#since they were gonna be going through a rough patch anyways now i have MATERIAL AHAAAAA no im still very sad | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

haitanizzz · 3 years

Text

!contains tokyo revengers manga spoilers!

cw: angst, swearing, alcohol mention, slight violence, blood/bruises mention, slight sa? (non-consensual kiss), spelling errors

characters: draken and inui

summary: draken gets drunk and got his ass into a fight. inui picks him up and takes care of him but draken can't seem to move on from emma. inui can't tell the difference between platonic and romantic attraction, kinda one-sided love?, draken basically being depressed lol also set in the timeline where they own a bikeshop together

note: i don't ship them but i don't have anything against the ppl who do, i just thought their relationship was a great angst material :) i rushed the end a bit tho cuz i was getting out of ideas lol hope you enjoy!! also big thanks to the people who requested from us and we're a bit slow, but we're working on them don't worry!<3

-L

"hey inui! inui! seishu are you okay?"

draken was having it rough for a few days now, his nightmares about emma coming back to him each night like a curse from the past. inui noticed that his friend was more tense around him or when draken would hesitate to call out to him, but he didn't say anything since he knew that mental health was a touchy subject for his partner because of a certain girl. he was having a hard time ignoring it though as it left a bad taste in his mouth, but he didn't know why. is it because draken is his dear friend or maybe it is because he was in love? ken was so nice to him and he was his friend because he was inui seishu and not somebody else, right? he was so lost in his thoughts he didn't even hear draken call out to him.

"huh?"

"i've called out to you 3 times already! you look like you've been stressing so much lately-"

"oh no, no! im totally fine don't worry about it, i was just daydreaming a little bit!" he said as he let out an awkward laugh.

draken flashed him a gentle smile and patted his back.

"if you say so! but don't hesitate to ask for anything if you're not feeling well, aight?"

"got it boss"

"hey! i told u stop with that!" he playfully scolded inui as both of them began laughing. "anyways i just wanted to ask if you could close the shop today? i'm going out with some friends to drink, so.."

"of course! you can count on me, just give me the keys and you can go!

"thanks inupi! i owe you one!"

it was already dark outside when draken began to pack his things and passed the keys to inui.

"don't forget to close it or i'll beat ya ass if anything is missing tomorrow!"

"yeah yeah, just go already!" inui said as he pushed his friend through the door of their office.

"see you tomorrow seishu! "

he woke up to his ringtone, phone buzzing on the table as he got up and tried to wipe the sleep from his eyes. he didn't even have the energy to look at who was calling him so he just picked it up.

"yeah! see ya!" he sighed and almost slammed the door shut on accident. he was nervous but why? he could feel a pit in his stomach like when something bad is about to happen but he ignored the feeling and chose to dose off for a small nap on the sofa that was in the office.

"hello?" he answered the phone with a groggy voice.

"hey inui! sorry to call you this late but i need you to come here!"

"kazutora? it's not often that you call me, what's wrong?" he was dumbfounded that kazutora callled him as they barley even kept contact with each other.

"it's draken."

"what?"

"that idiot got drunk and punched a dude."

"oh god, again? " inui pinched the bridge of his nose not wanting to get up and drive there because he didn't like dealing with drunk people especially when it was ryuguji who got drunk. "im coming don't worry, thanks for giving me a call kazutora.

"thanks inui, we're at the new bar, just 2 streets down. we'll wait for you at the entrance!" kazutora said and immediately hang up.

"i swear that dumbass is going to be my death one day.." inui murmured and grabbed his jacket and the keys to his bike. "thank god it's not that far, just 2 streets down or i wouldn't even go to get his drunk ass."

the engine of his motorbike roared as he stopped in front of a bar, that had neon lights around it. everything was so bright he got a little dizzy and almost had to close his eyes. he spotted kazutora and draken sitting together at a random shop's staircase that was next to the bar. he got up from his bike and began walking towards them and it was when he got closer, that's when he noticed the blood sitting on draken's white shirt and bruises all over his face.

"what the fuck happened?!"

the two of them jumped at inui's voice not expecting him to shout at them.

"sorry to drag you out to get him this late, i could've bring him home myself but chifuyu and the others are still in there and im kinda worried what would they do when there's nobody to look out for them." kazutora said as he slightly bowed his head as an apology.

"don't worry about it man, don't apologize." inui gave kazutora a slight smile as he took draken's arm around his shoulder to make sure he wouldn't fall. "i'll be taking him home now..thanks for looking out for him."

"it's nothing. have a safe drive and call me if something is up!"

"yeah will do!" inui said as he began walking back to his bike with now draken slumped over him. it was very strange that draken wasn't talking at all, he was usually very loud.

"im not a kid you know? i can take care of myself inupi."

"oh so you now know how to talk? and it didn't seem like you were doing so good, so just shut up and let me drive you home!"

draken let out a laugh as he sat on the back of the motorcycle and grabbed the spare helmet.

"aight, aight! just don't be so loud, my head is killing me.."

"i wonder why?" inui scoffed as he sat on the front. "just make sure you don't fall off or you'll have to go to the hospital by yourself."

the drive to draken's apartment was quiet. none of them talked, the only thing that was making noise was the motorbike and those few cars that passed them. they were almost there when inui felt arms wrap around his waist and felt some weight on his left shoulder and he tensed under draken's touch, his heart hammering in his chest.

"i swear to god if you puke on me-"

"are you mad?" draken's voice was soft, almost like when a child got caught stealing candies.

inui didn't answer not knowing what to say to a question like that so he just kept quiet.

they soon arrived to draken's apartment complex and inui parked his bike.

none of them said a word and seishu helped his friend up the stairs, then to his door. keys jingled as draken searched his pockets and struggled to fit the key to his door inside the keyhole. inui gently pushed him away and opened the door and draken almost immediately went and crashed on the couch. seishu shaked his head and closed the door behind him, took off his shoes then followed draken to his livingroom.

"come on man, we need to get you patched up and change! i promise you can sleep all you want after we're done." draken just groaned and put his head on inui's shoulder s a sign to help him to his bedroom.

"i think the booze is really starting to get to me.." draken said as his words were slightly slurred from the alcohol he had consumed. inui helped him up and staring walking towards draken's room and sat him down onto the bed and turned on the lights. draken hissed at the sudden brightness and inui just let out a chuckle then went to the bathroom to get the first-aid kit. he came back with the box and sat next to draken and grabbed his chin.

"come on this gonna hurt a bit, but i'll be as careful and quick as i can so bear with it 'kay?" the tatted male just hummed as an answer and inui took it as a sign to start cleaning his bruises. he started dabbing under his eye first, then right under his jaw with careful movements. draken didn't seem to be giving any reaction so he just continued until his eyes sat on his slightly busted lip. seishu looked away for a moment then went to dab the sanitizer on his lip when draken took a hold of his wrist and he dopped the cottonball he was holding.

"what's wro-" seishu's words were cut off when draken kissed him. inui's whole body froze as memories from his high school years started to pry at his mind and tears filled his eyes. he didn't know what to do. was it the right thing that he just sat there without doing anything but his hands shaking? he will never know the answer to that. he only came back to reality when draken pulled away and smiled at him with red dusting his cheeks, inui didn't know if it was from the alcohol or because draken was embarrassed.

"i love you..emma." draken whispered against inui's neck and passed out. seishu couldn't process what was happening and his chest started to hurt. he quickly pushed draken off of him (who surprisingly didn't even budge) and stood up with wide eyes, tears threatening to spill out of them. he didn't even bother to pack the first aid kit as he was almost running to the door. he slammed the shop's keys on draken's kitchen island and left.

the next morning draken woke up with a headache.

"..what happened?" he said as he looked through his room, the first-aid kit on the floor. he tried to remember what happened last night as he went to get dressed for work.

he was confused when inui didn't came to work that day.

#tokyo revengers #tokyorev x reader #tokyo rev x male reader #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x male reader #tokyo revengers inui #inui seishu #draken #draken ryuguji #platonic tbh #inui i love you im sorry

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lilacmeadows · 3 years

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Made For You pt.3

I’m so sorry for the late post guys! I had the most hectic work load today. I’m taking too many goddamn classes this semester. ANYWAY here is my filthy part 3. I mean... they still haven’t fucked, but we’re getting there. I think this can be wrapped in a nice little 4 part bow, but I also kinda want 10 chapters of them together because I’m a slut for this dynamic. This is my FIRST TIME writing smut! So go easy on me. Thank you so much for reading! - Savvy

BUCKY X READER

Summary: Hydra had just finished training you to be the Winter Soldier’s perfect mate when the Avengers saved him. But what’s going to happen to you now that Hydra has deleted your old life and left you with nothing but a soldier that needs to learn to love himself before he can love someone else.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

WARNINGS: explicit sexual content, explicit language, underage reader (nothing sexual happens underage), stockholm syndrome, mentions of family death, eventual dom/sub dynamics, mentions of captivity and kidnapping. violence- guns, mutual pining, SMUT, ORAL (m receiving), FLUFF, angst if you squint (must be 18+)

Word Count: 2300

It was a short ride to the compound, and y/n had a hard time keeping up with the fast walking team as they tried to explain little things along the way.

She hadn’t been outside in a decade. The grass was green and warm where it met her bare feet as she walked behind Sam and Steve. The rest of the team immediately left the quinjet, seeking the comfort of their showers and beds. Bucky was the last to leave, not feeling right about just disappearing from her, but keeping his distance.

Y/n was still so heartbroken. Hearing about her family’s death had really stung, and she knew if she dwelled on it, she’d cry about it for days. But all she really had time to be sad about was how cold her Soldat was towards her. It seemed very much like he didn’t want her around him.

Steve and Sam brought y/n inside the residential wing of the compound. They toured the common areas, kitchen, and showed her where everyone’s bedroom was. They finally got to a guest bedroom down the hall from Natasha, and left her to get cleaned up and comfortable.

Y/n looked around her new bedroom. It was barely decorated, but she had to admit, it was still much nicer than her room with the Men. She sat her yarn and needles down on a table and sat on the large bed. Her body instantly sank into it, the plush comforter conforming to her body in a way the single sheet never did on the twin bed she slept on.

But she couldn’t enjoy her new favorite place in the world for long because not 3 minutes later, she heard a soft knock at her door. She opened it, and much to her surprise, Bucky was standing there, with 2 pairs of sweatpants, and 3 t shirts in his arms.

“I figured you’d want some fresh clothes after you’re clean.” He said sheepishly, not making eye contact with her. “You can ask Nat about undergarments.”

That made her giggle the tiniest bit. “I’m not allowed to wear any undergarments.” But he should know that. She was trained to do things to please him, so wouldn’t he like her to not have on obstructing materials?

“Oh. Well, umm… you can now… If you want to. It’s up to you.” She could see the blush rise up his neck, coloring the bits of his face that weren’t blanketed by hair. She took in his attire. He obviously changed out of his tactical mission gear, in favor of the sweatpants he wore that looked almost identical to the ones in his arms. He also appeared to be freshly showered, his hair still damp, and if she looked close enough, she could see little wet patches on his shirt from where he didn’t dry himself completely.

“Are these your clothes?” She asked, taking the bundle from his arms and opening her door wider so he could enter her room.

“Yeah, Steve went a little overboard on the shopping when I first got here. They’ll be a little big, but the pants have a drawstring, so it should work for now. Until you get something better.” He stood awkwardly in the middle of his room.

Y/n didn’t know what possessed her to put the sweatpants up to her face and inhale deeply. She just felt a primal urge to know what he smelled like. Gunpowder, wood, and something naturally male- Bucky. She couldn’t stop the moan low in her throat.

Bucky watched her as she did that. He felt his pants tighten just at the thought of her in his clothes, and the way she just smelled his pants and let out that sound of satisfaction, made him want to take her right there.

“Thank you, sir.” Y/n replied. Fully engulfed in her embarrassment.

“Y/n, you really don’t need to call me that. I’m just Bucky.” He reminded her. Honestly, he loved when she called him Sir- the authority it gave him, but it made an unholy amount of blood flow directly to his cock and he couldn’t think as clearly. Especially when she looked up at him with those innocent eyes.

“Okay, Bucky.” She said, trying the name out on her tongue. He liked the way she said it. “If that makes you happy.” She risked a step closer to him.

“You need to do what makes you happy.” He took an equally measured step back, knowing he was close to giving in to her temptation.

“I’m working on it, Bucky. But I need your permission. I just wanna be good for you.” She said, quickly taking 3 more steps until she was about 6 inches from his face.

“This isn’t right, Y/n. You don’t know what you’re doing or why you’re doing it. Hydra wanted this. You don’t have to belong to me.” She craned her neck up to be closer to his lips, but he was determined to reason with her before he does something he can’t take back.

“But I want to belong to you. I thought about you every day for 10 years years, Bucky. And I hadn’t even seen you.” Bucky tilted his head down ever so slightly, their lips were just shy of touching. “Let me be good for you, Bucky. Let me make you happy.” She repeated.

“Okay.” Was all he said. He expected their lips to touch then, but she was already down in her knees. None of her videos showed passionate kissing. She wanted to please him in the way she read about in her studies.

On her knees, Y/n was able to see the thick outline of his erect cock very easily, and couldn’t stop the involuntary moan. Just as she did with his other sweatpants, Y/n pressed her face against the bulge and inhaled deeply. Between the smell that was just so him, and the warmth of his clothed cock rubbing on her face, she was starting to go feral for the man standing in front of her in complete shock.

Bucky hadn’t been with a woman since before the war, and they definitely weren’t like this. He watched as she was damn near purring while she rubbed her face on him. She reminded him of a kitten, the way she open-mouthed kissed the line of his cock through his sweatpants. Then she pulled them down, and he felt her wet tongue roll around the fat tip.

“Shit, Y/n, you don’t have to do this.”

“Do you want me to stop, Sir?” She said, taking another lick from base to tip.

“God no. Fuck.” he groaned as she started put his balls in her mouth and sucked, hard. “But if you keep working me like that this is definitely gonna stop.”

She moaned hearing him fall apart above him- finally fulfilling her destiny. Making her Soldat happy.

“Fuck, Babydoll, you’re so good at this. Where the fuck did you learn this?” He asked, more to himself than to her, seeing as she started bobbing and swiveling her head. He wanted to put his hands in her hair, but ultimately decided not too. If he was gonna let this happen, it had to be at her pace.

She had never seen a cock in person but she knew he must be above average, her tongue counting 3 thick veins running up the sides and bottom of it. Trying to remember everything she saw the women in the videos doing and all the descriptions she read in the erotic literature, she hollowed her mouth around him and flattened her tongue against the underside of his cock.

“Fucking hell, Babydoll you’re doing so well for me. Y/n, shit.” She felt his cock touch the back of her throat and gagged around the intrusion. Spit mixed with precum rolling down her chin. When she looked up at him, her big eyes meeting his, he lost it. She could feel his cock harden just a little bit more, and his balls tightened, right before he released his heavy load into her throat. She backed up a little so it wouldn’t go straight down, she wanted to feel him on her tongue and taste him. Once she was sure she got every drop, she sat back on her heels and looked up at him. She opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue a little so he could see his cum sitting on it before she swallowed it all with a soft moan.

“Did I do good, Sir?” She said, still sitting in front of him, his cock softening in her face as she watched the anatomy work in fascination. She reached her hand out to touch it, really appreciating the feel and warmth of his skin. He groaned loudly at the overstimulation and the sound of her normally smooth voice, now rough from the number she did on him.

“Fuck, Y/n, you did so good, Babydoll. You’re such a good girl.”

And in that moment he felt like he could pass out. He wanted to vomit because he looked down at her face and saw the innocence still in her eyes. Good girl. He remembered saying those words to her before. So long ago. He saw a flash of a memory of rubbing a little girl’s head before knocking her out. Carrying her to her house and tucking her in her bed, before stroking her face one last time and leaving. He remembered how Hydra fried him so hard after that mission, they were afraid they killed him. She looked different, older, but it was the same eyes. Definitely her. And there that same girl was, on her knees for him, and just gave him the best blowjob of his life.

He tucked himself back into his sweatpants. Part of him wanted to run away. He was ashamed of himself. He knew that he should have turned her down and left before anything could happen. He took advantage of her. But he also knew that if he just left now with no explanation, he would be an even bigger asshole. Times like that made him miss the simplicity of not having control over his life.

“Y/n, you did such a good job for me.” He stood her up, pulling her in for a bone crushing hug. This confused her, because she never saw the aftermath in her videos. It was always brutal and then the woman was just left there. But he was so gentle with her as he tenderly stroked her hair and lowered his lips to hers for a kiss.

It was the absolute least he could do. He wanted to kiss her- he wanted to reciprocate and make her see stars, but his mind was racing. Debating if it was a good time to tell her about their previous encounter, wondering if she remembered him and was acting, or if she had no idea that he’s the reason she was kidnapped. And even though he didn’t kill them, the reason her family is dead. Selfishly, he decided that it would be best if he told her another time. He hadn’t experienced intimacy like this in so long, and Y/n’s lips felt amazing on his.

He finally broke the kiss to give her air, knowing she doesn’t have the lung capacity he has. “Do you want to have dinner with me?” He asked, not wanting to rush her into anything else. He knew he’d be going to hell for it, but he needed to be around her.

“I would love to, Sir.” She said with the biggest smile her face could muster. He swore he’d never get tired of seeing that smile. Feeling her tits press against his chest through the thin cotton layers of both of their clothes. Hearing how she moaned just a little when he stroked her jaw. He could feel his brain going fuzzy from just the intoxicating proximity of their embrace as they hugged, swaying slightly and exchanging sweet kisses in between longing looks.

“Call me, Bucky.” He gently reminded her. For his sake, really- his self control couldn’t handle her constant submissive nature. “I’m gonna let you take that shower, and in the meantime, I’ll go order some take out. Do you like chinese?” He asked, putting some distance between them, to prevent her from noticing how he was getting hard all over again and dropping to her knees for round two.

“Chinese people? I don’t know any, but I’m sure they’re lovely.” She replied, a little confused by his strange question.

Part of him liked that he wasn’t the most clueless person in the compound anymore. When it came to texting and pop culture, he was useless, but Y/n was held in captivity. She didn’t have takeout, or dinner dates, or freedom to shower with nobody watching her. He would be able to teach her those things, and he liked that. Someone needing him for more than violence. Someone to take care of.

“I’ll just go order the food. I’ll be back soon, Babydoll. There should be shampoo and conditioner in the shower with towels and all types of other stuff. Just look around a bit.” He said before he walked out of her room. She had never experienced moisture between her thighs like she was in that moment, so a shower was probably a good idea.

Part 4

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#bucky barnes #bucky #bucky x reader #bucky barnes smut #james buchanan bucky barnes #bucky x y/n #stucky #the avengers #the avengers smut #steve rodgers smut #bucky imagine #bucky fanfic #dark!bucky barnes #bucky fluff #chubby!bucky #winter soldier smut #winter solider x reader

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slightlycrunchy · 3 years

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A short one-shot for @lionheartkrbkzine’s little challenge. Had fun with this one, have some fluffy bonding over childhood experiences (with a few of my own thrown in for good measure).

Enjoy!

🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

“What is this crap, Shitty Hair?”

Moving into the dorms has Katsuki on edge, sweat rolling down his face and neck from the summer sun that had beat on his skin, browning it in patches he can feel reddening even now as they stand in the cool air conditioning of Kirishima’s room. Boxes lay strewn about as Katsuki adds another to the bare-wood floor. He kicks it with a slippered foot as he asks.

Kirishima looks up from where he had begun unpacking one of the other boxes, filling his closet with clothing and sports equipment. Katsuki sees a decent pair of weights get placed inside the sliding door and cocks an eyebrow. He’ll be borrowing those, later.

“Hm? What’s what?”

Katsuki rattles the box at his feet again with another slight kick, “This ass-heavy box! Did you wait for me to carry the heaviest one, you bastard? What are you packing, rocks?” He asks in jest, but really, knowing the redhead and his weird tastes, he wouldn’t put it past him.

“Hm, I forgot to label them so I don’t even know…let’s open it!”

It’s hard not to get caught up in Kirishima’s enthusiasm as he whips out the scissors he’s been using to make his way through the minefield of things peppered around the floor. The clutter is already getting on Katsuki’s nerves, but he supposes he is curious, now. Might as well get to see some of Shitty Hair’s things if he took the time to help carry it all. Katsuki watches as tape is ripped in two and flaps of cardboard are pulled back, putting everything on display for the two UA students.

“It’s...books. I waited for books.”

Katsuki tries to hide the disappointment in his voice. So what if he was maybe looking forward to seeing something cool of Kirishima’s?

The other boy’s red eyes look up imploringly, “What did you think it was gonna be, Bukubro?”

Katsuki huffs, “Doesn’t matter what I thought, why’d you bring so many books Kirishima?!” He hopes the anger in his voice can explain away the flush he feels in his cheeks. It’s all a front after all, Katsuki brought his own fair share of reading material. He was stupid to show interest, anyway.

“Hey, no need for that, let’s look through it! I didn’t even really pay attention to what I threw in here, just grabbed a few handfuls. Hope I grabbed that novel I borrowed from the library...that’s gonna be a pain if it’s still at home…”

Kirishima devolves into a muttering mess, hands searching through the depths of bound pages as Katsuki moves away to sit on Kirishima’s bed. He should get going soon anyway, he needs to unpack his own things, having gotten caught up in seeing Kirishima arrive and gone down to help. He looks to his right, out the bare windows that lead out onto Kirishima’s balcony. The sun has lowered, the haze of late afternoon displacing the air that hovers over the trees just out of sight over his railing. A lot has changed over the past week, a whirlwind of home visits from their teachers and...bigger things. The end of All Might.

Katsuki’s kidnapping.

He swallows those memories, though, locks them away in the corner of his mind he isn’t ready to touch. There’s too many things there right now, the imaginary box overfull. Not unlike the ones Katsuki can picture in every room of their dorms that mimic he and Kirishima’s own. The vivid image in his mind makes his heart ache; heavy. He’s tired of feeling like this, weighed down and like his mind is both racing and sluggish, sleep coming to him with fight in its eyes every night.

He’s tired...just, tired.

“Holy crap, bro! Look!”

Katsuki is both figuratively and literally knocked from his thoughts as Kirishima bounds on to the bed next to him, jostling them both around as he sits so close that Katsuki can feel their legs touch. That’s fine.

“It’s my favorite book from when I was a kid! I can’t believe this got in there somehow, I haven’t read or looked at it in years, I didn’t even know I still had it--”

“You’re starting to sound like Deku, asshole,” Katsuki interrupts.

Kirishima’s ears go a bit red at the tips, “Oh, right, sorry. Anyway,” he shoves the book into Katsuki’s hands, “it’s called ‘Mitzi’! It’s about this little mermaid girl and she’s super cool and loved by all her friends. She plays with the fish and finds buried treasure. Then she meets this sea serpent and he can’t sing, like at all, and Mitzi teaches him, but because he can’t sing all her friends don’t wanna hang out with her anymore with how bad he sounds.”

Katsuki runs a palm over the rough texture of the clearly well-loved book, the faded sea-green printed over with a fading image of the small mermaid in question. Sea kelp floats around her and Katsuki feels a laugh start to build in his chest.

“But then one day Mitzi gets in trouble and the sea serpent saves her! Then all the fish want to be their friends again, even if he still sings bad. Man...can’t believe how long it’s been since I read this…” Kirishima runs a finger down the spot where Katsuki’s hand had been moments before. It sends a shiver down Katsuki’s spine.

He clears his throat, “You’re telling me that your favorite book from when you were a kid was about a tiny, cute, mermaid?”

Katsuki looks up, more teasing on his tongue before it’s cut short with the utter look of soft fondness on Kirishima’s face. He nearly chokes as he swallows it down, meeting the redhead’s eyes dead on. Kirishima smiles, thin, delicate skin crinkling at the corners of his gaze and Katsuki momentarily forgets to breathe.

“Yea, man! I used to pretend I was a merman all summer long at the pool and the ocean. Me and my friends would goof off like that. Eventually I grew out of it, but you know I was the best merman there ever was!”

When Kirishima smiles like that, Katsuki doesn’t doubt it for one second. He feels just a little lighter, now, his own smile creeping onto his face. “Oh, yea? The manliest?”

Kirishima bumps his shoulder, smile softened just by an edge. It still reminds Katsuki of something entirely too bright. His eye shifts to the rapidly approaching sunset filtering in through clear glass to their right.

“Of course, I’ve been manly since day one!”

Katsuki doesn’t doubt it. When Kirishima lifts himself from the bed eventually, continuing on with his task of sorting through his things, Katsuki finds he doesn’t want to leave just yet. He grips the bare mattress beneath his fingers, feeling the polyester threads scrape against his nails. He takes a deep breath.

“You wanna know what my favorite book was as a kid?”

It’s hours before Katsuki gets back to his own room, the sun having set long ago. Usually the mess would bother him, the disorganization of boxes in his space keeping him from sleeping before he did something about it. But for once, he feels one box in his mind empty by a fraction, and instead accepts dreams of mermaids, and one merman colored red.

#reblogs encouraged #yes this book was one my faves as a kid #Mitzi the mermaid!#fluff #maybe a little pining?#my writing #kiribaku #krbk #mha fan fic #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #one shot #mermaid #merman

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shianhygge-imagines · 4 years

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Sundown 勿忘草 [Reno/Reader]{Final Fantasy VII} Episode 2

AN: Here’s the next part of Sundown Wasurenagusa! I’m sorry that I’ve been slow on posting any new story material! I had a bit of a writers’ block, and I’m still trying to work through it!

I had intended for this to be much longer, but I felt like this part was a good length to post. The first part of this ‘episode’ is going to be formatted weird because I can’t get Tumblr to format a text conversation in the way that I want.

If you like the content I create, please consider donating to my Ko-fi! Please help me feed my tea addiction!

|Masterlist Link|

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December 12

Reno {07:10}

[Good morning, sleeping beauty]

Me {08:30}

[Morning]

[Do you not need sleep?]

[You probably went to bed late last night]

[And while it truly does make my day to hear from you]

[Why? It’s so early ;.;]

Reno {08:40}

[Can you blame a guy for being eager to talk to you?]

[Lol, Sorry. I didn’t disturb you, did I?]

Me {08:59}

[>///<]

[No, you’re good. I gotta get up to get ready anyways.]

[Flatterer]

Reno {09:34}

[I mean, can you blame me? ;) ]

[So, I was thinking about taking you on a date outside of Midgar, but I realized that I should probably get your opinion on it first]

Me {10:01}

[I mean, that depends? How early do I have to get up on my day off? And how long will it take to get there?]

Reno {10:05}

[Um… well, it’s getting pretty chilly in Midgar, so I was thinking about taking you to Costa del Sol… beach date :P]

Me {10:30}

[…]

[Costa del Sol is pretty far, Reno…]

Reno {10:31}

[And?]

[I’ve got a way]

[Don’t sweat the details]

Me {10:32}

[You’re taking a company helicopter, aren’t you -.-]

Reno {10:33}

[Ack! You’ve figured out my master plan!]

Me {10:34}

[Are Turks even allowed to take company assets out for joy rides?]

Reno {10:35}

[ TT^TT I told you not to sweat the details!]

Me {10:40}

[I just don’t want you to get into any trouble.]

Reno {10:50}

[Awww, don’t worry about me.]

[You have a party to attend later, so do me a favor and have fun, okay?]

Me {11:03}

[That reminds me…]

Reno {11:05}

[??]

Me {11:11}

[bluedress.jpg sent]

(The image is of you in a sapphire blue dress, the sleeves long and neck high. The dress itself ends just below your knees)

[This dress?]

[reddress.jpg sent]

(The second image is of you in a backless ruby dress that ends just above the knee. There are no sleeves to this dress despite the fact that it has a high neck)

[Or this dress?]

Reno {11:13}

[…]

[Y/N]

Me {11:15}

[Reno]

[???]

Me {12:01}

[If I don’t look good in either of them, just be honest ;.;]

Reno {13:05}

[Gah! Sorry, I got pulled away for something]

[The red one. For sure]

Me {13:06}

[Just because red’s your color… >.>]

[I hope you’re okay, Reno ;.;]

Reno {13:15}

[Hey, first of all, remember what I said about red being your color?]

[I don’t lie, k?]

[But also, yeah. Also because it’s my color, you should wear it ;)]

[Do you have a sixth sense or something?]

[image.jpg]

(Opening up the image file gifts you with a selfie of Reno, looking minorly roughed up and being supported by an infrantryman. He looks like he’s by the old church that Aerith likes to visit. Despite needing to be supported by the infantryman, the red headed Turk’s winking and holding up a peace sign)

[Just a few minor bruises ;P I’ll be fine]

[Unless….]

[You want to kiss me better? ;)]

Me {13:30}

[… Well. I’m sorry for worrying (¬_¬) ]

Reno {13:45}

[Joking, joking! :D]

[All patched up]

Reno {14:07}

[Y/N?]

(´༎ຶོρ༎ຶོ`)

[I’m sorry.]

[Please talk to meeeeeee]

Me {14:00}

[image.jpg]

(It’s a picture of you in the red dress. Your hair is done up with an attractive amount of make up. You’re wearing a sensible set of black flats.)

[The party starts in an hour, so I might be answering my phone too often.]

[And Costa del Sol sounds perfect for tomorrow ;) I’ve got my outfit all picked out]

Reno {14:15}

[Uh, yeah, that’s gonna be your new contact photo]

[I’m picking you up earlier than we agreed so that we can have more time to relax in the sun]

[Duty calls. Have fun tonight, okay?]

Me {14:20}

[And what? My contact photo for you is going to be this?]

[screenshot.jpg]

(It’s a screenshot of your mobile phone screen. There’s an edit with a red arrow pointing directly at the photo icon for Reno’s contact…it’s the photo that he sent earlier except you’ve photoshopped cartoon ‘uwu’ eyes and added pink anime blush to his cheeks)

[And don’t worry, I’ll probably have enough fun for the both of us.]

[We’ll have fun tomorrow, be safe, okay?]

Reno {14:30}

[I’ll try ;) But if not, I’ll have you to take care of me.]

[Also? That picture?]

[P.E.R.F.E.C.T]

Me {18:30}

[Hope you’re safe!]

[Message me after work to let me know you’re okay!]

[image-2.jpg]

(It’s a group photo of you and your friends in silly poses)

Me {19:21}

[image-3.jpg]

(It’s a close up shot of a delicious plate of food)

[I should have brought you with me ;.;]

|You called Reno| 20:58

[Unable to leave voicemail]

December 13 - 08:21

The morning after the confrontation with AVALANCHE at the Sector 7 Pillar, one would expect the medical bay in Shinra HQ to be jam packed full of patients. There should have been a horde of doctors and nurses, running around to treat the injured infantryman and civilian survivors. But there were only two individuals in the med bay, Reno and Rude. When the plate fell, only a handful of infantryman were able to escape the chaos. Many were left behind to fend for themselves.

Despite surviving a helicopter crash and the brawl with Tifa, Barret, and Cloud, Rude only sustained a few bruises and minor bone fractures. He had been assigned bedrest after being treated by the doctors, but the weight of what he and his partner had been tasked to do twelve hours ago felt like an overwhelming burden. Needing something to keep his mind occupied, the taller of the iconic Turk duo simply engrossed himself in a novel that Elena had brought over during her visit.

On the bed beside Rude’s, Reno groaned in pain as he sat up, eyes still not open and alert as he raised a hand to press against his pounding head. “Gah, what the hell.” Reno’s face stung at the cheeks when his face scrunched up at the pain that seemed to come from every part of him. Even the act of sitting up proved too painful due to his newly broken ribs.

Rude watched his partner sink back into the sheets from his own medical bed, sunglasses on as was usual of him. He wondered how long it would take Reno to realize that it had been nearly twelve hours since they had dropped the plate. He also wondered when his sassy partner in crime would realize that he had a date this morning. Of course, Rude didn’t think you’d get angry at Reno for missing a date when he was hospitalized, but the taller of the iconic Turk pair knew that Reno would never forgive himself for skipping out on you.

While Rude watched, Reno allowed his body to collapse back into bed, an exhausted and pained groan escaping his lips as he want, arms flopping onto the bed as he fought to remember what had happened to land him in such a pitiful state.

Oh yeah…Rude and I went to Sector 7’s plate… and we fought blondie’s group of self righteous freedom fighters… and then…I blacked out. Cracking both eyes open, Reno furrowed his brows and turned his head to examine his surroundings. Med bay back at HQ… The red head swiveled in place to stare at Rude, “The mission….” He trailed off with a questioning tone.

His partner merely grunted, “We finished it and escaped.” Lacking in detail, but still straight to the point.

Sighing in relief that his work track record wouldn’t have a stain on it, Reno flopped back down, “Whooo…” The red head cheered sarcastically, pumping a fist without any energy or cheer behind it. Gah, and I promised Y/N that I’d be safe… Reno’s eyes snapped open and he bolted to a seating position with an alarmed cry, “Crap! Y/N! What time is it?” Shit, I gotta message her to let her know that I’m going to be running late! The Turk second in command thought as he pat down his person for his cell phone.

When he couldn’t find it, Reno turned to his partner, who gestured towards the bedside table. “It was damaged during our fight with AVALANCHE, but it should still be working.”

Not paying any attention to the fact that he was now bleeding through the bandages wrapped around his abdomen, Reno grinned, “Whooo boy! Partner, you’re a life saver!”

The sheer amount of relief within Reno voice made Rude stop and stare at his partner. Hmm… maybe Reno’s serious about her after all.

Meanwhile, Reno quickly unlocked his phone screen, ignoring the fact that the glass display seemed shattered beyond repair. When he pulled up the chat room that he shared with Y/N, Reno cursed, “Five missed messages and one missed call.” Quickly reading through the text messages, and smiling at how much fun you were having at the party, Reno tapped out a quick message in reply to you before listening to the voicemail that you had left.

Yesterday

Y/N {19:21}

[image-3.jpg]

(Reno’s mouth watered at the sight of the food in the picture)

[I should have brought you with me ;.;]

|Missed call from Y/N| 20:58

[Click to listen to voicemail]

Today - December 13

Me {08:43}

[Gah, sorry Y/N, I may have bit off more than I could chew yesterday.]

[I just woke up in the med bay at HQ]

[I’m going to be a little late picking you up]

[And I’m a little roughed up]

[But nothing is stopping me from taking you on our date!]

[See you in an hour?]

When Reno lifted his damaged cell phone to listen to the voicemail that you had left him, the only sound that reached his ears was an error notification that the voice recording app had failed. “I’m sorry, but the voicemail recording that you wish to listen to failed to load properly. Please quite all applications before trying again. If the problem still persists, please contact Shinra Mobile’s technical support service to resolve this issue.” The phone recording informed Reno, pleasantly.

Knowing from experience that getting through to technical support at the current hour was next to impossible, Reno merely tapped out another message.

Me {08:47}

[Hey, the voicemail that you sent to me didn’t go through.]

[What was it about?]

Satisfied with the messages that he’d sent out, Reno shifted to get out of bed, an excited grin on his lips. “Welp! Time to get going! Got a wonderful day off with a gorgeous gal!”

Sighing, Rude lowered the novel to look in his partner’s direction. “Your date with Y/N?” When Reno only gave a sassy shrug in reply, Rude shook his head, “Just remember, you’re still injured.”

“Will do, partner!” Reno saluted the older man before dashing out of the med bay, dodging the nurses swiftly as he made his way to the elevators, itching to get back to the Turk dorms to change into something that would help him blend into the slum crowds of Sector 5. On his way to his room, the red headed Turk would raise his phone to check for any new messages, lowering it in disappointment every time there was no response.

“That’s weird, normally she responds by now.” Reno mused, sending out another quick text once he’d changed into dark jeans, a red hoodie, and a dark beige trucker jacket.

Me {09:12}

[I’m on my way to your place now.]

[Are you awake?]

Around twenty minutes later, on the helicopter ride down to the Sector 5 slums, Reno furrowed his brows and bit the inside of his lip when you didn’t respond again.

Me {09:32}

[Y/N?]

[Please answer.]

[I’m on a helicopter down now]

[Message back. I’m getting worried.]

When there is still no response, Reno taps on your contact and brings the phone up to his ear, trying to call you.

“Hey, this is Y/N. I’m probably away from the phone right now, so leave a message, and I’ll call you back as soon as possible.”

Straight to voicemail.

Something wasn’t right, and Reno could feel it in his bones.

When the helicopter started to land in the Shinra barracks, Reno didn’t even wait for the helicopter to fully land before jumping out of the aerial vehicle, landing solidly before taking off in a sprint towards your apartment.

She’s not answer any of the text messages… Did she lose her phone last night? Did she accidentally break it?… Did she find out what I did yesterday? Is she ignoring me?

The worries and thoughts that raced through Reno’s mind became more and more self-depricating as he neared entered the main town area and brushed past the crowds of people gathered in the streets. I know I said it was too late to grow a conscious, but damn it, please don’t let this be the reason she decides that she doesn’t want me around.

All but flying up the metal steps to your apartment, Reno starts to bang on your front door, calling your name in the meanwhile. “Y/N!” Bang bang bang “It’s Reno!” Bang bang bang “You weren’t answering your phone. Are you ready to go?” It took another few minutes of knocking before Reno head a door open below and slow footsteps ascend the metal stairwell.

Turning and expecting to see you standing there, Reno’s shoulders visibly slumped when he came face to face with a tiny old lady. “Oh, uh. Sorry for causing a disturbance.”

“Are you looking for Y/N, young man?” The old woman inquired, tilting her head to look up at Reno through friendly old eyes.

Feeling as if he was being judged by the elderly woman, Reno stood ramrod straight and nodded, clearing his throat, “Uh, yeah. We had plans for today.”

The old woman nodded sagely, “I see, I see. Ah, to be young again. I’m sorry to disappoint you, young man, but Y/N hasn’t been home since yesterday afternoon. I think she’s still at her friend’s home.”

The first traces of alarm flashed through Reno’s head, and suddenly his Turk persona was back, “Do you happen to know where her friend lives, ma’am?”

The old woman shook her head, “I only know that dear Selene doesn’t live in Sector 5. I’m sorry, young man.”

Suddenly jittery, Reno only nods and descends the metal staircase again, “Thanks for the help. I should get going.”

Reno doesn’t hear the old woman’s reply because he’s sprinting back towards the Shinra barracks, ears ringing and vision narrowed as he contacts a friend in Shinra’s tech department for help tracking down your cell phone’s location and retrieving the voicemail you’d left him. And while his friend works on it, Reno decided to change into a clean set of his uniform, mind suddenly kicked into overdrive as he tries to recall where you said your friend’s party was.

Gah, Reno… you pay attention to everything else she says, but you can’t figure out where her friend Selene lives? Some Turk you are! Reno scolds himself as he paces back and forth in Y/N’s office, somehow trying to find comfort in familiar surroundings. Damnit, think! What has she mentioned in the past about her friends. I only remember her talking about living in Sector 7 for a whi- Reno pauses in his steps as dread begins to pool in his stomach. “No.” He doesn’t want to entertain the possibility that you had gone to a party at your childhood sector the same night that he was tasked with dropping the plate on top of hundreds. But the more that Reno thinks about it, the more likely the possibility is, and he sinks to his knees in the middle of your office, eyes wide with horror and denial. “No… I refuse to believe it. Gotta wait for-”

His phone chimes with a notification.

Pulling out his phone as fast as possible without fumbling the already hazardously damaged device, Reno unlocks the screen, only to see that a voice file had been sent to him along with tracking coordinates.

Clicking on the voicemail and tracker, Reno’s frown deepens and his face pales as he stares at the map of Sector 7 Slums with a red dot in the center of it, the sounds of your final message to him playing in the background.

No.

The voice recording loops until Reno regains his bearings, body shaking and eyes burning as his ears pick up the sounds of explosions in the background, of your sobs as you fought to leave a last message for the man who had thoughtlessly killed you, and of your fear and acceptance that you wouldn’t live past that moment. The phone slips from his hands and clatters to the floor as Reno’s fingers go slack. “No… I didn’t… Y/N…” A strangled sob escapes Reno’s lips as he raises a hand to grip onto his hair, trying to maintain his composure, “I didn’t mean to… If I’d known, I would have…” The Turk second in command paused and hunched in on himself, not caring if anyone could see him through the glass walls of your office.

M-maybe she left her phone behind when she ran? But… if she’s not there, then where would she have gone if not home?

There weren’t any excuses or any other reason he could come up with. Reno knew that. If he had known beforehand that you would be in Sector 7 Slums, he would have warned you, but you would have tried to evacuate as many people as possible from that sector, and AVALANCHE might have managed to leave, therefore ending in a failed mission. He would have done everything he could to make sure you stayed away from Sector 7, but in the end, he’d still go through with the mission.

“I killed her.” Reno sobbed in realization, biting his bottom lip so hard that he tasted copper, “Just like I killed all those people.” Shaking his head, inconsolable, Reno could only mourn quietly. “I’m just the worst. This is karma for all the shit things I did in life, isn’t it?”

Eyes dulled and slightly puffy, Reno hastily wiped at his face and sat down with his back against your desk, his phone ringing with notifications as Tseng and Rude sent him requests for ‘status’ updates. And the Turk second in command ignored his colleagues, eyes staring into nothingness as he wreaked his brain for what to do next.

I really was looking forward to the date. Reno’s thoughts trailed off, It’s sappy as hell, but I wanted to ask her to be my girlfriend. Tseng said that relationships for Turks never ended well, citing Veld as an example, but… gah! This is the worst situation for Tseng to be right!

It was only the early afternoon… maybe he could start a search party for survivors… it was probably too late, but Reno knew that he had to do something to look for you. With renewed purpose, Reno got to his feet and marched out of your office, blue eyes burning with fiery determination as he hung onto the faint hope that you might have survived.

December 13 - 12:13

You groaned in pain and shifted your body, eyes cracking open to be met with blinding industrial lights. The pain from the glaring lights startled you into closing your eyes again, turning until your body was facing away from them. For a moment, you wondered why you were laying on some sort of weird metallic floor instead of your soft bed, and then the memories of a falling sky sent your eyes flying back open as you took in your surroundings.

The floor was indeed cold and metallic because it looked as if you’d woken up in a maintenance passage. Despite most maintenance passages usually being dimly lit, the one you found yourself lying in was lit from both of the walls. The ceiling above your face had a hole in it, though it was covered with metal and concrete chunks. You assumed, as you clambered to your feet, that you’d fallen through that hole and rolled a few feet away due to the pile of rubble directly beneath the hole. Wincing slightly, you poked and prodded your person for bruises, broken bones, or fractures. Slightly satisfied with just a few small skin lesions, bruises, and maybe a fractured rib, you patted yourself down for your mobile phone, hoping to call for help. Frowning, you found that you did not have your cell phone on you, nor was it anywhere on the floor near you.

Since you hadn’t expected to live through a plate falling on top of you, you could only look on the bright side of things, turning to walk down the metal tunnel with determination set on your face. I didn’t almost die from a plate falling just to give up in an empty tunnel. Plus, a fond smile appeared on your face, I have a date waiting for me when I get back topside.

It seemed pretty simple to you. You’d falling who knows how far down, but you knew for sure that the way out was up. So the only thing to do was to keep walking until you found a passage up. Easy peasy.

December 13 - 15:35

There’s a fierce snarl on Reno’s face as he stands by several parked helicopters. All around him, emergency responders and Shinra infantrymen scrambled to load up supplies and equipment. The dark look on the normally sassy, easy-going Turk’s face seemed like a literal beacon for anyone not bearing good news to stay the away. Though, if some of the troops were to be honest, Reno had very good reason to be irate. The Turk second in command had called in an emergency rescue operation for survivors trapped among the plate wreckage nearly three and a half hours ago, and they were only just beginning to start the rescue operation.

After Tseng, the Turk commander, had authorized the mission to rescue anyone buried under the rubble, the mission had quickly been side-tracked by Shinra executives Scarlet and Heideggar. Scarlet had protested against the operation simply because of the notion that dogs living in the slums were of no use to Shinra, and therefore, the mission was a waste of resources. Heideggar, meanwhile, had agreed that while in times of disaster, Shinra’s army bore the responsibility of launching operations to rescue civilians affected, the members of AVALANCHE were widely unknown and could easily disguise themselves as regular civilians.

It took nearly two hours of careful negotiations and subtle ego inflating by Tseng and Reeve, before both executives agreed to support the relief effort. Viewing it as a strategic move to improve public opinion of the Shinra Company, President Shinra gave little to no resistance when Tseng forwarded the mission brief to be sanctioned.

Now, an hour after the mission was sanctioned, Reno felt the beginnings of a headache forming as he directed the flow of supplies to each helicopter before making sure that there were rotations of supplies and emergency responders that would journey to and from the wreckage of Sector 7 once he landed with the first round of helicopters.

When he had deemed all in good order to head out, Reno sighed and hopped into the helicopter cockpit, buckling himself in to the pilot’s seat. Plopping the headset on while he waited for the rest of the crew to load up into the helicopter, Reno busied himself with flipping switches to make sure that pre-flight and the ride down to Sector 7 would be as smooth as possible. When his co-pilot buckled himself in and gave Reno the thumbs up, the red headed Turk spoke as clearly and seriously as he could into the mic. “Alright guys and gals in all active units, hope you’re all buckled up with headsets on because I sure as hell will not be repeating this briefing.” After a brief pause, Reno continued to speak while directing the helicopter off the platform. “You all probably heard about what happened yesterday. The official reports from HQ state that AVALANCHE launched an attack to compromise Sector 7’s plate pillar. Despite all efforts directed to stop the terrorist attack, the plate still fell. Our job is to go down to the disaster zone to provide relief to all affected civilians. We will also be launching search and rescue operations for survivors.” Reno paused once more as helicopter gained enough air to safely fly out of the landing zone. “I’m gonna be real with you all. Someone important to me was in Sector 7’s Slums when the plate fell and I’m going to try my damnest to look for her. So if any of you fuck this up… not gonna lie, I’m gonna be pissed.” Nobody replied to Reno’s admittance… not that he really expected much of a reply after he dropped that bomb on them. Having enough of the silence, Reno exhaled, “Alright… good talk.”

December 13 - 16:03

It wasn’t easy peasy. Definitely fucking not.

The chrome walkways and exposed piping-lined maintenance passage that you had fallen into hadn’t been a simple few meters under the surface as you thought. No. It’s was more like several meters down with a layer of minor blocked off passageways right above. And, as if that weren’t terrible already? The maze of pathways that made up the layer above seemed to take joy in bringing you up a level, just to drop you back down a level because some asshole decided to seal off the passages at various points.

Your eye twitched in annoyance when you walked down a metal walkway only to be face to face with another fenced off passage lined with reinforced plating. To your surprise, you could see a man stumble around the corner of the opposite side. When you saw one another, your eyes widened. “Holy shit!” The man gasped, stumbling forward with a noticeable limp and sliced up arm. “I didn’t think there’d be another person down here!”

“This place is like a maze, so I’m not surprised that any survivors had yet to meet up. A-are… are you okay?” The blood leaking from the deep scratches in his left arm seemed to ooze a poisonous purple color.

The stranger bit his bottom lip as he hastily hid his injury, “Yeah… I’ll be fine. Listen, girl, you should watch out while down here. I think the rumors about the underground lab were true after all. There are monsters running around everywhere.” Your expression must have been one of utter dismay and despair because the man coughed and reached into his pocket to roll two materia under the fence. “Uh. Shit. Well, it looks like you could use these then. It’s a Cura and a Fira. Hopefully you won’t need it, but it’s better to be safe than sorry. Anyways, I hope you make it out of here, girl. I gotta keep looking for other AVALANCHE survivors.”

When the man made to jog away, you called out to him, “Wait! You said that you’re looking for AVALANCHE members? Are you one of them? Do you know what happened?” You pressed yourself against the fence in order to see the stranger from around the corner.

The stranger turned around to stare at you with a grim expression. “Whatever you’re thinking, AVALANCHE didn’t cause this, okay? We were framed by Shinra.” At your confused expression, the man scoffed, “C’mon, you really think that Shinra was going to let civilians protest and riot against them? They couldn’t figure out who was a member and who wasn’t, so they figured they’d drop the entire plate on top of us to get rid of us all.”

“But that’s such a drastic move!” You protested, wanting to believe that your employers wouldn’t have such blatant disregard for human life. “They wouldn’t just sacrifice thousands to eliminate AVALANCHE!”

“Believe what you want, girl. But the reality is that my friends and I all went to the pillar to stop Shinra from dropping the plate, and it dropped anyways because two Turks were sent to finish the job.” The stranger didn’t allow you to retort as he limped away. Not that you would have responded anyways with how the stranger had said that two Turks had arrived to help ensure that the Sector 7 plate dropped.

Pulling away from the fence, you knelt down to pick up the two orbs of materia, the color of your skin taking on a sickly pale pallor. Two Turks were sent to the pillar to drop the plate on top of all of us. Your mind instantly supplied the first Turk pair that you could think of and you felt like you were going to dry heave. I don’t know Rude too well, but from what I know, he and Reno wouldn’t do something so horrendous. Surely, there must have been another pair of Turks who were sent to do it. But you did work in a different department as them, how did you know that there were more members of the Turks? And with Reno’s position within the group… He could have known what was happening…

You told Reno that you would be hanging out with your best friend… that you guys were having a party. He’s smart enough to deduce that your friends still lived in Sector 7… Did he forget? Or… Your stomach churned violently as you sank to your knees on the cold metal walkway. Did Reno just decide he didn’t care if I survived or not?

The edge of your vision burned with tears threatening to spill down your cheeks. A simple blink sent them trailing down your cheeks as you stood upon shaky legs. “Can’t worry about that now.” You muttered, eyes filled with determination as you gathered the excess fabric of your dress to gird up your loins. “I need to find a way out of here. The tunnels might not be able to hold for long.”

Lifting your arm, you pressed one of the materia into your forearm, like you’d seen a few SOLDIERs do before, marveling at how the orb of power sank into the flesh of your arm. Smiling at how seamless it was to merge flesh with Materia, you pressed the other faintly glowing orb into your other forearm, concentrating for a bit before casting Cura upon yourself.

Newly rejuvenated, you back tracked through the metal corridor to find the ladder leading down. “Welp, there’s no time like the present,” you mumbled to yourself as you descended further into the tunnels below.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#shian imagines #final fantasy vii #Final Fantasy 7 #ffvii #ffviir #final fantasy vii remake #ffvii:remake #reno #reno x reader #final fantasy vii reno

104 notes · View notes

docgorpywrites · 5 years

Text

God had Flowers in His Hair

They lay, the pair of them, in a small patch of wildflowers far away from the doctor's mansion, across the creek on a rowboat and up a hill behind a smattering of trees and a large boulder. As far away from prying eyes as they could muster.

Merriell was lazily picking the petals off a flower, the stems of those he had finished with lay on his exposed stomach. His shirt was open and on his chest formed beads of sweat. It was a hot summer afternoon in the middle of July. A cigarette hung limply from his mouth, the ash was getting long, almost threatening to drop down onto him and burn his skin. He continued his work.

Eugene lay beside him, puffing on his pipe. His mouth was full of smoke as he warned Merriell about the blister he could get if he didn't flick the ash off his cigarette properly. Merriell, being very much himself, ignored him. Eugene took it upon himself to remove the cigarette from his mouth and stub it against the boulder.

"Light me anotha, will ya, Sledge," was all Merriell murmured back.

Eugene scoffed, but obeyed all the same, he took a pack of cigarettes from his breast pocket. He didn't even know why he still had them on him when he already had his pipe, but looking towards the man on his left, he remembered. He took one in his mouth and lit it. He brought the lit smoke to Merriell's own mouth and the man hummed in appreciation.

"What'cha doin' anyway?" Eugene finally asked.

"Countin' Japs," was the curt reply. Eugene raised a brow, looking Merriell square in the face, to which he just laughed. "I'm kiddin', don't worry ya pretty lil' head none, boo."

"If you say so." Eugene knew better than to probe him any further. Sometimes Merriell did things for no reason at all.

He got off his elbows and sunk back into the wildflowers. The sun burned his eyes so he shut them, his shirt stuck to his chest so he opened it up. The relief it brought made him comfortable enough to fall asleep.

He was woken up, minutes later, by a heavy load on his stomach. He almost threw whatever it was that was on top of him into the boulder behind him in defense. His eyes adjusted, thankfully, before he could even get a strong enough grip on Merriell's shirt. Eugene squinted up at him, rays of the sun streamed past him through his hair and the thin material of his shirt.

"The fuck's a'matter with you, Snaf? Tryin' to give me a heart attack?"

Merriell reached wordlessly with both hands into his pockets and let loose a flurry of flower petals down onto Eugene's wild-eyed face. Eugene's gaze softened at this, but his confusion still stitched his brow up into furrows. A petal landed on his lips and Merriell leaned down to blow it away, with his breath came out the smoke from his cigarette. A kiss was planted firmly onto his lips. Eugene felt his blood rush to his ears, his hold on Merriell's shirt tightened. Merriell lifted himself off of Eugene, breaking the kiss abruptly.

"You sure know how to rile me up, don'tcha?" Eugene laughed up at him.

Merriell stared into his eyes, not smiling back, not bothering to close his mouth either, huffing. "Sorry, just checkin'."

Eugene's smile faded, "For what?"

"Checkin' to see if you're the real thing, is all."

Eugene collided up into him and switched their positions, now he was the one on top, his legs to the side and his arms resting on the grass at either side of Merriell's shoulders. Flower petals swirled around them, some of them still stuck in Eugene's hair. "'Course I'm real, the hell you on about?"

"How can I even begin to believe that, what with ya sittin' there all pretty lookin' with flowers in your hair." Merriell finally laughed, gazing up at Eugene like he was some kind of god. Maybe he was.

It had taken Merriell half of spring to find a Eugene Sledge in Mobile, Alabama. He had set out one April morning, once he had gathered enough money for the train fare. Being a war veteran did little for him by way of financial supplementation. He had regretted leaving Eugene on the train home the moment he woke up, barely the next day, and Eugene wasn't there to comfort him while he suffered from a particularly excruciating bout of the shakes. He sat there, shell shocked, as copious amounts of sweat dripped down from his brow. His bed was wet with sweat and tears, and everytime he tried to close his eyes, he was in hell again. That was it, he looked for a job that same day and didn't stop working until he had enough money for a trip to Mobile.

Merriell found Eugene at the end of May, showing up at the Sledge Household right before Memorial day. Eugene had answered the door with dirty hands and equally dirty denim overalls. He was wiping his face off with a lace handkerchief, laughing, "I'll get it, ma!" He had yelled into the foyer.

They both stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity, until Merriell broke the silence.

"Sledgehamma."

"Snaf—" Eugene's voice cracked and he took a second to clear his throat, "—what brings you?" He finally managed.

"Sleep." Merriell answered honestly. "Haven't been gettin' any since."

Eugene looked fixedly at him before confessing, "Me neither."

Merriell hadn't left since. The good doctor and

Missus Sledge were kind enough to put him up in the best guest room in the house. 'Anything for a war veteran and a good friend o' Gene's.' But the guest room was barely used. They spent the summer sneaking around at night so they could sleep in one bed, it was the only way they could get a good night's sleep. This arrangement brought to light several unanswered questions that had arose during their run in the war, and after, for that matter, when they served together in China. There was always something between them, but the brutality of war and the general stigma around such a relationship between two men—two Marines at that, left little for those questions to be answered. Now, they had all the time in the world, and nobody to judge them but themselves.

When Merriell settled down from his laughter, Eugene leaned in for another kiss. He was blushing by the time he pulled away, just one thought ricocheting around in his head.

"Marry me." It had slipped out of Eugene's mouth like butter on a hot pan, but he wasn't ashamed.

Merriell simply looked up at him, a ghost of a smile on his lips, the corners of his shocked open mouth twitching up. There was happiness along with reluctance in the way Merriell stared at him, not really knowing what to say. Eugene was red from the tips of his ears all the way down to his chest, and was searching Merriell's eyes for an answer.

"O'course," he finally got out, "but how? Ain't no pastor or preacher a thousand miles from here gonna marry us. Especially not in the South."

Eugene couldn't help but kiss him again, more deeply and more fervently this time, nearly crushing his face between his hands. Merriell hung on for dear life, tangling his tan fingers up in Eugene's copper hair. They parted, and Eugene smiled down fondly at him, brushing a flower petal stuck to Merriell's forehead away.

"Oh, we'll find a way. We always do."

They got married one cold autumn morning, a week before Eugene's birthday. He regarded it as the best birthday present he'd ever gotten, since Deacon anyway. Eugene knew a former soldier up in Washington County who had become a preacher man. He had fought in the war with Edward Sledge Jr. and was more than willing to officiate the wedding. It was not legal in any sense of the word, but the papers they signed and the small, beautiful ceremony (with Dr. and Mrs. Sledge, Edward, and Sidney Phillips in attendance), made it real enough for the both of them.

The attendance of Eugene's folks was not achieved without screaming and crying and maybe a bit of roughing up, however. When Eugene told his parents, he put his mother first, to break the ice. Lord, how she cried. But she admitted nonetheless that she had had an inkling about his preferences as she watched him growing up. Eugene held her in his arms after she finally gave them her tight-lipped blessing. If her son was happy, she would be happy.

His father was another story. Doctor Sledge was not a violent man by any means, he had never lifted a hand on Eugene in all his twenty-two years, except on that day when his son had told him that he was going to marry a man. Eugene had earned himself a heavy slap to the cheek, which surprised him. Not because of the pain or the fact that his father had hit him, but because he had expected more. It might have been the fact that he had spent the previous years being thrown around violently across numerous battlefields, by explosions booming left and right. Regardless, Eugene didn't retaliate, he merely touched the back of his fist to his stinging cheek and apologized to his father. The good doctor had gripped the edge of his desk, white-knuckled and red-faced, breathing through his nose and restraining himself.

"Father," Eugene had pleaded with him. "I love him."

His father bristled at his words, but then relaxed after a few moments of bated breath for Eugene. Doctor Sledge turned to face his son, and finally offered his hand to him, much in the same way Eugene had offered his own when his father finally allowed him to go to war. Eugene saw tears in his father's eyes, took his extended hand and pulled his father in for a loving embrace, the first since he was a boy. His father had whispered over Eugene's shoulder that he was proud of the man he had become, and that he deserved to be happy, however and with whomever he pleased.

Edward and Sidney couldn't care less, and were just happy for him. But of course, their general acceptance and congratulations did not come without the standard issue, run-of-the-mill teasing that came with being military servicemen. Edward had quipped, "I'm fine with it as long as you lemme be your maid of honor."

Not one to be outdone, Sid had contributed, "I for one, would like to be one o' them pretty little flower girls."

As happy as Eugene was with how generally well-received his news had been, Merriell was not as lucky. Letters he had sent home to Louisiana about the announcement (not without much coaxing from Eugene and his mother), had gone unreplied, not even an angry letter back, which Merriell had first anticipated. In the end, with a tone of surprise from everybody who was there to witness it, Doctor Sledge had stood up from his place on the large armchair in the living room, poured three glasses of the finest scotch he owned, passed them around, and said to Merriell, "I'll give you away, son."

The two young men, hardened from war, stood there, reduced to a sobbing mess, embracing each other, embracing Eugene's father, to which the old man just chuckled jovially at. Merriell was so bold as to even plant the tiniest bud of a kiss on Doctor Sledge's cheek, which was received by Doctor Sledge with a reddening of his face. The tips of his ears had flared up, and Merriell suddenly knew where Eugene inherited his easily flushed complexion.

The day finally came, Merriell was all gussied up in his dress blues, Eugene had donned a simple but handsome suit, making good on his promise to himself not to wear a uniform ever again. Merriell had put flowers in Eugene's hair, just like the day he proposed. Everything was good and beautiful and wonderful and finally right in the world, and Merriell would never lose sleep again.

#sledgefu #eugene sledge #snafu shelton #merriell shelton #sledge x snafu #the pacific fanfiction #the pacific #hbowar #docgorpywrites

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wishingforatypewriter · 5 years

Text

A Tale of Two Friend Groups (Part 1)

Summary: Souma and Megumi arrive at the first rough patch in their relationship (Note: This is also chapter 6 of Between Us)

It was the end of the work week for Tadokoro Megumi. After five days of manning the kitchen at the Ritz Carlton on Central Park, she could finally attend to the tasks that meant the most to her—watering the fire-escape vegetable garden, writing letters to her family back in Tohoku.

But the most important item on Megumi’s to-do list was planning Fumio-san’s 85th birthday celebration. For weeks now, she had spent her days off phoning and emailing Polar Star alums from over thirty Totsuki generations. She had even gotten the likes of Doujima Gin and Ebisawa Reiko to RSVP yes.

Upon entering her apartment, Megumi noticed two things amiss. The leaves of her pepper plant needed trimming, and there was a stranger helping herself to tea on the living room couch.

“U-um, excuse me,” Megumi said as she approached the woman, torn between calling the police and offering her some dorayaki to go with her tea. “Who are you?”

“Oh.” The woman, dressed in a smart business suit, looked startled. She fumbled through her purse for an ornate looking envelope. “Pardon my intrusion! My name is Michelle. I work at the WGO office here in Manhattan.”

“I see,” Megumi said, nodding warily. “I wasn’t aware your organization was here as well.”

“How naive, Miss Tadokoro,” Michelle said with an airy laugh. “It’s natural that the WGO would have a firm presence in any place where magnificent food is being served.”

Off the top of her head, Megumi could think about a thousand places―starting with her hometown—that served happy customers beyond the WGO’s sphere of influence, but decided to save her retorts for more pressing matters. “May I ask what you’re doing in my home?”

“Ah, right. My supervisor is on the selection committee for the World Culinary Conference, and he asked me to deliver this invitation to Chef Yukihira.”

Megumi did all she could to keep her mouth from hanging ajar. The World Culinary Conference was a networking opportunity meant to connect rising stars to the gourmet world’s super elite. Less than ten percent of Totsuki graduates ever earned an invitation, and even fewer did so as young alumni.

“That’s amazing!” she said, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “He’ll be so excited.”

“Excellent. I’ll entrust this to you, then,” the WGO underling said before handing Megumi the envelope and standing to take her leave. “Thanks for the tea.”

“Um, before you go...how exactly did you get in here?” Megumi asked.

The woman smirked at the question. “The WGO knows no barriers,” she explained before letting herself out.

When Souma came home from work that evening, just as Megumi was putting the finishing touches on dinner, the first thing he did was come over and start kissing her. Megumi smiled into it, almost forgetting the monkfish stew on the stove and the WGO envelope resting on the coffee table.

“Mail came for you today,” she said once they parted, trying her best to sound neutral. She didn’t want to risk ruining the surprise.

He didn’t end up opening it until close to midnight, after they had eaten dinner and made love and traded stories about the day’s kitchen mishaps and hard to please customers. It was one of those lazy, chilling-in-pjs evenings that she’d become protective of, given their increasingly demanding work schedules.

When he finally got around to pulling out the invitation letter, Megumi’s chest began to ache with a breath she didn’t quite notice she’d been holding. She admonished herself silently as she sat on her side of the bed, watching him.

“This is insane!” He turned towards her with those bright eyes, that full grin. “I got into the WCC.” Then he must have read something in her expression, or lack thereof. “Did you already know?”

Megumi smiled sheepishly. “A WGO agent came to hand deliver it earlier this evening,” she explained, before leaning over to peck his cheek. “Congratulations. I know how hard you’ve worked for this.”

“Thanks, Megumi.” Souma scratched the back of his head in that shy way he did whenever she praised him like this.

She kissed his neck a few times before glancing down at the letter. “So what are the details?”

“It’s going to be in Amsterdam this year,” he said. “Next month, on the weekend of the fourth.”

“Oh.” Megumi’s brow furrowed when she heard the date.

“What’s the matter?”

“Oh, nothing,” she said. Well, it wasn’t nothing. “It’s just...that’s the weekend of Fumio-san’s party.” She knew the dorm mother and all their friends from the Polar Star were excited to see them. It would have been the first time all of them got together since graduation. “But this is more important. You should definitely go.”

In the weeks leading up to the conference, Megumi would wish that she hadn’t seen the relief on his face as she excused him—that he hadn’t agreed to abandon their joint commitment quite so quickly.

She hated herself for the twinge of frustration that rose within her whenever he brought it up in conversation—I wonder who the speaker is? You think Nakiri and Hayama are gonna be there too?— as the act of resenting her significant other for doing something she literally told him to do smacked of a type of pettiness she hadn’t thought herself capable of.

The morning they rode the rickety A train out to JFK, prepared to fly out of different terminals, Megumi still nursed a belief that he would change his mind and return to Japan with her. He had always been able to read her mind before, to know what she wanted.

But after he walked her to her airline’s check-in, he didn’t buy another ticket. He just kissed the top of her head and asked her to call when she landed.

Then, Megumi speculated as she boarded her economy class flight, he probably went up to the first class lounge all WCC attendees enjoyed and drank top shelf bourbon and reviewed the restaurant proposal he’d been crafting after hours.

He probably didn’t think twice.

The conference hotel in Amsterdam was right on the water, and just as he was checking in, Souma saw none other than Nakiri Alice stepping down from a luxury yacht.

She marched into the lobby wearing oversized sunglasses and an all white pantsuit. In the past several months, Deconstruct Denmark had become a runaway success, and it definitely showed in the way the Nakiri heiress carried herself.

Alice gave a small wave when she noticed Souma. “There you are, Yukihira! I was hoping I’d be able to give you the itinerary.”

Souma gestured to the packet of conference materials he’d picked up at the reception desk. “You mean these?”

Alice laughed a bit. “Oh, no. I mean the social itinerary. It wasn’t easy, but I was able to find out who from Totsuki got invited to this thing. The whole squad is coming.”

“Wait, which squad?” While they were in school, there had been an incredibly large friend group that fissioned off into subgroups as needed.

“Labcoat Trio, plus you, Erina, and Hisako,” she explained. “That’s it from our year, but Isshiki, Kinokuni, Tsukasa, Kobayashi, Saito, and Momo all got invites too. Anyway, we’re all going out tonight after the opening ceremonies. It’s been way too long since we’ve had a rager.”

Souma considered this for a minute. Something about treating this trip too much like a vacation made him uneasy. “I don’t know. I mostly came here to pitch my restaurant idea.”

Alice chuckled a bit. “I see that Erina’s gotten to you. But where do you think you’re really going to get to know potential investors? In this world, you gotta work hard and play hard.”

Souma smirked a bit. “I’ll think about it.”

“Nothing to think about,” Alice replied. “I’ll see you tonight.”

A nostalgic feeling came over Megumi as she stood in the kitchen of the Polar Star dorm and cooked alongside Yuki and Ryoko. They had come downstairs early, before six, so all the food would be ready by the time guests started to arrive.

“I’m surprised you’re up so early, Yuki,” Ryoko teased, and Megumi laughed. Back in high school, Yoshino Yuki could always be counted on to sleep until noon.

The brown haired woman merely shrugged. “My sleep schedule has been all over the place since I started working on the cruise ship. Besides, Alice has been posting about the WCC and I literally can’t stop watching.”

“Isn’t it just a bunch of talks and business deals?” Ryoko asked with a shrug.

“Um, no!” Yuki turned her phone so her friends could see the Instagram photos herself. “At least not at night, anyway.”

“Oh wow,” Ryoko said. “They’re basically just club hopping at this point.”

“Right! I’m so jealous!” Yuki whined.

Megumi didn’t exactly want to look, but she did anyway. And when she saw the pictures of her boyfriend popping champagne in a smoky nightclub with Alice and company, she couldn’t help but roll her eyes.

Lovely priorities.

“What’s the matter, Megumi?” Ryoko asked.

“Nothing.” But she kept scrolling, and the more she saw, the more this new frustration mounted. She stopped at an image of the six of them clustered around a table lined end to end with tequila shots—Souma next to Erina, probably daring her to take another.

She sighed, handed the phone back to Yuki, and resumed making her onigiri, squeezing the rice a bit more tightly than necessary.

“It’s okay if you’re a little angry with him,” Ryoko said with a knowing smile. “It’s perfectly normal.”

“Why would I be mad?” Megumi asked. “It’s a great opportunity.”

“But he already had plans with you.”

The executive chef shrugged, noting how much tension in her shoulders she had to push through in order to do so. “No one gets invited to that kind of event and doesn’t go.”

“Well, Isshiki-senpai didn’t go,” Yuki chimed in. “Personally, I think he’s insane for passing up the invite, but he said Fumio-san will only turn 85 once.”

“So it is possible, then,” Megumi said, mostly to herself. That was something. “We should probably get started on the cake.”

#shokugeki no soma #soumegu #sorina #soueri #between us #on casual commitments #love is complicated

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pjbehindthesun · 6 years

Text

chapter 24: slow thaws and cold showers

Sunday, November 4th, 1990

“Think you can make it, or do you want me to carry you over the threshold?”

“I got it, thanks,” I mutter to Alex’s stupid smirking face as I drag myself past him and into our apartment, unable to catch my breath to save my own life.

“You sure? You said that at mile two, too, right before you dry-heaved into the Sound…”

“Guess I’m just out of shape.” I ease my shoes off and pour myself into a gross, sweaty puddle on the couch.

“No shit, Sherlock, I guess you need me to leave you in my dust a little more often, give you something to aspire to.” He flexes his arms, where muscles would be if he wasn’t such a string bean, and I’ve officially hit my limit for his smart-ass commentary.

“God, okay, you know what? Just shut the fuck up, you’re not helping.” Alex stops cackling in a hurry at my tone, fixing me with an icy stare.

“What crawled up your ass, Cora? It was just a joke.”

Jokes aren’t funny if you’re the only one laughing, you self-involved asshole. But I know his ego’s not going to accept that for an answer, and I don’t have the energy for a fight right now. “Ugh, I’m sorry, I guess… I don’t know, maybe I’m just coming down with something.”

His expression relaxes a little, although he’s still peering at me. “Yeah, you look pretty pale. Like, more than usual. Want me to get you anything?”

“I’m good, I think I just need to sit here for a second.” You know, until the room stops spinning and my lungs stop burning. What the hell’s wrong with me?

“Okay, you hold down the couch, I’m gonna go shower. Unless you’re up for joining me,” he adds, his voice thick with ironic seduction. He sidles over and strokes my upper arm with his fingertips, and my body shivers with revulsion. Or maybe it was just a chill.

“Thanks but no thanks,” I mumble through gritted teeth.

I close my eyes and sink deeper into the couch, not opening them again until I hear the bathroom door shut and the shower turn on. The first thing they land upon is the phone, sitting innocently on the end table at my feet. I should really call Patch. I miss him, and I want him to tell me what to do about Alex. Well, not really tell me what to do… it’s not his responsibility. But I’ve just had this lingering feeling since he left that I need to make sure he’s really going to be alright with it if I end things with Alex. Somehow it’s like I need to make sure he said his goodbyes when he was here, because I feel so guilty creating a situation where he has to choose a side. I don’t think I can do this unless I know what he thinks.

But Alex is a quick showerer, and that conversation needs a lot more time. What about Lucy? Maybe I can call her and see if I can drop by this afternoon to get away… oh, shit, no, she and Jeff were “painting” today, you couldn’t pay me enough to interrupt that… and anyway, the person I should really call is Stone. I should see if he’s okay by himself or if he needs someone to check in on him.

...Alright, cut the bullshit, you just really want to hear his voice again. His stupid annoying nasal mosquito voice, his stupid cute breathy cackle, that stupid lower register of his voice that always catches me off guard. Fucking asshole, why does everything he does have to be so goddamn endearing… why do I miss him so much… I really just hate how we left things, and I hate how I acted at Cyclops, and I hate that I feel so fucking weird now about just picking up the phone and calling him, I should just do it, call him, just call him, it’s your fucking life, what are you so afraid of…

And like clockwork, Alex switches off the faucet, signaling that I’ve missed my window. God, I hate this, I hate feeling like a prisoner, my life was fucking great when he was gone for a week, what kind of person does that make me? Christ, I don’t even really need to hear it from Patch, this is pathetic, it’s obvious that I need to break up with Alex, I just need better timing…

“Hey, Stinky, your turn!” he booms from the hallway, not even bothering to look around the corner. Christ, what a simple-minded jerk, how did I ever think those kinds of put-downs were cute? Maybe I should just do it now… but ugh, I’m so fucking exhausted, and I have so much work to get done this afternoon… Resigned that it’s going to take a little longer to find the right moment, I haul myself up and toward the shower.

“'K, babe, I’m going over to Brian’s for a while, you need anything before I go?”

I lift my forehead up from where it’s been resting on my palm, aware that I’ve probably got a giant handprint from staring at my textbook for so long in one position, and turn to glare at his back as he roots through the fridge for some beer to take to his free-loading friend. “I mean, it’d be swell if you did the dinner dishes or something, I’m gonna be pulling an all-nighter with this problem set.”

“Ha, dishes. Good one.” He closes the fridge, places a rough kiss on the top of my head, and bounds toward the door. “Nice handprint by the way, you look like a fuckin’ Orc. Good luck studying!”

And with that, he heads out the door, rushing right past the disgusting running shoes he’d borrowed from his friend. Weirdly, having those shoes in my house is the closest I’ve ever come to meeting this Brian guy. For all I know, he’s not even real, he could be some made-up excuse Alex has… for all I know, he could be anywhere when he says he’s at “Brian’s,” I mean, Stone could be totally right about Alex cheating, and how would I even know?

Stone. Oh, right.

Well, now that I’ve let my train of thought run careening off these particular tracks, I’m not going to make much headway on marine biogeochemical cycling. And I’m still so… fucking… tired from that run. I gather up my study materials in a haphazard pile and shuffle into my bedroom, where I drop them at the foot of my bed in an unceremonious heap. I circle back to the living room to grab the phone and unloop the phone cord, allowing it to reach down the hall and into my room. Sitting cross-legged on my bed, I stare at the phone like I expect it to make the first move. Come on, what are you so afraid of? It’s just Stone.

I’m thoroughly relieved when I get his answering machine, though. Disappointed, maybe, but relieved. Okay, so I can leave him a short message, nothing rambly, just letting him know I hope he’s doing okay. Casual, right? Friends do that kind of thing, right? That’s not awkward, it’s just considerate, and… oh, crap, the beep…

“Hey, Stone? Uh…” my voice comes out way quieter than I intended. So much for not making it awkward. But before I can get another word out, I hear the apartment door swing open and Alex call my name. Gasping in surprise like a total fucking idiot, I hang up the phone in a panic.

“In here!”

He pokes his head around the door frame. “Wow, going to bed already, huh? Party animal. Anyway, I forgot Brian’s shoes.” He holds up the evidence by the laces before frowning at the phone on our bed. “What’s the deal with that?”

“Oh, uhm…” I search my brain for a lie he’ll believe, because I don’t want to hear another earful about how much he hates the person I was actually calling, “I was just gonna take a study break to call Patch, see how he’s doing in Portland.”

He groans in annoyance, but at least that means he bought it. “Ugh, leave the kid alone, will you? Don’t smother him.”

“Bye, Alex,” my words are daggers, and he chuckles before disappearing.

This time, I wait for him to be well and truly gone. I hear the door close, I count several Mississippis, I leave my room to check the window and make sure his Jeep’s really driving out of the parking lot, and then I settle back down on my bed, prepared to redial and leave Stone an actual message with actual human speech. Except that when I pick up the phone, I’ve lost my nerve. A different number springs to mind, one that was left on my answering machine a few days ago, and I punch it in immediately.

“Hey hey, who’s this?”

“Dorothy’s Mortuary, you kill ‘em we chill ‘em,” I can barely get the words out even before Patch’s bright laughter ruins any chance I have of keeping a straight face.

“Ceeeeeee!” He drawls my nickname out. “Where the fuck have you been? What year is it? This is how long it takes you to return a call, you filthy ingrate?”

“Sorry, kiddo, it's been a week. How are you?”

“Uhm, I'm FINE, what do you MEAN it's been a week? Is there drama?”

“Who, me?”

“Yes, you…”

“Not for me. I’m a good girl, I am.” I change the subject to drown out his derisive snort. “So how's the new place? Where are you even staying now?”

“Good, good, my buddy Ethan, you remember him?”

“Mmm, no, don't think so…”

“Oh come on, little gap-toothed kid, couple years between us in school, kinda looks like a gopher…”

“Oh right, Gopher Kid! Ugh, you realize we’re both going to hell, right?”

“Eternal damnation’s kind of our brand, C. Anyway, he moved out here after graduation. And he just happened to be in need of a new roommate when I called, because the universe is pretty great like that.”

“Jesus, with all that sunshine coming out of your ass, you sound like Lucy. How are we even related?”

“You mock me? Tell me with a straight face that there’s no cosmic plan that led me to reunite with an old friend the day after his roommate went to rehab and left him with an extra Judas Priest ticket.”

“Oh, right, there it is. Definitely related.”

“Told you so, smartass. And I even found one of those job things. It’s this little salon called Curl up and Dye and not a single person in the place has a hair on their head in a color that occurs in nature. This place is perfect, C.”

I relax and listen to my little brother fill me in on the life he’s quickly establishing for himself in Portland, content to let him dominate the conversation with the people he’s met, the social scene, the personalities at his new job. I don’t know how he does it, but he’s always been able to fall into a situation and endear himself to absolutely everyone right away, and it’s like everywhere he’s ever been, he’s home. It’s another reason I sometimes feel like it’s impossible that we’re actually related, if I didn’t know better. It’s just pure dumb luck that I met Lucy when I did, or Chris, or Stone… what if I’d never met any of them? What if it had just been me and Alex this entire year? God, what a thought...

“Hey chatterbox, shut up for a minute and let me get a word in edgewise, will you?” he quips after a silence, and I realize how poorly I’ve been holding up my end of the call. A glance at the clock on my nightstand tells me it’s been an hour and a half already.

“Sorry, kiddo, you were on a tear, I didn’t want to break your momentum.”

“That, or you’re trying to blend into the wallpaper again. What’s up?”

“A preposition.”

“I hate you.”

“I love you too.”

“Seriously, Cora, what’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” I sigh, flopping backward on my bed, “things aren’t going so great with Alex. I think… I might end it… that is, if you…”

“GLORY FUCKING BE, MARK THE DAY AND TIME!!!”

His thunderous response makes me jerk the phone away from my ear. “Are… you serious?”

“What the fuck did I tell you, Cora? You deserve to be happy, and you’ve turned into fucking Eeyore since you moved up there. Don’t tell me that’s seasonal affective disorder, either, your solar power hypothesis is total bullshit.”

“Okay, it’s NOT bullshit, but moving on…”

“...which YOU should have done months ago, but that’s just me…”

“Huh?”

“Look, I told you, maybe it’s just easier for someone who hasn’t seen you in a while to pick up on it. It probably all feels normal to you, but trust me, it’s fucking brutal to see you this unhappy. It was clear the whole time I was staying with you, C, you’re miserable. Sometimes it takes a big shake-up to really be able to see how broken shit was beforehand. You’re gonna look back on this last year and wonder what the fuck took you so long, I promise.”

“Oh...kay…” my brain feels like it’s stuck in low gear. I expected my little brother to be supportive, but I wasn’t prepared for this avalanche of candor. I’m at a loss for words.

“And you know what, another thing,” he rants on, “you have this thing about not leaving, but guess what? You fucking left Carolina, and it was the best thing you ever did, and I know that because I finally got to do it too. Thanks to you, I might add.”

“Well, to be fair, Alex bought your ticket, and he sent you that check, and…”

“Fuck that, okay. Don’t think I’m not grateful, but if you can’t see that check stunt as blatant manipulation then you’re not the smart one in the family after all. I lit the check on fire, C, I lit a joint with it.”

“But… you and Alex are friends…”

“Yeah, and it’s a cute party trick to be able to hold opposing ideas in one’s head at the same time without spontaneously combusting. I can like the guy and still think that since the last time he and I really hung out, he’s started to treat my sister like shit.”

“Okay, okay, you made your point, I concede defeat. Now why the fuck are you so far away? I need a hug.”

A chorus of voices starts to crowd into his end of the line. “Promise me you’ll cut him loose, Cora.”

“I… yeah.”

“K. I gotta go, the night is young.”

“That is such eighteen year old bullshit.”

“Love you.”

“Love you more.”

After hanging up the phone, I can’t help but stare at it in disbelief for several seconds. Until it rings.

“Hello?”

***

“Hey, Stone? Uh…”

I’m a stunned, frozen lump after listening to her message. She called me? What the hell for? If there was any takeaway from last night’s run-in at Cyclops, it’s that she wants to pretend the whole thing never happened! I mean, I’m not thrilled with the whole revisionist history thing, but I figured she needed some space, which I was totally willing to give, and anyway it’s not like I’m in any condition to go beating down anyone’s door, even if that was my style. Chris is right, she and I have a good thing, and it’ll still be there when this fight blows over. I just need to trust that and let it do what it naturally does, which is knit itself back together into something even better after we’ve had some time to cool off. So why is she calling me? Is this a fever dream? Am I still running a temperature? No, my forehead feels normal…

Whatever it is, I’m not going to let an opportunity get away. I grab the phone and dial her back, but the line’s busy. Fuck. Okay, okay, patience. Grabbing the mandolin from my bedroom, I park myself on the couch next to the phone to pass a little time until she’s done with whatever call she’s on. Actually, the mandolin and I are slowly becoming friends. The more I mess with this thing, the less punishingly complex it seems. It’s actually not that hard to work out a couple of the Mother Love Bone songs this way, come to think of it…

The music makes for a good distraction. The next time I look at the clock, over an hour has gone by. But it’s still only like 9:00, so it’s not too late to call, right?

To my shock, she picks up before the first ring is even done. “Hello?”

At the sound of her voice, I jump up off the couch and start pacing like a grade schooler calling his crush for the first time.

“H-eughhh-” oh, excellent, open with a coughing fit, that really ups the cool factor, “-hey, uh, it’s me, it’s Stone.”

“Oh.” She sounds startled, or maybe it’s that I’m hacking up a lung right in her ear.

“Yeah. Hi.”

“Hey.”

Well, I don't know what I expected. One word answers sound about right given how we left things. “So, uhm… you called me?”

“Uh, yeah… a while ago… were you trying long?”

“No,” I lie shamelessly. “Is this a bad time?”

“No, not at all, I just got off the phone with Patch.”

“Oh! How’s he doing?”

“He’s good. Uhm, I was just wondering if you were trying to get through the whole time, or…”

“No, honestly, I just tried. Cornell was over here for a while and I missed your call. What's up?”

“Oh, uh, nothing, I just wanted to see if you were doing okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, well, you looked terrible the other day, I just… I don't know, I remembered your parents were out of town and I felt kinda bad thinking about you being sick all by yourself.”

“Aww, really? You were worried about me?”

“Don't get carried away, Stone, I just didn't want it on my conscience if your parents came back from vacation and found your decomposing body. Too much paperwork.”

A smile spreads across my face at her irritated words. “I’ve honestly never felt so loved.”

She groans. “Well, since we’ve established that you’re not dead, I should probably let you go --”

“No! Hey, it’s been kinda lonely here in quarantine, it’s good to talk to someone. That is, if you can stick around… I don’t wanna keep you…”

After a beat, she mutters in a barely audible tone, “you’re not keeping me.”

“Yeah?” My grin takes on a life of its own as I pick up the phone and walk through my apartment, stretching out on the bed. “We’re back on speaking terms, then?”

“Oh, grow up, we were never not on speaking terms, I just said I wanted to move past it and pretend it never happened.”

“Yeah, and on account of my whole bubonic plague situation, I never got to register my dissatisfaction with that strategy. I still very much want to pretend it did happen.”

“Well,” she equivocates, “it sounds like you’re still plague-adjacent, so now’s hardly the time to duke it out over what did or did not take place…”

Ha! victory! I can hear her fighting off her own smile as I settle into the pillows, savoring the normalcy of bantering with Cora.

“No, you’re right, I’m not really in any shape for another one of our battles. Can I interest you in a temporary ceasefire?”

“With no mention of the things that definitely never happened until some later, as-yet-undetermined summit date?”

“Scout's honor.”

She snorts. “Like hell you were a Boy Scout, Stoner.”

“Stonerrr.” That's it, I can't possibly smile any wider or my face is going to crack. I close my eyes and let her word echo.

“...what?”

“Mmm, I just really missed hearing you call me that.”

“You freak, it's been like, two days.”

“Three, I'll have you know.”

“Oh, because that makes such a huge difference.”

“Long three days, Red.”

“Yeah,” she agrees with a heavy sigh.

Neither of us has anything to say for a little while, but that's never bothered us before. I'm sure as hell not going to say this out loud and get my head bitten off again, but one of my favorite things about her is how comfortable it is to shut up and just… be with her. I can't explain it, and I've definitely never felt that way around any of my other girlfriends, or… well, shit, she's not my girlfriend… I don’t know what she is, but, uh, other girls I've… or people I’ve felt so…

“Were you really a Boy Scout?”

“Child, you cut me to the quick! I’m offended that you don’t believe me.”

“I just can't believe I never knew that! How long did you do it for?”

“Oh, Jesus, I washed out after Cub Scouts. When my troop got to the Webelos stage, it all started seeming kinda fascist.”

“Excuse me, weeb-what now's?”

“Webelos? 'We'll be loyal scouts’?”

“Eeeesh. I see why you ditched.”

“Yeah. Plus, I was an artsy fartsy little kid, uniforms weren't really my style. The only bright side is, it does get kids out into nature a lot and teach them about stewardship.”

“Aww, there's my treehugger.”

I have to chew my tongue to avoid saying anything stupid about how I'll be whatever she wants as long as she keeps calling me hers. “What about you? Did you do the whole scouting thing? Sash, knee socks, cookie sales?”

“I may have failed to impress upon you how backwoods my upbringing really was, Stone. Who would I sell cookies to? The crawdads in the creek behind our house?”

“Crawdads? I'm going to assume this is hillbilly speak for crawfish?” My laughter conflicts with the overwhelming need to sniffle, and I end up choking on my own cough.

“Karma’s a bitch, snot otter.”

“...wh…”

She chuckles. “Snot otter. It's what we grew up calling a particular kind of salamander. But I think it pulls double duty, in your case.”

“I don't know whether I'm flattered or revolted.”

“Definitely revolted. Their other name is hellbender, and they can grow to be like two foot long. They're disgusting. In kind of a beautiful way, though. But it’s sorta sad... a lot of people have misconceptions that they’re poisonous or that they eat trout eggs or whatever, so people kill ‘em all the time. But it’s awful for the species because they’re super sensitive to environmental changes, pollution, people fucking up their habitats, shit like that… not where I grew up, though. Our place basically backed up to the park, so they were pretty easy to find.”

She’d never admit it, but her accent thickens ever so slightly when she talks about growing up. And I’d never admit it, but it’s incredibly hot.

“This is a pretty idyllic image you’re painting, here, Red. I’m picturing you and Patch, two dirty-faced feral rugrats hunting for salamanders out in the hollers.”

“Pretty much, yeah. Not a lot of supervision.”

“Which park?”

“Great Smoky Mountains.”

“Whoa, cool. I’ve never been.”

“Yeah, but you’re spoiled, growing up out here with these huge, violent mountains. You’d probably think mine are pretty boring.”

“Fat chance. Let’s go sometime.”

“Oh, sure, yeah, just let me get my coat.”

“I mean it. I don’t know, in the highly likely scenario that the band takes off and we actually get to go around the country, you should take me there.”

She snorts. “Long as we steer clear of Beaverdam, you got a deal.”

“Be… beaver dam?”

“Alright, yes, that’s the name of my hometown, laugh it up, Gossard.”

“Beaverdam! Jesus Christ, your childhood’s a comedic goldmine, how come you never --” my hysterical laughter does battle with the gunk in my chest and loses, and the resulting sound effect makes Cora startle.

“Ugh, loveyou.”

“Huh, what’d you say?” I manage to wheeze out, my laughter stopping abruptly.

“Lovely!” she squeaks. “I said, ‘lovely!’ The fucking sounds you’re making, uh, they’re just lovely…”

“Riiight,” I mumble, dangerously close to invalidating our ceasefire. “What else should I know about your childhood? Any other gems?”

“Nuh-uh, it’s your turn, I’ve already said too much.”

“I’m an open book, what do you want to know?”

“Hmm. Something really embarrassing. Your first kiss?”

“Starting out with the first kiss? You don’t mess around, huh?”

“Hey, you already know about mine, we’re on an uneven battlefield.”

“True, true. Okay, well, I was 12…”

“Early bloomer!”

“By your standards, everyone’s an early bloomer. Anyway,” I breeze on past her muttered “rude” and continue with my voluntary humiliation in the name of love, “your embarrassment radar’s right on target, it was an icebreaker party at the start of 7th grade. And this one girl, Evie, she took the whole icebreaker concept to heart. Dragged me into a closet for an awkward makeout session. I was totally terrified, but definitely along for the ride. She stuck her tongue in my mouth, and I was so shocked I actually tripped and fell backward into a pile of coats. So obviously losing my balance and falling on my ass when a pretty girl kisses me is a recurring theme.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she manages through her laughter.

“Right, right, the ceasefire. Okay, your turn… uh, favorite Halloween candy?”

“You’re a slow learner, Stone. Who was I gonna trick or treat from, the snot otters?”

“You poor, deprived child. You’ve got to have a favorite candy, though, you’re only human.”

“Well, yeah… M&Ms… but only if eaten correctly.”

“How does one eat M&Ms incorrectly?”

“Let me guess, you probably just scoop up handfuls and eat them indiscriminately, right? Uncultured swine. You have to eat them in the right order.”

“They… all taste the same, Cora, it’s just food coloring… Jesus, you actually eat them in an order?”

My curiosity and horror is enough to make me sit up in bed. Also, being vertical helps with the inevitable oncoming coughing fit as she unpacks whatever ridiculousness led her to this compulsion.

“I swear they taste different!”

“You’re insane! Wait, what's the order?”

“Light to dark, obviously. Yellow, orange, green, red, light brown, dark brown.”

“Okay, (a), in no universe is that light to dark, you need to get your eyesight checked. And (b), like, what happens if you get a bag of M&Ms at the movies and you can’t see what color you’re eating??”

“That’s why only amateurs order M&Ms at the movies, Stone. I’m a Whoppers girl.”

“Wrong again! You get popcorn at the movies, idiot. Jesus, I never realized you were so damaged. What is your childhood trauma? Who hurt you, baby?”

We go back and forth like this for what feels like hours, trading blows and sharing silly, insignificant details of our lives, and it’s almost like nothing had ever happened between us. Almost. I’m still in this bed, trying not to think too much about how good it felt to have her wrapped around me under these covers just a few nights ago, trying not to think about every little curve of her body and how obscenely good she looked in my ratty old clothes, how badly I want her to come over so we can finally hash our shit out and admit to one another that we need to give this thing a try for real. And another secret truth of my life surfaces, one that she doesn’t need to hear about tonight when we’re still on such thin ice: that being sick with a cold or the flu always, always brings with it the rather odd side effect of being more easily aroused. I don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s boredom from being at home too much, or wanting to be taken care of during a time of vulnerability, or whatever, but suddenly every thought of Cora, and her every word, however mundane, is making me feel extra amorous. Luckily, our conversation hit a bit of a lull as we ran out of facts to trade. Now she’s tried to multitask and work on her homework, which gives me the opportunity to shift around in bed and try to force my body out of caveman mode. Until she speaks again.

“You know what’s really hard?”

Shit! How did she…! God, calm yourself, you dirtbag, there’s no way she’s talking about you, get your mind out of the gutter. “...uh, what’s that?”

“The oceanic carbon cycle. I give up. I’m too stupid to science.”

“Oh, yeah, that.” I clear my throat and take a mental cold shower. “Well, I don’t know anything about it, but I know you’re not stupid. It’s just really late, your brain's protesting the working conditions.”

“I should probably let you get some rest, huh?”

“Nah, you’re fine, I basically slept all day, I could keep going with you all night.” What. the fuck. is wrong. with me. “Talking, I mean… obviously… talking all night...”

“And I’m obviously not being productive over here. Ha, maybe I should just come over, we could waste time together --”

“Yes.” I slap my forehead after cutting her off mid-word. Smooth.

“Whoa, hey there, quickdraw,” she chuckles. Okayyy, maybe I’m not the only one with my mind in the gutter…

“I promise, that’s not a recurring theme.”

“Gross, Stone,” but she’s still laughing, “do you really want me to come over?”

Yes. “I mean, no, I know it’s late, it’s a school night, and I don’t want you coming down with whatever disease this is.”

“You’re probably right. Alex will probably be back soon anyway.”

Well good news, I’ve officially found the world’s most effective boner-killer, it’s hearing the girl of your dreams talk about her boyfriend.

“Right. Hey, at the risk of endangering the ceasefire, uhm, how’s… how’s all that going?”

“Alex?” I can hear the scowl. “Uhm. Truthfully?”

“Of course.”

“Been better. A lot better, actually.”

“Really. Care to elaborate?”

“I'm not sure how much elaboration the topic deserves. How much can I really milk out of, 'I'm trying to find the right time to tell my only boyfriend ever that I want to break up’?”

It’s a struggle to keep my voice casual even though it feels an octave higher. “Huh… break up, huh?”

“Yup. I've known it's the right thing to do for a while, I guess, even before our whole… you know…”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Anyway, I'm chickenshit, I have no idea what I'm doing. How does one even initiate a conversation like that?”

“Is that a rhetorical question or are you asking for advice? Just checking before I accidentally step on a landmine…”

“No, I'm really asking. You had to break up with at least a few of that long string of girlfriends, right?”

“That's right.”

“What's it like?”

“Uhm, it really depends on the person, on the relationship. Sometimes it's hard, sometimes it's liberating.”

“But… like… how? Sorry, I know I'm embarrassingly stupid on the topic, I just…”

“Nah, you're not stupid, it's your first break-up. Everybody has it sooner or later. I don't know, though. I've always been able to turn on the Spock side of my brain when I need to have a hard conversation with someone, you know, remove the emotion from the situation and just help them see what's going on, that it's nothing personal and that the person is still important to you, but that it's just not working for either of you anymore. That sometimes it's just better for everyone if you part as friends.”

“Wow… can I hire you to break up with Alex for me?”

“And deprive you of this important developmental milestone? Nah. You got this.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, although I'm pretty sure it's misplaced. There's literally no such thing as the right time to have that conversation.”

“No, of course not. And in your defense, I’ve never dumped someone after being with them for so long. Five years is a really long time.”

“Thanks, Stone, helpful,” she jeers.

“That’s what I’m here for. Just don't… don't put it off forever. Like you said, it's never going to feel 'right,’ but the longer you wait to actually break up with someone, the more you just simmer in your bad feelings, and the more resentful and emotional you get about it.”

That, and the sooner you can move on to someone new who actually cares about your happiness, although I keep that thought-grenade to myself.

“Thanks, Stone.”

“Don't mention it.”

“Well, I've made this conversation sufficiently weird, and I feel about as good as day-old roadkill, so I think it's time to make my exit. Anyway, you do need to get some sleep, no matter what you say.”

Roadkill, huh? Hope she's not getting the same bug I have. “It was good to talk to you, Cora. I miss this.”

“Don't tell anyone, but me too.”

“Our secret. Goodnight.”

“Night, Stoner.”

It takes a long time staring up into space after we’ve hung up for me to process what just happened. Our slow thaw, the precarious ceasefire, her slip of the tongue, breaking up with Cletus… just when I think I have her figured out, she confuses the shit out of me all over again, and I don't think I'm ever going to get tired of it. Feeling both exhausted and hopeful, I settle myself under the covers and hug my spare pillow to my chest, fading fast.

***

Monday, November 5th, 1990

“Cora, table 6 looks ready for the check, are you alive over there or what?”

Colleen shoots me a nasty sideways glance as she edges behind where I'm leaning on my elbows on the bar. Ugh. Easy for her to be a colossal bitch about it, she doesn't know I feel so fucking weak that I almost fainted in lab this afternoon and that I can barely stay upright during my shift. And why's it so cold in this fucking restaurant all of a sudden? Yeah, I'll get those drunk fuckers their check, if you turn up the fucking heat… ordinarily, I’d be pining for my shift to end so I can go home and sleep off whatever this ridiculous exhaustion is, except that I swore to myself that tonight’s the night I’d finally rip off the bandaid and break up with Alex. And I’m in no huge hurry to have that conversation, no matter how simple Stone made it sound.

Just as I've wrapped up the table, the door chime signals a new customer, and I'm about to start a fresh internal tirade of self-pity when I recognize a familiar face under the black hat, sunglasses, and curtains of dark hair. My bad mood evaporates.

“Cready!”

“Hey, Cora, what's up?”

“My temper, so thanks for being the first non-idiot customer I've had all shift long.”

“No promises,” he gives me his usual affable grin. “Can I trouble you for a beer?”

“You got it. Anything for dinner? You look pretty wiped out.”

“Yeah, look who’s talking,” he air-traces what are probably vicious dark circles on my face.

“Okay, okay, so we both look like a hundred bucks,” I grin. “Whatcha having?”

“You guys still doing breakfast? I need pancakes.”

“Mike, it’s like 8:30 at night.”

“The heart wants what it wants,” he pouts, making me shield my eyes from the kitteny cuteness.

“Okay, alright, put the big guns away. I know a guy in the back.”

“You’re a very pale angel.”

“You’re a very hungover idiot.”

The crowd’s thinned out, which gives me a chance to socialize with Mike for a while without incurring more hassling from Colleen. It’s nice, just getting to catch up with him without the entire Mookie herd, even when he looks like he’s about to drop dead.

“So what’s got you so tired, dude?”

“Selene,” he pronounces around a mouthful of illicit pancake.

I try to wolf-whistle, but I’ve always sucked at whistling. “So someone had a good weekend.”

“I’m a shell of my former self. Write something nice on my headstone, this woman’s killing me.”

“Do I detect a complaint?”

“Not in the slightest. She’s nuts, she knocks on my door at the craziest hours, I never know when she’s gonna show up, and it’s always a little like...” he mimes an explosion with his hands, making the accompanying bomb noise, “warfare.”

“Wow, hey, I’m good with the PG-13 version, okay?”

With a sly grin, he asks, “speaking of warfare, how’s shit with you and Stone?”

I shift my weight to my other hip, narrowing my eyes. “We’re pretty much the same. We called a temporary truce while he’s sick as a dog. Didn’t seem fair.”

“Yeah, well, you guys need to hurry up and figure your shit out, the whole world feels wobbly when you fight.”

I reach over the counter to lightly chuck his chin. “Aww, don’t worry, Sport, it’s not your fault, and we both still love you very much and we promise to take you to Disneyworld on Saturdays, okay?”

But Mike’s undeterred. “Seriously, Cora, you guys are ridiculous. I know he pissed you off somehow, he pisses everyone off, but whatever he did, you know his heart was in the right place. Can’t fault a guy for being good-hearted and wrong.”

“Yeah… okay.” In bemused silence, I watch him inhale the last scraps of his pancake and swig the rest of his beer, clap too much money on the table, and unsteadily get to his feet.

“Be good, okay?” he calls over his shoulder, waving on his way out the door. What a deeply weird, troubling, sweet individual.

Colleen sneaks up on me again as I’m wiping the counter after clearing Mike’s dishes, making me jump back from her beady stare and the chubby finger she’s got aimed at my nose.

“You… you look like absolute hell. You getting sick?”

“Uhm, no, I think it’s just been a long day, and…”

“Yeah, okay, and the pope doesn’t shit in his hat.”

“...is that a saying?”

“You’re all clammy and sweaty. Get the hell out of my restaurant before you get us shut down for health code violations.”

“Are you firing me?”

Colleen rolls her eyes just before she turns her back to me on her way to the kitchen. “No, you tiny little fool, you’re my best waitress, just go sleep it off. Somewhere else!”

I stand with my feet glued to the floor and my shoulders in a slump, working hard to summon the energy needed to collect my things and walk home. Maybe she’s right, maybe I am coming down with something… oh, fuck, it better not be whatever Stone had… oh, I’ll kill him if I survive this…

Sure enough, I’m barely able to drag my way up the stairs to the fourth floor, and I’m feeling feverish and nauseous by the time I push the door open. And that’s before I hear the sounds. Coming from the bathroom. Either I’ve progressed to full-on hallucinations, or those are the unmistakable sounds of two people having loud sex in the shower. Blinking, dazed, out-of-body, someone who looks like me but definitely isn’t me marches to the kitchen and turns the dishwasher on. Hot.

The girl who isn’t me stands here in my boots, impassively absorbing the panicked yelps coming from the now-freezing people under the showerhead. I wish this girl who isn’t me would move, would go somewhere else, would cover her eyes, would do anything other than witness what’s happening: Alex, clambering out of the bathroom in a towel, and an unfamiliar blonde woman hastily tugging on her dress over her soaking body. She’s taller than me. And thinner. Bigger boobs. I wish I didn’t know any of this.

“Cora! Wha… you’re early, I thought your shift was done at 11!” Alex glances at the clock, the whites of his eyes showing as he struggles to wrap the towel in place. Suddenly, the girl who isn’t me vacates my body, and I find my own voice. And despite my aching throat, it’s loud.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you want me to come back later when you’re finished???”

“No, fuck, no, I’m so sorry, I had no idea you were… I can explain, this is --”

My head starts to pound. I don’t need the explanation. “I don’t care.”

“-- Cindy, uh, she’s --”

“Hey, Cindy,” I wave acidly to the woman who’s yanking on one of her high-heeled boots and straightening her dress, as if there’s any dignity left to be had for any of us.

“-- babe, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean for you to find out like this, it’s just…”

“Find out??” I repeat. “How… how long have you…”

“Alex, who the FUCK is this?” Oh. Cindy speaks. How nice. She sounds like a dog’s squeeze toy.

“I was his girlfriend, until about three minutes ago,” I answer her, while keeping my stare fixed on the man I thought I knew, who’s staring back at me in desperation so exaggerated it belongs in a cartoon. “I live here. He doesn’t live here anymore.”

“Babe, no, calm down, we can fix this, we --”

But Cindy does the heavy lifting for me, shrieking like a dental drill. “You have a GIRLFRIEND? Have you been with her the whole time?” Please don’t tell me how long the whole time was. Please don’t tell me how long the whole time was. But she shrieks on, “all fucking year?? You BASTARD!”

Her other boot flies through the air and clocks Alex on the shoulder. He shoots a frenzied glance from Cindy to me and back again, as if he expects quarter from either of us, stammering madly.

“I -- I meant to tell you, I --” Jesus, he doesn’t even know which of us to apologize to first. My fever’s raging and I’ve seen enough. I need this goddamn circus out of my house. I close my eyes and say the only words that remain to be said.

“I need you to go.”

“My fucking pleasure,” Cindy collects her boot and crookedly flounces out of my apartment and slams the door behind her, and even with my eyes shut tight, I know that Alex is still here, staring pleadingly at me. I force myself to look at him.

“You too. Just go. Stay somewhere else. You can get your things tomorrow,” I explain calmly, like he’s a survivor of a flood or a house fire.

“Where the fuck am I supposed to go, exactly??” he shouts, waving his hands in panic and almost losing the towel.

“Go to Brian’s,” I sigh with boredom, “you’ve practically been living there all year anyway, what difference should one more night make.”

“I… I can’t.” He swallows hard.

That’s it, my temper’s finally back. “And why the fuck not?”

“Uhm, Cindy’s his… she’s his fiancée.”

“Perfect. Just perfect. I don’t care where the fuck you go, you’re not staying here.”

Feeling suddenly faint, I ease myself down to the couch and clench my teeth as I wrap the afghan around my shoulders.

“Christ, babe, you look awful, are you coming down with something? Don’t kick me out, let me stay, let me help you…” he inches closer, but my glare and final word stops him.

“Out.”

His face contracts, he nods, he slinks back to what used to be our bedroom to put on some clothing and pack a spare overnight bag. Without another word or another attempt at eye contact, he scuttles out. The breeze from the door closing sends me into an uncontrollable shiver, the only sign of life left in the apartment.

#yeah this is pretty bad sorry #and it's also way too long #and i didn't proofread it very well #but anyway here it is #chapter 24 #behind the sun #fanfiction #fanfic

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goodtohaveyouback · 7 years

Note

Hey! Love your edits. I was wondering if you could take us through how you make your edits? And any tips on how to start with editing?

I COULD try and livestream the whole process because one single edit I post is quite literally, a combination of different edits, some parts are even completely redrawn based of canon material and references.

I think the best thing to do is to just show you in rough lines how I created my last edit:

Also seems like the perfect time to post all my wips and bonuses! which isn’t much but… yeah

1. BACKGROUND

So first I searched for a healing pod for Keith to sit in.

So I headed to an episode of Voltron which featured a lot of empty healing pods :S1 EP9: Crystal Venom. Eventually I found this screencap:

So I edited Coran (+ the annoying watermark) out and voila:

I’ve made a canvas where I could drop the rest of my photoshop shenanigans in later on!

2. KEITH IN THE POD OUTFIT

Okay, this one is a lot trickier. To recreate Keith wearing the outfit I used the following images:

Keith’s body came from this screencap:

Keith’s head came from this screencap:

I redrew Keith’s entire pod outfit onto Keith’s body more or less?

I used a couple of screencaps of Lance wearing the outfit for design + color reference, pretty much how actual artists do it when they have to draw things from the show!

This image came in really handy because there I could also color pick the shadows on Lance’s chest & shoulders.

Now, to actually start DRAWING, the following tools will be your life savior:

The brush tool to create lineart, which you’re going to draw right on top of Keith’s body. Since the pod outfit is really basic and the animation of the show is literally just black lines, you can make a really basic outfit from just…well.. lines.

Also to make sure your lines are anti-aliased, exactly like in the animation, use these settings:

Since your brush is really small (from 3 to 4 px in diameter), your hardness has to be at 0% (that’s what she never said). It’s the softest (and most anti-aliased) you can get.

The color picker to take samples of the colors of the pod outfit (including shadows!). You’re going to use this A LOT to take samples from the outfit on Lance himself.

The polygonal lasso tool to select areas on Keith’s body to so you can fill in entire areas. With this tool you’re going to color your lineart (on top of Keith’s actual BOM suit, lmao)

For the shadows, I’ve used the shadows that were already on Keith’s body.

It should give you this result:

(also yeah I flipped the canvas because my POD is headed in a different direction)

If you still notice some imperfections, you can always fill them in again with the brush tool, or if you’re unsatisfied with how the shadow looks you can always fix it up with the polygonal lasso tool as well!

For the next step I’ve selected out Keith’s head from the first screencap, pasted it onto Keith’s body, messed around with the colors a bit, to make it match the color scheme (I always use Color Balance & Selective Color for this)

Since Keith was still hunched forwards to much IMO, I’ve used Liquify (Filter > Liquify) to straighten him up and I’ve copy pasted Keith’s left arm onto his next one so that his joint is pointing inwards, so his arm isn’t sticking out as well.

which gave me this result:

As you can see I’ve also kinda remastered his hands, and I’ve also removed the knife from his fingers. And I’ve also made Keith’s hair longer (because I wanted to, for the angst), all redrawn the same way as the pod outfit.

(I’m so sorry this is so hard to explain but my editing process is literally just and endless repeat of drawing, coloring and shifting until everything is exactly how I wanted to be ;; the more time you spend on photoshop the better you get at seeing details that are easy to patch up. It really comes with practice. ORZ)

3. SHIRO

For the upset Shiro, I’ve made a transparent gif. The Shiro I’ve used comes from this scene from S1EP9: Crystal Venom

But since it’s OLD SHIRO, not Kuron, I had to edit his entire outfit + hair so that it looks a bit more like Kuron in s3. And yes, this also means, redrawing every frame, because in this particular scene, Shiro is turning his head. Luckily his outfit isn’t that much different. He just has an… obnoxious white collar.

For his bare arm and Shiro’s hair I used the same coloring technique for Keith’s pod outfit, although the lineart won’t be really necessary here (since Shiro’s already kinda blurry looking anyway)

This is the raw transparent version

(I know his white tuft is normally cut shorter but… just a dumb detail jhegz, nobody noticed anyway)

I extended the time of the first and last frame to 1 second, the 2 in between are 0,1 seconds.

the frames have also been reversed. Since in the episode, Shiro sighs at Keith & Lance first and then looked over to Pidge and Coran in that moment.

But in my edit, we want Shiro to look at Keith first, so yeah, I manipulated that a little by reversing it.

3. ASSIMILATION

So now that I’ve both got my Shiro/Kuron and my Keith I’m gonna slap them onto “the scene” aka that screencap I’ve edited.

Here’s a quick GIF of all the actions I’ve underwent to finish the scene up. Since it’s the just the finished psd of my edit I’m just making a recording of me selecting all my layers again :’D I didn’t… actually record myself making it because that’s would have taken me a WHOLE DAY.

Before this I’ve also cut out some parts of keith’s body because he’s IN the healing pod, he’s not chilling out on top of it.

To give Shiro that blue-ish glow I’ve used blending mode -> outer glow with opacity 14%

Also, GOLDEN TIP:

Adding shadow really make a scene 500% more dramatic

To add shadow I’ve made a new layer, and used a black & white gradient with the gradient tool.

For this edit I’ve added 2 shadow-layers.

I’ve done plently more animations on this edit after I was done with actual editing. But for now I’m gonna skip this part because it’s just all very basic GIF making. Also my ADHD is kicking in ^^’

I hope this explained it a little? I apologize that I didn’t go into detail, but it would’ve taken SO MUCH time otherwise. Again, making such an edit takes me a full day to make because 70% of the time I spend my time drawing or cleaning up details.

If you’re interested in a doing livestream of some kind, LMK!

#Anonymous #anon #ask #editing tutorial #my edits #tutorials #sheith #voltron #photoshop tutorial

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shootingstarpilot · 7 years

Text

Intruder Alert

@princey-must-slay and @virgilsjourney I’m so sorry to bother you both but you’re my favorite Sanders Sides writers in the world and this is my first foray into the fandom so IDK sorry I just really wanted you to see this sorry.

@everyone else hello sorry today’s been a rough day for PTSD and this is how I vent.

Patton was worried.

Virgil had not come out of his room for three days.

He stopped by nearly every hour, listening carefully for some sign of life, but all he ever heard was a very significant silence.

At one point he stood with his hand raised to knock for a good ten minutes, eventually only dragged away by Logan reminding him what Virgil’s reaction has been the last time Patton had popped in unannounced.

Virgil had thrown a book at him and yelled for him to leave, so he sank down in a hurry, only pausing to leave a plate of chocolate chip cookies on the floor.

Virgil had apologized later, looking sheepish with a cookie held in each hand.

“I just… don’t do well with that, okay? It’s my space, and anyone else coming in feels like an… an invasion, kinda.”

The anxious side had refused to make eye contact with Patton during the other side’s effusive apology, and Patton had sunk into himself a bit - what if he’d ruined the little bit of trust he’d managed to build with Virgil after the trait had gone missing a few weeks ago?- but looked up again when Virgil coughed.

“The, uh… the cookies were delicious, thanksalotPatton.”

Patton beamed, and Virgil fled.

The heart rubbed his forehead a bit- heh- anxiously. The need to check in on Virgil warred with the desire to respect his privacy.

Patton went to find the others.

It wasn’t as hard as he was expecting. He heard the argument from the top of the stairs.

“-simply not feasible, Roman! We have a deadline to meet, and a full-blown production is-”

“Oh, what do you know about theater, anyway? It’s about the love of the spotlight! If you would just step back and let me-”

“We don’t have time-”

Patton peered into the kitchen. Roman was standing on the table, gesturing wildly, and Logan was standing by the counter, arms folded. Both were scowling.

“Hey, kiddos!” Patton interrupted, grinning at Logic when the force of the other’s disapproval was turned on him. “Can we talk?”

Roman beamed at him, hopping off the table and slouching next to Logic. “Of course, dear heart, I always have time for you! What troubles you?”

Logan rolled his eyes but didn’t argue.

Patton wasted no time.

“When was the last time either of you saw Virgil?”

Roman paused, brow furrowed. “I believe it was during our last movie marathon, yes? He was gone before I woke up.”

Patton felt his lips quirk upwards at the memory. Virgil had whined and complained and poked holes in the plot of every movie they’d put on.

But he hadn’t left.

And Patton had seen the disbelieving warmth in his eyes.

Logan nodded, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Indeed. That was not an entirely unenjoyable night, but I have not seen him since then.”

“And none of you are worried?”

Logan seemed somewhat taken aback.

“Should we be? Patton, he is Anxiety. The most likely reason for his avoidance is that he was simply overwhelmed by the movie night and needed time to recuperate.”

“But… three days?”

“Why, my dear Patton,” Roman interrupted, “if you are so worried, then I will go and check on him for you!”

Before Patton could blink, Roman was gone.

“Roman, Patton? You picked him?”

“I didn’t think he’d just go in, I thought he-” Patton hesitated. “And anyway, who knows? Maybe Roman will be good for-”

Roman rematerialized, looking disheveled and… panicked?

“There’s something wrong, guys.”

The three sides rematerialized in their missing friend’s room. Patton squashed the initial surge of fear at the spider-covered curtains (covered! Absolutely COVERED!) and his gaze settled on the trembling mound of blankets in the corner of the bed.

“Virgil?” he said nervously, reaching out a hand, only to feel Roman’s hand close around his wrist.

“Don’t,” the royal muttered, looking uncharacteristically solemn. “I tried, and he freaked.”

Patton withdrew his hand, hating the creeping feeling of helplessness.

Logan stepped forward.

“Virgil.”

The shaking increased.

“Virgil.”

“Logan-” Patton tried, but the other held up a hand.

“Virgil. Patton, Roman, and I are in the room. We are standing by the door. We will not come any closer. Is there anyone else in the room?”

A choked sob emerged from under the blankets, and Patton pressed a hand to his mouth.

“Virgil,” Logan said, remarkably composed. “I need you to answer me. Do you believe there is someone else in the room?”

A muffled “bathroom” was the reply.

“Thank you, Virgil,” Logan said. “Roman is going to check in the bathroom, okay? He has his sword and is well-equipped to fight off anyone in here.

“No-” the mound of blankets said suddenly, and then again, much louder- “no! I- I- you can’t-”

Me? Roman mouthed, gesturing at the infuriatingly calm side. Are you insane?

Logan glared at him, and shooed him towards the bathroom. “Virgil, Roman is moving towards the bathroom.”

Describe your movements, he mouthed back in reply. Keep it constant.

Roman inhaled and unsheathed his sword.

“Indeed, Virgil. I am stepping towards the bathroom. I have my sword out and am on my guard. I am going to open the bathroom door.”

“Don’t want you to- don’t want you to get hurt-”

Roman peered carefully around the door, sword held high.

“I checked behind the door, Virgil, and there is no one here.”

He glanced back at the other two sides.

Check it all, Logan mouthed, and Roman nodded in understanding.

“I am opening the cupboards under the sink now, Virgil. They are empty too. Now I’m going to open the shower curtain. The bathtub is empty.”

Roman kept his voice steady and his narration constant, and in this fashion, the whole bathroom was cleared.

And slowly, Virgil’s shaking decreased.

After a few minutes that seemed much longer, Roman emerged from the bathroom, making sure to keep his movements loud and obvious.

“Virgil, Roman checked the whole bathroom, and it’s empty. Is it okay if we come closer to the bed?”

A moment of silence passed, and then a quiet affirmative emerged.

“Thank you, Virgil. We are going to move closer now.”

Their footsteps loud and deliberate, the three sides cautiously made their way closer, and then Patton spoke up.

“Hey, kiddo. We’re standing by the bed, okay? Is it okay if I put my hand on you?”

“Uh huh.”

Patton hesitated, and then put a hand where he judged Virgil’s shoulder to be. The mound of blankets went very still for a moment, and then the sobbing began in earnest.

“Virgil,” Logan began, but Patton held up a hand. This was more comfortable territory for him, and the oldest side began carefully peeling back the blankets. Eventually, Virgil was revealed, and Patton could sense Roman’s disbelief from behind him. The embodiment of their host’s anxiety was curled into a tight ball, tears streaking his face, and Patton cringed when he saw blood from where Virgil’s nails had cut into his arms.

“Hey, hey, hey, buddy,” he crooned, slowly peeling Virgil’s hands away and cupping them in his own. “We’ve got you, okay? We’re all here. I’m just gonna bandage your cuts, okay? We wouldn’t want those to get infected. Do you think you can sit up for me?”

Roman silently handed over the recently-materialized first-aid kit before moving to sit on the end of the bed, and Patton nodded his thanks. Logan put his hands under Virgil’s shoulders, carefully helping him up to lean against the corner of the couch. Tears kept streaming down his face, and he refused to meet Patton’s eyes as the other side tended to the scratches on his arms.

“There we go, kiddo,” Patton soothed, “all patched up. Can I-”

But before he could finish, Virgil leaned forwards of his own volition, burying his head in Patton’s chest and wrapping his arms around him. The tears came afresh, and Patton could feel them soaking through his shirt.

“Shhh,” he said, stroking Virgil’s shuddering back. “I’ve got you. We’ve got you.”

They still had a lot to talk about. Had Virgil been there for three days, terrified out of his mind of a phantom intruder? What caused it? How had Logan, of all people, known exactly what the other side needed?

Patton glanced at Roman’s shell-shocked expression, and knew that would require a separate conversation as well.

Later.

For now, Patton tightened his embrace and rested his chin on the top of Virgil’s head.

And finally, finally, allowed himself to cry as well.

#sanders sides #logic sanders #anxiety sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #moxiety #i guess??#ptsd #fic #my writing #thomas sanders

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slytherinmybedcuzimcold · 7 years

Text

Poseidon's Chariot: Chapter 4

A Heart to Heart

Two weeks had passed since the raging storm that had nearly cost the lives of two crew members, the cabin boy and the Captain but after the long wait, the ship’s Doctor had finally declared the all clear for the two, both of which had caught a mild case of pneumonia after being exposed to the extreme temperatures of the sea that night.

“You’re both extremely lucky that you’re healthy. If you had been in any other condition you may not have been so fortunate. Especially you, Lad. Make sure to keep wrapped up and take care not to fall in the water any time soon.” Jim ran a hand through his scruffy hair and offered a light chuckle as agreement with the Doctor’s orders.

“Naw I’m fine, Doc. Thanks to the Captain!” Elizabeth simply smiled at the boy before putting on her brown overcoat and walking out on deck. The mess that greeted her knocked her back as her eyes analysed the damage the storm had done to her ship and the only conclusion found was: the Chariot needed repairs. She sighed; she had hoped that they wouldn’t have to port again so soon. It had only been a few weeks since they left Ghana for crying out loud!

“Captain! How ya feeling?” Rogers called from a rope he was swinging from on one of the sails.

“Oh I’m fine. Can’t say the same for my ship though.” Rogers’ smile turned into a straight line.

“Ay, she did take a battering in the storm.” Skips had suddenly appeared next to his Captain.

“She needs solid repairs, Ma’am. The men did the best they could to clean her up but if we meet another storm or even another ship, she’s gonna struggle to survive.” Another sigh escaped Elizabeth’s lips as she nodded in agreement and called to Don, the ship’s navigator to find the nearest harbour from their current location that would suit the purpose of them stopping their voyage. Namibia was the closest coastal area that could supply the materials they needed to patch up the Chariot and it just so happened to be an area they visited regularly anyway and so that’s where they headed.

A few days had passed before the crew of Poseidon’s Chariot drifted into the harbour silently in the dead of night. The crew were ordered to stay on the ship until dawn so as not to draw attention to themselves.

“Listen up, tonight we rest but come dawn and I want repairs to be under way and my ship looking as good as the day she were made. I don't want to stay here more than two days. Ya here me?”

“Aye, Captain.” The crew chorused and all settled down for the night either on watch duty or in their sleeping quarters.

True to their word, come dawn the crew were already scattered both on deck and through the market picking at deals and gathering supplies for the repairs. Elizabeth took Andrew with her down to the docking station where merchant and royal ships declared information such as the name of the vessel and it's Captain; the contents; where the ship had been and the new destination. The station was a simple one in this harbour. Merely a large tent with a few chairs and a desk with books in piles beside it inside. A ripped map of half the world was pinned to one of the cotton sheet walls and a few jobs were advertised on the wooden pillar holding up one of the corners. Behind the desk sat a greasy, middle aged man. He wore a dirty, once white robe with a red rope belt around his bulging stomach; his dark hair shined with oil and sweat, his face clearly both unwashed and unshaven due to the sharp looking stubble and his dark tanned skin, even darker with dust and dirt sticking to it. This man was Murhad, an acquaintance of Elizabeth's who happened to run the docking station and would always give her any information she desired on ships worth pirating for he was a crooked man motivated by nothing more but lust for beautiful women and greed for gold; both of which the Chariot's Captain possessed.

Upon seeing the Captain, Murhad rose from his chair and beamed a yellow smile at her.

“Miss Jones, always a pleasure!” Elizabeth gritted her teeth in a forced smile as the slimy man took her hand and kissed the back of it in greeting. Forcibly taking back her hand she wiped it on her skirts.

“Yes, quite. Listen, Murhad, I need information.” The man rolled his eyes and waved his hands as he answered,

“Yes, yes, I know what you want and you know the price.” Elizabeth threw a gold coin on his small desk and he quickly slipped it into the little bag hanging on his belt. “Howl's ship has not ported here since the last time you came.” Frustrated with his answer Elizabeth ground her teeth and glanced at his record book, which contained the information on each of the ships in the harbour.

“Fine. There any good looking merchant ships worth my time?” Murhad rubbed his rough stubble and hummed in thought. Before running a dirty finger down the records.

“None that I believe you will be interested in. Most are carrying food... There are only two that are carrying materials and I checked them over when they ported,” Murhad shook his head, “They are not worth the chase or the fight.” Elizabeth sighed and turned from the desk. Her eyes found Andrew looking at the ripped map, he traced his finger on one area in particular, one that showed the way to India.

“Are there any ships heading to India?” She asked still facing away from the desk in a low voice so Andrew wouldn't hear her. She heard pages of the book being flipped behind her until Murhad's voice spoke.

“One. A Indian trading vessel from Finland.”

“When does it leave?”

“In two days. Why does the lady ask?” Turning and handing him a small bag of silver coins Elizabeth answered,

“Book a spot on it.” Before walking out of the tent dragging a confused Andrew with her.

The rest of the day was spent on the ship repairing anything that had been even remotely damaged in the storm. Nightfall slowly rolled in and crew and Captain alike decided that a good strong drink was in order. As usual all the crew but a small group went onto land to drink and be merry. This time it was all but Jim, the Doc and a handful of other non drinkers among the crew that went ashore.

The old inn, in which the crew of the Chariot had decided to quench their thirsts was overall a decent place. It was as clean as it could be and the alcohol was pleasantly strong, not watered down like other places the crew had visited in the past.

While her men were drinking, flirting with barmaids and in general raising a ruckus, the Captain took a bottle of rum and sat alone at the other end of the building in a dark corner with only a single candle to light the table. Left alone with her thoughts and her drink, Elizabeth cursed herself for not preparing enough for the storm, perhaps if in some way she had prepared better or been more observant to the changing skies and angering seas then maybe they wouldn't have got so caught up in it and the ship wouldn't have had to make a stop here for repairs and maybe then she would be closer to – no, no matter what she does that snake always seems to be one step ahead of her... Elizabeth's thoughts were interrupted when a shadow was cast over the table she was sitting at. She lifted her eyes to see Andrew, drink in hand.

“You look lonely, Captain. May I sit with you?” Elizabeth waved her hand in a non caring gesture welcoming him to do as he wished before going back to cradling her bottle of rum. Andrew sat down opposite the Captain and silence covered the table once more.

“Mr Bell,”

“Yes, Captain?” Rummaging through her coat's large pockets, the Captain fished out a piece of parchment.

“Here.” Elizabeth slipped him the piece of paper, a document giving him passage on a trading ship heading for India. The historian's head snapped up and he stared questionably at the red head in front of him. “You said you needed to go to India, right? Well, now you can, unless you'd like to wait Gods know how long for the Chariot to go there.”

“I-I-er I don't know what to say, Ma'am.”

“I would have thought 'thank you' would be the obvious choice of words.” Elizabeth rolled her eyes at him.

“Thank you.” He answered still gazing at the document in his hands. His thoughts going a mile a minute. Why would she go out of her way to buy him a place on a ship going to India? Did she want rid of him that badly? If so why is he so shocked? She made it very plain that he causes trouble on deck more often than not.. Why is he feeling so confused on whether he should take the ticket or not? He does want to go to India, doesn't he? Or... does he?

“It leaves in two days, in the morning.” Andrew nodded and thanked her again and once again, silence fell on the two. Andrew's eyes studied the woman in front of him, scanning over her face, lit by the lonesome candle dancing with the breaths of the two companions in the centre of the table. Sitting up slightly straighter, Andrew cleared his throat and prepared to ask the Captain the many questions he had desired to be answered the moment he joined the voyage.

“Captain?” Elizabeth hummed in response, allowing him to continue with whatever blabber he was going to say. “May I ask you something?” A deep breath and a small nod urged him onward. “What exactly is it you are sailing for? Is it gold? Glory?..” Andrew's voice trailed off as the Captain looked up at him dead straight in the eyes, her own emerald orbs shimmering with the untold ghosts of her past and snarled a single word.

“Revenge.”

“Revenge?”

“Are you deaf or just dumb, Bell? Yes, revenge.”

“Does it have anything to do with the man the dock master mentioned earlier? Howl, was it?” Elizabeth's eyes widened a little and she straightened up in her chair. She hadn't expected him to hear the discussion between herself and Murhad; she thought he was too occupied gazing at the map...

“Yes.” She looked down at her bottle of drink. Andrew opened his mouth to ask another question: what happened? But was cut off by Elizabeth continuing on her explanation. “He betrayed us. It was about five years ago. The night of my seventeenth birthday and everyone had gone to sleep after the party, or so we thought. I was asleep in the cabin with my father; he had split the cabin in half so I had my own room as I was the only female on board.” A breathy laugh escaped her lips as she remembered the day she turned ten and her father ordering Charlie and Skips to put up a partition so she may have her own room like 'a proper young lady'. The ghost of a smile soon vanished as she remembered the events of that fateful night.

“Father's first mate, Howl, was meant to be on watch at the helm as agreed before the celebration. I was woken up by shouting and sounds of a fight on deck; the first thought was we were under attack so I grabbed my swords and rushed to help but what I was met with no one could have prepared me for. We were indeed under attack but not from another ship's crew, our own crew had turned against the Captain.”

“Mutiny!” Andrew whispered. Jones silently nodded in response,

“Yes a mutiny, lead of course by none other than my father's most trusted friend and first mate, Killian Howl.” The name of this traitor rolled off the Captain's tongue venomously, as if it poisoned her to even say his name. “He had persuaded all the crew members he knew would easily change sides to fight against father and it was chaos! Well over fifty traitorous men against only ten of us. The battle was bloody and many lives were lost on both sides; even Rogers and I would have been done for if it wasn't for father and Charlie. From then Charlie stayed and fought with us throughout the fight, making sure we young ones would be kept alive since we were fighting men with years of experience over us while the my father headed for Howl to confront him in a battle of swords. It was a legendary battle, although it was an unholy mess everywhere you looked, it was like everyone fighting knew to just let the two fight without interference. Killian, like the scum he is, fought dirty with no pride or honour, exploiting all of his Captain's weaknesses until he was able to injure him enough to disarm him. I had seen my weakened father struggle and fought my way to his side, to aid him! I cut down any man who tried to stop me reaching him but just as I reached the top of the steps, Killian landed the final blow.”

Andrew gazed at the Captain, captivated by the story and the way she told it with such heartbreaking emotion. He noticed tears carving their path down her ivory cheeks as she continued to indulge him in the story of her past.

“That man, no, that fiend murdered my father by plunging his own sword through his heart. I don't remember anything from there, I only know what Rogers told me when I woke up the following day. Apparently I was so grief stricken I went into a red haze of anger. A frenzy, he called it, fighting Killian myself. A seventeen year old girl fighting a grown man and winning! I could have killed him then and there too if he hadn't of jumped over board onto a waiting life boat from another ship, the coward. He has taken role of Captain on a ship called The Serpent's Tail and he took whatever surviving men from his uprising along with him.” Elizabeth wiped her tears away roughly and sniffed before looking back up at the historian, whom she was surprised to find teary eyed himself.

“Since that day I was made Captain. I know I have changed from the girl I used to be, poor Rogers had to bare the blunt of it and witness my slow decent first hand and I know I've become nearly maddened by the need for revenge. We've been chasing Howl for the past five years all over the globe, encountering things even you, a man of science, would never believe! But he always seems to be one step ahead of us and is able to escape at the last minute; and every time he does, I feel like I lose a little bit more of myself to the vengeful rage that has taken over.” A bitter silence formed between the two again as Elizabeth wiped her eyes again for good measure and forced a smile just in time as Rogers came bounding over to the table completely hyper and drunk, grabbed her hand and pulled her off with him to dance. Andrew had no words. As he gazed after this enchanting woman, he remembered every time he saw her smiling and laughing with her crew on the Chariot; even now as she danced with them she was beaming but now he knew a part of her story, even from the dim lighting he could see the mask she had on, the walls she had up and this act she was playing for a reasons unknown to him. If her crew knew her past then why would she feel the need to hide how she truly felt?

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