yet further as she realized she'd been tricked again. Zola wasn't in here. More likely he was the one who'd made the call, mimicking Sue's voice the way he'd mimicked the reporter's when he called Dr. Wilson – and now Nat and the others were here while he escaped the campus.

Or perhaps not, because as soon as Sue had recovered from her surprise, she gave Nat a beaming smile. “Surprise!” she said.

She was looking at the man with the coffee. Puzzled, Nat followed her gaze.

“Hi, Ginger Snap,” said the man. He was not quite six feet tall, dressed in a camo-green down jacket over a sweater with a patterned yoke, and a pair of aged jeans. Though in his late sixties, he still had all his hair, and his eyes were pale blue, like Natasha's own – and he was holding out his left arm, the one he wasn't using to hold a paper coffee cup, as if he were expecting a hug.

Nat took a step backward, feeling sick. She knew who he looked like he was – she had a reasonably clear mental picture of the man – but he didn't exist. He existed even less than Sir Stephen of Rogsey existed. Sir Stephen was presumably a fourteenth-century compilation of earlier legends that probably had some basis in history, however unrecognizable that might be after three centuries of retelling. Allen Rushman, on the other hand, was somebody Natasha herself had made up out of whole cloth, to add some flavour to her biography.

She'd just about managed to cope with Sir Stephen, but how was she supposed to deal with her fictional father, standing in front of her in the flesh?

#fanfic #natasha romanov #black widow #captain america #steve rogers #sharon carter #agent 13 #sam wilson #falcon

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katiebug445 · 7 years

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Donuts and Comic Books

LingFan week day 6

Prompt: AU

A/N: I know I’m a little late getting this up, but I have been so busy that I nearly forgot about it, but I wanted to do something for this prompt because it caught my eye immediately.

LanFan took a moment outside the door to collect herself, rehearsing what she was going to say over and over in her mind, before heading inside. For half a second, her fingers hesitated on the handle, unsure if she was prepared enough for this or not. What if they didn’t like her? What if she wasn’t cut out for dealing with people all the time like this, despite how much fun the perks sounded? What if, what if, what if…

This was the perfect job for her, she told herself. It was better than working fast food, wasn’t it? At least here, she’d be working with her own kind; geeks were hard to come across in this city. Giving herself a small shake, she pushed her doubt to the back of her mind and pushed the door open.

There was a man sitting at the counter with his arms folded across the glass with his chin resting on them. When he heard the door, he looked up, giving her a welcoming smile. “Long time no see, LanFan!” he greeted, wheeling himself out from behind the counter. “We were starting to wonder if we’d lost you to the normal world.”

“Of course not! Normal people are too boring!” she replied. The smell of ink on paper - both new and old - filled her nose, and it helped calm her down some. This was where she belonged, she knew it. “I actually had a question for you.”

The man raised an eyebrow, his blue eyes shining and a small smirk on his lips. “If you’re wondering if you’re invited to the staff party screening of Wonder Woman, I hate to break it to you, but you have to actually, you know, be staff. No matter how much we would like to have you there.”

“That’s actually what I wanted to ask about.” LanFan made her way over to him, trying to keep the pleading tone out of her voice as she launched into her speech. “You guys have been understaffed here since I’ve been coming in. Three people isn’t enough to run this place - especially on New Comic Day. And I know the ins and outs of how things are run here enough that you wouldn’t have to train me too much… I also really need a job.”

He was quiet for a second or two before letting out a small chuckle. “Are you just wanting to get hired so you can see Wonder Woman a day early with all of us?”

“No!” She exclaimed. “Okay, a small part of me is, but you know me well enough that you know I’m being serious about this. I’ve been coming in here since I was old enough to read. I, personally, have probably been half the reason you guys have been in business this long. My grandfather’s house is full of boxes of comics, figurines, and board games that have all come from this place. It’s to the point he said if i bring another one home, he’s gonna start charging me for rent.”

The man considered this. “I don’t know, Lan…”

“Please, Mr. Havoc.”

Havoc drummed his fingers across the arm of his wheelchair, eyes flashing between her and the display beside her. “Promise you won’t abuse your discount.”

“I promise!”

“And you won’t fight customers on New Comic Day if they take the issues you want.”

“I’ll try my best.”

“You know dressing up is mandatory during Comic Con week, right?” He asked.

LanFan sighed, rolling her eyes at him. “If I wasn’t prepared to cosplay, I wouldn’t have a closet full of fabric and a sewing machine set up in my room.”

Havoc grinned at her, unlit cigarette nearly falling out of his mouth, and held out his hand. “You’re hired.”

He needed a job. That was the first thing on his mind after he moved into his dorm. The room was so small, he barely had room to turn around between the two beds on opposite walls. A small desk was squeezed between his bedframe and the window, with a small stool stuck under it. They would have to share it, but that was okay. His roommate, he thought, barely passed 5’0”, and wouldn’t take up too much space.

Ling got to work on setting up his bed, taking careful time to make sure the sheets were just right before plopping down and looking around. He’d done it. He’d broken away from his family and made it out here on his own. He was completely cut off from his father, now, but that was okay. It would be worth it in the end.

His hand reached out, feeling the sheets beneath him, and an odd feeling of pride swelled in his chest. The mattress and the sheets were his first big purchase he’d made on his own. He’d snagged the desk from a thrift store a few blocks away, and found the stool in the trash, so those didn’t count. Everything about his bed was new. It was exciting.

Ling found out pretty quickly that he wanted to keep buying new things to make his stay here a little more comfortable, but in order to do that, he needed work. And work around a college campus wasn’t exactly the easiest thing to find. Still, he figured he’d try.

A couple days and a hint from his roommate later, he found out that the small donut shop just off campus needed a replacement after one of the employees got splashed with oil from the deep fryer and was now in the hospital for third degree burns. Despite the panic he felt at possibly being taken out by the same machine that already had one victim under its belt, the prospect of free donuts won out in the end, and he found himself applying immediately.

He was hired within the week.

On the slow days, Ling found himself staring out the window, watching people walk by the window and wondering what they where they were headed with their days, what would happen to them after they left his sight, and if they cared they were being watched by bored strangers.

He rested his arm on the counter, his chin in his hand, and leaning heavily against the glass when he first saw her. The girl across the street, at the comic book store, grinning and laughing with a man in a wheelchair. He immediately straightened up, eyes never leaving her face, how it scrunched up a little when she laughed or smiled. Her dark hair was falling a bit into her eyes, and it was falling out of the bun atop her head, but she didn’t seem like she minded too much.

She was beautiful.

He found himself watching her every minute he could spare, the mysterious girl that worked across the street. She always had a smile for whoever came up to her counter, and whenever there was a lull in her day, she bustled around the shop, helping out the wheelchair man, or the dark haired woman who worked alongside them. She never seemed to slow down.

Sometimes she would leave work before him, and he would watch her as she unlocked her bike from the front of the store, get on, and ride off. He wished he could see her a bit longer as she rode off, but unless he wanted to be obvious he was watching her, he couldn’t exactly do that.

The routine continued for nearly two months before he finally had enough.

On his break, Ling marched himself across the street, walked directly into the comic book shop, and up to the counter. Her back was to him for a brief moment, but she quickly turned around, and he was slapped in the face with the full effect at how pretty she really was.

Dark brown eyes framed by a small heart-shaped face, hair flying in all directions and hanging close to her eyelashes, that tiny, startled smile to show he’d taken her by surprise. It took him a moment to remind him what he was doing there, and he realized right then and there that he couldn’t exactly just ask her out.

“Can I help you?” She asked sweetly.

It took another second or two to remember how his voice worked. Ling cleared his throat. “Yes, I was wondering if you guys had any…” his eyes darted quickly around, looking for any kind of symbol he recognized, before finally landing on a semi-familiar red S. “Uh… Superman comics?”

The girl blinked, as if she hadn’t heard him right, and came out from behind the counter. “You mean only one of the most popular faces in comic book history? That Superman?” She shot him a quick teasing grin and led the way to the back, pointing at a section of the rack on the wall that was stuffed full of the comics. “Anything in particular you’re looking for, or just curious?”

“My, uh, my roommate really likes superheroes… he won’t shut up about them, actually. I just… kinda wanted to know what the hype was about.”

“Well,” she started, relaxing her stance a little, “is your roommate a Marvel or DC kind of person?”

“Uh… whichever one these are..” he pointed to the Superman and Batman comics.

“Well, then, Superman is a good place to start.” Lanfan replied, hoping she was being helpful. “He’s the typical good guy, everything you’d expect a hero to be. But it’s a little predictable, too. Batman is a bit darker, I personally think he’s a bit more interesting. Then you have Green Lantern, Aquaman, The Flash, and my personal favorite… Wonder Woman.”

That was a name he’d heard before somewhere. Hadn’t Edward compared his girlfriend to Wonder Woman once? “What’s her story?”

The girl looked shocked by that question. “What’s her story? You mean you don’t know who she is? How can you not know?! I have to show you.” She grabbed him by the arm, dragging him a little farther down the row, and not stopping until she landed on a graphic novel of her origin story. “Dianna. Wonder Woman. She’s only the greatest superhero of all time, and my lord and savior.”

She cracked open the novel, and began telling him everything she knew about the heroine. He couldn’t help but think the way her eyes lit up as she got into her explanation was completely adorable, the rise and fall in her voice, the way she spoke about this Amazon fighter, was filled with a passion he only wished he had.

When she stopped for a breath, he quickly checked his watch and swore internally. He had about a minute to get back to work before he was in trouble. He needed to get back. Before she could get started again, he held out his hand. “I’m Ling, by the way. Ling Yao.”

“LanFan.” she replied, looking up at him with a light shade of pink coloring her cheeks.

“Well, LanFan, I need to get back to work before my boss realizes I’m missing, but, I work across the street. If you’re up for some free donuts and a continued conversation about Dianna, I’m over there ‘til eight.” Ling took the graphic novel from her, tucked it under his arm, and walked up to the counter.

She rang him up, handed him the book, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “You weren’t bored by it?”

“Not at all! The way you explain it, I might actually be able to get a grasp on what my roommate is talking about sometimes.” he shot her a quick smile, and started towards the door. “My offer still stands, if you want it?”

Her only reply was to return his smile before he took off, and she watched him cross the street back to his own shop. She took a breath, and thought that maybe a donut after work didn’t sound too bad after all.

#lingfanweek #lingfan #Katie's writing #the havocs own a comic book store and lanfan and jean are a bunch of nerds bts #i don't even know #enjoy!

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