#row after that during midnight in the woods to say “i loved you this whole time back” n stuff uhm LMAO | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

perksofbeingradioactive · 3 years

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Dick and Wally loved rom-coms. It was a public secret at the Mountain. At first if someone caught them watching, they would find an explaination as to why it was on or blame M'gann, but after a while (and too many "accidental" scenes of "Love,actually") they ran out of excuses and just gave in. Wally's all time favourite was "Four weddings and a funeral", while with Dick, it was a tie between "One day" and "When Harry met Sally" (because, friends to lovers). The first time they watched "Four weddings and a funeral" when the scene with the funeral passed,Wally turned to Dick:

"I want somebody to recite that at my funeral"he stated,mouth full of popcorn.

"Dude,why are you thinking about that??"Dick responded, still a bit shook from the emotional scene that just passed.

"Well, it could happen any day in our line of work, so I'm telling you, as my best friend, my requests"

"Pfft, any musical wishes?"Dick asked sarcastically, "Also,who do you think would read the poem anyway? I don't recall you having a husband last time I checked. And if you do, well, that funeral will be much sooner than expected, given that you didn't invite me to the wedding."

"Hmm" Wally furowed his brows, deep in thought, "I haven't figured out that one yet, but when it happens I bet it'll be my smoking hot, smart-ass girlfriend with whom I'll have at least two dogs".

Dick scoffed "Okay,sure Kid Mouth, lets lighten up a bit, we still have two weddings left"...

Every single time they watched the movie, the same conversation would come up and it would never get past the"Who will read the poem" part.

...

The night before Kid Flash officially retired, he and Dick watched their favourites in Wally's room one last time. After "Love,actually", "Notting Hill" and "Bridget Jones' diary" (it almost seemed like Wally had a thing for Hugh Grant,the blue-eyed,brown-haired heart throb) "Four Wedding and a funeral" got its turn. As the funeral scene was ending, Dick was ready to repeat the same sentences he always did during the years,but Wally's opening line surprised him:

"I've decided who's going to recite at my funeral" he said with a smirk(yet again, mouth full of popcorn).

"I hope you told Artemis cause she does not like surprises" Dick looked away, feeling a sting of jealously over a hipothetical situation. And even if it weren't, god forbid, Arty is his girlfriend, Dick snap out of it!

"Oh no, she doesn't, but she shouldn't be worried cause I chose you" Wally turned to Dick, who went through 17 different emotions in 3 seconds.

"Why me?" Dick asked after processing the newfound information for much longer than his mind usually did.

"Well, your my bestest friend in the whole wide world plus with how many times we've watched this masterpiece, I bet you know the poem by heart"

"Just because you love it doesn't mean it's a masterpiece" Dick tried averting from the conversation.

"I know, but it still is. You haven't responded"

"But its a love poem and most oftenly linked to these two guys!" Dick slightly raised his voice, panicking.

"If someone even tries to comment anything even slightly negative on that matter, they will be haunted by yours truly for the rest of eternity" Wally joked, punching Dick in the shoulder.

"So,will you do it?"he asked after few minutes of silence.

"Yeah, of course" Dick huffed "but don't you dare die any time soon!"

"Well, with Artemis' cooking, it might be sooner than you think" Wally grined,enjoying his best friend's company...

...

It was a rather gloomy day, although it wasn't raining. You'd think that rain was an essential part of every funeral, but people died throughout the whole year. Dick was sitting in the first row, next to Artemis and her mother, Barry and Iris, wearing dark sunglasses and a black suit. He felt a deja-vu, but unlike at his parents' funeral, he wasn't crying. Not that he didn't want to (he wanted to lie and weep and scream at the sky and curse into the ground all at the same time) it just wasn't his assigned role. Artemis was sobbing into her mother's shoulder, Barry's face was puffed, he definitely spent the night crying, same as Iris'. Dick couldn't cry in front of them, he was just Wally's friend. Who also got him killed. Wally was never supposed to get back into the superhero business and now he was gone. It was all Dick's fault. No one said that to him,but Dick knew it was the truth. And there was nothing more that Dick wanted than to dig up a hole and just die in it(that is actually a lie,more than that he wanted his best friend back) but unfortunately, that wasn't possible, so he got up to hold an eulogy for his (former)oldest,best friend.

Dick cleared his throat, checking if he actually had the strength in his voice to pull this of, and started: "Wally loved romantic comedies. He would cheer when it came to the happy ending and complained and cried when there wasn't. It was always easy to figure out Wally's emotions. When he was happy he smiled and when he was sad he ate 2 gallons of chocolate ice cream. When he asked me to read a poem from one of his favourite movies at his funeral I could see he was being serious. That was weird because: 1)he wasn't serious very often and 2)we were teenagers and you don't really think about these thing when you're a teenager. So here I am, today, respecting my best friend's,at the time,riddiculous wish."

Dick pulled out a piece of paper with the scribbled poem but then he stopped and put it away. Wally was right,he knew it by heart.

"Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,

Silence the pianos and with muffled drum Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,

Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,

Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West." Dick paused,trying to keep himself together.

" My working week and my Sunday rest,

My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;

I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;

Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun; Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;

For nothing now can ever come to any good. "

He whispered the last line,saying a final goodbye to the one that got away.

#birdflash #dick grayson #wally west #nightwing #kid flash #young justice #the flash #dc

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nsheetee · 4 years

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mocha | jeno

pairing: basketball player!jeno x barista!reader genre: coffee shop au | fluff, slight angst summary: you tutor star basketball player jeno when you realize he’s spending late nights studying in the cafe you work at.

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this is a part of the moonlight cafe series — please read the preface before continuing reading

he walks as if he’s in a hurry, not minding the jingling bell on the door above him and sits down at a booth in the corner of the cafe

he has a baseball cap on, and a hoodie over that; you can’t recognize who he is at all

waiting a few moments, you glance over at his table again

he has several textbooks and his laptop out, promptly putting his airpods in his ears and beginning his homework

you just write him off as any other student that comes in here at night, the only difference with him is that he doesn’t order a coffee with an unhealthy amount of espresso shots in it

you don’t mind him, but it is a bit worrying when he spends the whole night switching between laying his head down on the table and softly thumping it against the wood, and staring blankly between his laptop and textbook

when he leaves that night at 3am, you send a silent wish after him that whatever he was studying for goes in his favor

but surprisingly, he shows up the next night as well

it’s saturday night, the evening rush ended a while ago, and the mysterious guy is once again sitting in his spot at the back corner of the cafe

he looks even more frazzled than the night before, yet he doesn’t order anything and continues to diligently work throughout the whole night

this goes on for weeks, and you begin to worry for this poor boy’s sleep schedule

but even more so, you’re curious about who he is, since he never orders anything and always has a hood or a hat on

one night, your curiosity is quenched

“who’s that?” taeil asks you; he’s normally not at the store this late, but forgot to complete taking inventory this morning and came back tonight to finish it up

he nods his head towards your mystery guy, who has slumped over his textbooks and looks to be peacefully sleeping on the table

“not sure. he always comes in and studies for almost the whole night, never orders anything, though.” you shrug at your boss and he frowns

“go give him a mocha, or something. on the house- he looks like he needs to wake up.” taeil turns back to his clipboard and you nod

carrying over a hot mocha to the intriguing character in the corner of the cafe, your heart thumps in suspense

you’ll finally be able to learn who the mystery man is, something you’ve been wondering since day one

you set the mocha down on the table carefully and sit across from him, shaking his arm to wake him up

the guy jerks out of his sleep, a flashcard sticking to his face as he looks around the cafe with lidded eyes

“sorry!” you grimace, holding out your hands in front of you “I didn’t mean to scare you, I just wanted to wake you up. my boss told me to give you this mocha on the house, and to make sure you’re okay.” the guy unsticks the flashcard from his face, and your mouth drops when you realize who the mystery man is

“lee jeno?” you ask, and his sleepy eyes widen when you recognize him

“...no? I think you have me mistaken for someone else...” he clears his throat, looking around the cafe to see if anyone has their attention turned to you two

you would believe him, if he isn’t the most well known face on campus

he’s not only the college’s basketball star who has his face plastered on every basketball-related event at the school and is dating the head cheerleader, but also the guy who sits a few rows in front of you in your calculus class

“I'm 90% sure you’re lee jeno.” you state, and he seems too tired to argue with you about his identity

“okay, yes, that’s me. can you please not tell anyone that I'm here.”

“tell what? that you, a college student, studies?” you tilt your head and cross your arms as you wait for his response

“yeah,” he becomes shy, playing with his airpods that fell out of his ears during his nap, “to be honest, I'm in a calculus class this semester and I don’t understand one bit of it. that’s why I'm here every weekend night.” he explains, not meeting your gaze yet

all of a sudden, it hits you-

he doesn’t know who you are

although your calculus class has almost 100 people in it, you would think he would’ve at least seen you walking past him every monday, wednesday, and friday to your seat behind him

but you’re not surprised that he’s struggling or that he hasn’t noticed you, since you always see him talking with his basketball friends instead of paying attention

“I can tutor you.” you shrug, and he raises his eyebrows, finally making eye contact, “I work every weekend night, and I took that class last semester.”

you don’t feel guilty about lying

if jeno doesn’t recognize you, then maybe it should stay that way

what he doesn't know won’t hurt thim

“wouldn’t that keep you away from your job...”

“it calms down after midnight around here, and I usually get bored during that time. what do you say?”

he agrees, and pretty soon you’re tutoring basketball star lee jeno

you thought that keeping your identity secret when you walk into class would be difficult, but jeno is always too busy fooling around with his friends before class starts that it’s easy to sneak past him

jeno comes in after midnight on weekends, you tutor him for about an hour (or until he understands the homework) and then he leaves to get some precious sleep

jeno might be forever thankful for you

the way you explain things makes sense to him, much more sense than any office hours or ta hours that he has been to

it’s a win-win situation for you both: you can count these hours every night as “volunteer work” and jeno soon comes back to the cafe with his midterm exam, a solid B+ labeled across the top

“good job,” you chime when you see his grade from his phone

a text message notification pops up, and although you don’t read it, you definitely saw the word “party”

“maybe we can skip the study session tonight? you’ve been doing much better lately, and it’s friday night. I bet you want to get out and go to a party, or something.” you suggest, giving jeno a perfect excuse to leave you for the night and join his friends

“nah,” jeno shrugs as he takes back his phone, “I'd much rather hang out with you.”

your heart thuds at his words and you try your hardest to control your facial expression- to somehow bite back the heat threatening to rise to your cheeks

it’s been like this for the past few weeks, ever since you saw this new side to jeno

before tutoring him, he was only the basketball player who loudly fooled around with his friends before class and seemed like he didn’t care about anything else other than basketball

but since you started to get to know him, it’s safe to say you severely misjudged him

he’s probably the most boyish guy you’ve ever met, who cracks jokes that most would cringe at but have you clutching your stomach and wheezing with laughter

the more time he spent around you, the more comfortable he became, and the more he could tell you his feelings

like how nervous he was for the exam or how scared he was for last week’s game

or how he’s determined to drink the mocha you make him every time he comes to the cafe, as an apology for all the nights he hogged a table and didn’t buy anything

he snuck into your heart, through the spaces between your ribs and planted himself there, unwilling to leave

but you know your feelings aren’t acceptable

he has a girlfriend, a very pretty and popular one that you’re almost sure he won’t leave for little old you

“seriously,” jeno notices your change in tone, “you can go out. you don’t have to stay here.”

“I'm being serious, too. let’s start on the next chapter, since you took this class last semester you’ll know how to do the equations for the next part, right?” jeno is already pulling out his textbook and his papers, determined to start working

your heart races, now for a different reason

although you’re good at calculus, you’re not that good to understand the next chapter yet

“uh...” you trail off, trying to find an excuse, “why do you even want to do math homework right now?” you ask, and jeno suddenly gets quiet

“it’s not really about math anymore, it’s about the person who’s teaching it to me...” he mumbles, but you hear him clearly

your heart is in your throat and your hands clam up from nerves

this is wrong

he has a girlfriend

his life is very different and separate from yours

this is so wrong

“we can’t.” you shake your head, and jeno’s nervous glances at you turns into a heartsick and longing look, “I- I actually haven’t taken this class. I'm taking it... right now.” you admit, the weight on your shoulders being lifted

“what?” he frowns

he doesn’t look good with a frown, his round glasses move with his face

he looks more like a confused puppy than the killer basketball player everyone knows and loves

“I'm in your class, jeno. I sit three rows behind you. I walk past you everyday to my seat.” you roll your eyes lightly

jeno just keeps getting more and more confused with every sentence

“how? how did I not notice you-”

“because you’re too busy messing around with your bros.” you roll your eyes harder this time, but when your gaze lands back on jeno, you immediately start to regret the forcefulness of your words

he looks hurt, and now angry

“so, you lied to me?” jeno looks as if the gears in his brain are running at full capacity, “what did you want from me then? some tickets to the game, maybe my phone number to sell online?” he spits out, embarrassment from you not returning his feelings fueling his harsh words

“do I look like I would do that? you know I'm not that kind of person.”

“forget it. maybe I will go to that party...” he trails off as he packs up his bag

“you act different with your friends than you do with me. you’re just trying to fit into a mold. I called you out on it and you’re mad about it.”

“no. I act different with you because I like you. liked.” he corrects himself, standing up out of the booth

your heart pinches with hurt at his words

there’s nothing like the bitterness of being so close to what you wanted, and then taking 10 steps back because you weren’t aware of how close you were to getting it

“you forgot your drink.” you say bitterly, intent on having the last word

he tucks his airpods into his ears and fixes his hood, “I hate mochas.”

the next night, the basketball team loses their first game of the season

it’s hard not to hear about it, considering the basketball team (and lee jeno) are the pride of the college

but a few more nights pass, and the team loses another game

and then they lose again, keeping them from going to regionals

even taeyong and taeil talk about it, and you couldn’t look away when they showed you the viral video of jeno’s cheerleader girlfriend breaking up with him in the middle of the court after the last game

although you haven’t talked to him since the fight, you still felt sorry for him

you felt bad, and a bit guilty

jeno hasn’t shown up to calculus since the loss, and his seat is eventually taken by one of his ex-friends

within a month, jeno turned from the campus’ golden boy to a nobody

and it didn’t matter to you

you haven’t physically seen him since the fight, making you worried about him

is he okay? physically and mentally? is he eating or sleeping?

part of you hates that you still have feelings for him, and the other part doesn’t care

you just want to know if he’s okay

and then one very early saturday morning, he walks into the cafe for the very first time since you fought

the jingle of the bells above him comfort him, they chime a good luck to him as he steps up to the counter where you’re ducked down into the pastry display case

“I'll be with you in one moment.” you say, tired dripping from your tone, and jeno realizes you’re in the last hour of your shift

“it’s no problem.” your rustling stops at the familiar voice, and your head pops up from behind the counter

lee jeno stands in front of you, his hoodie and baseball hat on, round glasses perched on his nose and his fringe tickling his eyes

“jeno.” you say, as if making sure it’s actually him and that he’s really here

“no, I think you might’ve mistaken me for someone else.” you and jeno both can’t help but let out a small laugh as you unexpectedly reenact the first time you met

“what are you doing here?” you ask, fully standing up and meeting him at the cash register

“well, I was hoping to get a mocha.”

“I thought you hate mochas.” jeno stares at you and you stare back, unwilling to move until he says something first

jeno reaches out over the cash register, his strong but gentle fingers grazing over your forehead to fix some hair that was out of place due to your movements during restocking

you subconsciously lean into his touch, and jeno brings his hand down into yours, pulling you away from the cash register and sitting down in a chair at the counter

his hands hold yours over the counter, and the fact that you haven’t pulled away gives him hope that he’s not too late

“I grew to love them because of you. I've been craving them for the past month,” he laughs sourly, “but no one makes them the way you do.”

your heart trembles at his words, and it takes everything in you to not forgive him in an instant

“I'll make you one.” you say, untangling your hands from his and moving to the espresso machine

jeno watches as you make his new favorite drink, and then place it before him as you sit down in a chair next to him

“I’m sorry.” is the first thing he says after you face him once again, “you were right. I was trying to fit into the mold of what the people around me wanted. the only time I could actually be myself is when I'm around you.”

“I'm sorry, too. this isn’t all your fault, I shouldn’t have lied to you.” jeno scoots closer, tiredness tying you together and the moonlight from outside allowing you to enjoy the company of each other

“my calculus grade is low again. I might need your big brain to help me.”

“okay, but I'll need payment this time.”

“how much?”

“one kiss.”

“one kiss for every correct problem on the final exam?”

“deal.”

jeno smiles softly, his eyes scrunching as smile lines crease his face like tangled bedsheets in the early morning

he leans in, and you kiss with only the moonlight as a witness

jeno loves the way your mouth tastes like the bitter espresso that keeps him awake, but your lips are as sweet as the mocha that he has grown to love

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harley-sunday · 4 years

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10 Things I Hate About You [03]

Summary: Based on the RomCom ‘10 Things I Hate About You’ we follow the reader as she tries to win over Bucky Barnes so his best friend can finally go on a date. Entry for @arrowsandmixtapes RomCom Challenge

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader (f) & Steve Rogers x Maria Hill

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 2.5k

AN: Woo boy, this one’s a roller coaster of emotions. Hope you enjoy :) ♥

Masterlist

“Hello, Petra,” Nat says with a grin as she joins you in the locker room of the shooting range. This is the way she always greets you before your Sunday afternoon session and so you know what comes next in her spiel, “Make anyone cry today?”

“Sadly, no.” You look up at her and wink, “But it is only four-thirty.”

She laughs, “Atta girl.”

Opening your locker you take out the Glock 17 that you’ve had ever since you started in this business. It’s lightweight and easy to take care of, and even though you have tried several other guns you always come back to this one. Clicking the chamber in place you check that the safety’s on before you tuck it into the holster that’s around your thigh.

“Hey Nat,” you say, letting the protective earmuffs you’ve just taken out of your locker hang around your neck as you close the door and let the combination lock hang loose - there’s nothing of value in there now anyway.

“Yeah?”

“Just exactly how much of I date do I need to go on with Bucky before Hill can ask Steve out?” you ask, arms folded in front of your chest as you wait for her to get ready.

“Why?”

“We’re going out for drinks Friday evening,” you say, a little surprised that you’re actually looking forward to spending some time with him without anyone else around. “So, I don’t know, maybe that’s enough?”

She holsters her gun and catches up with you at the door before you walk to the firing lanes together. She turns to you then, a sly smile playing around her lips, “If you can get him to go to Tony’s party with you next weekend-”

“Oh please,” you scoff, “consider it done.”

“- and report back to me when he does, then I’ll let Hill know she can ask Steve to be her date.”

During Thursday’s training session he wants to test your endurance which he claims is for scientific reasons but you think is just to piss you off. He sets out to have you to do five Cooper tests in a row and even though you suggested going outside, he argued the treadmill would give him more accurate results and so here you are, on the piece of workout equipment you loathe more than anything. To say that by now you’re in a bad mood would be an understatement.

The first two twelve-minute runs were fine, you managed 2,5k both times, although the second one was definitely a challenge. He’s relentless though and so now you’re already halfway through your third test, cursing and sweating while he’s standing there, stopwatch in hand, encouraging you to keep going with a shit-eating grin. You'd like to be able to say that after a while you find your rhythm, that it gets easier, but the truth of the matter is you hate every second of it and so once your time is up you step off the treadmill and reach for your water bottle.

“Two more,” he says from somewhere behind you, “come on.”

“No thanks. I’m done.”

“I’m sorry,” he stands in front of you now, hands on his hips, “what?”

“I’m done,” you repeat before you take another sip of water. “I hate running. Passionately. Like, I firmly believe people should only run as a child or when they’re being chased.” You look up at him, “And right now, I’m neither.”

He tries to keep a straight face but he fails and laughs, “Can’t argue with that logic.”

“Thank you,” you reply with a smile. Small victories and all that.

“You are amazingly self-assured,has anyone ever told you that?”

You shrug, “I tell myself that every day, actually.”

He shakes his head and dismisses you with a wave of his hand, “Go. Hit the shower.” He laughs then, “We’re done for today.”

“So I’ll see you tomorrow?” you ask as you grab your towel and water bottle.

“Yup,” he nods, “I’ll meet you out front at eight.”

“Ooooh, someone’s got a hot date tonight,” Natasha calls from across her room.

You throw her what you hope is a death glare, making your way to her closet without even asking for permission. You locate what you came here for within seconds, pulling them out with a triumphant, “Ha!”

“Sure. Of course you I’ll lend my black biker boots,” Nat says, her voice laced with sarcasm, “no need to ask.”

“You’re the whole reason I’m even going on this date,” you bite back, “I’d say you owe me one.” You sit down next to her on the couch, putting on the socks you brought along before you squeeze into the boots.

“Come on,” she claps her hands once you zip them up. “Let’s see the look.”

You stand up, not giving her the twirl she’s asking for out of spite. You’re wearing a simple grey top, paired with black jeans and Nat’s biker boots. “I figure I’d wear that jean jacket with it?”

“Ugh, no,” Nat scrunches her nose in disgust. She gets up then and starts rummaging through her closet, pulling out a black leather jacket not much later. She thrusts it into your hands, “here.”

“Thanks,” you say, and you mean it. It completes the look perfectly and you throw her a kiss before you head back to your room again.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she calls after you.

You let out a laugh and yell back, “Already doing it!”

He’s making you wear a helmet that covers most of your face, which is a good thing because you’re sure you’re looking like an absolute idiot, grinning from ear to ear ever since you climbed onto the motorbike about an hour ago. Your arms are wrapped around his waist, even though your hands never quite meet. Your chin is level with his shoulder as you take in the winding road you’re driving on, admiring the beautiful surroundings. It’s still warm outside and so the wind that accompanies you while you’re driving is actually pleasant.

There’s this weird feeling in the pit of your stomach, like you could start crying at any moment even though there’s no reason to, and you wonder if this is what happiness feels like. He turns into a sideroad then, pointing to a building a little further down the road and so you don’t really have a chance to explore whatever it is you’re feeling, now curious to see where he’s taking you.

The building turns out to be a pub which, from the outside, looks like it has seen better days. He parks the bike right out front, and waits for you to get off before he lets it settle on the kickstand and joins you on the curb.

“That was amazing,” you say as you hand your helmet to him.

He just smiles, running a hand through his hair to get it back into shape. “Come on,” he says as he nods towards the door.

You’re a little hesitant, because the place definitely looks worse for wear, but then you follow him inside and a quiet, “Wow,” escapes you. It looks like time has stood still here, but in a good way, the wood of the bar and the tables and the stools polished to a shine, the floor looking like it was put in just yesterday, and the decor flawless.

A few other people are scattered across the room, two of them sitting at the bar but not together. Must be regulars, you figure, because it’s definitely that kind of place. Bucky leads you to a table in the far corner, waiting for you to sit down before he does the same. “This place is stunning,” you say as you look around you, taking it all in. The walls are covered in black and white pictures, mostly men in uniform with big smiles on their faces.

“You should be able to find me and the boys in here somewhere,” Bucky says with a sad smile, nodding towards the frames, “I remember they took our picture right before we were shipped off to Europe.” His eyebrows knit together then and he seems a little lost in his own thoughts for a moment.

Even if you wanted to ask him about it, you can’t, because it’s then the bartender joins you at your table and asks what he can get you. You order a Heineken, while Bucky gets a coffee because he still has to drive back.

“Promise me you’ll at least let me offer you a beer when we get back then?” you ask.

“Sure,” he says with a grin.

“What?”

“You’re actually a lot nicer than people make you out to be.” The bartender’s back then, and Bucky waits until he’s put the drinks on the table and is back at the bar before he continues, “I guess we both have a reputation, huh?”

“Yeah,” you nod solemnly, because yes, you do. You look back at him, “What’s your excuse?”

“For?”

“Acting the way we do,” you say as you take a sip of your beer, hoping he won’t be offended by your question.

“I don’t like to do what people expect,” Bucky admits easily even though he doesn’t look at you instead turning his coffee cup around on the saucer. Then, with a shrug, “Why should I live up to other people’s expectations instead of my own?

You smile, “So you disappoint them from the start and then you’re covered, right?”

“Something like that,” he agrees. He looks up at you then, “What about you?”

“Same, I guess.”

He stretches out his legs and gently kicks your foot under the table, “Then you screwed up.”

You’re in the middle of taking a sip of your beer and so it takes you a second to reply, “How?”

“You never disappointed me.”

He takes the long way home after you told him how much you love it on the bike and so you don’t get back to the compound until it’s almost midnight where you both agree to take a rain check on that beer you’ve offered him.

You’re a little stiff from being seated for so long and so you lean heavy on him to get off the bike, letting out a groan when you toss your leg over. The visor of his helmet’s already up and so you can only see the laughter lines in the corners of his eyes when he looks at you from over his shoulder, but it isn’t hard to imagine the smile that usually goes along with it.

You hand him your helmet and watch as he places them in one the racks that line the walls of this particular garage. There are a dozen or so other motorbikes in here, and you recognize the one that belongs to Nat, a vicious machine custom built to suit her needs. You prefer Bucky’s bike though, a Triumph ‘64, which honestly you only know because he told you earlier tonight.

Once he’s finished putting everything back where it belongs he joins you and together you walk to the elevator bay. For a moment you worry about running into someone, about rumors being spread as so often happens around here, but it’s late and the hallways are empty and so it’s just you and him.

Once the elevator dings to let you know you’ve arrived on your floor you start to say your goodbyes, because he’s one floor above you, but he cuts you off, “I’ll walk you to your door, come on.”

“Thank you.” You look up at him, “For tonight, I mean. I really had a good time.”

He nods, “Yeah, me too.”

You arrive at your room then, and so now it’s a little awkward. He’s standing next to you, hands in the pockets of his jeans, eyes darting across the hallway. You punch in your access code on the keypad that’s mounted to the wall and wait for it to unlock before you push the door open, turning to him when you do.

Placing one hand on his shoulder for balance you stand on your toes and gently kiss his cheek, “Goodnight, Bucky.”

He nods, smiling then, “Goodnight.”

You watch him as he starts to walk away, hands still in the pockets of his jeans but his head held a little higher now. “Hey, Buck?”

He turns around, a curious look passing over his face, “Yeah?”

You take a deep breath, actually feeling a little nervous? Weird. “I was wondering if maybe you’d like to go to Tony’s party with me?”

He’s quiet for a moment, his eyebrows furrowed, and you want to tell him, never mind, because you know he never really goes to these sort of things, but he surprises you, “I’d like that.”

You’re not sure what happened because he wasn’t supposed to be there. The shooting range is not where he usually hangs out on Sunday afternoons, which you know because you’ve never seen him there during your sessions with Nat before. And so it’s what you keep telling yourself as you go after him. He wasn’t supposed to be there.

You can see him ahead of you, walking with that murder strut you know from the footage you’ve seen of him when people still called him The Winter Soldier. He looks menacing even from behind with his shoulder squared and you actually have to start running if you ever want to catch up with him. The irony of that, what with his fucking Cooper test last week, is not lost on you, thank you very much.

You hear Nat and Maria call something at you but you’re too far away and so you hold up your hand to let them know you didn’t get any of it. It doesn’t matter anyway, all you need to do right now is catch up with Bucky and explain. He’s only about thirty or so feet ahead of you and so you step it up and set into a sprint down the long hallway.

“Bucky, stop!” You’re panting now, coming to a halt in front of him.

For a moment it looks like he’s about to walk straight through you, but you hold your ground, finding his eyes to let him know you’re not budging. You expect him to look angry, or maybe even ready to kill well, you, but he actually looks hurt which makes it ten times worse. It makes you want to cry.

“Fuck,” you mutter quietly, because you’re more out of breath than you’d like to admit, a sheen of sweat covering your face while you try to catch your breath.

“Is it true?” His voice is low and it’s not that you’re scared of him per se, but now you understand why people tend to avoid him. If you didn’t know any better you’d probably do to. He might look hurt, but he sounds fucking dangerous.

“Yes.” No point in lying, you decided when you went after him. You’re not here to give him excuses, you here to tell him the truth. If he’ll let you of course.

“So you only went out with me as a favor to Hill?”

You contemplate your answer for a moment, but it looks like the damage is already done and so there’s really no use trying to defend yourself, “That’s not the full story, but yes.”

He steps around you then, “We’re done.”

#Bucky Barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes fanfic #RomComWC #Harley Sunday x Bucky Barnes #Bucky Barnes

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suffering-and-happy-about-it · 5 years

Text

Mount Everest Ain't Got Shit On Us (Fezco x fem!reader, Part 6.)

Description: You were always told that your life will be as you wish it to be if you’ll study enough. That it will pay off if you work hard. And some people were given you like the scary example of what will happen when you don’t obey. But sometimes it feels good to disobey.

A/N: Eyo eyo, Fez and reader being cuteee.

Word Count: 2.5 K

Warnings: None

Read the rest here, babe: PART 1 PART 2 PART 3 PART 4 PART 5

Masterlist and declaration: H E R E

Not everything in your fuckin' life can go as you want it to go. That's some fuckin' Murphy's law or what. Sometimes you love a girl - and you find our she's boy afterward. Sometimes you want a child more than anything else and just can't have it and those who don't want them have a bunch of kids. Sometimes you kiss a man you have a crush in a pool in front everybody else on a party and everything in you just clicks off at once and you just fell asleep because the combination of eight shots of vodka drank in like five minutes and an almost deadly coffee kicks in too hard.

When you were a teen, you would swear it was you v. the whole world destiny thing. No-one stood by your side, you were a lonely soldier. You were sure that you couldn't reach happiness at any point in your life because something good happened just for something bad to happen immediately after that. But as time was passing, you got to know that everyone has their ups and downs in their lives, that life isn't a straight line of good things. Your life was completely normal and simple.

That morning your life felt nothing like simple or normal. You had a hungover, your head hurt so much it was unbelievable and you were sure that you must be paralyzed because your brain acted like it can't move your body a shitty millimeter forward.

But at least you weren't naked, in fact, somebody has laid you on a sofa and covered you up in a furry, nice-smelling blanket. Your body was warm, but your hair put in a messy bun was still wet. Overall you felt safe and nice.

After having an internal argument with your brain, somehow your eyes managed to open. The light around you was subtle, thank God, so your eyes didn't hurt as much as they could. This place was not familiar to you - it was a small, older flat. It smelled a bit like a good vodka and a good quality kush. You were sprayed all over an old, brown sofa on three big pillows which could be considered mattresses.

A single idea of where you were or how did you got there could not be found in your mind. You must've been tripping during the night a lot.

A hum came up from your lips as you sat, almost screaming when a boy appeared on a sofa on the opposite side of the small table. He was watching you with an intense stare, chewing on a small piece of wood. You were shocked, he was around thirteen years old, but his face had a few tattoos on them, he had a murderous look in his eyes and overall, he was appearing like a not so much friend person to you. You have seen him at the shop as well. He crossed his hands over his chest, not leaving you with his not so nice gaze.

"Ya feelin' alrite? No serious stomach ache or some shit like dat?" - He took the wood out of his lips and remained in looking at you.

"I think I'm good. Headache is the thing that makes me a bit uneasy." - You smiled at him, but his face remained completely, dead serious. Then he nodded, got up and searched through a few cabinets. He gave you a glass of water and gave you a slight nod. - "There's some cereal in the cabinet, drink diz and take the pill, you will feel a bit betta'. Gonna find Fezzy, need to finish some business."

"What's your name, by the way?" - You shouted when he almost left the apartment. The boy turned back to you and played with his huge golden necklace in his hand. He has Fezco's hairstyle and his eyes were flat as well.

"Name's Ash. Nice to meet ya, girl." - He smiled a bit, it was almost invisible, but it felt warm. Then he left immediately, letting you all alone. So you followed Ash's instructions - you swallowed that painkiller and got up to have a small breakfast. Nesquik sounded the best to your grumpy stomach.

You had your Adidas shorts from the party still on, but no socks nor sneakers or your very own t-shirt. Somebody lend you a really long, old, oversized t-shirt which reached the lower half of your thighs. You sat there, leaned with your ass into the counter and held the bowl in your hand. It seemed that Fezco took you home. Could it be his home? His flat? That could be possible.

"Heya newbie. How ya doin'?" - Fez walked into the room with a slight smile shining through his face. Then he seemed to be emotionless in the next second. - "Ya alrite? Ash said ya lookin' good but I like to be sure on ma own."

"Yeah. I'm... I'm good actually. I'm really glad for those painkillers, only my head hurts a bit. Should my stomach hurt?" - You asked with a frown. Ash and Fez both ask you without talking to each other.

"No, it should not. Just askin', I'm curious. You drank." - Fez added. The fear that you made a genuine asshole form yourself in front of everyone was gone in a second. They were just worried when you were out.

"Nice clothes. They aren't Ash's, are they?" - You asked with a slight smile. You rearranged the t-shirt upon your breasts. He nodded, but his expression hasn't changed a single shitty bit.

"Haven't touched ya when you fell asleep, I swear. Any of us. Just brought ya here, made ya wet clothes hang up and covered ya in a blanket. Wanna some coffee?" - He swayed from the sofa to next to the counter just a slight away from you, making the machine brew some.

"... Impatient, I see. Okay. Will have some, thank you." - You nodded and shoved your mouth with a spoon full of some Chocolate cereals. You would fucking swear that it was the best food you ever fucking had.

"Wild evenin' wasn't it?" - Fez asked. Your body tensed a bit as you watched him. You remembered taking eight shots in a row like a pro, you knew that you kissed him right in the pool... But then it was a big black hole in your head.

"If you say so..." - You said quietly with a guessing tone because you really didn't know what happened.

"Nobody kissed me like that in ages." - Fez said in a muted tone which was perfectly matching him in your head at that moment. He had a privilege as well - your cheeks reddened in an instance. He sounded... Like he liked it. And all of it. - "So if ya wanna..." - He stopped himself for a second and laughed at himself. You smiled as well.

"To do something more?" - You asked impatiently, but he frowned and watched you with an unsure face.

"I was thinkin' more like a dinner or shit." - He answered after a prolonged moment. A little "aw" escaped your lips while you felt like a dummydumdum. He was trying to be romantic and now you looked like a thirsty bitch. All you needed was a few smacks in the cheeks. You completely lost yourself in your mind for a few minutes while Fez got both of you a cup of coffee, which made him continue in asking. - "But if ya more hook up chick, think I can handle that shit as well."

"Dinner and shit does sound great to me. I would love to go out with you." - You said hurriedly all of a sudden while he was still talking. When he heard you say that and as he watched you drinking the coffee he made for you, a flash of a bright smile shined through his face. But he was subtle in an instance again.

"Alrite. Make yourself at home, don't go to the back of the house, have some food or what do ya want, yo clothes are hanging there." - He pointed his fingers onto the radiator. - "And here's yo phone. Someone was hitting' it all fuckin' night. Yo better write them back. And if ya want, keep dat shirt. Not gonna need it." - He gave you it and seriously - there was a lot of missed calls and some texts.

"Gonna need to do some shit in the store. Leave whenever ya want, alrite? And hung a paper with yo number on the fridge so I can hit ya up too." - He put his mug on the counter and you would swear he was leaning into a quick cheek kiss, but then he leaned away from you.

So you sat down again, covering yourself in the blanket to feel warm, still sipping the coffee he made for you. It was Rue, it was Fran.

Big sista: Where yo ass at?

Big sista: We need 2 go. Where yo at?

Big sista: Ur freaking me the fuck out.

Big sista: Where the fuck are u. Come on. Call me.

Big sista: Alright. Gonna tell ma u stayed at Rues. Hope ur good.

So Fran was searching for you from midnight until one am. But you were nowhere to be found.

Morgan Freeman: Where yo lazy ass at, Jesus?

Morgan Freeman: Yo are a party wrecker. Where the hell yo at?

Morgan Freeman: Okay, Ash just turned in and said that Fez took u to his home.

Morgan Freeman: Hit me up where you're up.

Both of them were afraid of you when you have disappeared. You somehow found it so sweet you smiled to yourself. And so you turned in and texted to Rue that you're completely fine. Then you called Fran not to be worried about you, that you're good.

"Where the fuck were you?" - She yelled second after picking up the call. You put the phone a bit further from your ear and looked around you to inhale Fezco's own flat.

"I got a bit too friendly with some local vodka out there and passed out. A friend took me to his house. No big deal, Fran." - You huffed out and got some sugar to your coffee to make it sweeter. Fez's coffee was too bitter for you to handle.

"No big deal, shithead? Last time I remember, you were the more adult one of us. You're fuckin' seventeen." - Fran said angrily and you could feel that she wants to give you a punch to your nose as soon as you get near her. - "Listen to me, I saved yo ass. Ma thinks you're with Rue. Are ya with Rue?"

"I'm not with Rue, but you can trust me, this person is seriously cool. You two would get along." - You said calmly. Fran was making a big deal out of completely nothing. You only took a bit too much to drink. She was doing it all the time when she was your age.

"Okay. Okay. Imma calm down. I was just worried, shithead. Be safe. Alrite?" - She exhaled out loud and sent you a kiss through the phone. That was what you loved about her. Usually, she gave up and said that you're the smart one and that you know how to take care of yourself, she was able to say that she was doing the same things as you are doing.

"Yeah. I love you too." - You said quietly with a big smile and hung up the call. Not too long after that, the patrol slash cavalry arrived - Rue was knocking on the apartment door. She was dressed as always, in her own messy way, her hair was messy as hell and she looked tired. Only God knew what was her night out.

"Hey, you lil minx." - Rue said with a huge smile and gave you a big hug. She warm and she smelled nice with a slight touch of the alcohol lasting in her system from the last night.

"Hey, Morgan." - You whispered happily and let her in. She seemed to be well oriented in Fezco's apartment, again pouring her some coffee and taking some chips from one of the cabinets. Of course, her eyes didn't miss that you had someone's clothes on.

"Always thought that Fez has a nice wardrobe, but it looks even better on you. Ya startin' some collection?" - She sat next to you as you turned the TV on and you gave her an ironic look. - "Just kiddin', kiddo. But from the things I've fuckin' heard, you hit it off pretty well yesterday." - That look was somehow different. She looked happy for you two, she must've heard that you made out.

"Have seen Fez on the way in. He looked chill as if he had the best kush after a long fuckin' time, but I know that he has the same weed as always." - Rue playfully raised her eyebrows. That made your cheeks redden, Rue acknowledging that you made her friend's day better. That felt lovely. That felt good. And it made your day better as well.

"Are ya blushin'?" - She laughed and took your shoulder to your palm. - "Tell me everythin'. Tell me what Fez have said in the morning when he saw you?"

"He... Asked me out. He wants to go out with me. And it looks like he likes the way I kiss. I thought that he leaned to give me another one, but then he walked away." - An excited squeak escaped your lips. You were outta the place because of Fez. It felt like a start of something between you two.

"So Fezzy for himself a girl. And a nice one which I do like. You don't even know how lovely this is." - Rue leaned her head onto your shoulder and watched the TV with a dreamy look. You kissed her and then watched the TV as well.

You two left at two p.m. before you could even standstill on your own feet. A small paper hung on the fridge when you and Rue were leaving home with your number your sign with a small heart at the end. Without a word, she automatically set the course to your home and Rue was walking along with you.

"Hello. Enjoyed yourself last night?" - Your mom got up from her small garden, waving at the two of you, walking down the street.

"'t was good, Mrs. Y/L/N. We had fun, watched some Johnny Depp movies, we had a good time." - Rue's hand hung over your shoulder and she smiled.

"Looks like you had a long night, you two. Do you want some lunch?" - Your mum greeted Rue with a quick hug as you two walked inside. You immediately went to your bedroom and changed your clothes in order not to smell like weed. Then you went back to the dining room, where Rue was already sitting at the table and ate her spaghetti at a fast pace. Your plate of spaghetti was served on the table as well. You started to eat.

When Rue looked at you, her look was somehow playful. She was glad.

You and Fez were off to a good start.

#fezco #fezco x reader #fezco euphoria #euphoria hbo #rue bennett #jules vaughn #euhporia #series #fez #fez euphoria #fez x reader

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redstreakfox · 4 years

Text

HAPPY MAO-LLOWEEN

To celebrate this glorious day of spooks and terrors, I’m posting my secret halloween submission for @shapeshiftinterest ! They wanted a story about Rufus and Reggie trying to get candy from the Pure Heart citizens. I ended up mixing a few of their ideas into one story since I loved them so much. I really hope you enjoy it! :) and a shout out to @maomaosmother for organizing this whole event, it’s been a lot of fun to watch. You can read the fic here at AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21258122

Or down below the tag:

Any con artist worth their salt will tell you the number one rule is to always conduct yourself as if you’re being watched. It’s always meant as a formality, an adage passed around to remind oneself that even the smallest slip up could land you broke and in the nearest jail cell. Or, in rarer cases, crawling through a sewer after being pummeled by a five year old. Tonight, to Rufus’ annoyance, that thieving proverb was going to be taken far, far too literally than he would have liked.

Looking high up above the arching gate that leads into Pure Heart Valley’s kingdom, he saw the crown jewel he knew he’d never be able to have. Not even if he planned the largest heist of his career over the course of eight-and-eighty years did he think he’d have the slightest sliver of a chance in stealing it. It didn’t matter anyway, though. The Ruby Pure Heart wasn’t the focus of tonight’s current plan.

Thank god, too.

Staring back at him, from its place perched up on the mountaintop, was the visage of a ghastly jack-o-lantern; a hellish fire burning through its eyes and an upturned grin carved entirely out of malice. It was a ghoulish, frightening image projected across the entire surface of the heart shaped ruby, an homage meant to accentuate the ongoing Halloween festivities. And no matter where Rufus stood, whether there at the gate’s entrance or from the miles and miles back that he and Reggie had travelled through to arrive here, it was as if those fire haunted eyes were following him closely all the same.

Most likely the work of that peacocking king and his damned chameleon sorceress.

Nevertheless, he had a twofold scheme to accomplish that night and thus had no intention of letting any harvest season horrors deter him from it. He held out a hand in front of Reggie to stop him and then pointed it further to his left, indicating for the raccoon to follow him into a more discrete section of the woods that rung the outside of the kingdom’s walls. Settling into the shadowed underbrush, the fox pulled out from behind him a large burlap sack.

“So, what’s the plan again Rufus?” the raccoon asked, threading his fingers together as he watched the conniving fox dive arms deep into the sack. From out of it, Rufus retrieved a matching bag and handed it to his companion.

“This Hallow’s Eve, my furry friend, we’ll be engaging in a rousing rendition of trick-or-treat,” Rufus grinned. “Tricks for them. Treats for us. Tricks especially for that blasted sheriff and his snivelling cohorts.”

“But, won’t they recognize us? They didn’t seem to like us too much last time.”

“Reggie, you mean the world to me but this is why I come up with the plans. Remember when I told you to start practicing different voices? To see if you could mimic a certain one? Well, look around you.”

The raccoon began swiveling his head in every direction he could, puzzled at what he was meant to find other than dirt and trees. The fox merely rolled his eyes.

“I didn’t mean literally, Reg. It’s Halloween, the day when adults and youth alike hide themselves behind all sorts of masks and costumes to procure as much candy as they can,” he said, reaching once more inside his bag to fetch a pair of what seemed to be deflated skins; one as black as midnight while the other shone moonlit white overlayed here and there with patterns of brown. “And I believe maybe it’s time we start cashing in on the fun as well.”

The second con-artist rule, one that works well in many professions, is to always learn from your adversaries. Rufus could admit that when it came to Pure Heart Valley he had grown too complacent. The arrival of two new sheriffs were variables he hadn’t anticipated. Their use of pressed nylon suits to pretend to be other people was a tactic Rufus had anticipated even less.

He still woke up in a rush every now and then from the memory. The cat’s mocking smile appearing out of that tiny blue body, the nightmarish drill that had ripped through his partner’s head before Rufus had any idea what was happening. Reg, meanwhile, thought the entire ordeal had been hilarious in hindsight. Easy for him to say when he wasn’t the one who watched…

Regardless, it was a plan that (unfortunately) had worked near flawlessly, and it was a plan that Rufus now conspired to use himself. It was easy enough once he knew what to do. Finding the suit maker had been the first step, all it took was finding any talented tailor that practiced just even the smallest amount of magic, an occurrence that was fairly common in this day and age. The more difficult task came in collecting samples of who they needed the suits to resemble.

Pure Heart Valley was known for being a monster magnet. It was why the valley had needed a protective shield in the first place. Whether it was just a badly located area or the work of the Ruby Pure Heart attracting the creatures itself, the kingdom faced its fair share of attacks on a regular basis. It was during one of these episodes that Rufus saw an opportunity.

While he had Reg sneak into the city itself to steal what he needed from a handful of citizens distracted by the monster fight, Rufus, in turn, went to forage for hairs throughout the then empty sheriff’s department. To his excitement, it wasn’t the only valuable item he came across in his search.

“We’re going to have our fill of candy and our fill of revenge, getting those do-gooders the same way they got us,” the fox said, handing the badger suit over to Reg. “We’ll put these outfits on and mess around Pure Heart tonight as the sheriffs, using their authority to snag all the sweets and running their names through the mud in the process.”

Reggie looked at tentatively at the white nylon in his paws. “How do these even work? I’m like way too small for this to fit me.”

“Reg, both you and that badger somehow fit inside your tiny body, remember? They obviously work through magic. This isn’t some sort of cartoon show,” Rufus said. “Now help me fit inside of this.”

It was a while later, after a good half hour of struggling and stretching and preening, that the two bandits stood there wholly transformed into new people. With their appearance now in order, the pair set about preparing a decoy treat bag, filling it with a sizeable amount of pine straw and leaves found strewn about the forest floor. Once that was finished, Rufus slung the decoy over his shoulder while Reggie kept the empty one close to him.

Rufus, nodding, then led the two of them past the thinning line of trees and out into the open space just before the kingdom’s gated entrance. The fox, turning his head down to look at the raccoon before remembering that that night he would be needing to look up instead, threw his arms out wide in a grand gesture, “And now, let the show begin.”

Spinning back around, the disguised fox threw his weight against the wooden doors and pushed them open, revealing the warm glow of quaint rows of shops newly masqueraded in all sorts of Halloween decorations. The main fountain, the centerpiece of the starting plaza, ran blood red that night thanks to artificial coloring. Sweetypies of all shapes and sizes milled about the area, the ebb and flow of their mild-mannered chit-chat flowing around the two visitors in a steady hum.

The third rule to remember is that anyone who falls for a ruse once could always be made to do so again, and luckily for Rufus, this was a kingdom full of rubes he once had tied around his fingers not just once, or twice, but for three consecutive years. Or at least, it would have been three had two certain sheriffs and their shrieking bat brat not interfered with schemes they had no business meddling in.

Now, however, he had the chance to reclaim it all once more, even if just for a few fleeting hours. And for a night of sweets, what better place to start than in the baking district?

Muttons… Mittens? ...the yellow bakery mouse, whatever her name was, had been a personal favorite of Rufus’ during their Takes-giving day outings. Her offerings were never known for being on the expensive end, always usually an assortment of foods she had baked that morning, but Rufus never really cared when their taste more than made up for a lack of dollar amounts. And tonight, he planned to go straight to the source.

It was only two firm knocks before she answered her door, standing there dressed as a sunflower, a wooden spoon in one hand and a mixing bowl in the other as she stirred its contents.

“Oh, Sheriff Mao Mao, Badgerclops, I’m surprised to see you two not in costume. Where is your little deputy, Adorabat?” she asked.

“That little nuisance is probably eating out of a garbage can somewhere,” Rufus responded, trying to imitate a gruffer tone of voice. From the quizzing look the mouse suddenly gave him, he figured his voice, his response, or both was throwing her off. Unfortunately, being the sole plan maker, he hadn’t had the time to practice with his voice like he had intended. At least the nylon suits seemed to be properly working.

“Are you all right, Sheriff? You aren’t really sounding like yourself,” Muffins said, her stirring hand paused. Rufus simply stood there, mouth hung open and eyes wide as he wondered if attempting another response would only make things more suspicious. Thankfully, however, a large white badger stepped out in front of him.

“No need to worry, Muffins. This idiot’s been sick all morning. Probably from all of the doorknobs around town he’s been licking,” Reggie responded. Rufus looked up dumbfounded at the back of his partner’s head, astounded both at Reggie’s unusual quick thinking and how well his voice matched that of the badger’s. He had even managed to remember her name.

Thank goodness at least one of them was able to pull this off.

Rufus leaned around the side of the large body in front of him and offered the bakery mouse a weak smile. Her expression seemed to soften at that, her hand going back to stirring.

“Well, I’m sorry to hear that sheriff, I think. What brings the two of you to my shop tonight? Here to try my new spider cookies? Some pumpkin cobbler?” Muffins asked.

“Oh, we’re here to steal-,”

Rufus stepped in front of Reggie and made a sudden show of coughing, both to play up being sick and to cut off his partner from talking. “Seize, we’re here to seize a certain portion of your baked assets, my dear, for inspection. We’ve heard rumors of residents getting sick from some of the treats that have been passed around tonight and we’ve been making the rounds to see who’s responsible.”

“‘My dear’?” Muffins quoted him with a frown. “Well, I can assure you, sheriff, everything I’ve made today, tomorrow, forever, is done with the utmost care. Not a single person has ever been dissatisfied with anything coming out of my shop.”

Rufus leaned in, bringing his face closer to hers, “Then you should have nothing to worry about, hm?” He then stepped past her, ignoring her cries for him to stay outside. Reggie, following closely behind, locked the door behind him as Muffins tried to step through.

She hammered her fists against the door to no avail. Meanwhile, the two con men went to task raiding through her pantry and collecting as many baked goods as they wanted while still leaving plenty of room in Reggie’s sack for more of that night’s offerings. Upon opening the door, they found the little mouse seething on the other side of it.

“Sorry for the wait, my dear, we’ll have these tested out and get the results back to you as soon as we can,” Rufus said. The words had barely passed his lips before a sudden movement caught his eye. The fox ducked just in time to avoid the bowl Bakery Mouse had thrown at him.

“You will be sorry!” Muffins yelled at them. “Just wait till I call… till I call-”

“Who? Us?” the disguised fox asked as a laugh escaped him. “Sorry, citizen, the sheriff’s department has received your complaint and we’re afraid there’s nothing that can be done. Now, do try and keep yourself from causing a scene, won’t you? You’ll frighten the children,” Rufus said, stepping around the angry mouse and out onto the street again.

“Disorderly conduct is an arrestable offense, and we’ve got plenty of cell space!” Reggie yelled back towards her as he ran to catch up with Rufus, his voice still a perfect imitation.

The next couple of hours followed that near exact pattern. The two tricksters would come across a group of trick or treaters or residents passing out candy and whisk away their sugary confections under threat of legal action, sowing discord amongst the townsfolk when they could. Pretty soon, Reggie found his bag near full with only just enough room for potentially one more victim.

“This should do wonderfully for now, Reg,” Rufus said, lifting the bag as high as he could to test its weight. “That sheriff and his partner look like a fool now to half the town and we’ve got enough sweets here to topple a dentistry empire,” he grinned. He expected to hear a gleeful response from his partner, but when none came, he looked up to find Reggie staring dead faced out past the fox. “Reg?” Rufus asked.

“I can’t believe Muffins just gave you a free cobbler like that!” he heard a voice scream from somewhere yards behind him. He recognized that shrill voice, could picture the small blue bat it belonged to, and its sudden presence caused the fox to freeze right where he stood.

“More like she threw it at him, Adorabat,” he heard another voice chime, this one belonging to the real badger and not the fake one Rufus stood next to.

A growl cut through the air, “She’s just lucky I clean myself as much as I do! This could stain my fur if I let it sit long enough!” the growl said, morphing into a voice.

And there he was, the person Rufus had been hoping to avoid that night more than anyone.

“Oh yeah, I’m sure you’re just gonna hate licking cobbler off yourself for the rest of the night,” he heard the badger reply to the cat, their voices sounding even closer. They were definitely headed towards them. “What’s up with tonight anyway? Everyone’s been acting real weird around us, like we attacked them or something.”

Suddenly, Rufus heard Little Blue gasp, “Look, it’s us!” And then, out of nowhere, the little bat was there hovering just in front of his face. Instead of her normal wings, however, she wore costumed sleeves that resembled those of a fairy instead. Around the top of her head rung a thin silver loop of metal. A thin line of that same metal stretched out and away from the loop, and attached to its end was a white cardboard speech bubble pointed at the bat with the words ‘Hey, listen!’ printed across it. “Aw, well, it’s you two at least,” she said.

“Adorabat! You can’t just fly up to strangers like tha-... oh, wow, it actually is us dude,” the badger said, their voices now merely feet away. Rufus, finally mustering up the courage, turned around to meet them.

The badger, for his costume, was sporting a forest green tunic with a matching pointed green cloth hat, a plastic sword held haphazardly in his left paw. The cat, meanwhile, ignoring the splotches of cobbler, wore a short red wig with a shiny jewel affixed upon the middle of his forehead. The rest of his attire seemed like it was meant to be worn by one who would be found out wandering the desert. On top of his left paw was seen the imprint of a glowing yellow triangle.

The feline paused for a second at seeing his own self standing across from him, and then an open mouthed grin burst forth that lit up the entirety of his smug face.

“Ha! I knew the king couldn’t be right! See? There are people here that like me. Even enough to dress up like me,” the cat said, his chest puffed out to be as big as his ego. Then, his stance faltered, his expression shifting into one of hesitation, “Enough to dress up... too much like me, actually.”

“I don’t know man, I think it’s kinda neat,” the badger chuckled. Reggie, for his part, began playfully mirroring his twin’s movements as best he could, even going so far as to throw out a similar laugh.

“Ahhh, wait, never mind. It’s officially creepy now,” the real badger said, his good eye gone wide at hearing his own voice thrown back at him. Internally, it was all Rufus could do to keep himself from taking a swipe at his partner in frustration.

“All right, just who exactly are you-,” the cat began when a new timbre voice, appearing from out of nowhere, suddenly cut him off.

“Oh, sheriffs!”

‘For the love of god, no. Please, anyone but him,’ Rufus inwardly swore.

From out of a nearby side street emerged the carefully curated image of a regal street urchin. Careful rips and artistically placed smudges marked his dirty clothes, giving off the appearance of someone who spent most of their time living out on the streets rather than inside a home. The effort was wasted, however, as, under that ridiculous get up, it was still obviously Pure Heart Valley’s king. His perfectly coiffed mane and authoritative voice was a dead give away, not to mention that only feet away from him was his avian servant; a creature that followed the king more closely than his own proper shadow could.

“Your Grace,” the cat said, his attention now diverted to the newcomer, “what are you wearing?”

“Are you supposed to be some sort of smelly clown?” the bat confusedly asked.

“Oh, goodness no! I’m around the three of you enough for that as it is,” the lion frowned. “As you are all well aware, tonight is another year of Pure Heart Valley’s wonderful Hallow’s Eve festivities. As such, I am observing the time honored tradition of costuming myself as someone I am never able to be. To put myself into another’s slippers as one might say,” he chuckled. “Quite. And so for this year’s engagement, I have decided to become… you,” he finished with a bow.

“Me?” the bat asked incredulously.

The primly lion rolled his eyes and sighed, “No, child, not you, specifically. You, as in, all of you,” he said, waving his arms out in a sweeping gesture. “I have decided to let you all enjoy mine presence this night as someone that I know I mean the world to, as someone that whom without I would be nothing. Yes, I have dressed and paraded myself around tonight as the prototypical image of one of my many loyal subjects. To see what you all see, to live as you all do. I even walked myself down from the palace without being carried, see?”

The group turned their gaze over to the lion’s expressionless servant, and while it was true that on this night he was without the king’s usual recliner, he was instead found to be towing a bag that had to be at least ten times bigger in size than the bird himself. And from its opening, if one looked hard enough, could be seen what appeared to be more candy than any one person should ever have the right to own. Unless, of course, that one person just happened to be a certain wily fox.

Rufus could already feel the drool pooling in his mouth at the sight of it.

“Do you really think we all dress like tha-”

“Ah bup bup!” the king said, waving a hand in front of the badger’s face to silence him. “I did not come here to find you three and squander my time with useless jibber jabber. It has come to my attention that you all have been skulking around town and hoarding up all the candy you could find for some sort of poisonous investigation. Naturally, I have come to preemptively bring you mine own as my safety is of the utmost importance. I expect you to deliver my candy back to me first when you have finished, of course.”

“Investigation? We haven’t been conducting any investigation,” the cat said. “This is,” he wrinkled his nose, “our night off.”

“Yeah!” the blue bat said, flitting around before landing on one of the badger’s shoulders. “And we haven’t gotten no candy neither,” she said.

“Everytime we try, the Sweetypies just start yelling at us,” the badger chimed in.

“Well, then how do you explain that?” the king asked, pointing an accusing finger at Rufus and Reggie who had been both hoping to silently slip away at any moment.

The cat then struck up a steady, measured pace towards Rufus. The look on his face turned the fox’s blood to ice as it coursed through him. His heartbeat seemed to stop, and for a moment he wasn’t sure if it was ever going to start again. The cat grabbed a handful of the silken cape the fox wore and brought his face inches from his own.

“Ok, whoever you two are. I want answers, now! What kind of mischief have you been causing in my jurisdiction tonight?” the sheriff asked, his tone carrying an obvious threat underneath.

Rufus had hoped it wouldn’t have to come to this, but thankfully he had prepared for this situation just in case. Swiftly, he reached as far as he could into the bottom of his bag until his fingers wrapped around one of the small metal balls he had lifted from the sheriff’s headquarters.

“Reggie, now!” the fox cried. He pulled the item out from his sack and threw it as hard as he could directly at the ground in front of him. A sudden explosion sounded, and in seconds the courtyard they had all been congregating in was filled with a blinding smoke. The cat, in his confusion, loosened his grip on Rufus’ collar, allowing him to wriggle free of his captor’s grasp.

“Please tell me this isn’t going to mess up my mane!” the lion shouted.

“My smoke bombs! How?” the cat yelled out in between coughs.

“Dude, I told you we didn’t take them!”

“I can’t see! I can’t see!” the bat cried.

This was exactly the outcome Rufus had been hoping for...

Rule number four: always have an escape plan.

In the surrounding chaos of the situation, the two con artists swapped bags and broke off running in different directions. Rufus carrying the real bag instead of the decoy was only part one in his attempts to confuse his potential pursuers. The fox raced down as many dark alleyways as he could, and when he finally thought he had some time, he paused in the shadows of a run down looking avenue.

Quickly, he tore out of his sheriff costume and took a deep breath of fresh air for what felt like the first time that night. He reached inside the freshly discarded skin and pulled out another one (it looked like a crocodile from what he could tell.)

Now that he had been caught, it was time to become someone new again to truly confuse those do-gooders. He slipped his second disguise on as fast as he could and tentatively crept his way out onto a crowded well lit street, swirling amongst the kingdom’s residents like just another grain of sand along the beach.

Running like a criminal would only rouse new suspicions against him. He needed to blend in with everyone else.

Rufus strolled around the city streets as innocently as he could, taking his time as he meandered about on his way to a designated meeting point. He had elected to take the long way around in getting there, hopefully giving Reg, who also should have changed outfits, enough time to find it and be there waiting.

It was a half hour later when Rufus saw it in the distance, a small public garden nestled in a secluded area of the city, and as expected, he saw someone standing there to greet him. The small pink rhino, sitting among a plot of tulips, warily looked up towards him. For some reason, he was bedecked in what appeared to be surgeon’s scrubs.

“I don’t have time to ask you where you got that, Reg, but I will commend you on the decision. It’s a nice little touch,” Rufus said. “Though, I will say I’m surprised you decided to be that annoying pink gremlin.”

The fox gasped as the rhino pulled out a shimmering scalpel from god knows where and pointed it at him.

“That’s professor-doctor-surgeon gremlin to you, Gary,” the rhino snarled. “And what’s up with your voice?” he asked, frown quickly morphing into a malignant smile, “Oh, you’re probably here for one of my patented throat surgeries, ain’t ya? You know the drill, no questions or insurance needed.”

Rufus had to hand it to him, Reggie was keeping in line with his role like a class actor, but the night was being wasted and he no time to sit and dwell on it.

“Look, let’s just swap bags and be done. That sheriff is still probably scouring every nook and cranny for us and I just want this whole thing to be done and over with,” the fox said. He reached over and grabbed the rhino’s nearby sack, pausing as he tried to pull it. Was the decoy always this heavy?

After gaining some momentum, the fox managed to sling the bag over his shoulder and made his way casually out of the garden.

“Hey! You can’t just take that! I need that for my medical practice!” the pink rhino yelled in his direction.

“Yes, yes, we get it Reg. Now remember, eastern gates, twenty minutes,” the fox called back to him.

From here, Rufus wanted to stay hidden until he made it out of the city. Sneaking down another alley, he changed costumes for a third and final time, a frog creature whose arms seemed too short for clapping. He followed down a multitude of side paths and lanes just barely wide enough for him to walk down, all while keeping himself within viewing distance of the kingdom’s most outer wall. He knew that as long as he continued this way he’d eventually find the eastern exit and avoid any unwanted attention.

He breathed a sigh of relief some fifteen minutes later once he finally found them. He didn’t know whether it was by luck or by fate that the gates stood there unguarded, its keepers had more than likely been too seduced by the call of that night’s tempered horrors and left. Rufus raced through the doors and out into the smothering darkness of the woods beyond.

He had just passed the first few pine trees when he ran into someone blocking his path, toppling them both over to the ground in the process.

“Rufus, buddy!” a familiar voice greeted the fox. Looking over, he saw his raccoon partner sprawled out on the ground near him, already out of costume and back to his normal appearance. The fox jumped up quickly and tore out of his own disguise, happy to once again see the orange fur underneath.

“Reggie, old pal! We did it!” he cried, scooping the raccoon up and into an uncharacteristic hug. “I knew we could outwit that imbecile sheriff if given another chance,” he smiled as he set his beaming partner back down on his own two feet. “Now tell me, where’s the candy?”

“What do you mean? Don’t you have it?” Reggie asked. “I never saw you at The Garden and so I came straight here after changing. I’ve been waiting out here for like an hour.”

Rufus looked at the raccoon as if he had lost his mind. “But we did meet,” the fox said. “You were there on time and we swapped bags, you were that disgusting pink fellow. We talked and everything,” the fox hesitated, thinking. “You did go to the garden, right?”

“Yeah, The Garden, that little cafe we always visited every Takes-giving,” Reggie smiled.

Rufus’ stomach dropped out from under him.

“Reg, no, I meant an actual garden, we-,” the fox paused and looked at the sack he had brought. “But, if that wasn’t you, then that means…” Rufus thought back to the scalpel that had been waved in his face and shuddered. “So then, what is this?” he asked. He reached down and pulled open the bag only to be greeted by jar upon jar of pristine, premium grade mayo.

In that moment, Rufus felt as if his brain was going to short circuit from anger. He turned to Reggie’s decoy bag and kicked it, knocking it over and spilling out a mass of spruce leaves and pinecones. “What is wrong with the people here!” the fox shouted out directionless into the night air.

“Rufus, hold on,” the raccoon implored, sidling up next to the fox and tugging at the bottom of his shirt. The fox took a few deep breaths, letting his expression relax before addressing his friend. He never wanted the raccoon to believe that his anger was ever directed at him, even if at times he was the cause of it. He cared about him too much for that.

“Yes, Reggie?”

“We still have this,” the raccoon smiled. He lifted his baseball cap to reveal a small pouch underneath. He grabbed it and tossed it to the fox who caught it. He could hear a myriad of candy wrappers rustling around inside, the smell of sweetness permeating neatly around the cloth.

He looked at it with surprise and then turned to his cohort.

“Reg, when did you-?”

“It was during all that smoke,” the raccoon said, proud of his witty thinking. “Before we traded bags I grabbed a few handfuls and stuck it in this pouch. It’s like you always told me, remember? Rule number five: ‘it’s always better to leave a heist with something rather than risk taking nothing.’”

The fox couldn’t even begin to hide his glee. “Oh, Reggie!” he exclaimed his bushy tail wagging around him. “I’m so proud that I could just about kiss you.”

The raccoon chuckled and playfully bumped the fox’s leg with his fist, “Just make sure to share some with me, Rufus.”

The fox smiled, “Reggie, I’d share the entire world with you if I could.” Bending over, he placed a paw on the top of Reggie’s head and teasingly ruffled his hair. “Now, how about we start heading home, hm? I’ll even let you have first pick of the treats.”

And then, finally, there was rule number six: through thick and thin, always have your partner’s back and treat them like the gift that they are.

#mao mao #mmhoph #shapeshiftinterest #badgerclops #adorabat #Fic #fanfic #halloween #rufus #reggie

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nightlyarrows · 5 years

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GHOSTS OF HIS RELATIONSHIPS PAST (2/4)

yesterday tristan was visited by cassandra in his dream. his first girlfriend, his first lover, his first heartbreak. it was funny because it was a double heartbreak. he lost his girlfriend and his best friend all on the same day. he was a fool to think that the next night was going to be any different. just like tradition he dreamed again. this time the hunter’s dreams started off nice again, detailing his next relationship, but then heartbreak followed before he was able to wake up. welcome to the story of tristan falco and trenton van der bilt. never mess with someone who has too many appearances to keep up, the archer learned that the hard way.

their story started off as one of brothers. they started off on the university’s football team together and quickly hit it off. there was something about them that made them feel comfortable around each other. tristan finally found another best friend after losing isa in middle school and isaac in high school. this one was going to work out for him. he was going to be more careful. during their second semester together they both rushed for pi kappa phi and they got in. after initiation they were going to be brothers forever. ❛ nothing shall ever tear us asunder. ❜ was the motto of their new brotherhood and it couldn’t be anymore fitting. they only lived thirty minutes away from each other and both drove, so when they went back home they nearly spent the whole summer together.

late june was when this story came to a shocking twist. tristan never really had to question his sexuality. after reading the notebook and saying he would have loved to date both noah and allie it wasn’t really a question for him. both superman and wonder woman were hot in his eyes. there was no denying it, yet in real life he had never had a crush on another guy. cassandra was the only one he had been romantically involved with and that wasn’t really love. so when the two men were out on their boat, laying together after a swim, tristan realized that he was screwed. it was happening again. the sun was setting and his body was warming as he looked over at his teammate, his fraternity brother, his best friend. that day he suddenly became awkward around trenton and the other male was quick to notice.

he became distant for a while, but the man had connections. not only was he the poster boy for the golden boy, but he was a politician’s son. tristan couldn’t stay away from him for forever without getting questioned. the next time that they saw each other was in the middle of july. the van der bilt’s celebrated the fourth of july together so all of their friends and families could come together. trenton invited tristan on the claim that he missed his best friend and wanted to introduce him to his family. after a game of football he took him to his room and pushed him up against the wall, quickly kissing him. the archer was almost frozen in fear. he was both confused and aroused at the same time. he couldn’t think straight, literally, but he was thrilled to know that the feelings weren’t one-sided. ❛ i know. ❜ was all the socialite whispered before kissing him again. as he started working his way down his body he looked up at tristan and whispered again. ❛ but you can’t tell anyone. this has to be our secret. ❜

they slept together that night. it was muffled, quick, messy, but soft at the same time. he was too confused to question anything, but since they were sharing the room he couldn’t think to himself. for the rest of the weekend his mind was foggy and that’s how it was for the rest of the summer. tristan and trenton would meet together to hookup or spend time alone. it felt like a couple, but just hidden from the world. their dates were always deep in the woods where no one would see them, on their boat in the middle of the ocean, behind rows and rows of books. a part of tristan was just happy that he was able to have the man that he loved in some way. another part of him felt like a dirty little secret though... he couldn’t tell anyone without betraying trenton’s trust, so he didn’t. he thought that he was just in the closet and needed time to come out, so he could wait. true love never had a timer, it was eternal.

nothing change when school started again. sophomore year was filled with muffled kisses in the locker rooms when everyone was gone. quick fuck sessions in their room when none of the brothers were around. more dates in the middle of the woods. when they would sit together on the top of a tree and have food, cuddle, and just talk tristan could feel like it was going to last forever. ❛ after this is all over i’ll be yours fully. this is only temporary. just give me time. ❜ those were all whispered into his ear when trenton felt him pulling away. for the following year he believed the other man too. his throat would dry up when he was alone in their room, waiting for the man to come back from hanging out with who knew which cheerleader. it felt like it was closing up as he hovered his fingers over the other’s contact, almost writing him a message. tristan always felt himself pulling away. ❛ i’m not his boyfriend yet... i can’t be getting jealous like this. ❜

even though they continued, tristan tried his best to move on by their junior year. nothing was happening and he could feel like he was being dragged along, but he couldn’t help the hope that he still had. he couldn’t help the fact that he loved trenton with all of his heart and wanted to wait for him. the other men didn’t seem the same. hell even the women didn’t seem appealing anymore. he didn’t want any of them. yet one day when tristan forgot something in his locker room and had to go back late his heart almost broke for the second time in his life. his breath hitched when he saw someone getting blown. maybe he wasn’t the only guy that had fun in there. yet when he looked close enough he saw that the man on his knees was no other than trenton. whispering sweet nothing to the other. tristan wasn’t that mad. this didn’t seem like how they had hooked up and he spent the whole time watching like some creep. his heart was tearing, but this was rough. this was simply a fuck and it made sense since the quarterback had been pulling away from his secret lover. he just needed to get his nut off tristan convinced himself.

yet during their senior year everything changed. tristan made sure that he was consistent with trenton so he’d never feel the need to go looking for anyone else’s body. during christmas he was invited back to the van der bilt’s, once again the whole family got together. this time he wasn’t the one in his lover’s room. angela wesley was the one occupying that bed and he was so confused. was this another coverup? another desperate attempt to not get close to him? during christmas eve dinner, that tristan had helped prepare, trenton decided to make an announcement. ❛ angela and i are getting married. ❜ were the only words that the archer heard. his senses slowly left his body and he felt numb. his vision was blurry, he only heart a small buzzing sound, he couldn’t touch or taste anything. god he was losing it and he couldn’t afford to be a mess in front of the whole family.

tristan toughed it out. by now he was an expert at hiding his emotions in public, so he waited until they were alone again. the woods were bitter cold now and the snow had covered every single inch, but the skies were clear that night. ❛ why? ❜ that was all tristan could bring himself to ask. he was promised they would work out, he was promised that the other just needed time. all trenton did was laugh at first. oh god it was happening again. the same scene. they were in the woods, it was dark, his lover was laughing. this was supposed to be different. tristan’s breath suddenly hitched again as his secret whatever finally spoke. ❛ did you think you were anything more than just a fuck buddy and friend? dude, you’ve seen my family. i love you, yeah, but it’s not like i can exactly marry you. gotta admit though out of all of the guys i’ve fucked around with you’ve given me the most experience, so like kudos or whatever. don’t take this the wrong way, but you knew it was never going to last. ❜

he wasn’t doing this again. tristan couldn’t handle this. he just pushed passed trenton, packed his bags, and excused himself from the family. his father needed him, there was some emergency and his flight got cancelled was the excuse. no one knew that night that tristan spent christmas eve driving and when the clock struck midnight he was still in his car, on his way home, crying. christmas day, four days after his birthday, and he welcomed in the jolly season heartbroken again.

#ghosts of his relationships past #i'm uncreative so that's it #the title is the tag #so i can keep them all together

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writing-and-teatime · 5 years

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Have Faith

Ok, so this is a short story that I made a couple years ago for school. We were to take the short story Young Goodman Brown, by Nathaniel Hawthorne, and change it’s perspective. I chose to do the perspective of his young wife Faith. If you haven’t read Young Goodman Brown you should, it’s a good story. Image is from the Creepypasta fandom.

Triggers: Satan, mentions of the Devil, mistrust, fire, slight horror, betrayal, (tell me if I need to add any more)

Please enjoy!

———

I stood in the door frame as my husband exchanged a kiss with me and I could feel the pink ribbons of my cap playing against my face. He pulled back after only a moment much to short but stayed close.

“Dearest heart,” I pleaded in his ear, “prithee put off your journey until sunrise and sleep in your own bed tonight. A lone woman is troubled with such dreams and such thoughts that she is afraid of herself sometimes. Pray tarry with me this night, dear husband, of all nights in the year.” I was worried, for this midnight was a service and I knew not what time my dearest Goodman Brown would return from his journey.

“My love and my Faith,’ He replied, “of all nights in the year, this one night nust I tarry away from thee. My journey, as thou callest it, forth and back again, must needs be done ‘twixt now and sunrise. What, my sweet, pretty wife, dost thou doubt me already, and we be but three months married?” I tried to gather my feelings and think of something to say.

“Then God bless you.” I forced out, “and may you find all well when you come back.” I silently prayed that I would be home in time for him.

“Amen!” He cried proud and strong. “Say thy prayers, dear Faith, and go to bed at dusk, and no harm will come to thee.” I nodded and kissed him one last time before he began walking down the row and watched him as he moved on to the next street, pausing to look back before he turned into the darkness.

It was eleven o'clock and I needed to begin my journey. When the moon rose to the middle of the sky was when the service began in the part of the wood that was most covered and un-open to the light. I walked quickly, going a different direction than my dearest husband for fear he might see me out suspiciously in the night and entered the woods in a hidden path used only by our service-members. Ahead of me I saw a hunched figure shrouded in the gloom, Goody Cloyse.

“You are leaving much to late, dear Faith,” She said, “you may not make it in time.”

“Goodman Brown kept me back a while.” I answered. “But I will surely be there in time, this path is clear and flat and I will be swift.” Goody Cloyse nodded. “You must hurry also,” I continued, “if you head back to the village now you most surely will not make it!” She nodded again and continued to walk silently, as did I.

It had already turned a deep dusk but I was much farther in the forest than anyone traveling on the original path could have been. I looked up at the sky and looked at the stars in there twisting patterns, like dark snakes above where our service would be.

I continued down this dark path that felt like it lasted forever, going quickly into places with sharp and dark brambles growing wildly over the path that pierced my hands and tore the pink ribbons right from my cap so they fluttered away into the woods. I continued to get closer and deeper into the woods and thought that I heard voices, My Faith is gone! There is no good on earth; and sin is but a name. Come, devil; for to thee is this world given, but continued moving for fear of being late.

I entered the clearing and saw many service-members standing about waiting to begin, more had begun to enter the clearing around me, and still more began forming rows that we stood in- all facing a large rock alter near one end. The moon shifted slightly and began fire shimmering around us, burning up the trees and bushes and ground. Ahead of us, on the altar, two men stood, one was my dearest Goodman Brown and the other was our minister who would be overseeing this service, the Devil.

"Welcome, my children,” The Devil's voice boomed, "to the communion of your race. Ye have found thus young your nature and your destiny. My children, look behind you!" We turned in one swift motion and all smiled, more worshippers were joining us, flooding in from the woods and adding to our ranks until we filled every inch of the clearing.

"There," continued the Devil, "are all whom ye have reverenced from youth. Ye deemed them holier than yourselves, and shrank from your own sin, contrasting it with their lives of righteousness and prayerful aspirations heavenward. Yet here are they all in my worshipping assembly. This night it shall be granted you to know their secret deeds: how hoary-bearded elders of the church have whispered wanton words to the young maids of their households; how many a woman, eager for widows' weeds, has given her husband a drink at bedtime and let him sleep his last sleep in her bosom how beardless youths have made haste to inherit their father's' wealth; and how fair damsels - blush not, sweet ones - have dug little graves in the carder, and bidden me, the sole guest, to an infant's funeral. By the sympathy of your human hearts for sin ye shall scent out all the places - whether in church, bedchamber, street, field, or forest - where crime has been committed, and shall exult to behold the whole earth one stain of guilt, one mighty blood spot. Far more than this. It shall be yours to penetrate, in every bosom, the deep mystery of sin, the fountain of all wicked arts, and which inexhaustibly supplies more evil impulses than human power - than my power at its utmost - can make manifest in deeds. And now, my children, look upon each other." I looked around me and so did everyone else, taking in the number of worshippers.

"Lo, there ye stand, my children," said the Devil, in a ceremonial tone,"Depending upon one another's hearts, ye had still hoped that virtue were not all a dream. Now are ye undeceived. Evil is the nature of mankind. Evil must be your only happiness. Welcome again, my children, to the communion of your race."

“Welcome.” We boomed as one. We could all see a red glow from the rock in front of us as if it was full of the Devil's own blood, He dipped his hand in and prepared to baptize us, placing his hand against our foreheads. I looked ahead, at both him and my dearest husband. I could see Goodman Brown's mouth moving but could not hear what he said, he collapsed and disappeared.

On our way back through the woods I thought of my husband and wondered if I had truly seen him or if it was just an image of fire. When I entered my home I replaced the pink ribbons on my cap and waited till morning, looking out the window for my dearest Goodman Brown. When Goodman Brown come ‘round it was morning and the sun was out, I ran out the door and nearly kissed my dearest before the village. He looked at me sternly and scowled, walking past into the house. Had I truly seen him at the service? Had he seen me?

My Goodman Brown became distrustful, he looked and me with sadness and anger, he scowled at the minister during church and no-longer participated in holy psalm. When we knelt down to prayer with our children at the end of day he did not. My dearest husband no longer talked to the people of the village and held his head higher than one should for the rest of his life, his ego washing over the village in waves that filled every crack. When my husband died no one came to his funeral. Our neighbors carved no hopeful verse on his tombstone. I knew I would be dying soon after, knowing not whether I would be joining my husband in heaven or hell.

#young goodman brown #faith #faith perspective #ygb #short story #writing

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adore-holland · 6 years

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Hot Chocolate

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Warnings: Ehm... none, I think?

Summary: An afternoon walk turns interesting when you run into your ex.

A/N: I hope you enjoy this! It was fuelled by my Shirin music binge and a weekend of about no sleep. It’s not edited, but here’s to hoping it still makes sense!

Small droplets of water fell peacefully against the large tiles on the pavement. Dark clouds covered most of the sky, and the soothing sound of the rain seemed to have the same effect on the rest of southern London. The whole city just felt lazy, there was no other way to describe it.

You loved it. The British autumn had always been your favorite season. Maybe it was the memories you attached to the season, your past always seemed so much more idyllic in the cozy evenings of lazy, rainy Saturdays.

The wind was driving your hair wild. Your white beanie didn’t really do much to help, but your ears were warm. You were cocooned in your red coat, hands stuffed into the large pockets. You loved everything about autumn. But the nostalgia always overtook your brain. The orange and brown leaves, flying around, close to the ground, brought back memories of long walks in the woods; soft palms and calloused fingers holding onto your own. They brought back images of bright smiles; loud laughs; hot chocolate kisses and brown eyes, watery from harsh winds.

Even with the gloomy weather, you felt giddy. You were having dinner with your best friends later that evening. It had been a while since you had seen them last. Work always managed to get in the way.

You looked up from the concrete blocks beneath your boots and noticed that you were almost at the grocery store. There was a light buzz of people around, far less than there would have been, had it not been raining. But still enough to make London feel like a city and not a commercial for the newest model of a car.

The glass doors slid open, greeting you happily with a “ding” from the electronic bell. You had never understood how anyone could work for hours with that bell, without going insane at some point.

Normally white aisles were covered in brown water streaks, and the sound of shrieking shoes clashed against your eardrums. A single overhead light flickered inconsistently, dawning the place in a midnight atmosphere. Muffled conversations could be heard throughout the store, and everything was exactly as it should be.

Your eyes fluttered along the aisles, searching for the products you needed. In fact, you didn’t really need anything, nor did you want anything. But you had been sitting at home, with a cup of tea, and something had just told you that you needed to get out of the house. Your gut was probably right about that; you had been holed up at your flat, working tirelessly on a work project for days.

In fact, it had been a long while, since the last time you had taken time to just wander around the city. The electronic bell rang once again, and you moved from the dairy section towards drinks. Row after row of differing teas, differently processed coffee beans, and of course what you were there for; the hot chocolate.

"Y/N?" Your hand stills in the air, freezing where it was reaching for a box of hot chocolate powder. Silently you let out a breath of air, squeezing your eyes shut, wishing that the voice was only your imagination. You relax the muscles in your arm, and it falls gently down your side. With a last quick breath, you open your eyes, and sure enough there he is.

Brown boots, the same ones he wore all that time ago, you can tell by the small green stain near the ankle. That was your paint, you remembered that day vividly. Flashes of wide smiles, flying paint, and empty canvases. Hugs from behind kisses on paint covered noses and laughs that you could only relive in your dreams.

Acid wash denim jeans, ripped at the knees, just the way he preferred it. But you knew those jeans, and the holes weren't artificial. They had torn during the many days you had spent together, hurting yourself on the highest branches in the tallest tree in the forest behind his house.

The black coat was new, but that made sense, considering how he always managed to forget his coat somewhere ridiculous. You remembered how confused you had been, when he was sitting at your dinner table, admitting with red cheeks, and downwards cast eyes, that he had forgotten it at a magazine interview. Later that evening you had found it for sale on eBay.

Your eyes finally reached his, and the familiar warm feeling arose in your gut. They were autumn brown. Whenever you had told him that, as whispered confessions, he laughed at you. He didn't get it, he never got how you could see an entire season in just his eyes. How his eyes always reminded you of wet tree trunks, fallen leaves, and hot chocolate. You remembered why autumn was your favorite season.

His hair was a curly mess on the top of his head, blown through by the wind, and your fingers itched to run through it. Clenching your fist, you smiled at him.

"Tom," his mouth quirked up in a smile at the sound of his name rolling through your lips. "I didn't know you were in town."

"No... No, I'm, ehm." He took a step closer to you, lifting the item in his hand. "I'm only in town to take care of my mum." The packet of kleenex was balanced perfectly between his fingers, and you could almost feel them running through your hair.

"Yeah.. she mentioned that she was coming down with a cold." A low chuckle whisked through the aisle. You raised an eyebrow at him, but couldn't help the smile that emerged on your own lips.

"Sorry, I just find it a little strange that my mum still talks to my ex-girlfriend." The small smile that had decorated his face oh so effortlessly, disappeared and was immediately replaced by a small frown. Ouch. You had never really thought about it that way. In your mind, he wasn't really your ex-boyfriend. You didn't know what he was, but that word always felt... too real.

With a reluctant nod, you shuffled on your feet, watching the water on the floor move with your movement.

"If you're not busy, we could go for a cup of hot chocolate." His eyes were warm again, flittering across your face in that special Tom Holland way, that made your breath catch in your throat.

"Yeah," you felt the warmth in your stomach spread upwards, into your cheeks, and you felt the sudden need to hide your blushing face from him. You didn't. "Yeah, I would like that."

While Tom ended up buying the Kleenex, you came out the store empty handed. The weather was still gloomy outside, but the wind had stilled a bit. As you walked, you couldn't help but notice the distance between the two of you. Had it been only a year prior, there wouldn't have been so much as a centimeter between you, fingers intertwined and arms tangled. Even mentally, the distance wouldn't have been there. You would have laughed about something stupid that happened to him on set or whatever funny thing your little brother and Patty had been up to.

But the air was filled with small talk, the kind you hated. How's work? Where do you live now? How did that one project work out? How's your grandma? Oh, she passed I'm so sorry.

You couldn't stand it. Any of it. Neither the distance nor the fact that the distance wasn't big enough. Your mind was a clutter. Happy memories were thrown in with the sad. You knew that you should just walk away, never look back on something that took you so long to get over, while the other part of you wanted to rekindle something that once was.

Tom came to a sudden stop and you almost bumped into him. You were on the corner of two quiet streets, this had been one of your favorite spots in the world. Once upon a time, it had been your spot.

Upon seeing your hesitation, Tom brought his hand to the back of his neck, scratching slowly right where you remembered his curls meeting his skin. "Is this okay? If not we can go somewhere else." His hair was getting darker from the rain, so you just nodded with a quick smile.

"No, no." You looked up at the place, white and orange flowers littering the walls, and the inviting warm light coming from the windows. "This is great." Deciding, that you might as well enjoy this, rather than comply to the annoyingly persistent butterflies in your stomach, you cast him a grin, before making your way up the steps, and inside the warm cafe.

"Y/N, Tom! It's so nice to see you again." Michelle, the nice middle-aged lady greeted you. "It's been so long." She smiled at the both of you, happiness shining through her blue eyes. The greying hair fell down to her shoulders in large curls, and the "Star Baker!" apron, was tied tightly around her waist. God, you had missed her.

You didn't fight your sudden urge to hug her, so you quickly sidestepped the disk and brought her in for a hug, which was gladly returned.

"My goodness child, you're all wet." Despite the slight disgust in her voice, a happy laugh bubbled out of her. "I'll make up the usual for you, then I can take your coats to dry."

"Michelle, you don't have to that." Tom smiled at the woman, holding his arms out for a hug. Michelle let go of you and ran around to the other side of the disk and straight into his arms. As your eyes met Tom's, you quickly looked down at the ground, ashamed that you wanted to run into his arms too.

As the woman took your orders, and then coats through the protesting, you and Tom sat down at your usual table. Right next to the western window, looking out over the small courtyard that accompanied the cafe. You sat there, silence emerging around you. It had been a good ten minutes before your order came, and still, neither of you had said a word.

"I'm sorry." He finally broke it, eyes on the mug of hot chocolate in his hands. "I've wanted to say that for a year now." He looks up, meeting your eyes again, and your shoulders straighten up slightly at the sorrow-filled look in his eyes.

"I'm not gonna pretend that I didn't need to hear that." You say, voice quiet, scared that Michelle will find out that her favorite customers have broken up. "Can I talk?" You look intently into his eyes, searching them for any form of hesitation, you only find regret.

"I was angry at you for so long. So long! What you did, I never imagined it would hurt as much as it did." Again your eyes fell towards the mug in your own hands, running your index finger on the rim, before glancing back up at him. "Do you remember that night?"

:o:o:

The sky was littered with stars above the two of you. You were lying on the red picnic blanket, on the balcony of your flat. Every once in a while one of you would point towards the sky, fixated on showing the other a star, that in one way or another reminded you of something. For the most part, you would concentrate on finding the satellites.

Your ear was laid against the left side of his chest, listening to the soothing sound of his strong heartbeat. You could feel him exhale his breath on the top of your head. As you lied there, you felt unbelievably calm, overwhelmingly safe and undeniably happy.

If anyone had asked you, a couple of years prior if you would ever find the love of your life, you would have told them off. Back then you didn't believe in something as silly as the love of your life, even love was such a strange concept to you. In your mind, sharing everything you were with someone else seemed completely ridiculous.

You hated being proved wrong, but Tom showed up, and you had never been so thankful for it. Ever. He had turned your world upside down, and suddenly the world made sense. It was like you had experienced the world wrong side up all your life, and then there he was. You could finally sing along to love songs without feeling like you were weird for not understanding what they were singing about.

"I could get used to this." You said as you cuddled closer to Tom, planting a soft kiss right beneath his ear. To your surprise he clenched his jaw, turning his head to look you in the eye.

"Y/N..." His eyes turned mournful in the mere span of a second. It was a punch to your gut, and as a knee-jerk reaction, you sat up, looking down at him. He looked like an angel lying there, right beside you, one hand on your thigh, and the other beneath his head. Brown curls spread out over the blanket, and eyes reflected the stars above him. He's so beautiful, and you slowly felt the tears well up in your eyes. Why... why would he ever make your name sound that sad?

"No... Don't" You feel a sob rise up your throat. "Please don't." He sat up with you. As gently as he could, he pulled you into a hug, slightly awkward from the weird angle. You leaned your head against his shoulder, letting the tears roll out of your eyes and onto his white shirt. "Please." You whispered in a desperate attempt to make him stop doing what you knew he was about to do.

"Promise you'll always remember me." He whispered into your ear, and your heart shattered completely. How could that voice, that voice that you loved so much, hurt like nothing else ever had?

"Don't make me promise that." You straightened up, tangling your hand with his, "People only as you to remember them if they're planning to leave." Your voice was so quiet, if it weren't for the ragged breath he drew in you wouldn't have known whether he heard you or not. "If you're planning to leave please don't ask me to remember it."

:o:o:

He nodded, and you take in a sharp breath, like a knife scratching the insides of your lungs.

"I get it. I didn't then, but I get it now." You look him directly in the eye, and god you miss him. "In a way, you were doing me a favor. At least that's what you told yourself wasn't it?" He opened his mouth, preparing to answer you, but you shook your head, quickly continuing. "You see, what hurt wasn't really that you broke up with me, not even how you did it, even though doing it on an anniversary wasn't your best idea, it was the fact that you made a decision, that I should have been part of."

"Y/N, I didn't want you to have to deal with me traveling so much, we would never have time to see each other. I thought what I did was better than the alternative." He pushed his mug to the side, intertwining his hands, and laying them on the table, eyes fixated on you.

"The alternative? You mean talking to me about it? Finding out that I had just talked to my boss, and come to an agreement that would have made it possible for me to travel with you. You mean the alternative? Like the fact that your mother was so excited when I told her that I was ready to marry you if you asked?" You let out a huff of frustration, and you catch a glimpse of the confusion flashing through Tom's eyes.

"You really think this is better than the alternative? Angry hot chocolate, in a cafe we both used to love. We could have been in love, but you decided we were better off being strangers."

"I... I didn't know."

"Obviously not!" The anger boiled in the pit of your stomach, and your hands were clenched around the fragile porcelain. "I appreciate you saying sorry, but it doesn't really do me any good now."

"I'm so so so sorry." His voice was softer, probably softer than you had ever heard it be, and it calmed you down immediately.

"Listen, I can't sit here and pretend that I have forgiven you completely, and I'm not even sure I can sit here pretending to be friends." He leans back in his seat, eyes focused on you like they have been almost the entire time, burning holes through you.

The silence took over again, the both of you just sitting there, coming to the realization that it's over.

"If you ever find it in you to forgive me... please call me." He's sincere, even if Tom's an amazing actor, he could never fake that tone in his voice. You knew that because it had always been reserved just for you. "I'm willing to wait for you."

You don't know how to answer, so you opt on not answering at all. Nodding quickly and standing up. The mug is still in your hand, and you retrieve your now dry coat, before walking back to Tom. You set the mug down on the table. "Thank you, Tom." You smile, maybe a small smile, but you're emotionally drained so you take it as a victory. And with a final look at the love of your life, you let go of the hot chocolate.

#Tom Holland x reader #Tom Holland imagine #Tom Holland x you #Tom Holland #Angst #Fan fiction #Tom Holland Fan Fiction #Tom Fics

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todragonsart · 5 years

Text

Cinnamon Roll

Merry Christmas to the one and only @magehir! I hope you like my imagination on Blitz/Rook, because I enjoyed the production phase so much! <3 This is pure sugar, so call your dentist before!

Since Rook wanted his first Christmas together with Blitz to be perfect, he planned everything step by step. From the food he would cook for this lover, to the candles he would lit in the bedroom, he worked out every detail. He wanted everything to be as perfect as possible, like the maximalist he was, and he worked on the plans for two whole weeks.

First he was so puzzled about the activity they should do. He thought about going to the cinema or theatre, looked up pretty hotels to visit, romantic trips to make, restaurants with cheesy advertisements for couples. He even considered to go horseback riding, but unfortunately he happened to be deadly allergic to making a fool out of himself, so he changed his mind. In the end, he decided to stay home, and make the masterplan a little different:

As he calculated, Blitz would arrive at 7 o’clock, and he would bring a bouquet of flowers - maybe roses - and a bottle of red wine. Nothing too fancy or expensive, but not too cheap either, just something good. Blitz loves wine, Rook was sure he could count on him with this.

Blitz would admire the clean flat, and the perfect decoration with Rook’s Christma tree. This year, his tree was gold-red, and he had some pretty present for the love of his life, beside himself.

On their way to the kitchen, Blitz would notice the mistletoe hung up on the doorway, and they would stop for a short, but perfect kiss. Well… hopefully not short… Maybe he would have the chance for a tiny booty grab?

Blitz would open the wine still a little flushed, while Rook prepared the perfect dinner; roasted beef ribs with strawberry sauce, and mashed potato. He took the receipt from a movie, and during the test cooking it turned out to be perfect.

He would light three candles, put on some not too Christmasy but still holidayish music, then they would chat during dinner. Blitz would take his hand, they would gaze into each other’s eyes, then the German would give a small kiss into his palm, because he is a real gentleman. The blond prince on a white horse.

After dinner, they would cuddle up on the couch, watch Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and from time to time, they would forget the movie and just kiss, touch, grope, feel each other. That would be a good foreplay for the upcoming events.

They would take a bubble bath together after the movie, he would even wash Blitz’s perfectly muscled back and shoulders while the man’s strong hands would travel on his silky-smooth thighs. He would moan softly and…

Rook shook his head. Not in the bathtub, it was way too small for their love!

He would moan softly and Blitz would blush a little, then suggest to move towards the bed.

Yeah, that’s better!

Blitz would cover him with his strong arms and a fluffy towel, and they would get lost in each other’s eyes for a moment. Rook would put his hands around his waist, as they start to kiss slowly. Blitz would lift Rook up and take him next to the fireplace where they would make sweet, sweet love...

Rook sighed dreamily. He really wanted to have a fireplace to make this possible, but he was living in a small flat. Bedroom it was then. Later he would fall asleep next to Blitz and the morning after, he would wake up buried under layers of sheets and the strong arms of his lover. Yeah. Perfect! He couldn’t wish for a better Christmas Date.

He looked into his notebook, where he wrote down everything what was needed to make the plan work, then looked around himself. Fortunately nobody cared about him at the moment.

He was sitting in the canteen at Hereford, waiting for his next meeting session with the others. He had a week to make the dream-date possible, and he was filled with determination to do it perfectly.

He looked up, and saw Bandit and Blitz arriving to the canteen, so he shut the notebook and smiled at both. Bandit looked at him with a grimace. He caught them the other day in his bed, because Blitz’s…

Well, okay, they fucked up the rooms, and bed, but they were riled up, okay? Like Bandit never made out in other people’s bed with Montagne… Well… Montagne wouldn’t let that happen, but who cared, they are only human!

Rook put his elbow on the notebook to cover it from the approaching Blitz, giving the man a brilliant smile. “Hello handsome! How was your morning?”

Blitz sat next to him, hugging him sideways, giving a small peck on the mouth. “Nothing, really. I was after your Christmas present, and I thought that maybe we can cook something together for dinner that day! What do you think?”

Rook smiled. “Don’t worry, I got that already! Blitz gave him a kiss on the cheeks. “Alright, Julien, but if you need anything, just say it, okay?”

Rook nooded. “Of course, I know! I-I just want to make this… you know, perfect. This is a big step, our first Christmas together, as a couple, and… I want to make a surprise for you, okay?”

“Okay, honey” Blitz smiled at him with a disgustingly loving expression.

Across from the table, Bandit made noises similar to vomiting, to ruin their mood, but they just didn’t care. They were happily lost in each other, and nobody could ruin it. Not even a very grumpy German, who didn’t have his lover in his pocket until Christmas, because said French was visiting his family before the holidays.

As the Big Day was getting closer, Rook was getting more and more nervous and excited. He cleaned up his flat, bought everything from food to bedroom equipment, even decorated his tree four times in a row to make it as beautiful as possible. He was so annoyed at himself at the end, instead of cleaning again and again, Rook started to stay at base for longer sessions of training.

Two days before Christmas, he even agreed to help the Russians with their training. It took place in the frozen, snow covered forest not far from the base. Kapkan asked Rook to hide 10 targets in the woods for them to find, so he spent two and a half hour outside in the brutal winter of December.

He shivered non-stop as he was on his way home. His boots were soaked with icy water, his knees trembled with each step and his hands and lips looked blue. As he got home, he jumped in a big tub of hot water, to relax a bit, and that night he didn’t have problems sleeping.

He was working on the 24th of December too, in the evening he even prepared the Christmas dishes. He somehow felt weaker that day, but he didn’t care about that really. His mind was full of the Dream Christmas Date, and all the possibilities for the perfect finish. He found himself fantasizing about that damn fireplace scene again.

Short before midnight he counted everything; the tidy rooms with beautiful decoration, the marinating sheep, the presents under the tree, his clothes for the next day, the movie on the coffee table and the damn fluffy towels.

He was satisfied with himself when he got to bed. Tomorrow would be the biggest day in his life, and he was so ready for it he couldn’t even tell. He fell asleep in an instant, covered in thick sheets and blankets.

He dreamt that night. He was with Blitz, of course, they were visiting his parents. Blitz was nervous, Rook was happy, his parents seemed to be really proud of his good-looking boyfriend, and they welcomed the German into the family in an instant. He introduced Blitz to his siblings too, they were so happy for him. In his dream, the German held onto his hand the whole day, as he was a little embarrassed.

Every time he looked at Blitz, he felt his heart skip a beat. Every exchanged smile, touch, glance made him so happy, he wanted to scream it out loud to let the whole world know about his happiness.

The next morning, he woke up with a decent headache, sore throat and feeling dizzy. As he opened his heavy eyes, he knew that something was wrong; he felt like shit. When he coughed, his voice was so bad, he sounded like an old, angry grandpa.

Somehow he fought his way into the bathroom, looked at himself in the mirror and instantly he wanted to cry. His face was white as a wall, hands trembled as he held onto the faucet with weak fingers, he had dark circles under his eyes too, and he felt really bad.

He got back to his bed and collapsed on it. He considered crying, but he knew that he had a big event coming right up. He needed to make the food, and get himself together for Blitz! He was the biggest part of the Goddamn present, he didn’t have time for breaking!

Filled with determination, he got up, made himself a tea and looked up at the clock. He had almost eight hours till Blitz’s arrival, so he had plenty of time to get healthy again!

Well, Blitz didn’t get there at 7 o’clock, but was late thirty minutes, and Rook started to panic. He somehow managed to compose himself a little. He took a long, hot bath, drank tea pumped with vitamins, took medicine for his aching head, and he looked like a functional human being at the end.

But Blitz was nowhere and he started to get scared. What if his lover wouldn’t come? Why wouldn’t he call him? Rook walked to the kitchen and stress tested the strawberry sauce for the ribs again, and sighed. No. Blitz would be here, he was just a little bit late.

As he finished this thought there was a small knock on the door.

Rook jumped to his feet and adjusted his clothes. He looked like a million dollars with those tight jeans he bought for this evening. He was sure he could seduce Blitz into the bedroom with these.

At the door stood his lover, smiling bright like the sun. In his hand Rook saw a bottle of wine - he felt proud - and a wrapped box with a pretty bow. He didn’t see roses, but who cared? Blitz was here, finally! “Sorry, I’m late, Bandit wanted me to wait for Gilles with him, because it’s Christmas and he needed some support!” Blitz gave him a kiss on the cheeks.

Rook smiled at him. “That’s alright, Elias, the food needed a little more oven time anyway! Let me get your coat!”

Blitz placed the box and the wine on a shelf and took off, his boots then his coat, handing it to Rook. “I saw a bird with a knife in its beak on my way here! I am sure it was in some sort of a mafia or something!”

“A what…?”

“A black bird, with a knife! I instantly bought it a croissant, I didn’t want it to rob me on my way here!” Blitz grinned at him. Rook shook his head smiling. “You don’t believe me, but I took a pic about it!” with that, Blitz flashed him his mobile phone with a picture of a bird, sitting satisfied next to a croissant and a butterknife.

Rook blinked a few times then burst out laughing. “Oh, God… This is so dumb! I think this might be a magpie.”

Blitz grinned at him then looked around. “You cleaned up with a magnifying glass? This flat is so tidy I could eat on the ground!”

Rook flashed him a brilliant smile. “Now come, I hope you are hungry!”

“Well, I didn’t have lunch, because you told me you would cook, and Doc said you are a brilliant chef, so…�� Blitz gave him a quick hug, and as they were walking towards the kitchen, Rook looked up at the mistletoe, clearing his throat.

With a questioning expression Blitz followed his gaze and started to smile. “You smooth little shit! Come here!” He put his hands around Rook’s waist and leaned in, to place a kiss on his lips. Rook slowly leaned against him, but instead of deepening the kiss, he hid his face into Bliz’s shoulder and inhaled his scent. It felt really good to be in the German’s presence.

Blitz placed a hand on his neck and started to massage it slowly. “Are you okay, Julien? You seem a little tired!”

Rook nodded against his neck. “I missed you so much, that’s it,” at that, Blitz started to smile. “Open that wine, I will get the food, okay?”

Nodding, Blitz unfolded himself from Rook and as he opened the bottle of wine, he poured some into both of their glasses. He looked up at Rook, who was busy picking the perfect ribs. He looked like an angel to Blitz; the French was handsome, sweet, sometimes stubborn or a little bit sassy, but in a good way. Rook was a good man with loving heart and their love life was the best he had ever experienced.

Blitz was so in love, at first he didn’t even notice how Rook’s hand trembled when he took the big plate of food. He stepped closer to the table, placed the ribs in the middle and as he turned to get a match for the candles he suddenly felt dizzy. He needed to hold onto the counter for support. Damn headache was back again.

He took a deep breath to steady himself. He needed to do this, for the Dream Christmas Date, he needed to compose himself and be healthy for Blitz! He turned around again, and lit the candles on the table.

“Did you cook all of this?” asked Blitz. “It looks delicious, Julien!”

Rook nodded with a faint smile on his face. “Of course! The strawberry sauce was the real challenge, but I think it is perfect, and I really hope that you will enjoy it!”

“You are a little bit pale, are you sure you are okay?”

“Of course. You worry too much, honey, but it’s endearing.” Rook laughed a little and served the food for both of them. As he sat down, they started to eat, chatting about their days, families, work and stuff.

“Have you heard anything about Maxim and Timur?” Blitz smiled at him.

“No, why? Has something happened to them?”

“Yeah! They were training the other evening in the forest, you know when the temperature dropped under -5 C° and there was that icy wind! Who knew that even the Russians can get sick in cold?” laughing, Blitz took another bite of his meat.

Rook nodded, but his smile wasn’t that honest anymore. So they were sick too, great!

“Alexandr told me that you were helping them, how come you didn’t get sick?”

Rook smiled. “I was feeling a bit down yesterday, but now I feel better than ever, really! My feelings for you healed me!”

Blitz started to laugh. “You are so cheesy sometimes, I want to kill you and hug you at the same time!”

Rook winked at him grinning. Since he finished his meal, he wanted to get the dessert, so he stood up, but dizziness hit him again, and everything went white for a second as he started to fall. He heard a faint “Julien!”, then darkness and cold took him.

When he got to himself, he didn’t feel cold anymore. He was lying on the couch, under a thick blanket. In his panic, he sat up, but almost fell back because of his throbbing headache. He looked up at the clock. It was half past eleven, and in his sudden panic, he started to search after Blitz, but he couldn’t find him anywhere. The man disappeared along with his coat and boots.

Rook stood in the hallway, moments away from crying. Blitz was gone. He knocked himself out with the damn flu and the love of his life left him, because who would want to stay like this?! Rook planned a happy, sexy evening, but ruined it and now he was to spend Christmas alone!

The doorknob turned in that moment, and as the door was opening, he saw the German with a big bag in his hand. Blitz eyes turned furious as he saw him. “Get back to the couch, now! You got fever, you walnut!”

“N-no, I am good, I feel better, everything is-”

“Julien, Julien… Babe stop already! You fainted in the middle of the kitchen and were asleep for two and a half hours. You look pale, you are shaking, so be a darling and go back to the couch before I take you there!”

“B-but our d-date..!” Rook burst out coughing.

Blitz looked at him meaningful. “Go back to the couch now, and I will be there too in a minute!”

“E-elias…!”

Blitz put down his bag and walked closer. He gave a kiss to his forehead, and gently petted his hair. “You planned a miracle date I am sure, but now you are sick and I want to take care of you, so please let me, okay?”

Rook nodded but didn’t move an inch.

Blitz smiled. “Do you want me to bring you back to the couch?”

Rook nodded again with a weak “Please”.

The german took him into his arms laughing and carried him back to the couch. He placed him there and covered him again with the blankets. “We can still watch the movie you picked, cuddled up, but I make you a tea and you take some pills, okay?”

Rook nervously started play with a button. “Okay. But… are you sure, you are not mad at me?”

“Why would I be, darling? Everybody gets sick from time to time, and I am planning to spend the rest of my Christmases by yours side, so we will have plenty of occasions to make your dream date possible.”

Rook looked up at him touched, and he looked as Blitz walked into the kitchen.

Blitz made some fresh tea, with honey in it, got Rook’s favourite mug, and some medicine for the headache. As he got back, he pushed his lips against Rook’s forehead and waited for a second. “You have a really bad fever, babe”

“My head is hurting so much.”

“And you are shivering. Would you like to have my shirt?”

Rook’s eyes lit up with fire. “Is that a real question?”

Laughing, Blitz took off his shirt, and Merry Christmas Rook, since all the German was wearing under, was a black muscle shirt. Rook almost started to salivate and he felt even worse for not being able to take the conversation to a more horizontal position.

As he got his hand on Blitz’s shirt, Rook put it on and sunk into the smell. “I feel better already. Especially if I can look at you like this. You look like a million dollars, Elias!”

“I noticed that you like this shirt when I wear it during training, and I thought that you can… you know, rip it off from me later, but now, I will heal you with its sight!” Blitz laughed. “Can I watch the movie lying on your shoulder?”

“Of course, darling!”

“Then I will be healthy by the end of the film!” Rook gave him a small grin, and waved at the Dvd case on top of the table. Blitz turned to get it, and when he read the label he grimaced a bit. Rook picked it so Charlie and the Chocolate Factory it was then.

He put the disc in and sat down next to Rook, hugging the man to himself as the movie started. Rook settled against his shoulder as he wished and they began to watch it.

As they got deeper and deeper into the movie, Blitz felt more and more uncomfortable. If he wanted to be honest, he loathed the movie. Everything about it made him self-destruct, but Rook seemed to enjoy it, so he couldn’t complain. After all,the French was the ill one, so…

When Blitz saw the first Oompa-Loompa, he turned away his face and instead of the TV, he just watched Rook in his arms. The man was pale and looked drawn-out, but the way his eyes sparkled under the lights of the movie, he was simply beautiful.

Soon, Rook noticed Blitz observing him, looked up at his lover. “What…? Am I looking this bad?”

“Oh, no-no! Nothing like that. You are just more interesting than the movie, to be honest!” Blitz smiled at him.

A flush coloured Rook’s face. “R-really? Am I more exciting than your favourite movie?”

Blinking with sudden confusion Blitz tilted his head. “My favourite what?”

Rook seemed equally confused. “Isn’t Charlie and the Chocolate Factory your favourite movie?”

“No!” Blitz started to laugh. “I hate this fucking waste of celluloid! The Oompa-Loompas are so scary, when I was younger I cried when I saw one!”

Now Rook was even more confused. “B-but… Oh gosh! I’m so-so sorry, Elias, I-I didn’t knew! Geez, I’m such a jerk!”

“Where did you get the idea of this being my favourite movie?” Blitz couldn’t stop laughing.

“I asked Dom.”

Blitz got serious all of a sudden. “That little piece of shit! I knew that somehow he would take revenge on us for having sex in his bed! It was a mistake to tell him my secret on a drunk night!” and again, he burst out laughing.

Everything clicked into its place in Rook’s head. “That fucker! Oh, gosh, I am so sorry, Elias, really!”

“Don’t worry, at least I will have stories to tell our grandkids!” Blitz grinned.

Rook flushed again, this time with a deeper shade of red. “Grandkids?”

“I said it already, I plan with you for lots of Christmases! What about now we shoot down this, and I help you get a cooling bath, and we get to bed?”

Nodding, Rook slowly got up, and turned off the TV. “Can I sleep in your shirt?”

“Do you want to keep my shirt?”

Rook face lit up. “Is that a real question?”

“Would you like me to carry you to the bathtub?”

“Why are you asking obvious questions, Elias, I don’t understand!” hearing this, Blitz lifted him into his arms, like the prince he was. Rook put his arms around his shoulders. “You spoil me, darling.”

“That’s my final goal!” with that, he walked them towards the bathroom. He helped with everything without hesitation, he even washed Rook’s back, and gave him a shoulder massage.

When they got out, he helped Rook into his shirt again, then to bed. Under the covers, he hugged the French to himself with a fond smile on his face.

“You really don’t mind that we are just chilling now, do you?” he looked up at Blitz.

“Nope, not really. I didn’t have plans for this evening honestly, I just wanted to spend Christmas with you, and we did exactly that, so I’m satisfied!”

Rook smiled at that. “How did I deserve you?”

“I don’t know, just being this amazing like you are?”

Sleepy, Rook rubbed his eyes with his knuckle. “You are too sweet, my teeth will rot!”

“Well, you are like the middle of a cinnamon roll for me!” Blitz looked at him, filled with love.

“Now what is some serious poetry there, dude!” Rook flushed.

Blitz shook with laughter, hugged his favourite French to himself and shut his eyes. “Good night, babe!”

“You too, darling” came the response.

In the end Rook’s Dream Christmas Date didn’t happen, but as he looked back at the master plan the day after, he needed to acknowledge that it was a close call.

As he calculated, Blitz brought delicious wine, admired his flat and the decoration. They did have a perfect kiss under the mistletoe, and instead of a booty grab, he found shelter in his lover’s arms.

They spent the dinner as he planned if he didn’t count the collapsing thing, and okay, Blitz didn’t kiss his palm, but he was there to support him while being sick.

They surely cuddled up on the couch, watched Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, and they did forget about the movie just not for kisses, touches, groping or feeling each other.

They took a bubble bath together, and Blitz washed his back while he was weak and feverish. Sure, they didn’t make out on the couch or in the bathtub, but Blitz certainly took him into his arms and carried him wherever he asked.

Okay, they didn’t make sweet love as he planned first, but he had never been more sure about Blitz’s feelings towards him, and this made him happier than anything he wanted to try.

He surely fell asleep next to Blitz, and the morning after, he certainly woke up covered in layers of sheets, and the strong arms of his lover. As he turned towards the man lying next to him, he felt a smile bloom on his own face.

He had never felt this safe and loved in his entire life, and he knew that he wouldn’t exchange this for anything ever.

Merry Chirstmas again! <3

#rainbowsixsiege #blitz/rook #shipping #merry christmas #gift #for a friend #dragonwrites #dragontries

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normalwitch · 6 years

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listen i’m so in love with the owens’ house. the production designer describes it as literally a cauldron, having a whole world in both the house and garden, and that it’s a sanctuary for the family, who are outcasts. they aren’t the only ones. the black cats they collect over the years are all from a shelter on the island. nobody wanted any of them because of superstition, fear of bad luck and wickedness ( black cats historically have been seen as omens of evil, suspected of being familiars of witches ) , so eventually they all gravitate to the owens’ house --- and then the women there accepted and take care of them. i love the symbolism of that alone. it’s just so poetically beautiful, outcasts finding refuge with outcasts !

there aren’t any clocks or mirrors inside the house. in the back there’s a henhouse, a potting shed, a large padlocked greenhouse, and a garden described to be so lush and green it’s dizzying. a gate leads to a bluestone path up to the porch, where the ivy and climbing wisteria grow, and the light is always turned on after midnight. this is the light the desperate townsfolk from jealous house wives to angelic women in the choir go when they want to visit the aunts for something they desire. a charm, a potion, a spell, a tea, a spell. during the daytime they’ll avoid crossing the same side of the street as the women living inside but they’ll still arrive to sit at the table and hand over cash ( though the aunts favor cameos and have a drawer stuffed full of them ).

when you step inside and over the threshold it seems like time moves at an entirely different pace removed from the outside world. even just trying to get a peek within, there’s a current of discernible energy on the air, but good luck !! the damask curtains are almost always drawn, and the glass is old and thick, tinted with a green that makes everything look watery, almost like a dream. so maybe you’ll doubt what you see, if anything. or maybe you won’t, knowing the rumors swirling around the island and uttered since the 1600s.

the manor is so old that some of the wood used to make the paneling and mantels is extinct. a total of fifteen different types of woods have been used, including pine, golden oak, silver ash, and cherry fruit that gives off the scent of ripe fruit even in the winter. none of the woodwork itself ever gets dusty or needs polishing ( but sally takes it upon herself to dust and polish anyway ). there are three floors, a cellar, and two staircases. the one in the back is chillier, twisting like a puzzle, and the other is elegant and crafted from mahogany, leading all the way up to the turret that is like a single lighthouse tower. above the velvet-cushioned window seat on the landing of the front staircase is a portrait of the beautiful maria owens herself. her hair is pulled back with a satin blue ribbon and she’s wearing her favorite blue dress. sometimes it might feel like her eyes are watching you ( which might make sense, since when she was alive she fearlessly looked people straight in the eye, even if they were older or came from a higher class ).

it’s always cool, like a crisp autumn day. bats live in the attic, mice live in the walls. this changes after michael, sally’s husband, moves in, as i have discussed with @liminalchaos, despite the manor not needing the upkeep, it appreciates the efforts and dedication sally has always put into taking !! care !! of it ! because after michael moves in, the house becomes and stays cheery and warm. the bats move out of the attic and into the garden shed. roses begin to grow along the porch’s railing and choke all of the the weeds. the teardrop chandelier in the parlor tinkles back and forth on its own. through out the night a tranquil sound reminiscent of a flowing river fills the interior, glittering and trickling. it’s so sweet and melodic the mice come out to make sure that the manor is still in one piece, and a meadow hasn’t taken the house’s place.

the house. is. magic. even the bluestone path outside of it, which stops getting cold and icy during the winters after michael and sally get together. speaking of the stones !! maria brought them with her from ireland years ago to form the path in the garden. they’re protective, some would say lucky. extras are stored in the shed, along with maria’s rope. maria owens herself took matters of protection and luck very seriously. that’s why she planted so many things that still remain in the garden to the current day; fruit trees in the dark of the moon, hardy perennials, lavender, lilacs, roses, and strong onions and more. the owens will get down on their knees in the dirt and weed but never have to worry about earwigs. rabbits come to eat the mint, parsley and lettuce. aunt jet and frances are the ones to nail the skull of a horse on the fence to keep out gutsy and hungry neighbouring children.

the grimoire shifts back and forth between the conservatory and greenhouse. it’s a thick, black, tome that is cool to the touch, filled with layered pages that fold in and out; only, it will burn your hand if you touch it and you’re not an owens. the conservatory has its glass beakers, tubing, vials and rows of potted plants, which is next to the potions room; the greenhouse outside holds bulbs and flowers, waiting to be planted in the autumn, along with those requiring special care. there are no mirrors in the house itself, but there is one hidden behind a black cloth inside of the greenhouse. it’s a curse or blessing ( undeniably magical ), however way you want to look at it. if an owens dares to remove the cloth to take a peek, she will see her reflection, along with shining images of the future to come.

back when maria owens was still alive and not too long after the victorian manor was built, a hurricane damaged all of the houses on magnolia street --- except for hers. not even the laundry hanging out on the line was disturbed. this incident helped fuel fear and rumors of her and her bloodline’s powers. it didn’t help when greenery on the island would brown and wilt and the owens’ garden flourished. any stroke of bad luck or mundane misfortune was swiftly blamed on the women living inside the house. while the garden was gated by a smaller fence, an even larger, black and spiky one circled the vast property. it looked like a snake to any outsiders. folk grew up and passed along superstitions. don’t walk past during nightfall, it’s not safe. only the most foolish would try to peer over the iron gate and into the yard. you risked being hexed or cursed, and being sorry for the rest of your life.

so this is long, and i bet i forgot details, i know i forgot details. like how the roof is a favorite place to go and lay out on to star gaze, look out at the ocean. the house, the property, it’s all spacious and rich with history. it’s a good thing it’s so big so that the women living inside it along with all the black cats that come and go have room to live and be free, even if it doesn’t always feel that way for them. it’s their safe place away from any prejudice or misunderstanding that might await them off their property. the owens women have largely always been envied and misunderstood. barely have any outside of blood dared to step inside the manor, since it's always been seen as too risky to do so !!

#´ ¨ ¤ . ¸ ¸ . ( OUT OF CHARACTER ) ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵐᵃᵍᶤᶜˑ #( this took some time #I wrote based on memory then went back through the books and movie #and interviews and all that to make sure I captured details to describe ......#I didn't even get to the island or Owens' history more in dept h !!#I'll be doing so in a future post :' )#But while I know people love Sally's shop #I just want to give more perspective and glimpse into Owens and house itself )

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itskirahhh · 6 years

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My fondest memories

How many days have you had in your life that you will able to have again? Spoiler:none. You could have a day that’s similar, a moment that’s quite close. Truth is, you will never ever get the same opportunity for a moment again. I am only sixteen, and i hopefully have a long long time left on earth yet, but the amount of memories you can gain in the first sixteen years of your life is crazy really. Everyone says that your school days are your best days, and you don’t believe them when you’re in school. I literally left school nine months ago and already i realise what everyone was talking about. It really, really was amazing, thinking about it. If you’re still in school, or even if you’ve left school like me really, just please try and make sure to make the most of everything you do. Spend time doing things and try and have the most fun doing whatever you’re doing because the memories you will get from even the littlest things will be worth it. Maybe i’m just really sentimental or maybe i’m right, but i recommend you do.

These are my fondest memories:) don’t read it if you don’t want, i just wanted to reminisce lol.

I will never get back the days in reception where we danced around with our teacher Lucy to the Woohoo song.

I will never get back the days i used to spend my lunchtimes inside with my brother’s form tutor and asking her about how he was doing in school. *cringe* I will never get back that day me and my friend were sat in her room playing with our polly pockets and she had a big cruise ship that we wanted to make a sea for and ended up tipping water all over the carpet and crying to her mum that we were really sorry. I will never get back those days it was snowing and me and my brother got sent to my mum’s work nextdoor from school and just sat eating biscuits and putting lunches in brown paper bags. I will never get back that day where me, my brother and two of my cousins were playing ‘peter pan’, i whacked my teeth with the ladder of a bunk bed and we accidentally turned on the shower whilst inside it when hiding from captain hook and smee. I will never get back the time me and my friend wrote a book about me and her finding kittens in a box and taking them to someone who definitely wasn’t our teacher - who was called mr moggy - and we ended up getting a big house together with loads of pets that we listed at the start of the book. I will never get back those days where me, my dad and my brother rode our bikes through the woods and all the way to a shop on the other side where we brought little snap pots of squash. I will never get back those times me and my brother used to pretend we were gladiators on that show on the slide in my garden. He was always the fire king and had electrical powers (because logic) and i was the ice queen, which was probably something to do with the fact we spent most of our time sat on our dining chairs at the big computer playing fireboy and watergirl or papa’s pizzeria. I will never get back those days where me and my friend played in her shed that we thought was really cool because it had two floors, or when we made up a dance to the song “Hot n’ Cold” (that honestly is so vivid in my memory that i could probably do it for you right now) to show our mums.

I will never get back those sad, sad days i used to create bedrooms on girlsgogames on ‘my new room 2′ (i didn’t like the original or number 3) or look through the argos catalog for things to put in the bedrooms for the family i created for no specific reason that i can definitely still name now, and literally exactly what they looked like. I will never get back those times in primary school that i played games i didn’t understand with my friend and we tried to figure out what monsters lived in the grate in the playground. I will never get back those days i used to stand on the bench in my garden and talk to my nextdoor neighbour every single day after school and on weekends and we would sit upstairs in the rooms that were closest to eachother and try our hardest to get our nintendo ds’s to connect so we could pictochat.

I will never get back the summer where i turned eleven and got my first phone, a white T-mobile unity that i had a green penguin case on that was intended for a blackberry phone. I had Now that’s what i call music 82 downloaded onto it, a shedload of awful selfies when my side fringe was just starting out, and i wrote fanfictions in my notes. Cool. I will never get back those days where me and my new high school friends used to pretend we were doing music practice at lunch and instead just ate out lunch and sang along to the only song we knew how to play the chords to on a keyboard. I will never get back those days me, my boyfriend and his annoying little follow-along friend used to get kicked out of the little outside bit by our form, and the countless times we used to stand and flirt while his friend complained about it.

I will never get back those days i used to go out to the field with my friend and her big photography camera and take photos for a project we invented for ourselves that currently remains incomplete. It was a book about two females who were together called Madison and Annabelle who were writing to eachother after getting split up during the holocaust. Sounds like a really fun project for two thirteen year olds lol. We slept around her house, had countless chinese meals and played with her kittens.

I will never get back the days where me and my best friend made videostars. The first one we did was last night by the vamps and we had her ipod resting against her tv while one of us tapped the record button and the other one was in shot. Id go through all the songs but there is a fuckton.

I will never get back the day when my best friend’s mum and dad got married and me and some of my best friends spent the night in cute little party dresses trying to inhale helium from the party balloons and doing ‘the jellyfish dance’ and ‘i am the music man’ on the dance floor. I will never get back those times we had triple history on a wednesday and i was just always so excited to see my new friend and current crush and not learn anything at all. I sat behind him in lesson and in one of the first ones i stuck a glue stick to the back of his elbow and he and my lovely, lovely teacher made me promise to buy him an indian takeaway to say sorry for doing so. (Who knew that was how you get a best friend??)

I will never get back the dance/school shows we did for maybe three nights in a row each year that we spent the first half of the year practicing for, sitting upstairs - or in the really early days, sitting in the canteen - with the other dancers, actors and ‘voices’ panicking over a spare line up sheet about getting dressed and putting stage makeup on in time before we had to go on stage again. We ordered a pizza from dominoes most years. The one in this year was one of the last ones i did and a group of us, including two of the main actors who me and my best mate thought were really cool, were sat on the floor in the corridor before we went on stage playing truth or dare and asking eachother silly questions. One of the dares was for my friend to give me a piggyback but on his shoulders, and he dropped me when i was up there and i landed on like a cement floor straight on my coccyx, and then had to do two dances after that. It was then a running joke between me and him that he had ‘broke my arse’. I will never get back those last moments with my dad at christmas when we played i spy because that was all he could understand, or on new years night when i lay next to him in bed and we watched alan carr until it hit midnight, or when we were eating biscuits in the hospice and he was laughing at himself because they were “o” shaped. I will never get back that moment i had my first kiss i had with my boyfriend or those four months over the summer period with my completely new (and improved) friend group and the day we went to the park and my best friend fell in the mud, we all tried to fit on a spinny thing, and we watched tangled, the day of our friends birthday when we went to the cinema and all lay on the trampoline at his house, my birthday that year. I will never get back the first house party i went to (which is perhaps a good thing to be completely honest), or the second one, or the third one, which was also the first time i got drunk and told my best friend she couldn’t sleep because she had hiccups, drunk texted my other best friend and then attempted to help my best friend when she threw up basically a whole bottle of bright orange caribbean twist on a white carpet. I will never get back those lunchtimes every day where we sat underneath our tree (the one inbetween the year 8 tree and the smoking weed tree) on the field or on the first and seconds benches in the maths corridor and pissed about, made our own olympics and attempted to play rugby. There are waaaaay too many memories to list about lunch and breaktimes. I will ever get back those last few days of school where we spent every lesson with our phones out and taking photos together or signing eachothers yearbooks rather than revising, and the fact i came home from school two or three hours late every day because i spent my time revising or doing dance practice. I will never get back my prom, one of the best moments of my life, to be honest, where i just saw all the people i had grown up with looking absolutely gorgeous and all dancing together and just not having a care in the world. Honestly, i wouldn’t have chosen to grow up with any different people. It is both amazing and emotional to think about both myself, and all the other amazing people in school growing up alongside eachother and shaping into who we are today.

Here’t to 16 more years of memories ay.

#rant

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cristinagooge · 4 years

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" With more than 8 in 10 Canadians supporting public options to make public healthcare more powerful, there is compelling evidence that Canadians throughout all demographics would prefer a public over a for-profit healthcare system," said Nik Nanos, president of Nanos Research study. Nanos Research study was commissioned by the Canadian Health Coalition (CHC), a nonpartisan group that supports Canada's public health system, to conduct a random telephone survey of 1,001 Canadians in between April 25 and May 3.

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Meanwhile, Canada's federal government simply launched a report titled "Healthy Canadians A Federal Report on Equivalent Health Indicators 2008." Its findings nearly identically mirror the CHC polling results. In that report, a leading sign points to the fact that "Most Canadians (85.2 percent) aged 15 years and older reported being 'extremely satisfied' or 'somewhat pleased' with the way overall health care services were offered, the same from 2005." Michael McBane, nationwide planner of the CHC, commented: "Throughout our campaign, Canadians have actually informed us they wish to keep our health care system public and to enhance it with made-in-Canada services.

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Ouellet's proposition to provide us with American-style, two-tier medication. This poll definitely highlights that for us. Eighty-six percent is a substantial portion of the population. It stands out that Dr. Ouellet could be so out of touch with the pulse of the majority of Canadians." McBane warned that Ouellet's most current effort to replace public health care with a personal system utilizes language that is misleading.

very Canadian love story ...

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Ouellet's concepts about activity-based funding, 'competitors' and more private delivery would not yield European-style care, but rather would lead us down the roadway to U.S.-style care." McBane continued: "At the CMA's annual conference later on this month, you will hear Ouellet speak about 'patient centered' care, however he actually implies 'profit-centered' care.

He will also unveil outcomes of a CMA study that he claims shows support for his brand-new privatization scheme. In truth, the language used in the CMA study was so unclear and deceptive that its outcomes can not possible be interpreted as support for more for-profit medication." McBane stated that Ouellet, who owns or handles 5 personal, for-profit diagnostic clinics, has a history of deceptive Canadians.

" Dr. Ouellet requires to stop misguiding Canadians and begin informing them what he's really as much as privatizing our health care system," said McBane - Rose Leto - Toronto lawyers. "His 'transformational change' program is his last kick at the can in the past becoming the CMA's past-president. Dr. Ouellet's privatized, for-profit vision won't fix a single issue of our public health care and more importantly, Canadians do not want it.

from Blogger Neinstein Personal Injury Lawyers

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dat-town · 7 years

Text

Kiss the cold away

Characters: (cursed)prince!Yoongi & princess OC ft. Snow Queen Elsa

Setting: based on Andersen’s Snow Queen with characters from Frozen

Genre: angst (but nobody dies because of that cliché thing called true love)

Warnings: -

Words: 4630

Summary: “The first kiss is to shield him from the cold The second kiss is to make him forget all The third kiss would be the last in row Taking his life away once and for all.”

Notes: a.k.a what if Elsa turned evil and became the Snow Queen feared by everyone? And yes, Daegumor is the fairytale kingdom name of Daegu I made up. Finally, it’s here, Yoongi’s part of my Once upon a fairytale collection.

Moodboard

In Arendelle, the winter is never-ending.

The snow hasn’t melt for a year now and the always cold weather has created a pattern of chilly days and even more freezing nights. Poverty, hunger and fear lace through people’s lives. All blamed on their ill-fated country with an incompetent child leader. A princess who was never supposed to rule but has no choice but to wear the crown after her elder sister, the rightful heir of the throne ran away last year. Only a few know the true story of Queen Elsa’s disappearance and they stay silent. So with time, the rumours are getting wilder and wilder until nobody knows anymore what the truth is. Why would they care anyway? It doesn’t change anything.

Arendelle’s promising days are long gone, now the kingdom is nothing more than a landscape of frozen rivers and snow-coated mountains in the midst of thick fog. As this bitterly and heartlessly cold season crept into the heart of the once flourishing country, every ally turned their back on them, leaving Arendelle behind to survive on its own. So when a foreign delegation arrives to make a business trade favourable for both parties, people get hopeful. Commoners greet the majestic ship with grand celebration, gold and jewels as gifts, cheering for the arriving young prince and his people.

Daegumor, a sunny and prosperous country from the South, doesn’t seem to mind the bad talk about the once great kingdom. The royal guest is the Crown Prince himself, a young and fine man already of age but still unmarried. It’s not a secret that Princess Anna’s people, especially her advisors want her to marry a prince, someone exactly like him before her coronation on her 18th birthday but she’s madly and stupidly in love with a poor ice harvester. Still, people hope endlessly that maybe things will change now because of the attendance of the southern kingdom’s heir.

Prince Yoongi makes his way off the ship with such grace nobody dares to doubt his blue blood. The end of his dress coat trails behind him as he strides down the ramp, finally setting his foot on the frosty but steady ground. His midnight blue uniform - made of the finest velvet of the seven seas - hugs his wide shoulders and the golden buttons shine in the pale sunlight. His eyes, much like to his hair, are dark as black diamonds but hooded because of the intensity of white all around.

“Welcome in Arendelle, Your Highness. I hope your voyage went smoothly without any inconvenience,” Princess Anna lunges forward to greet him personally as the carriages behind them are getting ready to take leave.

Anna's teal dress and strawberry-blonde hair in a bun make her outstanding as if she was the first snowdrop to grow once the winter passed. She has a bright smile on her face but sadness still swims in her turquoise blue eyes. So much pain for someone of such a tender age, so much responsibility to carry on such fragile shoulders.

“It was alright, thank you. Please, do call me by my name for the sake of our kingdoms’ friendship,” the young man, who also cannot be more than twenty-five, already speaks like a king, politely but prideful. His stern look doesn’t change at all but his deep voice is as gentle as musicians’ fingers on their beloved instrument. There’s a subtle, only slightly noticeable accent between his vowels that gives away he’s not around from here yet it doesn’t sway his confidence. The small smile forming in the corner of his mouth is reserved yet charming as he greets her. “Princess Anna.”

The heiress can’t help but blush as the prince takes her gloved hands in his own and bends down to kiss it out of courtesy. It only lasts a few second but the ravishingly handsome, raven haired royal manages to take her breathe away.

“Let me introduce you my fiancée,” Yoongi steps aside so that a girl his age could step forward from behind him. She bows her head politely to the soon-to-be queen of Arendelle and Anna does the same marvelling at the older princess’ beauty, her silent elegance and the soft fabric and unique style of her dress. Everyone heard the stories of the lovely princess who was promised to the Crown Prince but the gossips never once mentioned the longing she has in her heart for him. But the way she looks at him, like he’s her whole world, tells it all.

They change a few more words of formality until one servant warns them about the approaching nightfall and ushers them into the carriages. The newly arrived delegation doesn’t understand what the fuss is about but the temperature drops several degrees as soon as the Sun settles down and the freezing cold bites into their flesh. None of them comment on the unrealistically sudden change and Anna doesn’t go into further explanation.

Only the sparkling stars dotted on the nightmare dark sky warn them but nobody listens. Nobody ever does.

During the following days the business meetings go well. The consensual deal of trade agreement comes to existence soon enough but the delegation’s stay in the kingdom has been extended because of an unexpected snow storm raging along the shores. No ship can leave the bay safely until it passes.

However, the prince doesn’t seem to be too bothered by it. He has never seen such a sight before, a land fully covered in pearl white snow hence it takes his breath away. He marvels at the scenery but soon, he grows restless and gets bored of being locked in the heated palace playing cards with dukes and talking about politics all day long. There’s no one to stop him when he fetches a horse and goes out to explore the woods not caring about the warnings about the monsters in the mountains. According to him, these myths are nothing more than dark tales to tell the children before bed to keep them from wandering away. He takes only one brave enough man with him and they ride off on a particularly cold morning.

“He has the soul of a wild horse,” the engaged princess mutters watching him galloping farther and farther away from her window. She looks after him until the dot of his figure gets lost in the fog and distance. “He cannot be kept in a cage.”

Yet, they all are. They are basically chained up by jewels and the crown, she thinks bitterly as she plays with the golden ring on her fourth finger. The noble metal’s touch on her skin burns. It hurts.

Unaware of her doubts, Yoongi rides into the citrus daybreak. The rising Sun paints the snow in hues of rainbow. The melodious sounds of the awakening nature fills his ears and he dives more into the woods, even farther away from the beaten path. The more they go towards the mountains, the colder and darker the forest gets. The fresh snow falls heavily onto them.

“Maybe we should head back, your Highness,” the knight shouts over the wind’s whooshing but the prince pays no mind to him as his gaze sets on something particularly interesting in the snow. He squints harder to see the ice towers reaching skywards better behind the mountainside. There's something spectacular about the way the sunlight gleams on the smooth surface, something enchanting and before he knows, he leads his horse closer despite the wild blizzard. A little more in and he can’t hear his knight’s protests anymore, he just goes straight ahead uncontrollably as if he was in hypnosis.

At one point even his horse gives up and he has to go on by himself. Forward, just a little more, a dulcet voice sings in his head mesmerizing him and he can’t say no even though he’s freezing. His dry lips have turned blue and even the velvet padding of his clothes and gloves can’t protect him against the cold. He falls onto his knees only a few feet away from the gorgeous ice palace that stands tall and majestic in the middle of the storm. His cheeks are stained pink, bitten by frost as snowflakes are resting on his lashes and between his onyx locks like stars decorating the night sky.

What kind of monster would live in such a pretty place? he faintly wonders recalling the commoners’ gossip about the mysteries of the mountains. He’s on guard, looking around curiously but weariness overwhelms his body with a newcoming force as the numbing cold settles in his bones is dragging him into a dreamless sleep.

“Are you lost, little prince?”

The luscious, dreamy tone he thinks he has heard before becomes one with the wind, slipping away through his stiff fingers. When he looks up in exhaustion, a lithe figure is approaching him. The young lady who looks like the embodiment of winter’s Norse goddess in her crystal-blue, skin tight dress which is almost nothing in this freezing cold but she doesn’t seem to be affected at all. Her French braided, platinum blonde hair is swept over her bare shoulder and when she’s close enough, Yoongi catches a sight of the necklace around her uncovered, swan neck. On the silver chain there’s a golden pendant with the engraving of a crocus, Arendelle’s official symbol and the realization hits the prince hard.

“Queen Elsa...” he sighs in awe wondering if maybe he’s lost his right mind or fainted somewhere along the way and now he’s dreaming. What would the runaway queen do in the coldest pits of the kingdom? Why would she hide here at all? Nonsense!

“Shh… aren’t you cold, dear?” the girl touches his jaw with a single finger but it’s enough to feel the cold creeping under his skin in full force. “I know how to make you warm,” she coos, voice sickly sweet and the smile on her ethereal face is the loveliest lie of all.

Yoongi is a smart and resourceful man yet he's lured into her trap just like flies stuck into the web of spiders.

“Well then that would be really kind of you if you told me, m’lady,” he whispers with trembling lips as he shivers out of control. The weather here is something he has never experienced before, not even once during his trips to the North. The ice under his boots feels unbreakable, the snowflakes seems to rain down for ever and the piercing cold is freezing the blood in his veins, stealing the warmth away.

The queen's smile widens like sunsets’ colours bleed and spread around the scenery: slowly and beautifully. Yet, there's something deadly in the lovely curve of her lips he can't quite decipher until he feels the soft pair of them touching his chapped, numb lips. His eyes bulge but he can't move as if the cool air froze his mind, too. He mindlessly lets her devour his mouth in the middle of swirling snow and he just stands there, unmoving like a statue. The wind has woken, yet the prince doesn't feel the chilly breeze it brings, only the honey taste of a winter kiss.

It reminds him of a particularly starry night in a sunny kingdom far far away and a girl with long Jasmine-hair, big doe eyes and pretty, shy smile. The memory of his almost mistake, a kiss that should have never happened. Yet, it didn't feel any less wrong because it didn't happen for real after all. Wishful thinking and daydreaming on restless nights doesn't matter, right?

The memory triggers something in him and blinking, he feels as if he had woken up from a dream. He pushes her away immediately. He touches his lips in pure shock and looks at the girl in bewilderment, feeling ashamed and angry. A witch, she must be one, the thought crosses his mind but it's already late: winter touched him in the most impossible ways.

His coal black hair has turned the lightest shade of blonde, almost white matching his equally pale skin. The cold isn’t colouring his cheeks anymore while his eyes are sparkling like silver with shiny gloss.

“Somebody has your heart already, am I right? Doesn't matter, you won’t care soon anyway,” she says and moves so quickly like no human could. She locks their lips for the second time and the prince is overcome by eternal calmness. Suddenly, it feels so right like nothing before. He's kissing back with the same fervor and only pulls back when he has to gasp for air. However, when with the newfound oxygen filling his lungs, he moves to close the gap between the two of them, eager to taste that sweet mint aroma on the adored lips again, Elsa pushes him away with a fake shy giggle.

“Patience, little prince. We have all the time in the world for ourselves. Don't you want to see our kingdom?”

“Yeah, of course, my queen,” he nods mesmerized since he knows no other order that his beloved queen’s words. She flashes a satisfied smile and turns towards her ice residence. Yoongi follows her without a second thought, like a puppet tugged by strings.

Somewhere in the depth of the magical, snow and frost covered forest, an old tale is told, sang as a sad lullaby in memory of every cursed prince visiting its land.

“The first kiss is to shield him from the cold The second kiss is to make him forget all The third kiss would be the last in row Taking his life away once and for all.”

The guest princess is alone in her chambers, shivering from cold even in front of the fireplace. She doesn’t like it here, not at all. She loves the warm touches of Sun on her skin and the sounds of the sandy beach kissed by the waves. She misses home but she would follow Yoongi anywhere and everywhere. Arendelle, the winter kingdom is no exception.

“The prince. He’s gone!” a panicky voice roars as he bangs on the palace’s gate. Looking out of her granite window, the princess sees the knight whom the prince has left the place with. He has two horses with him but no trace of Yoongi.

The princess gasps in fear and hurries down the stairs not caring if she steps on the edge of her uncomfortably thick skirt. She blames the stupid cold for that too.

“What happened? Where is he?” she enquires as soon as knight steps into the hall.

She’s eager to know more, unsatisfied with so little information. What on Earth does he means by he’s gone? He simply can’t be! He’s the crown prince of Daegumor, he will rule one day with her by his side. The burning flame of his energy cannot die out so flatly, so insignificantly lost in a foreign forest.

The knight bows his head and then stares straight into her eyes regretfully. His voice doesn’t waver when he answers:

“I am sorry, Your Highness. We came upon a snow storm in the depth of woods and I lost him when we were riding near the cursed land.”

The word cursed sends chills down her spine. Yoongi, a man so sure of himself and his principles, can never believe in witchcraft. He would call it trickery and it could be his undoing.

“Then what are you waiting for? Form a search team and bring him back!” the princess demands desperately, causing a scene in the huge hall of the palace. She doesn't care about the pitiful glances on her or the fear in the eyes of knights, she just wants her fiancé back. Her Yoongi.

“With all due respect, but no man dares to go that close to that place since nobody came back from there,” the knight tells her tentatively, trying not to upset her even more. He fails even though he’s only telling the truth.

“It’s true,” Princess Anna agrees with a nod, her sad green eyes dull from grief and something nostalgic. Maybe she also tried to enter the land before but she couldn’t make it through the storm. Or what’s worse, maybe she lost somebody there, too.

“I don’t care,” the Daegumor princess almost screams. She can’t just sit back and wait. She can’t return to their kingdom without the heir. And without the other half of her heart.

She turns to the tired man who just returned with the bad news. “Take me until the point you can, and I will go alone from then.”

“But Princess...” a few people gasp while others are whispering, calling her crazy. Maybe she is, she doesn’t protest.

“I am sorry for troubling you, Your Highness, but I didn't know Arendelle was full of cowards,” she says bitterly but not out of spite. She doesn’t want to offend the soon-to-be queen on purpose. She’s only being honest because that's why she has to take actions herself. And if she fails, her spilled blood will be their fault. Not that she would hold grudges because she’s aware of the consequences but politics are just such menace things these days.

“We simply cannot lose more men to an impossible mission. But I am truly sorry to disappoint you and your country.” Anna says as sincere as ever. She will be a good queen, anybody can tell. She cares, but she cares for her own above all. Understandable but the older princess would rather die than to leave the prince behind. The Arendelle royal seems to suspect this as well because when she steps closer, her voice is soothing like goodbye words of a mother:

“Let me give you an advice. If I cannot stop you from going, then remember this: the cold takes away everything from you and it will numb what makes you human. There's only one thing that can save you and your prince...” she whispers and points where her heart lies.

“Good luck!” she bids her farewell with a cautious smile, not sure if she should but the fiancée can’t hear her anyway over the wild thumps in her chest.

A memory comes back to the Daegumor princess as bright and vividly as morning sunrays cut through dark clouds. It’s just the two of them alone: she and the crown prince playing in the gardens as reckless children. Before they knew politics, before the world has ruined the pure goodness in their hearts, they were nothing more or less than childhood best friends. Friends that were separated because of studying abroad and other duties at the age of twelve. They haven't seen each other and only exchanged long letters until the day of their engagement that was arranged without their accord or knowledge. Politics does not need the opinion of children, their parents said and they sat at the dining table in silence. What had been done couldn’t be undone anyway. Their protests would have only caused a scene. Proving them to be exactly what they were thought to be: kids.

“I will learn to love you like that,” the prince promised her that night, at the door of her chambers. He has always been a cute child but growing up he has become devilishly handsome and she couldn’t control her trembling, weak heart. She would have sworn he must heard it too when he kissed her on the cheek whispering goodnight into her skin. She blushed poppy red as she watched him walk away.

Like what? A lover? The thought echoed in her mind, stirring up the long lost puppy love buried deep in her heart. It has been years, they both came of age, ready for marriage by the laws. She wasn’t that little girl anymore who admired the prince’s light moles on his cheeks or that he seemed to know the answers for all her questions. Yet, she still caught herself staring at Yoongi’s sharp jaw, the chocolate of his eyes and his beautiful pianist fingers. She was still in awe whenever he talked in such a polite and clear tone, his intelligence shining. She has heard he excelled in all his classes, that he could speak multiple languages and he never lost in chess. However, it was his gentle touch and soft gaze that made her even more enamoured.

She was in love with her fiancé, wasn’t it the best thing? Yeah, it should have been. But in Yoongi’s eyes, she was nothing more but an old playmate, he didn’t even see her as a woman (like that, he said). So wasn’t it the worst thing after all?

She snaps out of it as her teeth chatter in the icy cold weather that’s creeping under her skin. She has way passed the cursed land’s edge, she’s vulnerably on her own with snow in her dark hair and tears in her eyes. She doesn't need a map, nor a knight to accompany her any further. She is drawn by a heart that doesn’t even know it’s calling for hers.

The astonishing sight of the ice palace takes her breathe away. It’s glorious, parading in the colours of winter: blue walls and white hoarfrosts. Beautiful in a deadly way with its cutting sharp towers and icicles hanging down from everywhere. It isn’t as dark as they said in the rumours but it gives off an intimidating atmosphere, an eerie feeling piercing through flesh right up to the bone marrow, threatening to rip her apart.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

A raspy voice declares, tone raw and cold, body made of smoke, hiding in the shadows. But the princess doesn’t need to see him to know it’s him. She would recognize his voice out of thousands with her eyes closed.

“Yoongi!” she cries out, relieved. When it’s just the two of them, there’s no need to call each other so formally and in blind happiness, she enjoys the way the syllables of his name leave her mouth as she rushes to him, towards the source of his voice.

There’s snow and ice everywhere she looks, but no living creature comes her way, not a single soul. She’s turning around, walking up and down, not giving up, not even when she starts to think she has been hallucinating.

“Go away!” the voice speaks again, this time, much closer. When she turns, suddenly she’s facing with a boy looking eternally young: eyes as pale as the sky during snowfall and hair so silverish blonde as the full moon in all its glory. For a fleeting moment, she doesn’t recognize him and when she does, it leaves her stunned.

“Yoo… Yoongi, oh gods, what happened to you? Are you alright?” she asks in concern, fingers gently caressing his colourless face. He looks like a flawless statue and even feels as cold as marble. She can only be sure that he’s alive because his lips, the lightest shade of pink, are moving when he speaks:

“Leave, this is my last warning,” he speaks so rigidly as if she was merely a stranger, a burden. The passion once burning in his dark irises is gone by now, replaced by dull emptiness masking his striking features.

“Do... don’t you know who I am?” the princess stammers, caught off guard and wonders if he hit his head.

“I have no idea who you are and I absolutely don't care. It has always been me and my Queen,” Yoongi answers with a wintry smile while shoving away her hand. His words burn like holding ice or looking into his fierce eyes for too long.

The princess has heard of the Queen, the ruler of this unforgiving wasteland. People seemed to fear her and her power, a magic unknown to mankind. A witch, an abomination, a monster, they whispered about her in the dark.

“Yoongi, we are engaged, please… Oh that hurts,” the girl hisses in pain when the prince grabs her wrist and yanks her closer harshly. His mouth is brushing against her right ear softly as he growls Don’t lie to me! and his grip on her is stronger than ever. She trembles.

The princess gets drunk on his sudden closeness, the way he pulls her into his aura like he never did before. Yoongi, a good friend, always so respectful of boundaries never held her like this no matter how much she wanted him to do.

“Yoongi, please! Don’t you remember? You are the Crown Prince of Daegumor. We need to go home,” she tries to talk some sense into him, holding on her belief that he isn’t a hopeless case, that the witch that the villagers are muttering about hasn’t poisoned his mind too much. It doesn't seem to be working when he steps back and pushes her away.

“This is where I should be, nowhere else.”

She stumbles backwards but catches a hold of herself just in time. He’s only confused, she tells herself. A white lie that she wishes to believe.

“Please come with me… I won’t go without you. Come back to me,” she pleads as she takes his face into her hands and mistakenly thinks - she dares to hope - that he's leaning into her touch for a moment.

“I warned you,” the prince grits his teeth, sounding cruel and weaves his hands roughly around her thin neck. His fiancée gasps for air desperately while begging for mercy with her huge, sad doe eyes.

He will kill me, she thinks briefly and it almost feels like salvation if she can't have him anyway.

“Please… I love you,” she cries with the last ounce of energy she has, salty tears streaming down on her pale face onto his tightening grip of hands.

A world stops for an eternal moment and Yoongi lets her go abruptly. He blinks dumbfounded as if he woke up from a nightmare, chest heavy. He looks at his hands in disgust then at his fiancée who is busy with catching her breath so desperately. What has he done?

He can't believe he got so lucky. A girl so blindingly beautiful like her loves him. Truly, with that gold heart of hers, because that’s the only way to break the curse. She saved him when his corrupted heart almost killed the one he loves the most. Oh because he does love her. So much! Even if it's selfish of him and even if he doesn't deserve such a bright soul.

Despite pushing her away, acting distant and formal, he has always loved her in the most innocent ways: dreaming of holding her hand and kissing her cheek. But meeting so many years later, after their engagement, a raw kind of hunger threatened to consume him in whole: the urgent need to devour her and to worship every inch of her body at the same time. No matter how apathetic he acted, his blood boiled every single time she accidentally touched him. He swore to himself he would protect her from everything but in the end, it's him who hurt her the most.

“Y/N...” he whispers her name, so lovely on his tongue, all over again like a mantra burying his face into her neck, tears spilling onto her snow coated dress. She soothe him with sweet words and lulling caresses on his back, telling him it's okay because she has always known: being cold doesn't mean you can't have a warm heart.

The Snow Queen is watching the future King and Queen of Daegumor leave her land. She doesn’t stop them, why would she? There will always be clueless princes coming to her to ease the loneliness she's sentenced to. They don't call her kingdom cursed for nothing, she thinks bitterly, turning her back on them.

The snow continues to fall. Endlessly like tears.

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xtreme-icecream · 7 years

Text

stuff idk how to write: werewolves, hanamaru, angst stuff i just written: werewolf hanamaru with angst anyway idk how i feel about it yet but have a yohamaru werewolf story hhh

words: ~4400 (warnings: descriptions may be graphic, minor bg character death, also just pretend their bus has a tiny tv in th front i forgot to check for reality too late oops.)

After too long, Hanamaru comes back home.

It’s late. She leaves mud in a trail behind her, through the door, up the stairs, into her room where at last her bones snap apart and back together, and her muscles burn as they tear and weave themselves back to familiar form and size.

When it’s over, she’s still exhausted. There’s a cold, heavy feeling in her stomach, like something’s wrong, but more than that she feels a thick haze in her head.

She can’t think. There’s school tomorrow. Her futon is there. She needs to sleep.

The morning news plays on the little TV at the front of the bus that Hanamaru and Ruby take to school. Hanamaru tries to tune out the report on the couple found dead in the thick of the small wood nearby.

Estimated time of death: between the hours of midnight and 5AM. There’s a lot of collateral damage in the area surrounding the corpses. The police say it points to an attack by a wild animal, but they’re hesitant to make a definite statement because there are no such animals wandering about Numazu.

Investigations are fast now, because nowadays they expect casualties like these. It turned into something of a nightly thing for them to send people out at night to prowl for dead bodies. The lack of them these recent few months had some hoping the deaths had ended.

Too bad about last night.

In any case, the report is fast and succinct. The camera work beats around the worst of the carnage and any descriptions on the damages and wounds the couple sustained are kept to a decent, broadcast-passable minimum. It seems it’s only the police and Hanamaru who might know about how the young lady died quickly from a messy bite to the jugular and not the impact to the back of her skull, or maybe how the young man’s leg was ripped off only after his spine had snapped twice, or that maybe, maybe if he just hadn’t pulled that knife out he’d still be—

“Hanamaru-chan? Hanamaru-chan, listen to me.”

Ruby is nudging Hanamaru’s leg with her knee. The news has moved on to something about rice imports. From the looks of the outside, they’re still a good ten minutes away from arriving at school.

“Hanamaru-chan,” Ruby says. Her voice is soothing. The skin under her eyes is a little darker than usual. “You looked a bit spaced out. You were watching, weren’t you?”

“Oh… Yeah. I was.” Hanamaru just keeps from tacking an apology on at the end.

Instead of saying anything, Ruby finds Hanamaru’s hand and squeezes it. “Just don’t dwell on it too much, okay? Everything’s going to be all right.”

She does a cute little nod at the end of that sentence, to prompt Hanamaru to agree with her or something like that. So Hanamaru does. Things are fine. It’s going to be okay.

When they arrive at school, Ruby strays from the routine path to the classroom for a detour to the student council office. It’s a quick errand for Dia, who has to stay at the hospital for a while to watch the new stitches on her leg for the wounds she got last night.

Hanamaru’s a touch grateful. If Dia hadn’t stepped in, it would’ve been Ruby on the news today.

The lunchtimes Hanamaru spends helping out at the library are her favourite times of the week. She was never one for noise, people, and noisy people, and the library at Uranohoshi provided her with just the perfect dearth of that. People visited the library often enough, but outside of the worst exam crunch times, there was never a soul who willingly stayed for any longer than five minutes.

There was one exception to all of that, though—a noisy person that Hanamaru really didn’t mind who actually stayed at the library to read for extended periods of time.

Yoshiko Tsushima arrives again today, this time with a stack of books she places at the counter with a heavy thump. “Done!” she says proudly.

Hanamaru pulls the stack close and skims over the titles on the spines. Save for one book about low budget gardening techniques, they all belong in the section for myth and the occult. They were also all borrowed on different days, and due for return on different days, with only about half arriving on the counter on time.

“And your late return fee comes up to… eighty-seven yen,” she says after a little math.

“Totally worth it,” Yoshiko says, reaching into her pocket for her wallet. There’s a self-assured smile on her face as she does so.

As Yoshiko digs around for the proper change, Hanamaru proceeds with the menial task of scanning and logging the books in record.

“What was it all about this time?” she asks.

The coins in Yoshiko’s change clink as she drops them onto the counter, and a timed beat later she places her hand on her chin and grins to herself. “I had taken this opportunity to educate myself on beings of the other world,” she says. “From the common dragon to the leshi, I’ve made sure to become familiar with a veritable legion of hellish beasts.”

Hanamaru smiles. “Got a new favorite?”

“No,” Yoshiko says. “Chimerae remain objectively superior, but if you’d like, I could share something about coeurls?”

Then Hanamaru indulges her, and they slip into old routine—storytelling after a finished collection of “forbidden tomes” and avid, eager listening.

Yoshiko was always a big person in many ways, but there was, apparently, something to be said about how good of an open ear Hanamaru was. At good parts her eyes lit up, at dull ones her shoulders would sink, her lip would curl when she had something smart to say, and there were some things, important things, that she would remember with her heart. It took a while to understand them, but those were things she never forgot, and somehow she remembered more about Yoshiko than Yoshiko did about herself.

And Hanamaru, in turn, didn’t know these things about herself, until Yoshiko came up to her one afternoon and told her that it was how she fell in love.

“We’re sorry we couldn’t cure you,” Dia tells her, leaning on the tea table of her house’s living room. “And sorry for… what happened afterwards.”

Hanamaru nods. They’re all sorry and all disappointed, but she honestly couldn’t ask for more than the kindness of the Kurosawa sisters with her issue. As confidants they were beyond trustworthy, and they took such huge risks for the sake of saving Hanamaru that it seemed unthinkable.

But as saintly as they were, they weren’t looking to be martyrs. By now they must’ve figured Hanamaru wasn’t worth the danger. Dia doesn’t look at her the way she used to.

“I’m afraid this is as far as we can go,” she continues. “We can’t afford to take any more risks. To ourselves or otherwise.”

“I understand,” Hanamaru says. “That’s how things gotta be sometimes, I guess. I’ll try to do things the way I was doing them before, then.”

“For now, that might be for the best.” Dia straightens up and bows, a little off-balance. “Again, we’re sorry for our shortcomings. We wish you the best, Hanamaru-san.” Then she walks away.

Hanamaru stays the ‘Thank you’ the end of her tongue in hopes that Dia won’t close the door on her, and she’ll turn around and say she has one more idea, another last chance for Hanamaru.

Dia doesn’t, of course, so Hanamaru goes home kicking herself over her ingratitude.

The ocean at night is cold enough to kill during the later weeks of fall. Hanamaru has to hide away in the thick of the wood again until sunset, and wait for the moon to stir the wolf awake.

And when it wakes, she suffers through the change again—snapping joints and tearing muscle, her jaw cracks to make room for rows of new fangs and jagged teeth, and the stretching her spine has to do to reach the height of the beast rips the feeling away from her limbs as it snaps in place, its revolting crackles muffled by flesh and rustling leaves. New eyes, muscle, bones, new skin, a new stomach that almost asks more for blood than meat.

The wood she hides in isn’t as dark in this form, and the smell of the sea mixing with the thick and teeming vegetation is so much crisper she can practically taste it. Though her mind is hazy with the aftershocks of pain, the world is so much more vivid. It’s always a shame she can’t experience it as she likes.

Her nose picks up strangers a short distance away, behind her, but she insists on running forward, to the ocean. Only then can she bear the sharp cold of the water.

She dives to hunt, because the wolf has to eat, or she can’t turn back. Somehow with just the scant light of the moon she hunts down a few dozens of fish that escaped the nets of the boats in the distance, and bites them whole, even if it takes hour upon tiring hour to eat her fill and the icy water mats her fur and weighs it down. It’s an ordeal, and she hates the feeling of grinding little fish bones and skulls between her teeth most of all, but compared to the real human lives she’d cost otherwise, it’s a bargain.

By the time she’s finished and dripping seawater back on land, the moon hangs high in the sky. Her body breaks back down to human size, her own, real skin, which prickles and almost stings at how cold it is.

Hanamaru digs through a specific patch of undergrowth for the dark canvas bag holding her change clothes, which she throws on as quickly and quietly as she can manage. It’s just her boots and the jacket left when she notices shadows moving.

The light is from behind her. She turns, a dangerous ache bristling in her jaw again, and then recoils at the sight of Yoshiko.

“Zuramaru?” Hanamaru can’t dare to look at her, but leaves crunch underfoot as Yoshiko approaches. She’s so close that Yoshiko has to turn her flashlight away from the both of them so Hanamaru doesn’t get blinded. There’s a firm, anxious hand on Hanamaru’s arm. “Zuramaru, it is you! What are you doing here—why is your hair so wet?”

There’s nothing but concern in her voice. Hanamaru knows she sees the bag and probably smells the blood and the ocean from her person, because Yoshiko is too keen around her. She wants to run, but her body just refuses to move.

So Yoshiko does. Amid all the warning signs blaring in her mind and fogging her thought, she can still hear a zipping sound. Somehow Hanamaru doesn’t resist putting her arms through the sleeves when Yoshiko holds her coat up for her, and she finds the warmth and weight so comforting she wishes she could just fall asleep already.

"Okay," Yoshiko says as she zips the front up for her, "you don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but geez you're going to catch a cold... Ah, here, my scarf, it'll catch the water from your hair."

Yoshiko wraps it around Hanamaru's neck and shoulders so gingerly, like she has no clue what Hanamaru is or what she's done, at all. And then she has the audacity to wrap Hanamaru in a hug, where she's sure her face is pressed against sea-soaked, freezing cold hair.

What's wrong with her?

There's some warmth tickling her ear from Yoshiko's breath when she asks, "Hanamaru, are you okay? Can you at least tell me that?"

Hanamaru stays in Yoshiko's hold for just a little while longer, trying to keep from tearing up. "Yeah," she mutters eventually. "I'm fine, Yoshiko-chan. Just soaked."

Yoshiko squeezes Hanamaru one more time. "Okay. Let's get you home? You live in the temple nearby, right?"

Hanamaru nods into her shoulder, and Yoshiko pulls back, takes her hand, and leads them both off.

The path they take is nearly void of any other passersby, which Hanamaru appreciates of Yoshiko, but it’s also void of any conversation until after the woods and the short trail, when the guest entrance comes into view.

“You’ll be alright here?” Yoshiko says, squeezing Hanamaru’s hand. It breaks her out of a daze.

“Yeah,” Hanamaru says. “Yeah, it’s… warmer at home.”

“Good.”

They reach the doorstep and let go. Hanamaru takes her first steps inside, then makes to take Yoshiko’s scarf off when her hands stop.

“Will you want these back?” she asks. On her mind is how it’s soaked and probably smells strange, so she hopes Yoshiko says no.

“Ah, you can keep them for now,” Yoshiko says, probably forcing that grin on her face, “to wash and all, heh. I mean, that’s how courtesy goes, isn’t it? Er…”

“But then what about you, Yoshiko-chan?” Hanamaru asks. “You live far away, don’t you? How will you go back by yourself like that?”

Yoshiko shrugs. “Exams are coming up soon. I’d have gotten a cold anyway. But you…”

She’s looking at her like that again. It’s hard to see because the temple is dark and moonlight can’t break between leaves easily, but Hanamaru has always been able to feel it.

“Nothing,” Yoshiko says, turning around. “Take care of yourself, okay? I’ll see you soon.”

In lieu of saying goodbye, Hanamaru just watches Yoshiko walk away.

When she curls up in her futon, she remembers the look she gave her. Hanamaru knows what it means. ‘What’s going on with you?’ ‘Are you really alright?’ ‘Please let me help you.’

She hates it. She’s terrified of it. She wants Yoshiko to give up on her.

It’s not what she tells her when she sees her again at school and gives her clothes back, but it’s all she can manage.

“Don’t go there again,” Hanamaru says.

Yoshiko’s demeanor takes on a rare kind of gravity. It’s good that Hanamaru had the foresight to confront her after class. The room is empty aside from them and the sun sets early today, coloring everything red-orange. There’s dormant heat in the air, or maybe just in Hanamaru’s ever-eager imagination, but either way she’s glad no one is around to interfere.

“Why not?” Yoshiko says, standing up. “You don’t even know what I was doing there.”

“It doesn’t matter what you were doing there,” Hanamaru says. “You can’t go back. It’s for your own good.”

“My own good? Then what about you, Hanamaru?” Oh no. “Why were you out there, by yourself, half frozen to death? I worried about you every night after that!”

“Then stop worrying about me!” Hanamaru speaks louder to match, which makes her all kinds of uncomfortable, because it’s just not like her at all. “There’s nothing about me to worry about. Please, worry about yourself, Yoshiko-chan.”

“Nothing about you—that’s bullshit, how can you tell me to do that when you know how I feel about you? After I saw that? “

“That was nothing! Why won’t you ever just listen to me?”

Yoshiko’s hands hit her desk. “You never tell me anything! I know you need your privacy, but this? You could be in danger!”

Hanamaru grabs Yoshiko’s shoulders and looks her in the eyes. “You’ll be the one in danger, Yoshiko-chan! And you know why, so stop pretending you’re doing this to keep me safe. You can’t help me.”

Now, frozen under Hanamaru’s stare, Yoshiko can’t say anything. They don’t move, they don’t break eye contact, they’re not even sure they’re breathing, but slowly, maybe because she sees Hanamaru’s eyes welling up, the tension leaves Yoshiko’s shoulders.

“And if I told you I could,” she says quietly and unsurely, unlike herself, “would you let me?”

Hanamaru is exhausted. She lets her arms fall to her sides. “People have tried. Just stay away from me, Yoshiko-chan.”

But Yoshiko never listens.

She’s always been a little bit peculiar. Naturally rebellious to the norm. Midnight candle rituals, standing on the school rooftop on the coldest, rainiest days, downing hot sauce like candy syrup—the more absurd it seemed to be, the more likely Yoshiko was to do it.

Hanamaru finds this bold, eccentric spontaneity attractive in a way. So much so that she feared she might’ve even fallen in love with her because of it.

She still fears she loves Yoshiko, especially now that Yoshiko stands before Hanamaru with only a spray of blue flowers in her hand and a heartbeat loud enough for Hanamaru to hear even from ten paces away, over the rustle of leaves.

Hanamaru’s ears can only hear something like that through bones, muscle and skin because it’s something that she seeks out, along with Yoshiko’s shallow breathing, wide eyes, her cold sweat and trembling fingers…

But her heartbeat, drumming in her ears louder than rolls of thunder, is euphonious.

thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump

The thick coat Yoshiko wears is something Hanamaru comes to dislike almost immediately. It’s rough, and dry, and would just spoil her taste.

Her claws seem to bare themselves at it. And her teeth. Her fur bristles too, and something low rumbles from her throat.

But she does her damned best not to move, and hopes to everything she can think in her limited lucidity that Yoshiko finds a way to run where Hanamaru can’t get to her.

Naturally, Yoshiko does the exact opposite. She takes a step forward, holds the flowers out to Hanamaru, and shouts something Hanamaru can hear perfectly but not understand. She recognizes her name, “Hanamaru,” but the rest of it is just loud, maybe angry, and she takes it as a taunt.

It’s weak bait, but encouragement is encouragement, and Hanamaru is hungry. She pounces, and when she tastes blood, the last flimsy sliver of humanity slips out of her conscience.

And when it comes back, not too long later, it’s because she eats something wrong and horribly bitter. Her insides are burning, her throat feels raw, she can’t breathe, and her limbs feel like they’re being torn apart from the inside out.

When Hanamaru comes to next, there’s something that tastes like dirt in her mouth, and the stench of blood is so strong she physically flinches and digs her face into the warm mass underneath her.

It shifts, and coughs, and… holds Hanamaru tighter?

Yoshiko.

The blood.

Yoshiko.

Hanamaru shoves herself up. “Yoshiko-chan!”

It is Yoshiko beneath her, pale, bleeding from deep, frightening wounds around her right arm. Only the stems of the flowers in her hand remain, and her fingers only seem to curl around them from the cold now that her gloves are torn, but she’s breathing.

Then she coughs. “Zuramaru,” Yoshiko says weakly. “Hi. You’re back.”

Hanamaru sees Yoshiko’s mouth warped in a grimace for her, and she has so many things to say that she can’t speak at all, so she just crumples into Yoshiko’s chest and tries not to let her crying break into full sobs.

In these minutes she realizes she’s wearing a coat with end of the right sleeve torn and stained black, and between that, Yoshiko’s wounds, and the flowers being missing, Hanamaru pieces together what must’ve happened.

And despite what she’s done, what kind of pain she might’ve inflicted on Yoshiko, at that moment she can’t feel anything but selfish gratitude and relief because this time, this time, no one’s dead.

The thought echoes in her head for long moments after that, as Hanamaru, still dazed from everything, lets herself a minute of rest. With her ear pressed into Yoshiko’s chest, Hanamaru finds her heartbeat again. It’s calmer this time.

Thump-thump.

Thump. Thump.

Thump.

Yoshiko gasps hoarsely, and Hanamaru jolts up. “Yoshiko-chan?”

Yoshiko’s eyes are unfocused, but she manages to shove her phone into Hanamaru’s hand. The screen is lit, displaying the emergency contact number for the nearest hospital.

“Maru, listen,” Yoshiko says, out of breath and voice trembling. “Wolfsbane poison gets into wounds. Hurry.”

Her arms go limp, she starts coughing, and Hanamaru, as she sees this, wastes not an instant calling the hospital and telling them what she knows, as fast as she can.

If she’d really gotten better, if the wolf is really gone, she can’t let Yoshiko’s be the life it takes with it.

The paramedics have the courtesy to only ask Hanamaru about Yoshiko, and outside asking if she needs medical attention, too, the only effort they direct to her goes into words of reassurance. They can save Yoshiko.

They can save Yoshiko.

They save Yoshiko.

Days pass, then a week, then two. Since staying was too expensive, Yoshiko and her family decided to just move her home after several days passed and her condition stabilized enough. She hadn’t come to school since.

As far as their classmates knew, the most of Hanamaru’s involvement about Yoshiko’s “accident” was that she was just the first among them to find out. It was a piece of information they made and agreed upon by themselves, and Hanamaru made no effort to make them think anything otherwise.

She did volunteer to be the one to bring notes over, though, even if Yoshiko lived so far away from her own home.

Hanamaru knocks on the door to Yoshiko’s apartment, and steps in once Yoshiko voices her acknowledgement.

“Hey Zuramaru,” she says, eyes glued to her television screen. “You forgot about the bell again?” Even when part of her forearm and wrist is covered in medical wrap, she doesn’t seem to have much trouble with her game controllers. Good to know her hand wasn’t too impaired.

After shutting the door behind her, Hanamaru places a notebook at the foot of Yoshiko’s bed, and sits down next to her on the floor. “I think I like knocking better, anyway.”

Yoshiko hums. Hanamaru’s only seen her play a handful of times, but she can gather from watching that the next thing Yoshiko does is find a place to save before exiting the game and lowering the controller to her lap, where her stare lingers for a while.

“So…” she says, drawing the word out. “How about it?”

Hanamaru’s brow tightens. “Yeah. I think I’m ready to talk.”

“Okay. Uh…”

“First of all,” Hanamaru continues, hunching over a little, like the words are that heavy. “Never do something like that again, hear me? Especially not without telling me first.”

Yoshiko flinches. “H-Hey, in my defense, you would never have said yes—“

“Of course not! Handling poison, showing yourself in front of a-a werewolf, it’d be like asking you to die for me!”

“But it worked, and I didn’t, and nothing like that’s ever going to happen again!”

Hanamaru looks up. “That’s not the point, Yoshiko-chan. I know what you did worked, and I’m better now, and nothing like that’s ever going to happen to either of us again, but you scared me!” She pauses, glancing at Yoshiko’s dazed expression and back away, and then she takes a deep, shuddering breath. “I was terrified, okay? You came so close to dying so many times because of me. I don’t know how I’d handle letting that happen to someone I feel like this about.”

Her voice got quieter and quieter until she finished, and Yoshiko let the silence remain. Until one of them found it in themselves to speak again she moved to find the fist Hanamaru buried on her lap and wrap her fingers over it.

Then she squeezed it gently and said, “I’m sorry. For scaring you, I mean. Really reckless of me.”

“It’s okay,” Hanamaru says. “I think. It’s over now, after all.”

Yoshiko nods. “Yeah.”

“…And besides,” Hanamaru says, “it’s still kinda my job to keep you from doing dumb things like that.”

There’s a pause were Hanamaru glances back at Yoshiko again, shooting her a sort of half-smile. Yoshiko sees, returns it, and playfully bumps her elbow on her. “No kidding. I’d just be a mess without you around.”

“Oh, I doubt it’s anything like that. You’re such a veritable force of chaos that sometimes I feel like a buzz in your ear.”

Yoshiko chuckles darkly. “’Force of chaos,’ you say? I find that a high praise, even from a being of such holy light as yours.”

“Shut up, Yoshiko-chan.”

“Ah, the scorn of heaven—a most familiar burn.”

“Oh, shut up.”

Hanamaru shoves Yoshiko by her head, earning them both a faint chuckle, and Yoshiko shoves Hanamaru back a bit herself before deciding to lean on her.

“But seriously,” Yoshiko says. “That aside, I think I should start listening to you more often. You’re smarter about me than I am.”

“Maybe,” Hanamaru says. “And actually, even if I’m not a werewolf anymore… I don’t know, it doesn’t feel over.”

“What do you mean?”

Hanamaru wrings her hands. “They weren’t so many, but there were people that I… so…”

“It wasn’t you,” Yoshiko says.

“We can’t say it was anyone else,” Hanamaru says. “It’s all on me, Yoshiko-chan.”

Yoshiko looks away, to a corner of the room, and frowns. “So you say,” she mumbles. “I don’t know how that must feel for you, as usual for me, but at least this time you don’t have to deal with it on your own.” She shifts somehow closer. “There’s time for us to figure this out.”

Her words take time to sink in, but Hanamaru feels Yoshiko’s right. She nods, and Yoshiko smiles.

“So, anything else?” Yoshiko says.

“No,” Hanamaru answers. “I’m taking this a bit at a time. I’m not good at jumping into things all at once like you are.”

“Oh, guess it’s my turn, then!” With a sudden little burst of energy, Yoshiko sits up and spins around so that Hanamaru can see her smirk clear as day. “What’s this earlier about ‘someone I feel like this about,’ eh, Zuramaru? Feel like what?”

And seeing Yoshiko’s smirk, Hanamaru feels light, for the first time in a long while. “Yoshiko-chan, I think you’re just a little nasty, you know that?”

“Aw, what?”

Hanamaru can be honest now. There’s no reason for her to fear herself or how she feels.

So she tells Yoshiko the truth.

#yohane is a furry.docx #xtreme writes #4 years of fic spewing n i still cant write sad stuff fsr. i mean in general iv nver been able to write but #o i wasnt able to include it in the writing itself but actually maru is still a werewolf in the end she just doesnt have to Devour Flesh #also wolfsbane is so Nasty n everywhere treats it like nothing. 'picked up some wolfsbane' yea cool nice we're not Dead #i know there are gloves and Being Careful but still u can totally use it to kill regular humans too. mammalsbane

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brokenlonelyandafraid · 4 years

Text

Sophia’s Magic Anon- The Dead Man’s Possession.

Sophia was petrified the second she woke up that morning and heard the man’s voice. There was a huge part of her that believed that she was losing her mind, which the man laughed at the moment the thought came to her. After their introduction, they went about the day- got up, showered, changed, ate, and took care of Benny.

She was hesitant at first about getting undressed with him but he reassured her that he wasn’t about being inappropriate (something Sophia found ironic). He respected women and didn’t have eyes for anyone but his Claire. He also pointed out that she didn’t have a say in the matter- he had control. That statement had Sophia whimpering.

Andrew apologized and if Sophia didn’t know any better, she’d say she could feel that he was remorseful for saying it the way he did. Though, he informed her that he was one to be blunt. He also added that he didn’t have much say in the matter, either.

After that, the first day went by rather quickly. After some begging from Sophia, they stayed home. She didn’t want to go out in public while so vulnerable. He agreed with the condition they go out at some point during his stay. Knowing she didn’t have much say, she agreed.

Day two was more eventful. Sophia had called to take the next two days off. There was no way they could work. She’d practically be training him and then have to deal with the consequences of his actions once he was gone. They took a trip around town and got food at some restaurant Sophia had never been to but Andrew loved. He told her stories about taking his Claire out on dates there and how they’d go to the city and he’d buy her little gifts.

Hearing all of the stories made her feel a little connected to him and more comfortable. She still, of course, didn't like being possessed by someone but wondered how it would be like to meet him as his own person. That night they made plans to go to the city and then visit his Claire.

The next day, and last day, started like the one before. This time, however, Sophia felt...odd. She felt anxious to hopefully become her own person again but also felt a little sad that the new friend she had made would be gone for good. ‘All things must come to an end, Sophia.’ Andrew chuckled warmly before they went about the morning.

The drive to the city was quiet. It wasn’t until they pulled into the busy streets that Andrew let out a laugh. ‘Time to have some fun.’ They went to multiple shops, but never bought anything until the last one. It was a thrift store. They browsed the racks until Andrew stopped and picked up an old hat. It was light brown, with a wide rim that curled up, and a dark stripe that ran around the base. He placed it on her head and looked in the mirror. ‘We look dashing, don’t we?’ He grinned. Sophia laughed that it would be something an old man would wear. ‘That’s the point.’

After leaving the store and grabbing more food, they stopped at a flower shop and bought a bouquet of sunflowers and roses. ‘Now, let’s go see my beloved.’ He spoke solemnly, before driving off. Sophia stayed quiet, unsure of where Claire could be. Was she alive? Or had she passed? Sophia knew he was young when he died and that he was born long ago, but not how long. It wasn’t until they pulled up to the cemetery that the question about Claire was answered.

‘I’ve been here before, with other people I’ve...taken over.’ He looked out upon the rows and rows of headstones before exiting the car and walking the path. It wasn’t long until they turned off into the grass. He stopped in front of an old stone and brushed off the dirt and grass. Sophia felt like she was intruding and he lay the flowers down. ‘It’s okay. I’m used to having an audience nowadays when I say my goodbyes.’

It was getting late by the time they started heading back, with the ride home being quiet. There didn't seem to be any reason to speak after such a day. When they pulled over to the side of the road, Sophia became confused. ‘Trust me.’ Andrew spoke before walking them through a small patch of woods and to the river’s edge. He began to undo the watch from her wrist. ‘You’ll still be stuck with me until midnight, but I figured enough is enough, yeah?’

He played with the old watch in her hand before staring down at it. ‘I remember first seeing you. Claire was so proud of herself for picking you out. Now here we are. I should have done this long ago.’ With that, he reached her arm back and then forward as fast as possible, letting the watch go. It flew into the air and landed in the middle of the rushing river. ‘Well, unless they drain the whole river, I shouldn’t be seeing anyone again.’ He chuckled before walking them back to the car.

Once they got home they got ready for the night and sat on Sophia's bed. The hat that was bought earlier was in front of Sophia, who was still confused about why he had bought it.

‘I think a part of me hopes that you’ll keep it to remind yourself of me. So you can see it and think back to when you helped someone have a few bits of freedom- of life again.’ He reached out and picked the hat up. Sophia examined it. ‘I know that it wasn’t your choice to have me. Frankly, I’m kind of done with it, too. That’s why I threw that damn watch in the river. I can’t keep coming back and messing with people’s lives. It hurts them and it hurts me, too. I can’t keep being dead then alive for a few days at random- it’s a tease! Now I don’t know what this means for me. I guess I’ll be stuck wherever I go. But at least maybe I can remember this last time. It was pretty nice.”

‘I didn’t like you at first.’ Sophia stated, ‘But I think I’ve grown to like you. I hope you finally get some peace.’

‘Me too, kid. Me too.’

‘And you’re right. This hat will remind me of you and these last few days.’ Sophia agreed, ‘And maybe this hat will mean there is still a part of you here.’

Andrew smiled. “Thanks, kid. Now let’s get some shut eye, yeah? You gotta get back to your normal ways of living.”

#m!anon #sophias magic anon

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