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thetomorrowshow · 4 years

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Faith In ‘Okay’

This was my Secret Santa gift for @sandersarefamily ! I had a lot of fun creating for you--sorry it turned out angstier than I intended. I hope you enjoyed it!

Summary: Logan Sanders is blind, and does not need a service dog. His brother, Roman, convinces him to at least try it--and who knows? maybe Logan will find everything he ever needed.

Rating: G

Word count: 4351

Pairings: Logicality, Prinxiety

Tw: Blind character, anxiety attack, kissing, mention of Remus, mention of Deceit

Logan didn't need help.

He never had. Yes, being blind was a . . . limitation. Sometimes he saw it as a disability. Sometimes he sat in a stupor, trying to remember what stars looked like before the accident. Sometimes he bit back tears in the middle of a conversation, not willing to break down in front of people just because they discussed how best to assist him. Sometimes he yelled at his brother for not leaving him alone.

But Logan was also fine. So when his brother, Roman, suggested a guide dog, he was more than a little irritated.

“You keep talking about wanting to be independent!” Roman argued. “Maybe, if you had a guide dog, I could move out!”

That was the argument that kept coming back. That was what Roman wanted. He was tired of always having to help his disabled— limited— brother, and it was showing. Logan knew Roman wanted to attend a school out of state. He knew that Roman desperately wanted to act, to try out for shows, but never had time.

That was probably why Logan agreed to look into the idea.

It took two weeks for the online application to be approved, then another two to get the phone consultation done. The additional forms to complete hadn't taken too long, but it was another three weeks before anyone could come to complete the home evaluation—see if Logan was physically able to have a guide dog, see if his home was safe for one, etc. It all happened, though, and soon they received the approval notification letting them know they had found two dogs that might match with Logan and that they were ready for him to come stay at campus for the two weeks it took to go over the training course.

The day came to leave. Logan was still unsure about this, but Roman insisted it was too late to back out now—then they would've wasted not just their own time, but countless people's time. So Logan begrudgingly followed Roman to the car. He knew the way down the driveway, but Roman had been struck by some protective urge and not only taken his suitcase from him, but had insisted on making him use his white cane. Ridiculous.

Logan settled in to the familiar worn leather of the passenger seat and felt the warmth of the morning sun on his face. It was pleasant. He could almost pretend that they were going to visit friends, or going out to eat.

Then he felt an arm reaching over his chest, and he slapped Roman away. “I can buckle my own seatbelt,” Logan snapped, but didn't move to pull it around his waist.

“Well, you weren't doing it.”

Grumbling, Logan buckled the seatbelt. On the drive he tried to ignore Roman's incessant noise, show tunes and Disney songs alike blaring from the radio. If his brother didn't insist on singing along, it wouldn't be so bad.

Instead, he tried to clear his mind. Long division generally did the trick, but it wouldn't on this day. He tried some basic trigonometry, but just couldn't focus.

His head kept circling back to the dog. What would it sound like? How big would it be? Would it truly allow him to live alone? He lived within walking distance of both the university he attended and the grocery store, and could technically get to both places without physical help—a GPS speaking into his ear didn't count—but rarely did. His school, CSU, helped him immensely with classes and getting to different areas of the campus. Roman drove him to school every morning and to and from the grocery store.

Deep within, he knew that Roman would never move out. Logan was notoriously bad with money—why did all the bills have to feel the same? Folding them differently could only do so much—and, with how often the store was rearranged, he could never reliably find what he was looking for. The few times he had gone by himself, he'd ended up having to ask for help to identify which can was cream of mushroom soup, which milk was 2%, which carton of strawberries looked the best, if what he was holding was hot pockets or a microwave dinner—and all with a clerk guiding him the sections.

A seeing eye dog couldn't help with those things. Only Roman knew what he—they—needed.

“It's good to meet you! Glad you're able to stay with us for the next few weeks. Would I be correct in assuming that you're Logan?”

Logan shook the stranger's hand. “That is my name,” he confirmed.

“I'm Patton Hoyt, and I'll be introducing you to the two dogs we've matched with you! Would you like me to guide you by your arm, or just speak directions?”

Logan's eyebrows rose. That was a first. Generally people did one or the other (usually the first) without asking his preference. Of course, Patton was likely trained to ask. “Spoken directions, please,” he replied.”

Roman still guided him with a hand on his back.

“This is Layla, she's a lab retriever. . . .”

Layla was fine, Logan supposed. She seemed to know her stuff. She just . . . didn't seem to like Roman. That would be a problem, seeing as how Roman wasn't going to be moving out anytime soon.

“Do you want to meet the other dog? If Layla doesn't feel right, I can be back in fifteen minutes with Crofters.”

“Like the jam?” Logan asked, smiling despite himself. “I had some on toast this morning.”

Patton giggled, somehow small and loud at the same time. “Probably,” he said, a grin in his voice. “Would you like to meet him?”

“Why not?” Logan found himself responding. He didn't really want a service dog, he reminded himself. It would be just perfect for Layla to not work out, so they could go home and forget about this whole thing. Roman was the one who wanted the dog.

He was only agreeing, he realized, because he was afraid of hurting Patton Hoyt's feelings. Logan had never really had much regard for others' feelings, but he liked this Patton. He was kind and considerate and funny. His voice held a bright quality, a constant warmth. Logan didn't want to let Patton down.

Not that Patton would be let down. It was his job to be kind. At the end of the day, he would still get paid. Somehow, though, he got Logan to agree to meeting this dog.

Logan knew immediately that Crofters was the one. Instead of licking his hand, or barking at Roman, or ignoring them both completely, Crofters bumped his head gently against Logan's right knee then backed up a step.

“Aww! He nuzzled his noggin! Crofters is usually a bit shy!”

Logan grinned. He still didn't really want a service dog, but he thought maybe he could like this dog. Patton told him about how excited Crofters was, how well he'd done on all his tests, and how much Crofters had enjoyed a sweet potato that had been left out from an employee's lunch. Patton talked a lot, and didn't seem to mind when Logan interrupted to provide random bits of knowledge, or review some of his basic needs in his routine.

Logan was growing . . . attached, he supposed. He begrudgingly admitted that he had been looking forward to the idea of having a dog. Now, he didn't know if he was attached to Patton, or to the idea of having a dog. He supposed he'd find out.

Now he knew. He began to know when Patton timidly asked if Crofters was right, and if he wasn't, they could go through the application process again and ask for a different dog. Logan cut Patton off and agreed to begin working with Crofters, because yes, he would love to adopt the golden retriever, and yes, he would be willing to stay on campus for the duration of the two weeks of training. Now, as he patted Crofters's head while Patton explained (even though he'd said the same thing every day for the past week at training) the schedule for the day, he knew.

Logan was certainly very open to the idea of having a seeing eye dog.

He was also experiencing a crush on Patton Hoyt.

“I'm just rambling now, aren't I?”

Logan smiled. “Possibly,” he allowed. “However, your rambling is . . . pleasing to listen to.”

Patton laughed. It was almost drowned out by the noise of the buffet.

Six weeks had passed since training ended. Patton had scheduled one meeting (ahem, date, ahem) a week, so they could go over any problems Logan might be experiencing or any questions he had. At least, that was the purpose of the meetings.

“Do you want anything else to eat?”

“No, no,” Logan waved him off. “Whatever the fried item you got me was may be a cause for gastrointestinal surgery.”

Patton giggled again. “It was okra,” he said. “Is Roman picking you up, or do you and Crofters want me to drop you off somewhere?”

“Patton, I believe we should stop, to use a figurative statement, beating around the bush.”

Silence from Patton. Logan heard a rustle and caught a whiff of perfume as someone passed by. A child screeched over the beastly rumble of chatter. Logan took a deep breath. This was going to be hard to bring up, so he worded it in the most detached way possible.

“I have developed feelings of romantic attraction for you.” Wow, that was blunt. Not for the first time in that day alone, Logan wished he could see. Patton's silence didn't tell him if he'd reacted positively or negatively.

“If this makes you uncomfortable, I promise to never bring it up again.”

Silence. Again, Logan spoke, panicking now.

“I apologize for mentioning it. If you would drop me off at the CSU campus, that would be wonderful.”

Finally, Patton spoke, his voice low and sing-songy. “Two bros, chilling in a buffet. Five feet apart 'cuz they're so gay.”

“What?” What was Patton talking about? His verbal cues were giving him nothing—but he liked the sound of 'gay'. That seemed hopeful, didn't it?

“Logan, we haven't said a single word about Crofters all lunch. I was so flustered about trying to get you to like me, I wore a tie.” Patton's voice was shaking. Tears or laughter? Logan wondered frantically. “Logan, you can't see! How were you supposed to notice a tie?”

Then Logan was laughing, and Patton was laughing, an adorable little giggle accompanied by the occasional snort. Their hands ended up clasped over the table, and Logan, almost subconsciously, leaned over the table, somehow knowing that Patton was doing the same thing. Their laughter died down. Logan felt his forehead bump lightly against Patton's, his skin burning at the sudden impact, and he knew he was close enough.

“People are staring,” Patton whispered. Logan shrugged.

“I'm told people stare at me a lot,” he said. “I assume it's usually because I'm staring at them and don't realize.”

“And your dashing good looks,” said Patton playfully. Logan's cheeks burned—he hadn't expected this to happen. He liked where it was going, but what if Patton thought they were moving too fast? Just minutes ago, they'd been colleagues. Now they were . . . romantic interests? It happened so quickly, one could've blinked and missed it. That was surely too fast. Not to mention, Logan had a plethora of special needs. He didn't want to dump them all on someone so—so wonderful!

“Patton,” Logan said before anything could happen, “I've already confessed my attraction. But is it wise to continue? I-I am blind, after all.” The lame excuse fell flat on his ears. Patton seemed to find it a poor reason as well, as he squeezed Logan's hands and whispered a question.

“Would you like me to guide you to my lips, or just speak directions?”

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

Roman wasn't upset. He truly wasn't! He was incredibly excited that Logan had a boyfriend. He'd already planned three perfect dates for them, including one that would be enjoyable for Crofters. He'd suggested a road trip to visit family, he was so certain their aunt would love Patton. Just the other day, he'd caught himself daydreaming about what songs would be best for their wedding dance. What could he say? He was an imaginative guy.

No, Roman definitely wasn't upset. But he was worried. He worried that Patton would never figure out exactly how to toast Logan's toast. He worried that Patton would always forget to set up the table correctly. What went where in the fridge. Where to find the type of clothes Logan liked to wear. When to let him walk to school and when to drive him. But most of all, Roman worried that Patton would get tired. Tired of all of Logan's needs and routines. Tired of holding Logan's hand when they crossed the road. Tired of having to shop for him. Tired of not being able to do normal things with him.

He was worried that Patton would abandon his brother, breaking Logan's heart in the process.

So who could blame him for growing more protective?

It all came to a head one day.

“Get in the car, I'll grab your cane. Crofters! Here, boy!” Roman called. Logan had just seen fit to inform him that he had an interview that day. He was certain that Logan would be a wonderful teacher's pet—aide for CSU, where he attended classes, but . . . Roman was going to miss an audition if he took Logan. He'd been really excited about it, too. He was auditioning to play Feste in Shakespeare's Twelfth Night , but . . . he found himself doing the math in his head. The drive to CSU was fifteen minutes counting traffic lights, then the interview would likely be longer. Then a good brother would take Logan out to eat, regardless of the results of the interview. The audition was half an hour away, just in the other direction. He couldn't make both. Logan's needs and wants came before his. He knew that.

Needless to say, Roman was very surprised when Logan didn't move. “Come on!” Roman urged. “We don't want to be late.”

“Patton has agreed to provide transportation to the interview. If he doesn't show up, we live within walking distance of the school,” Logan added, forestalling Roman's next argument.

Roman didn't really know what to do with himself. Patton picked up Logan and Crofters. Roman tried to watch TV. He tried to rehearse his monologue. Eventually he left, arriving early at the audition.

It went fine, as far as he could remember. Nothing like the auditions from his high school days, but probably okay. He couldn't stop thinking about Logan—was he safe? Would he get lost? Taken advantage of? Who would comfort him if he failed the interview?

Roman left the theater and drove. He didn't know where he was headed. He drove until he arrived at the mall.

Roman had often had fun at the mall—he and his twin, Remus, had often come here to mess around. He had dozens of pictures of Remus running through the kids' play area, or of he himself posing as a mannequin, dressed in the most uppity clothes they could find. The memories were nice enough to look back on, but they carried a melancholy air. He hadn't seen Remus in four years, since they were eighteen. His twin had moved across the country, scared of the responsibility of their younger brother Logan when their parents had died. Roman had had to grow up fast.

Through the smog of memories, Roman realized he'd wandered into Barnes & Noble, the smell of books reminding him of Logan in a comforting way.

“Welcome to Barnes & Noble. Can I help you find anything?”

Roman spun around. The clerk standing behind him let his bangs fall in front of his face and didn't even try to smile. Roman forgot his woes momentarily as he was struck with a second of gay panic. This clerk was hot . Like, skater gruff mountain man mixed with Tom Holland. An emo baby with scruff. The heir to the evil legacy who loves the good prince. The type of dude on the big poster in the window of the shoe store. His eyes caught the nametag—Virgil. Even his name was hot.

“Thank you, but I think I've just found what I'm looking for,” Roman found himself flirting. The clerk blushed and averted his eyes, muttering a small “whatever” and walking past. Roman turned to watch him go—was he hot from behind?

He didn't get to know, as the clerk turned as well and met his eyes. “Nice hair,” Virgil said, cheeks still red. “Purple. Looks . . . edgy.”

Roman laughed. A little too hard. It made Virgil smile, though, so maybe it was okay.

“My lunch break's in twenty minutes,” Virgil said. “Can I, uh. Can I get you some Panera?”

“—and I wasn't entirely certain that I'd done the character justice, you know? I know it was just a cold reading—”

“Dude, Roman. Calm down. I'm sure you did awesome,” laughed Virgil. The two were sitting in a booth at Denny's, hands entwined over the table.

Virgil was being reasonable, but it was so hard to calm down. Roman tried to change his train of thought and ended up thinking about Logan. His brother was representing CSU at a college fair. Roman had argued against it (“I'll have Crofters and Patton, I will be fine. Fracture a femur at the callbacks and enjoy your outing with your boyfriend.”) but had lost. His mind started spiraling again as he wondered: what if Patton forgot about Logan? What if someone dognapped Crofters? What if someone took advantage of his naive, blind, baby brother, who would be standing proudly at his school's table with a smile and a brochure? What if—

“In for four, Ro. In for four, hold for seven, out for eight. Breathe, and focus on my voice.”

Roman hadn't realized he was panicking outwardly, but he tried to do as Virgil instructed. The breathing didn't feel like it was helping, though, and soon he ignored the rhythm. He kept thinking about all the dangers Logan was in, and wished he could keep Logan in the safety of their routine, where nothing changed and nothing was unknown.

“Tell me five things you can see.”

Roman hadn't noticed that his eyes were closed. He blinked them open to find his vision blurry with tears. “A beautiful man,” he managed, eyes sweeping over his boyfriend then the restaurant. “Uh. The carpet. That painting of the dogs playing poker. That boy's hat. And the hanging light.”

“I love you, you're doing great. Four things you can touch?”

“The booth, your hand. The table. My phone in my pocket.” When had he become so tired?

“Nice,” Virgil said quietly. “Three things you can hear?”

“Your voice. Music, and the news playing on that TV.”

“Almost done, you're doing awesome. Two things you can smell?”

Roman sniffed. That was easy. “Your lasagna, the syrup from my pancakes.”

“And one thing you can taste.”

Roman licked his lips and grinned. “Your lasagna.”

Virgil rolled his eyes, but smiled anyhow. “Feel a bit better?”

Roman nodded. He was still worried, but it was better. The sleepiness that filled his veins made him not want to think about it. He wondered sometimes how Virgil always knew how to calm him down.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Roman took a deep breath, then nodded again.

“I have a brother,” Virgil said. They'd finished eating and relocated their conversation to Virgil's pick-up truck. There Roman had spoken his worries, confessed that he couldn't seem to stop being anxious about Logan.

“Not really, I guess. I mean, I think of him as my brother. My parents foster. So he's my foster brother, but that doesn't matter. His name's Dee.” Virgil ran a hand through his hair. He spoke again.

“Dee . . . can't talk. Something happened in his birth home—I dunno if he was born like that, or abuse or what—but it was hard. Hard to not try and take care of him. He's in pain a lot of the time. More often than not, he has to have a feeding tube because swallowing hurts too much.

“It was hard to let him go. Dee's such an individual!” Virgil laughed slightly. “He got into debate when he was thirteen. He's super good at it, too. I just—I couldn't stop worrying. What could someone do to a boy with no voice? A boy who can't say no. A boy who can't yell for help.”

Roman felt a pang of familiarity. He'd had very similar thoughts about Logan.

“When he was sixteen, we got into a fight,” Virgil continued. “He was yelling—I say yelling. His hands were moving angrily—, I was yelling, and he finally snapped. Dee told me I was too protective. He could handle himself. Bunch of other stuff. He ended up telling me that one of us was going to have to move out, and he was fine with it being him.

“I wasn't—he needed help, and our parents could help better than some roommate. So I left. Moved out of state.”

“How?” Roman heard himself whispering. He couldn't imagine ever doing that to Logan.

Virgil shrugged uneasily. “I was pretty mad. I was still anxious, though—for a while I called home every day. Heck, I texted Dee all the time to make sure he was okay. I stopped when he told me to. I got a job, enrolled in a few classes at CSU. It got easier. Dee skypes me on Sundays to ask about my week. It's okay.”

“Logan wouldn't kick me out, though,” Roman said bluntly. “He—”

“Can survive without you.”

“What?”

Virgil smiled and took his hand. “Logan can survive without you,” he repeated. “He has strengths, even if they're different from yours. It's okay to be scared. Scared of someone hurting him. But it sounds like. . . .”

“Yes?”

“It sounds like you're scared of him not needing you.”

Roman felt tears filling his eyes. That—that was it. He hated to admit it, but that was it. “Ay, there's the rub,” he choked out. He collapsed against Virgil's chest, his body shaking with sobs.

“It's okay . . . it's okay,” Virgil murmured.

“I just—I've been there for him since our parents d-died,” Roman sniffled. “My b-brother left us and Lo was so—so lost, and I-I love him so much! I packed his lunch when he was sixteen and drove him to school and got a job and gave up everything! Just to take care of him! He—he's my purpose! He's been my purpose for years! How—how can I just mo-move on?”

“No one expects you to just move on,” Virgil said, tracing small circles on Roman's back. “But I'm here to help you get through this, and so is Logan. It's going to be okay. Depend on us. It's all going to work out. It'll be okay.”

“You must be Patton. It's good to meet you,” Virgil said, shaking the bespectacled man's hand. Patton grinned at him, then gently pulled forward the man whose hand he was holding.

“That's me! This is my boyfriend, and his dog, Crofters.”

“Thank you for introducing my dog, Patton,” the man said dryly. Virgil knew his name before he said it. It wasn't just because Logan was attached to Patton, or the fact that his golden retriever was named Crofters, or even the classic sunglasses shielding his eyes. It was the smattering of freckles on his nose. It was the dimple in his right cheek as he smiled fondly in the direction of his boyfriend. It was the slightly round way his voice sounded. There was no doubt that this was Roman's brother.

“I'm Logan. I must presume that you are Virgil?”

Virgil ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah. How's the move going?”

Patton grinned. “Really well!” he said excitedly. “I'm definitely picking up on Lo's routines, and Crofters is adjusting too!”

“That's good. Let me know if you need to borrow my truck. Anything for Roman's family.” He tugged awkwardly at his stiff collar. He hated dressing up, but this was for Roman. “Shall we go in, then?”

They walked into the theater, making a chain of sorts: Virgil leading Patton by the hand to the seats he'd already reserved for them, Patton leading Logan by the hand so he didn't run into anyone (something, as Logan pointed out, Crofters could do just fine).

“Do you want to hear Roman's bio?” Patton asked Logan once they were settled in, the program held open in his hands.

“I'm relatively certain I edited it for him, but read on, love,” came Logan's reply.

“'Roman Sanders, Prospero—Roman Sanders is pleased to make his acting debut as Prospero in—'”

The lights flickered. One minute before the show. All around them, people began to sit. Patton closed the program and quietly informed Logan that the show was about to begin.

Then the curtains parted.

Patton watched Logan, hoping he was following the story, and grinned at the look of interest on his boyfriend's face as he settled back into his chair. Everything was okay.

Logan listened closely. He'd heard Roman's lines a million times when his brother rehearsed at home, but this was different. All the characters came together in a complex symphony that made him never want to stop listening. Everything was going okay.

Virgil watched Roman throw his arms dramatically, miming control of a giant storm while Shakespeare sang from his lips. He felt a surge of affection, of love, for the man who had come so far. Everything would be okay.

Roman caught a glimpse of his family in the audience and smiled inwardly. They'd all come, just to see him. Everything was okay. Everything was going okay. Everything would be okay. It was okay to move on.

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t0ngue-tech · 4 years

Text

Up All Night

“Out of all the friends Seokjin made online, you were exceptionally precious to him for many reasons. One, you carried metal straws with you everywhere. Two, you both were majoring in the medical field. Lastly, to be frank, he liked you.”

↠ fluffy nonsense huhuhu, universityAU ↞

word count: 4.9k

↠ oneshot ↞

A/N: happy new year everyone! 2019 was a ROUGH year for me for so many reasons. i hope this new year will do me good. as a gift for the new year, here’s a little seokjin fic huhu. i hope your new years eve was a fun and safe one (im still hungover a little but im alive lmao) i also hope to put out more fics for you all to love! i love you guise so much! o and there’s a few maplestory references in this fic lol.

Eatjean: I have no idea why it stopped working. I got this watch last week

Y0urnam3: i think you should just give it some TIME

y0urnam3: get it??????

Y0urnam3: cuz it’s a WATCH!!!

Seokjin slapped a hand over his mouth, but failed to stifle the broken laugh behind his hand. He ultimately released a squeaky laugh that almost had him in tears.

“SEOKJIN. I swear to--”

“Okay! Okay! I’ll log off, Yoongi. Relax.”

Besides studying for hours on end at his desk, Seokjin also spent hours playing an online game called Maplestory. He played for years and even if he was juggling his job, social life, and college, he always made time to play. Seokjin made a lot of friends all around the world through Maplestory and even a handful of his friends in college played.

“Dude, you’ve been playing since 8:30. I have to solidify this lesson plan and I can’t concentrate with you laughing and slapping your desk every ten seconds.” Yoongi, Seokjin’s roommate, took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes.

“Sorry, but y/n has been busy with school and we haven’t played together for a while.” Seokjin explained.

Out of all the friends Seokjin made online, you were exceptionally precious to him for many reasons. One, you carried metal straws with you everywhere. Two, you both were majoring in the medical field. Lastly, to be frank, he liked you.

Seokjin met you online through the Monster Carnival Party Quest around four months ago. Being in the last room of the party quest meant having a larger party with characters that had buffs and skills that could be beneficial to the entire team. Seokjin’s party was in need of a healer and happened to choose you, a cleric, to join the party.

For five rounds, Seokjin’s party dominated the party quest and when everyone came to the mutual decision to call it quits, everyone sent each other a buddy request and it all started off from there.

For the next few days, Seokjin found himself logging on around the same time you were online and the two of you spent time farming for mesos, helping each other out with quests, or doing rooms three and four in CPQ because the rooms only required a two-person party. This allowed you two to chat for hours, getting to know each other little by little. Of course, you both took precautions because it was the online world, anyone could be behind their screens and pretend to be someone they weren’t.

After almost a month of chatting as much as possible, you eventually began to trust Seokjin with more personal details of your life. You opened up by venting to him about how your ex-best friend decided to hook up with your newly broken up with ex-boyfriend. Seokjin easily related with you with the same story however, his story happened in high school and he found out himself because he found one of his ex-girlfriend’s blouses in his ex-best friend’s room. Seokjin understood your pain and became an emotional sounding board for you.

Even if Seokjin was your listening ear, the only other information that was shared was each other’s names and major. Honestly, Seokjin was curious about what you looked like, what your voice sounded like, but those things were privileged information that couldn’t be shared that easily. Looking each other up online probably wouldn’t be much help either because there could be a lot of people who had the same names and there would be no way to figure out for sure who was really you and vise versa.

No matter how curious he was, Seokjin respected your privacy and didn’t want to ruin the friendship he had with you.

“You make like you haven’t spoken to her in years.” Yoongi quipped as he typed away at his laptop.

“Just do your lesson plan, Mr. Teacher’s Assistant.” Seokjin laughed and launched a paper ball towards Yoongi’s direction. “I’m packing it in anyways. Y/n has an early class tomorrow.”

↠↞

There were multiple places you could’ve been and your 8 am class was definitely not your first choice.

Your professor for medical terminology had an optional 8 am course which you stupidly decided to attend. It wasn’t because you were failing, your future wouldn’t allow for that. Focusing and studying hasn’t been in your mind for a few days and you needed a refresher.

“Y/n, tell me, why am I even here right now?” Irene dropped her folder on top of the desk next to you and groaned. “I swear my bed was caressing me and begging me to stay.”

You yawned and tapped her desk. “Trust me. I also almost pressed snooze on my alarm but you promised you’d go with me and a promise is a promise.”

“Yeah, yeah, and you promised you were going to treat me to breakfast after this soooo…”

Fifteen minutes felt like four days. Your professor stood at the front of the class rambling on, clicking through his slides while everyone stared back at him with hollow eyes.

You glanced over at Irene who had half-lidded eyes and lazily swung her pen in between her fingers. She was probably daydreaming about the french toast and hot coffee from the diner across campus.

You found yourself doodling in the corner of your notebook with rough sketches of orange mushrooms, slimes, and a family of snails. The corner of your paper was starting to look like a miniature version of Henesys hunting grounds.

Forty-five minutes dragged on by and your professor finally let the class go. You and Irene both had a 10 am class which was why you promised her breakfast; to pass time and to have girl time.

“Are you sure I can order the french toast and waffles? We’re both broke ass college students, you know.” Irene handed her menu to the waitress and smiled.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s fine. We haven’t hung out in a while, so it’s okay.” You assured her.

“That’s because you’re always playing Maplestory.”

Irene wasn’t wrong.

You didn’t mean to spend the majority of your free time cooped up at your desk with your eyes glued to the colorful images on your laptop screen. Some days your logged on to bust ass and level up, but other days you actually waited to see if Seokjin was going to log on as well.

“So, anything new with that Seokjin guy?” Irene sipped her coffee. “Did you ask for each other’s social media yet?”

The answer will always be no.

“I told you, Irene. There’s something about the ‘not-knowing’. Plus, it’s a mutual agreement between us.” You explained for the thousandth time.

“Yeah, but what if he’s a creepy dude trying to hit on you!”

Of course you thought of that, which was also a hidden reason as to you why you didn’t expose too much personal information about yourself. Seokjin only knew your first name, your major in college, and you were sure to change the names of any personal stories that your shared with him.

You made sure to be careful. Always.

“Seokjin has been catfished before on Maplestory and he said it was so embarrassing and painful that he never wishes anything like that one anyone.” This was a story that Seokjin hesitated to tell because of how embarrassing it was, but he knew he had to tell you because he didn’t want you to get the wrong idea about him. This was his way of showing you that he trusted you.

“Well, alright y/n. You’re a smart girl, don’t forget that.”

Classes seemed to fly by after breakfast and after a draining study group, you were eager to have some quality time with yourself.

When you fully logged into your Maplestory account, Seokjin was quick to greet you in the text box.

Eatjean: Y/n!!!!

Eatjean: How was class?

You smiled stupidly at your laptop screen.

Y0urnam3: seokjinnnnnn! classes were just as annoying as yesterday

Yournam3: my energy is at 5% right now

Eatjean: I think it’s bedtime for you

A pout formed.

Y0urnam3: nooooo i waited all day to talk to you

Your feelings for Seokjin wasn’t exactly subtle. You weren’t shy to type out things like “I love talking with you” and “I missed you, sorry I couldn’t play yesterday”. It took a lot of courage for you to do so, but you were sure the courage came from not knowing Seokjin face-to-face. If you were to see him in person after saying all of those things, there was no doubt you would shrivel up into an embarrassed raisin.

Seokjin took a little longer to reply than usual. Instead of seeing his screen name, a spam of a character selling a level 200 weapon for warriors filled the chat box instead. Maybe this was a sign that you needed to stop being so forward with him.

“Awww, okay then stay uwu.”

Seokjin scrambled around a blocked his screen with his hands. He whipped his head to the side and found Yoongi peering over his shoulder.

“Y-Yoongi, when did you get back?” Seokjin stammered.

“Just now. Aren’t you going to press enter?” Yoongi stepped away from Seokjin’s breathing space and took a seat on his own bed. “And what the hell is an uwu?”

“It’s a way to express, uh, extreme ador--no, just google it!” He learned the phrase from you a few weeks ago and at first, he was just as confused as Yoongi was.

Seokjin took another quick glance at Yoongi who was struggling to kick his converse off his feet and hit the “enter” key on his laptop.

Within minutes, you replied.

Y0urnam3: OMG YOURE USING UWU ALJDFLKDJ

Eatjean: MY FIRST AND ONLY TIME

Y0urnam3: UWUWUWUWUWUWUWUWUWU

Y0urnam3: btw can you help me farm for some mesos? I still can’t believe i got scammed yesterday

Seokjin didn’t do anything to hide the smile on his face. Why was the word “uwu” so amusing to him? It was probably because it made you seem a lot cuter than what he originally thought.

In the next hour, Seokjin met up with you help you gain back the mesos you lost. After everything, the two of you circled back to Henesys and stood at a random spot in an empty channel.

Eatjean: Brb ya boi needs a snack lol

He stood up from his chair and retreated to a small table in the room that he and Yoongi dubbed as the snack corner.

“Still playing?” Yoongi asked from behind his laptop screen.

“Yeah. We’re waiting for a few friends so we can LPQ.” Seokjin ripped open a bag of sweet corn balls, sending a few flying to the floor. Just as he bent down to pick up the pieces, he caught Yoongi’s eyes staring at him. “What?”

“I have literally no idea what you just said, but go off I guess.” Yoongi went back to typing away on his laptop. “Oh yeah, before I forget, you’re coming this weekend right?”

Seokjin took a quick second to think about what plans he possibly had this weekend, but nothing came to mind.

“What’s happening this weekend?”

“Dude, Jimin’s party? Penthouse in the city?”

It finally clicked in his brain that Jimin’s uncle lent Jimin his penthouse for the weekend as an early birthday present. Seokjin was invited last week along with Yoongi and they were given strict instructions by Jimin to clear their schedule for Saturday night.

Was it selfish for Seokjin to want to stay back at his dorm and talk to you all night? There was no doubt that Yoongi would agree to go because he has been complaining the entire week about “needing a fucking drink because fuck this lesson plan”. With Yoongi gone for that evening, that meant Seokjin could laugh to his heart’s content all by himself.

“I--” Seokjin dragged on. “I don’t know. I might just stay here and relax.”

“Relax my ass.” Yoongi said in a joking tone. “Seokjin, you’re going. It’s just one night out. Y/n is not going to disappear all of a sudden.”

Of course Yoongi was right. It was just one night off campus and having a drink with his friends was a plan that was long overdue. But Seokjin liked you too much, so it was normal to want to talk to you as much as possible.

Seokjin sighed quietly. An unnecessary battle between the two choices flooded his mind. Going to the party was obviously the answer that settled at the tip of his tongue.

But y/n… ugh but Jimin...

“Fine, okay. I’ll go, I’ll go.” Seokjin lifted his hands in the air in defeat.

There was no point in telling you about the party because just as Yoongi mentioned, you weren’t going to disappear into thin air. Plus, Seokjin wasn’t your boyfriend. He had no business in telling you every single thing that he was going to be doing.

Eatjean: Okay, back

Eatjean: Sorry my roommate was just telling me about his day

Seokjin waited a few minutes before receiving your reply.

Y0urnam3: ohhhhh this is the teacher’s assistant right?

Y0urnam3: how was his day?

Y0urnam3: and how was yours too!! i forgot to ask lol

He smiled and danced his fingers along his keyboard.

Eatjean: That’s the one! And he’s in desperate need for a drink

Eatjean: My day was alright. We’re already preparing for midterms so that’s a bummer

After hitting “enter”, Seokjin pressed the F4 button on his keyboard making his character have a crying facial expression.

Talking to you was always easy. He never felt the need to force a conversation with you because you both shared the same interests and had an understanding school schedule. If there was a chance where he could meet you in person, he was so sure that it would also be just as easy.

For the next two hours, Seokjin aided you in farming for mesos until the party was full to complete a few rounds of the party quest. Even if his eyes may have gotten dry and his back was tight, he enjoyed the time he spent with you.

Y0urnam3: okay seokjin it is LATE and ya girl needs to sleep

Seokjin frowned.

Eatjean: Already T__T

Y0urnam3: i know in sory

Y0urnam3: im sorry****

Y0urnam3: ive been keeping all school related stuff on the back burner and i need to get accepted into the nursing program i told u about

“Ah..right.” Seokjin muttered to himself.

Eatjean: OH OF COURSE OF COURSE

Eatjean: Pls focus on school too!! Trying to become a cardiologist isnt a walk in the park either so i understand

Eatjean: Study hard and get some rest y/n

After receiving your reply filled with words of encouragement for Seokjin to also study hard, he finally shut off his laptop and flopped onto his bed. Since school was a huge priority for you, this probably meant you were going to spend more time hitting the books and using your computer for actual research purposes.

“If only we had each other’s instagram handles or something.” Seokjin groaned and waited for a response from Yoongi.

The room stayed silent and when he turned around, Yoongi was sitting in his chair with his head tilted backwards and had a red pen tucked behind his ear. His desk was cluttered with debris of papers and his laptop was wide open with what seemed to be an answer key.

Seokjin stared at his sleeping friend for a while. “Yeah. He needs a fucking drink.”

↠↞

“Okay, bitches. Clear your schedules. We are going to get crazy tomorrow..” A mutual friend of you and Irene, Seulgi, dropped her binder and textbook on top of the table where you and Irene were studying.

“Crazy?” Irene questioned. “Really?”

Seulgi dropped herself into the seat next to you and sighed. “No, I’m kidding. I just wanted to invite you guys to my dorm tomorrow to have a study session and a few glasses of wine.”

“Ugh. I’m in. I have been crazed this whole week and I need the alcohol.” You shut your textbook and rubbed your temples.

“Are you sure? You’re not going to isolate yourself and play Maplestory—and I mean that in the nicest way possible.” Irene reached over and clasped your hands with hers.

You laughed knowing there may have been notes of bitterness in her words. “Yes honey, I’m sure. Both Seokjin and I have mountains of work that we’ve been putting off so I don’t know when’s the next time we’re going to be online together.”

Seulgi raised her eyebrows and leaned closer to your shoulder. “And how is it going with Mr. Eatjean? Are you two going to get married in Amoria yet?”

You snorted and gently pushed Seulgi’s head away from your breathing space. To your surprise, Irene laughed along understanding what Seulgi was talking about; she never played the game but you talked about it so much with her that she caught on some of the terminology that was used.

Unfortunately, what you said was the truth. You haven’t been able to play Maplestory in a while and you really missed talking to Seokjin. It wasn’t easy being in the medical field, but you had to give your future career some of your attention at some point.

When Seulgi invited you two over for a study session, you imagined having a few glasses of wine while listening to jazz and getting a lot of work done. However, none of that happened.

Just when the three of you were settled in Seulgi’s room, almost ready to pull out the wine cork, Seulgi receives a very delightful phone call from a friend. Next thing you knew, you were carefully applying lip gloss in the backseat of an uber and Irene was racking her brain over whether or not she wanted to unbutton the first three buttons of her top.

“Ugh, just do it already! Jihyo is going to be there tonight that’s why!” Seulgi gently tugged on Irene’s hand who was holding onto yours. “And y/n, stop pulling the skirt down. That skirt was meant to be that short.”

“I know, but oh my God, the exposure!” You tugged at the end of the black pencil skirt Seulgi let you borrow.

“Sooyoung, should’ve let us know ahead of time about these plans.” Irene complained.

“At least this is way better than studying—hey, Sooyoung!” Seulgi called out.

Sooyoung met the three of you at the elevator and hastily rushed you all down the long hallway that was filled with gorgeous college students. You all entered a doorway that was also filled with students who were either already wasted or making their way towards that level. Some of the students were familiar to you and others were definite strangers; Sooyoung seemed to know most of them.

“Girl, where is your brother anyway? We have to at least greet him happy birthday first.” Irene tippy toed to get a good look of the people in the kitchen.

“He’s in here somewhere. Let’s just find him later.” Sooyoung began pouring vodka into shot cups while you poured sprite into four other cups.

“You know, I keep forgetting you have a brother.” You spoke over the mixed sounds of music and voices of people. “Why don’t you two just go to the same university?”

“Well, you know how it is. Siblings, different majors, scholarships, blah blah blah.” Sooyoung brushed passed the subject and handed out the shots and chasers. “Come on, you girls need to catch up, especially Irene because Jihyo looks hot as fuck tonight—to Jihyo!”

Sooyoung raised her shot cup and while you and Seulgi complied with the cheer, Irene begged you all to tune it down. Although she did mutter, to Jihyo, before gulping down her vodka.

You, Seulgi, and Sooyoung were huddled in one part of the living room to keep an eye on Irene who seemed to be a bit more confident in talking to her crush; all thanks to some liquid courage.

The entire floor was covered with people making it almost impossible to not bump into anyone.

“Oh! Sorry!” You yelled over music. “This place is so boujee! If I ever lived here, I would never leave.”

Seulgi laughed and nudged your shoulder. “Penthouse or not, you never leave your dorm anyway!”

“Ooh! Is it because of that game you’re playing? How is that dude-guy anyway?” Sooyoung slurred.

You scrunch your nose and helped your drunk friend sit down on a nearby chair. “How much did you drink before we arrive?”

Sooyoung gently tugged on your pencil skirt. “Answer me question. When are you and denim jeans getting married in Amoria?”

Seulgi threw a fit of laughter as she explained to Sooyoung that she said the exact same thing.

“We are not getting married in Amoria. We’re not even in a relationship.” You squished Sooyoung’s cheeks with one hand and took a sip from your mixed drink.

“But why not? It seems like you and sack-jeans are into each other. I say, date!” Sooyoung waved her red cup in the air and you and Seulgi did your best to calm her down. A drunk Sooyoung was something else.

“Honey, you need to relax. It’s only eight in the evening and for your information, his name is Seokjin and we’re just Maplestory buddies right now. We don’t even know what each other looks like.” You stroked Sooyoung’s hair and took another sip of your drink.

“Y/n, just listen to the poor girl and date him!” Seulgi let out a high pitch snicker and gave Sooyoung a high five.

Talking about Seokjin was definitely bringing your mood down. Maybe it was the alcohol messing with your emotions for than usual, but you really missed talking with him.

“Y-Y/n?”

You felt a tap on your shoulder and you spun around, making eye contact with one of the cutest guys you ever laid your eyes on. He wore a red t-shirt that hugged his broad shoulders and had jet black hair that was styled upward. If his eyes didn't catch your attention, his lips sure did. The only thing wrong with him was that he knew your name and you didn’t recognize him at all.

“Um and you are?” You questioned, readying yourself to perform some sort of self-defense.

“It’s me.” He gestured to himself. “Seokjin.”

↠↞

Seokjin weaved himself around the kitchen, trying to find a bottle of Grey Goose to refill his drink.

“Damnit, Jimin. How many people do you know?!” Seokjin grunted. “Oh, Joy! Pass me the bottle when you’re done.”

The already-drunk-sister of his friend gave him a thumbs up before filling up the last shot cup and slid the bottle down the counter. Seokjin tried to thank her, but her focus was immediately back to her friends.

“Dude, where’d you go?!” Yoongi bumped into Seokjin, almost making him spill his drink.

“Okay, I know you need this wild ass night, but please relax. This is my favorite shirt. It accents my shoulders.” Seokjin grabbed his friend’s cup to give him a refill.

“Hurry. Namjoon is freestyling in the living room and it’s fucking fire.” Yoongi nudged Seokjin’s arm to make him lead the way into the living room.

Seokjin was more than supportive of his friend’s desire to drink his stress away, but having to deal with Yoongi’s drunk ass plus a few more of his friends was making him wish he was back at his dorm, double clicking the Maplestory icon. But he had to admit, Namjoon was spitting bars.

“Oh! Sorry!”

Seokjin turned around to find one of his friends stumbling over, almost knocking down a group of girls.

“Good grief, Sandeul. Sit here, please.” Seokjin gently forced his friend to sit down on the couch in front of him.

Just a few more hours, Seokjin. Just hold out for a few more hours, then you can drag Yoongi back to the dorm.

“-getting married in Amoria?”

Seokjin chuckled. I guess there are other Maplestory players here.

He didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but he was trying to catch wind of the conversation behind him. However, the music and crowd was too loud to hear most of the conversation.

“-and for your information, his name is Seokjin and we’re just Maplestory buddies for now.”

“Y/n, just listen—”

Huh, Seokjin. That’s my name too- WAIT.

Taking the heavy risk of appearing as a creeper, Seokjin turned around and tapped the girl behind him.

Here goes.

“Y-Y/n?”

When she turned around, Seokjin was blessed to see the cutest girl he has ever seen.

“Um and you are?”

Seokjin braced himself and pointed to his chest. “It’s me. Seokjin.”

You widen your eyes and Seokjin could tell you weren’t as convinced.

“U-uh, it’s really me. Eatjean? I just helped you farm for more mesos because you were scammed the day before.” Seokjin’s heart was thundering in his chest. The alcohol could’ve also played a role in that, but it was also because he was extremely nervous that the girl right before his eyes was actually a different person.

“Oh my God. Oh my God.” You repeated. “Oh my God, you’re really Seokjin!”

The nervousness was slowly exiting his body once he saw the smile that grew on your face. Thank heavens, it was really you.

“Y-Yeah. It’s me! Wow, I just—I’m—w-wow.” Those words were the only ones that Seokjin could muster.

You let out a snicker and tucked a few strands of hair behind your ear. “I can’t believe—”

“Seokjin?! This is denim jeans?! Date her!” Sooyoung suddenly gripped your shoulders.

“Excuse her. Sooyoung get your shit together for a second please—” Seulgi tugged at Sooyoung to leave you two alone. “Continue!”

Seokjin chuckled and looked over his shoulder to check on his friends who were still invested in freestyling. He then took you by the hand to stand in one part of the living room that had a little less people.

“You’re friends with Jimin’s sister?” Seokjin questioned.

“Yeah! We go to the same university. Why the hell hasn’t she mentioned you to me before?” You sighed sadly.

“I’m actually closer to Jimin.” He explained. “I even forget that her real name is Sooyoung. Jimin only refers to her as ‘Joy.’”

You took a sip out of your drink and nodded your head. “What a small ass world.”

Seokjin stuffed his hand in his pocket and leaned in closer to you. “You wanna get out of here?”

↠↞

“I told you to not use the scroll! It only had a fifty percent success rate.” You shook Seokjin by the shoulders who was devastated by the choice he made.

At first, you were feeling hints of regret after quickly accepting Seokjin’s invitation because you didn’t know what his intentions were. But he was just as quick to assure you that he wanted to bring you to his dorm to have some pizza and help him with his character’s accessories.

Seokjin was the perfect gentleman, just as you imagined. He gave you some of his clothes to change into so you were comfortable, he even stepped out of his dorm so you could have privacy. He let you sit in his gaming chair while he took a random stool from inside the dorm. When the pizza arrived, he remembered how much you loved pizza crust so he gave you every single one from each slice he took.

If you knew this was the type of guy Seokjin was, you would’ve gave him your instagram a long time ago.

“Hey, cut me some slack. I took a huge risk here.” Seokjin spun you around in his chair. “And I remember a certain someone who spent almost nine hundred thousand mesos on a staff she ended up not needing.”

“Fine, fine. Touche.” You scoffed and jokingly threatened to leave his dorm.

You scanned Seokjin’s desk and saw nothing but textbooks, what seemed to be study guides, and a few empty coffee cups. Being under the same university major umbrella, you understood the mess all too well.

“How’s your studying going?” You asked, tidying up some of his papers.

“Ehhh. I put the dying in studying.” Seokjin joked and you playfully hit his shoulder. “I’ve been up all night for the past few days.”

“Awww, you poor baby.” You ran your fingers through his hair and his eyelids fluttered closed at your touch. “Well, I guess it’s sort of no different from when you’re playing Maplestory with me.”

“Hmmm, I beg to differ. I actually enjoy spending time with you online.” Seokjin sighed happily. “And maybe I can enjoy spending time with you in person this time around?”

You laughed and brought your hands to your face to hide the blush he caused. “Ohhhhh, very smooth, Seokjin.”

“Do you accept this quest?”

You studied Seokjin’s facial features on more time; his big eyes and pouty lips. After knowing each other through an online game, it was only right for you to finally get to know the real Seokjin.

From what you already knew, he was a sweet man who enjoyed trying new food, doing word search puzzles, and taking every opportunity presented to him to make some sort of pun. He could be a bit cheesy and a bit dorky, but it was all endearing. And because of all the time you’ve spent reading his cheesy lines through your laptop screen, the next words that came out of your mouth was just as cheesy and dorky, but it fit the moment.

“Quest accepted.”

♡ rae jagi

#bangtan boys #bts #seokjin #seokjin scenarios #bts scenarios #jin #bts jin #jin fluff #jin crack #bts fluff #bts crack #why hello there #how u doin #prince #rae writes

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chocolatemillkk · 4 years

Text

CM I

Conor’s been a nuisance to me for as long as I could remember. It was stealing my bike when we were four, telling me santa didn’t exist as soon as he found out at six, blaming his shenanigans on me in school in all the classes we had together, and telling every guy I was interested in that I had herpes. The ones who knew Conor, dated me anyway, but Conor could have very well scared away the love of my life-I’d never know.

Ever since we graduated school and I went to college while he focussed on music, we’d seen each other less and the only bothering he did was tagging me in pointless memes. But every so often when I visited home and our gang met up, I would have to put up with him all over again.

“Come over here!” Jessie tugs me as soon as I get out of my uber. Our friends stand around the car parked in front of her house and they greet me while my face stays buried in Jessie’s shoulder

“Tell me it hasn’t been half a year since we saw each other,” Sam joins the hug and Mel says something about taking a picture of us. When they release me I grab Fran in a hug even though she hated them and notice Conor wasn’t around.

“Where’s Conor?” I ask.

“I thought you’d be glad not to see him,” Mel exchanges a glance with Fran but I don’t understand it.

“Just curious,” I say cautiously. “He’s never missed our mini-reunions.”

“He messaged the group, he’ll meet us at the club.” Jessie says. “Probably already attached himself to a girl there. Let’s go before he does anything stupid.”

“In that case, let’s take our time.” I say dryly with a hint of irritation and my friends just laugh.

We pile into the car and eventually find the street after driving in circles for fifteen minutes. “Could that little shite have picked anything more obscure?” Jessie sighs as she parks.

I hadn’t been to our last meet-up a few months ago due to exams and Conor had missed the meet before that so it’d been a little under a year since I saw Conor. The last time was on the weekend of my 20th birthday where he tried to shove a cupcake in my face. But there was a moment I can’t help but remember. As we were waiting for our separate ubers and he’d leaned into me drunkenly, saying something I’d never forget.

“I think I always loved you.”

“Y/N?” Mel snaps. I hadn’t realised the group was already to the door while I stood still on the sidewalk, remembering the way the words felt against my skin.

“Coming!” I hurry, my heels clacking again the pavement. I catch up to Mel and we walk in silence into the club.

“How’s work been?” I ask Mel, the silence becoming too much.

“Been keeping me busy,” she responds quickly. “I think they went that way.”

With that, she walks ahead of me to the bar where our friends are figuring out the drinks.

“Hey,” I pull Jessie aside after we order them. “Is it just me or is Mel acting weird?”

“Mel?” Jessie was the only person I felt comfortable asking since I knew she would always be objective. “She seems fine to me. Why?”

“I dunno,” I couldn’t put my finger on it. Mel was usually silly with me, teasing me that I was becoming a big nerd. But tonight she’d been serious, deliberately cut the conversation short as if she was mad at me. I would ask her if she was alright later, I decide.

“Ladies,” Sam approaches us, wrapping his arm around Jessie. They’d started dating the summer after graduation and it was no surprise to us. A relief actually, to see all the sexual tension built up between them for years disappear overnight. Quite literally.

“Let’s dance?” Jessie asks us but she’s mostly looking to Sam.

“I’ll just finish my drink first,” I smile-I didn’t feel like being a third wheel. Jessie makes me promise I would join in later and I watch them leave, now all alone. I spot Fran and Mel talking but it seems intense so I turn my back to the crowds and lean on the counter.

“Is it hot in here or is it just you?” I hear the familiar gravelly voice in my ear. My heart beats a little faster as my back straightens in anticipation of the stupid routine Conor and I had.

“You’re so full of shite you should probably find a toilet,” I say easily before turning to stare him straight in the eye. Except. He looked different.

I lose my smirk and my defence as I try to remember what I was going to say to him. He looks older; somehow in the last year he’d lost the boyish look and his features were sharpened by maturity...not that he had any....and with that thought, I remember who I was looking at.

“Still a complete arse, I see.” I look Conor up and down.

“A bigger snob than usual, I see.” Conor retorts but it lacks his usual snarkiness too. Almost as if seeing each other knocked us out of the ring we always fought in. I sip my drink as we find our footing still.

“How’s it going?” Conor asks.

“The usual-going to my snobby school and doing my snobby work.”

Conor chuckles. “Nice to know some things don’t change.”

I don’t answer that, thinking back to what he’d said that night. He was so drunk but apparently not drunk enough to forget because a few mornings after, as I was on the train back to school I’d received a text from him.

I was shitfaced the other night so whatever I said was just nonsense.

The text stung a little even though I never really considered being in love with Conor. His next text reminded me why I never considered it: It’s not like it could work out anyway. You’re too freaky.

Thanks, I’d sent back with an eye-roll emoji. And that had been that.

But it hadn’t been just that. The more I thought about it, the more I realised that deep down I enjoyed the banter. It had become familiar, more reliable than a lot of other things in my life. I’d never miss the juvenile pranks he played on me but our banter was our own little language. And it made me realise other things too, like how it might feel to not have that...like it would make a bigger hole in my heart than I initially thought.

“Have you been working out?” Conor asks beside me and I only barely make out the question over the noise.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” I roll my eyes but secretly flattered that he’d noticed.

“No I’m being serious!” Conor says. “You look good!”

I turn my body to him and raise an eyebrow, assessing if he was going to tease me but he seemed genuine. “I’ve been rock climbing recently, and training for a marathon.”

Conor whistles. Well he looked like he was whistling but I don’t hear anything.

“You don’t look bad yourself,” I comment without letting on that I thought he looked really good. Like really really really really good.

“I’ve been making some changes,” he says casually. When I raise an eyebrow he continues, “I cut back on the alcohol but that’s cuz my label said I need to clean up my image and stop partying so much.” He laughs but it has an edge. “And I try to go to the gym but it’s...”

“A losing battle?” I laugh. “Remember that one summer we all made a pact to work on our ‘summer bodies’ but you went for a week and missed your alarm every week after that.”

“To be honest,” he says. “I never set an alarm after the first week.”

My mouth drops, “You piece of shite! You had us all convinced you were struggling!”

Conor laughs with his whole body and my breath catches with the way the room narrows down just to him. Coming out tonight was not good for my heart-I was only falling

“I can’t piss you off now that you’ve been working out-you could probably beat my arse.”

“Who said I couldn’t do it before I worked out?” I tease as I flex my arm. Conor’s eyes widen and he touches the muscle I’d proudly built over the last few months. His touch sends a zap to my nerves and I drop my arm back to its side.

“That’s like-proper muscle.”

“Yeah!” I’d lost the humour as my heart continued to race. It was just Conor. Just Conor.

“What are you two gossiping about?” Meg and Fran appear and she shouts to be heard. I balk-for a few minutes we were actually getting on.

“Was the world ending or were you two laughing with each other.” Fran reads my thoughts and I blush and glance at Conor who’s glancing at me too.

“I was just getting her comfortable for the trouble I have in store later,” Conor says without the usual sauciness. The girls seem to pick up on it because they glance at one another again. God, that was getting annoying.

“I think Conor’s finally growing a brain in that skull of his,” I joke.

“Is that where my brain’s supposed to be?” Conor bounces off my joke and my laugh’s cut short when I realise Meg is staring at us as if we’d grown another head.

“So Conor,” Meg says after we sip our drinks in silence. “It’s been a while since I saw your face. You haven’t sent me any vocal clips anymore of your music.”

“I’ve been working on lyrics actually...” I tune the conversation out, Meg’s comment making me uncomfortable. I don’t remember Meg being anything but snarky towards Conor yet he was sharing his music with her. And not me. Actually he’d never even talked about his music with me, I have to remind myself. Why was I getting jealous over a stupid comment?

“So Fran-you’re even more quiet tonight than usual.” I say.

“I had a long shift this morning.” She groans. “Kids can be brutal.”

“Aw,” I grab her arm. “Then your next drink’s on me!”

“I have a weird question,” Fran says once we get the drinks. She was never one for beating about the bush.

“Shoot,” I say.

“Do you have a thing for Conor?”

My drink nearly comes out of my nose as I choke. Fran hands me napkins as she pats my back and I begin laughing.

“Why would you think that?” I ask, paranoid that my small-big crush was obvious.

“You two are always going off on one another,” she shrugs. “Maybe that’s your way of flirting?”

“Oh my god,” I laugh. “When I flirt, I’m a lot less aggressive! At least I hope so.”

“So the little piece you were doing just now with him?” She raises an eyebrow.

“Uh-wh-no?” I stutter. Fran and I stare at each other before bursting into laughter.

“You are so bad at lying.” Fran shouts.

“Lying about what?” Jessie shows up with Sam trailing behind her.

“Hey! Weren’t you two dancing?” I ask, hoping to distract from the question.

“Yeah! You never showed!” Jessie says. “And I want a drink. Non-alcoholic don't worry.”

“I’ll give you the seat,” Fran slides off and says she was going.

“Not a word!” I shout out to her and she makes an X over her heart.

•••

“Shotgun!” I shout into the dark as our eyes adjust from the flashing lights to the night sky.

“Aw no!” Sam complains. “You know my legs don’t stretch in the back!”

“Should have thought of that before! Shotgun rules says it’s my seat.” I say, a little tipsy but mostly just happy having all my friends together again.

“I call a window!” Sam frowns.

“Where does Conor sit?” Meg asks. “There’s not enough seats.”

“I’ll sit in Y/N’s lap,” Conor wraps his arm around my shoulders and pulls me to him so I stumble in my heels.

“Get off!” I shove him away, the scrunchie in my hair sliding off. “Ugh.”

“You cut your hair?” Jessie asks as we get in.

“Yeah! Just last week. So many dead ends...” We continue the small talk as the gang piles in the back, Meg agreeing to sit on the floor as she was the smallest. I connect the car with bluetooth and put on a throwback playlist as we reminisce about the old times. Meg falls asleep and we all laugh, the boys taking snaps of her to make fun of. Just as I feel relaxed, the music goes fuzzy and a familiar voice sings through the speakers.

“Isn’t that-“

“Conor!” I twist in my seat and aim to hit his knee but I get Fran instead and while I apologize Conor begins singing out loud which earns groans from everyone.

“Stop hijacking the Bluetooth!” I say and turn my music back on but Conor puts his on again and I feel my frustration rise so I turn it off but Conor just finds a way to play his music again. I cross my arms and sigh, deciding to just ignore it while Jessie starts to hum to the music. Fran and Sam are having a discussion and I feel Conor playing with my hair from the back.

“Stop that!” I twist to see him again and he’s grinning. “Ugh, I hate you.”

“Only because you’re afraid of how much you’d love me,” Conor teases but the words hit too close to home so I flip him off again and turn back in my seat.

Fran and Sam get off first as they lived a few houses down from the other. Next, we drop Meg who took a few shakes and shouts to wake up. Conor says to drop him off at his brother’s and we do so but before he goes in he leans his elbows on my open window.

“You’re gonna get run over,” I say as a car whizzes by behind him.

“So are we doing anything later? This week or something?” Conor ignores my comment.

“Ah I don’t know.” Jessie says. “We can all hang out after work but Y/N’s home for the whole week before she disappears on us again.”

Conor doesn’t even look back at Jessie when he asks me, “Great, maybe I can show you some of my music then.”

I blush, thinking he’d noticed my earlier bitterness about Meg’s comment but his face is casual. “Sounds cool,” I nod and when he’s out of sight Jessie squeals.

“You two are so into each other.”

#conor maynard #conor maynard imagines #youtube imagines #buttercream imagines #imagines #jack maynard #buttercream #qd

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idolish7rabbitchats · 5 years

Text

Momo: 12 SONGS GIFT Rabbit Chat Part 3

1000: Momo, Happy birthday.

3: Momo-san, Happy Birthday!

7: Happy Birthday Momo-san!

4: Momorin HBD!

2: Momo-san, Happy Birthday!

9: Momo-san, Happy Birthday.

6: HAPPY BIRTHDAY! MISTER MOMO!

10: HAPPY BIRTHDAY, Momo-san!

1: Happy Birthday Momo-san.

5: Momo-san, Happy Birthday. I’m looking forward to working with you from now on.

8: HAPPY BIRTHDAY, Momo-san!

Anesagi: Momo, Happy birthday.

10000: Momo-kun, Happy birthday!

100: Thanks everyooooooone!!!!

Okazaki: Thank you for gathering for Momo-kun! Takanashi-san, I’m sorry that I’m copying Anesagi-san from last month, but can you manage the chat since you are great at moving things along?

Tsumugi: Got it!

3: Momo-san, how did your solo song turn out?

100: It’s a secret~!

100: I can tell you only the title! It’s “100% Happiness”!

10: That’s nice! It’s like Momo-san!

4: It’s 100 and it’s happy!

100: Right? Look forward to it!

3: The solo event will be easy if it’s Momo-san huh! Because you have no problem with being an MC, the hand shaking event, and the live.

100: Even though it’s been a long time since I did hand shaking event! So I’m looking forward to it most!

1000: Maybe I should participate secretly too.

Okazaki: Yuki-kun has a job elsewhere!

8: You would be discovered if you were in line (lol)

5: But surprisingly you weren’t discovered when you were disguised.

100: Did you go see the other members’ jobs?

3: Iori and Tamaki’s PE festival. We secretly went in disguises.

8: Ousaka and Izumi-ani did?

3: No. I went with Riku, Yamato-san, and Nagi too.

9: So it’s almost everyone.

4: That was discovered...

1: They were discovered… Even though it was lucky that our students were the type of people who could understand the situation...

6: Iori and Tamaki came to see my filming one day.

4: We did! The thing Nagi-chi was shooting with cats for fashion magazine.

7: You said that huh! That you said you wanted to see because it was with rare high-class cats. Iori went too?

1: I had to accompany Yotsuba-san.

100: Everyone is sneaking into many places huh! lololol

T: So then, this is sudden but, does Momo-san have something you want to ask everyone?

100: I want to ask what they like most about Yuki!

1000: Make it about yourself on your birthday lol

100: It makes me most hyped though!!

6: I get it. I want to gather Kokona’s praises and make it into a flower bouquet and exhibit it eternally.

100: Right? Then, I wonder what I should do~!

100: I got it!

100: What do you do to make up when you fight with someone!

5: When you fight with someone...

100: Yeah! I’ll refer to it in my real life!

2: When Momo-san says “someone” he’s only thinking of that person though.

1000: Really. Who?

T: How to make up with someone when fighting huh! Got it!

100: I can’t imagine Maneko-chan fighting with someone, but what you would do? Like, a time your partner did something wrong or something.

T: Suddenly it’s me?! Well….

*T: I would apologize!

100: That’s so like Maneko-chan! Cuz fighting for a long time is bad huh!

T: Was it fine like this…? I definitely want to hear other opinions too!

T: Then, Okazaki-san please!

Okazaki: I would apologize. Even if I think my reasoning was right, I would apologize for making it into a fighting atmosphere.

Okazaki: After that, I’ll tell them to talk about it again.

2: Aduuult.

100: I get it! Okarin won’t change his argument, but apologize for making it an awkward atmosphere! It’s good cuz you can calm it down for once!

T: Okazaki-san, thank you! How about Anesagi-san?

Anesagi: I’m the total opposite. When I fight in private I could never apologize...

9: Is that so. It’s unexpected because you are fair when it comes to jobs.

Anesagi: Even though I understand in my head that I need to give in. It feels lonely being stubborn and it makes me a boring person.

Anesagi: Still, I made behavior like “I won’t forgive that!”

100: Maybe you want them to understand that you got hurt or they made you mad by their behavior! That part of Kaoru-chan is cute huh~!

T: Sometimes I behave that way in front of my father... Thank you Anesagi-san! Next is Banri-san please!

10000: This question is actually about receiving advice for fighting with that person right?

100: Frankly, yes. Ban-san, I’m count on you.

1000: Who is that person?

10000: Got it. This type of person is always living with rhythm and his beliefs, so if you force something on his day-off or ignore his beliefs, that will exceed his capacity.

10000: When his capacity is exceeded, it looks like he’s a stubborn, desperate and obstinate person from the outside, but he intends to die while carrying out his belief with a calm feeling.

10000: So he will revive if there is a room where he can be alone. After he revives, he can apologize honestly.

100: I screenshotted it!! Thanks you!!!

T: Banri-san, thank you! Next is Yuki-san please!

1000: Me?

1000: I’d wait for an apology from my partner.

100: Uwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah It pisses me off

100: But I love you!!!!!! *:.｡..｡.:*・゜(* ´▽`*)゜・*:.｡..｡.:*

1000: Me too ^ ^

9: You’ve never been the one to apologize?

1000: I did. But I would apologize when they don’t talk to me, leave me, or cry in front of me, more than when we fight.

5: So you need to cool down huh.

1000: Look, I’m a musician aren’t I? I get excited when I hear a loud sound.

100: Is that related to being a musician?!

1000: Probably. When they yell at me, my blood goes up.

100: When I get mad, my voice gets really loud---

1000: I know. When I’m fighting with Momo, my blood vessels almost burst while I’m being quiet.

100: I seriously thought about putting a punching bag in my house for when I fight with Yuki!

T: P-Please don’t fight you two! ><

100: We’re not, we’re not! It’s just a normal chat!

1000: We’re not. ^ ^

1000: Then, I’ll get Momo a punching bag as a present.

100: Thanks! I’ll present cooling patches toYuki!

2: As usual I can’t tell if you guys are being friendly or not...

4: So So-chan would get excited by hearing a loud sound too?

5: I think I get excited over uptempo? So I blank out when I panic.

2: So we should sing bossa nova(Brazilian music) when Sou panics huh.

T: That’s great if it’s not a fight! Then, next is Tsunashi-san please!

10: How to make up with someone when fighting huh… I don’t really apologize much...

9: Right. Ryuu basically doesn’t fight.

10: I’m probably not someone who gets mad much!

T: Tsunashi-san, thank you! Next is Yaotome-san please!

9: I’ll answer instead.

8: What the heck!

9: He always acts feisty right?

8: Why do you sound like you’re explaining something?

9: I think it’s surprising but he doesn’t intend to fight.

2: I get it!! Sometime he called me like “Hey, Nikaido.” and I was like “Huh?”, but he intended to say like “Heyy~ How ya doing?”

7: Yaotome-san is nice but at first I thought he seemed like a yankee!

8: Why is that? Even though I was planning a casual conversation.

4: But Gakkun saying “Um, excuse me...” to me also sounds so wrong...

8: For me it’s normal though.

10: Gaku’s cool so, it feel powerful I guess?

100: What would you do if you fought?

8: Same as Ryuu. If’ I’m wrong, I’ll apologize. If I’m not, I won’t give in.

1: So then, if Tsunashi-san and Yaotome-san fight, how it would end?

8: I wonder huh?

10: Have we fought like that before?

10: We never had differing opinions either...

8: Even if they differ, we won’t care. Even if it’s a bread person or a rice person, or a cat person or a dog person.

7: Then, what about if you liked the same person?

10: The same person as Gaku?! If I knew how Gaku felt, I would resign right after noticing that?

8: Why. I won’t be happy if you give up. Just fight fairly.

10: But I wouldn’t want my feelings to bother Gaku and that person. That part is different from him huh.

8: We don’t really fight much huh.

8: We haven’t fought.

100: Thanks for the report! lolol

7: Don’t you fight with Tenn-nii?

8: I do. But Tenn’s probably right about a lot of work-related things.

9: So honest.

8: But I’m right about a lot of private things.

9: You didn’t need to say that.

T: Yaotome-san, thank you! Next is Yamato-san please!

2: Sorry. Wait a second. My battery might die.

2: Someone took the charger from Onii-san’s room right.

6: SORRY, YAMATO. My charger broke so I borrowed yours.

2: It’s fine to borrow it but, why is a USB plasma ball in my room instead.

100: Lolololololol I’ll do that to Yuki’s room next time.

6: You can feel like a magician if you touch that :-)))

3: So it’s in Yamato-san’s room now lol. The one Nagi impulse purchased at the grocery store .

T: So then, we’ll return in fifteen minutes!

T: Everyone, please take care!

V2:

T: Suddenly it’s me?! Well….

T: I’ll urge the partner to apologize!

100: You are going aggressive huh!? Hope they would be sorry without making them mad!

T: Was it fine like this…? I definitely want to hear other opinions too!

V3:

T: Suddenly it’s me?! Well….

T: I’ll let nature take its course!

100: That might be a good solution too! They would talk if they need to talk even if they are fighting; or if they were forced to make up, it would be awkward!

T: Was it fine like this…? I definitely want to hear other opinions too!

#Idolish7 #idolish seven #Takanashi Tsumugi #tsumugi takanashi #momo #sunohara momose #momose sunohara #idol #game #gaming #rabbit chat #12 Songs Gift #translation #japanese #english #game app #idol game #Rhythm game

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cheshiresense · 6 years

Text

What if: the Gotei 13 offers Ichigo the creation and captaincy of the Fourteenth Division?

[Part 1] [Part 2]

Pinglist: @queen-sands

“Here?” Kisuke looks from their surroundings to Ichigo and back again. “We’re going to build our headquarters here?”

“Yup,” Ichigo looks around as well, scuffing a foot over some debris as they make their way down the silent street. The place looks even more run-down than the last time he was here. The section they’re walking through looks like a fire’s swept through it recently. All the buildings around them are charred and crumbling, and even the homeless have stayed away. The rats haven’t though, or maybe cockroaches, who knows. Ichigo can hear faint scuttling sounds, and he wonders if Shinigami have extermination services he can hire or if he’s going to have to find a way to clear out any unwanted pests himself.

Man, this whole venture is going to be a chore and a half. But it was always an idea that nagged at him at the back of his mind, ever since it came to his attention, a someday, maybe, somehow that stayed with him even after all this time, and when Kyouraku practically gift-wrapped the perfect opportunity for him, that idea became a lot less abstract and impossible than he’d first thought.

He glances over his shoulder at where Kisuke is trailing a step behind him, blinking when he finds the man watching him with an unusually somber look on his face.

“What?” Ichigo slows to a stop, and Kisuke follows suit. There’s a stench of rot in the air, underneath the burnt wood and smoke. “You think I shouldn’t? Or can’t?”

“I know better than to put my money on can’t when it comes to you,” Kisuke tells him, just a touch wryly. “But shouldn’t… well.” He looks around again. “Technically, you shouldn’t. Is Kyouraku-soutaichou even going to give permission for this?”

“Yeah,” Ichigo answers immediately.

Kisuke has the gall to give him an accusatory look. As if the man doesn’t regularly breeze past any rules that get in his way as easily as breathing.

“It’s one of the conditions he agreed to,” Ichigo clarifies with a huff. “I asked to choose where the Fourteenth Division headquarters will be myself. He agreed.”

Kisuke arches an eyebrow but there’s a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “I am fairly certain he did not mean all the way out here.”

“Well that’s not my problem, is it?”

In response, Kisuke’s fan snaps open in front of his face, and he even turns away a little, but Ichigo catches the grin anyway.

He rolls his eyes. At this point in their lives, they’re probably as bad as each other. “But seriously, was there another reason you think this is a bad idea?”

Because if Urahara Kisuke, arguably the reigning king of bad ideas, thinks this is a bad idea…

“Not a bad idea, per se,” Kisuke murmurs, lowering his fan again as his mirth fades. “I can see why you would want to set up base out here. Actually, I probably should’ve predicted it. And no one with any sense can deny that having Shinigami presence here can only help.”

“...But?”

“But,” Kisuke echoes, and the look in his eyes is sharp enough to make Ichigo straighten instinctively. “Seireitei is the seat of Central 46’s power. Officially, Central 46 serves as the judiciary body of Soul Society but their influence goes far beyond that. With the Soul King residing in a different dimension entirely, they are considered the highest royalty here, made up of men and women from noble lines. Their decisions are rarely overturned. They all but own the military. Their authority is absolute and has gone unchallenged for millenia. Aizen was the first to strike against them, and their numbers were large enough that they reassembled soon after anyway. The richest resources and the most successful businesses surround the capital, and Central 46 gets first pick of the best produce and merchandise, followed by nobility, followed by the rest of Seireitei. Rukongai is last, if they get anything at all. The outer districts certainly don’t. So can you see, Ichigo, why the government might have a problem with you setting up your own base of operations so far away from their influence?”

Ichigo takes a minute to digest this. Honestly, he isn’t that surprised. He knows the people who make up Central 46 have never been his biggest fans. He knows - even though the man’s never said anything to him - that Kyouraku’s had to argue for Ichigo’s… unique privileges that allow him to come and go from Soul Society as he pleases, among other things (things like not having his memories tampered with or not having his powers bound). He knows they give Kyouraku a good deal of trouble solely because their new Soutaichou doesn’t run things half as by-the-book as Yamamoto did, and worse, he doesn’t cater to Central 46’s whims either. Gotei business remains Gotei business, as much as Kyouraku can keep it that way, so it would probably be more accurate to say that Central 46 used to all but own the military. But, possibly since Ichigo’s arrival, they haven’t had nearly as much freedom to do as they please as they once did.

Even the old man changed a bit in those last few years.

“They won’t like it,” Ichigo says at last. “Cuz they think I’ll run things my way out here, and there’d be no one around to stop me. And they’d want to stop me because I’d… what, take some of the power from them?”

“That’s the gist of it,” Kisuke agrees. “Seireitei functions as the greatest seat of power because it is the only seat of power. The Gotei and Central 46 are strong because the districts depend on them for aid against invading Hollows. It takes time for Shinigami to get all the way out here, and we can use Shunpo. Imagine how difficult it would be to set up food trains, to send the necessary supplies to sustain businesses, to establish farmland. People here are as self-sufficient as they aren’t. They take care of themselves to the best of their abilities, but they can’t make a proper living when they can’t even overcome starvation. Shinigami don’t help with that. And any soul with a high enough amount of reiryoku will naturally attempt the journey to the only place they can be trained, if only to get away from the rampant poverty, so the outer districts are left with the weak and untrained, and therefore they have no real way to defend themselves long-term. Hollow attacks are inevitable, and Shinigami rarely come on time to save everyone. It doesn’t help that the upper- and even middle-class citizens in and around Seireitei look down on those from deep Rukongai. They consider them lesser. And why not? Shinigami are taught to treat Rukongai residents as second-class citizens at best. If the balance of souls is endangered, Shinigami are given blanket permission to get rid of as many souls in the outer districts as it takes to fix it. To some, they’re merely fodder, not even people. Central 46 certainly doesn’t care about those who live out here. And even Rukongai citizens know that if they want anything like a steady income and an easier life, they should go to the capital. So long as the strongest and the most useful among them travel to Seireitei and place themselves under Central 46’s jurisdiction, it hardly matters what happens to the rest. Souls will always reincarnate into the Human world when they pass on. Humans will always die. More souls will always come. And those with enough potential will eventually make their way into Central 46’s sphere of influence, and they might be under the command of the Soutaichou, but more often than not, if Central 46 so wishes, any orders they give would supersede even the Soutaichou’s authority. Thus, Central 46 remains the greatest power in all of Soul Society. It is a… vicious cycle. But it is one that suits the government.

“What you are proposing though,” Kisuke holds his gaze with something heavy and intent in his own. “If the outer districts, at least in the South, could come here for help, for jobs, for protection - it might take a decade, it might take a century, it might take more, but sooner or later, Ichigo, the people here won’t be so desperate for Shinigami aid from the capital anymore. One day, perhaps there will even be a second Seireitei here. And Central 46 will never be okay with that.”

Ichigo stares at him after he finishes, silent in the face of it all laid bare, and then he looks at their surroundings.

District 78, South Rukongai: Inuzuri.

Where Ichigo literally walked past beggars on the streets and bodies in the alleys earlier.

Where even the best housing in the area consist of little more than shabby-looking structures made of wood and brick with leaky rooftops.

Where older siblings abandon their younger and children have to fight for their food.

And Central 46 is worried about power.

He’s always understood, ever since the idea occurred to him, that what he wants to do would… not be a small venture. Not be something that would only affect a small group of people.

But he thinks it’s right, and not only right but long overdue-- and it’s not like anybody else is going to do it. It might be dangerous, to step on so many toes like he’ll be doing, but he’s been taking on gods and monsters since he was fifteen. Why quit now?

He turns back to Kisuke. “I don’t care,” He says flatly. He thinks about that for a moment before amending, “I mean I do care. I care enough to Bankai any of those assholes stupid enough to try and stop me because they can’t handle not being the most important.”

His hands have unconsciously curled into fists, and he forces himself to relax them even as he levels a fierce look on Kisuke. “I know it’s gonna be hard. I know there’ll be problems to deal with that I haven’t even thought of yet. I know some people won’t approve, or they’ll think I won’t be able to do it, or they’ll try to get me to stop. And I know I didn’t give you any warning. But I’m gonna do it anyway. Are you still going to help me?”

There’s a long beat of tense, breathless silence in the wake of his question. Then Kisuke arches an eyebrow, and his expression is part admonishing, part fond, and all steel underneath. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just ask me that, Ichigo. Else I might be tempted to ask you when I’ve ever done otherwise, and that would be horribly embarrassing for you since you would then remember that the answer is never, and you should know better by now.”

Ichigo does indeed flush a little, at how plainly Kisuke puts it but also at the simple truth of it. He’s still quick to retort, “Hey, half the time when you help me with something, you got me into trouble in the first place!”

“This is true,” Kisuke agrees with a shamelessly inappropriate amount of good cheer, the bastard. “And yet you’ve always handled my messes just fine, so it seems it would be to both our benefits if we refrained from asking such pointless questions ever again.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Ichigo grumbles, and he does. Reprimanded for asking if Kisuke wants to back out-- well, he probably deserves it. Kisuke’s a lot of things but no one who’s remotely familiar with the man can accuse him of not being there when Ichigo needs him.

“Right then,” Ichigo looks around again. “I guess first things first, we’re gonna have to clear the area.”

Can’t build without ground to build on. There’s no way these buildings are salvageable anyway, and even if they were, they shouldn’t be. The place is a pit of death and disease. But it’s large enough to accomodate an entire compound and then some, and there’s no such thing as taxes or leased land in the outermost districts-- he’s checked.

“I’m sure you’ll think of a way to at least make it habitable,” Kisuke assures in a way that explicitly implies without me.

Ichigo immediately slants a narrowed gaze at him, but he waits for an explanation because that wasn’t Kisuke’s trying-to-get-out-of-boring-menial-labour voice.

Kisuke absently taps Benihime against the ground before gesturing around them. “If we really are doing this, then before we can build anything, we have to make sure what we build will stay standing after we finish.” He pauses and gives Ichigo a contemplative look before slowly revealing, “Officially speaking, the Onmitsukidou is attached to the Second Division and under the command of the Soutaichou. It is part of the Gotei, so even when Central 46 wants to issue orders for them, those orders must first go through the Soutaichou. Even if he can’t prevent those orders from being passed down, he should have the right to know. But, unofficially,” Here, his mouth twists into an odd little smile that holds very little humour. “Seventy-three percent of the missions carried out by Onmitsukidou members come directly from Central 46, and they bypass the Soutaichou entirely. Reasons are not given, and orders are to be carried out swiftly and without question. So, if the government wishes to stop us from this little venture, there is every chance that certain agents will be mobilized to… take care of us, and Kyouraku-soutaichou will not know early enough to warn us.”

...Right. Assassins. Why not. He’s pretty sure he’s seen that in a couple dozen movie plots. Sometimes, Ichigo despairs of this world.

“But you can stop them.” It isn’t a question.

Kisuke’s smile widens, sharp as the curve of a scythe and gilded with a sly lethality that Ichigo would hate to be at the end of. “Leave it to me, Ichigo.”

The man glances around one more time, nods at Ichigo, and then Shunpos off, presumably to lay down enough traps of madness and mayhem to deter even a determined Sui-Feng with a grudge.

Leaving Ichigo to stare up at the dilapidated buildings with more than a little dismay.

“I really hope cockroaches don’t bite,” He mutters.

But he’s decided to do this, so bite or no bite, time to get to work.

He snaps open a Garganta. Extra hands - more than just Kisuke’s - wouldn’t hurt, but it’s going to take time to pick people he wants and approach them and convince them, so for now, he’ll focus on at least readying a place for his future squad to live in.

Thank God humans have developed waste management.

[Part 4]

#bleach #uraichi #urahara kisuke #kurosaki ichigo #myscrap #gotei 14 verse

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violetbeachpod · 6 years

Text

TRANSCRIPT: 1x04 - Phone Call

hello! it’s me. here’s today’s transcript. enjoy!

ROBIN:

I shouldn’t be doing this, right now, I should be writing, I have--no offense, folks, but I have better things to do than this. I have a wedding to plan, a book to write, a--

Whatever. Whatever. And I’m not editing that out, Benji. It’s early in the morning and I woke up to record this, so, hey, guess what, I can say what I want.

It’s--it’s not me trying to offend you guys, you know I love all of you, it’s just--this is exhausting. And I forgot how good caffeine was, even though I’m trying to limit intake, so, uh, I’ve only had one cup of coffee so far, so, like, yeah, I’m kinda grouchy. Sorry. Anyway!

So. Hi! I’m Robin, uh, DaBank. No. That’s not my last name. That’s a--that’s a dumb joke that I haven’t told since I was fifteen, um. My last name’s Harper. I don’t know why I opened with that. I’m twenty-four years old, I’m engaged to the coolest, smartest, best woman on earth, and, uh. Both of us have been seeing some weird shit these last few weeks. So, uh, as that implies, I can confirm that some weird things have been happening in my hometown lately.

I--I haven’t been here, for a few years, I, uh, moved to DC for college and I didn’t really think I’d come back, but, uh, my folks said that they wanted me to have the old house cuz they’re moving to the lake house in Maine for some weird reason, and, uh. DC rent’s crazy, and--our plan to travel the world has unfortunately been delayed by how goddamn expensive weddings are, so, uh, Lane and I moved out here. And it’s kinda sweet. Very romantic, to live in a big house by the beach, watch the sunset every night--but. Point is, I haven’t been here for a while, but when I grew up here? Nothing ever happened that was out of the ordinary. It was a pretty boring town. As has been stated before. Like—we have ghost stories, obviously. A few murders, a few freak incidents, y’know, the—the usual small town stuff. But--

Now it’s different. Now it’s like—it’s full time. It’s everywhere. I’ll be walking, and I’ll catch a flash of purple in the sky—stalking me. And unless Lane or one of you guys is with me, it’s—it’s like, I’m the only one who notices. Everyone, everything else freezes. That—that thing, that kept messing with Ben’s recording, it interrupted NPR the other day, like, halfway through this really interesting piece on urban farming greenhouses that also serve as senior dog sanctuaries, it—I found the full piece on their site, but, like—I missed a full two minutes of it because some robot wants to talk to me about where and how I’ll die.

Um.

I was catching up with a friend the other day—uh, Penelope Scott, the Dean’s daughter, who graduated from Corielli in my class, and, uh, I mentioned, casually, that I was thinking about going to the next board meeting to catch up on that hot parental gossip. You know. Cuz—I babysat a lot of current students there when they were kids, so it’s fairly reasonable, not the worst lie I’ve ever told.

“What board?” she asked, and she sounded genuine, “We never had one, right? It was--it was student council, no parent liaisons. Because we’re independent.” Or something like that.

And I can’t remember either way--like, I assume there was a parent board. It was awhile ago. I can’t remember what I had for lunch yesterday, much less-it was hummus. It was hummus. I had hummus for lunch yesterday. It wasn’t great. Like--I can do better. I need to buy chickpeas, uh--I’ll text Lane after this and tell her to pick some up.

Or. Now.

[Beat]

So. Anyway. The board maybe doesn’t exist, kind of sort of? Who knows! Not me!

I wrote fifteen hundred words today, of the--of the thing. Of the book, and then I deleted all of them. Because I was so caught up in thinking about this, y’know, like--there’s no room for a Great American Novel when you’re potentially being haunted by ghosts or aliens. Is it even “great” or “American,” though? I--I dunno. I take umbrage with the, like--with the idea of the Great American Novel. But that’s not relevant! At all, it’s--it’s not like anybody’s stayed on topic in their tapes, but, uh. I’m an adult. I--aw, whatever.

There’s something about the beach--this beach, the one I’m recording on, all--all desolate and wintery, all--you know. No one’s here, not even the college kids, cuz they’re scared of it. Cuz it’s probably haunted. Cuz--the boardwalks are worn down, splintery and sand-eroded, and--Lane and I hung a hammock here when we moved in, and we have it all to ourselves and also Douglas. Grumpy old man. Deserves a little cat-sized hammock all to himself. So he can sunbathe without having to jump and hurt those poor hips of his, ugh.

But there’s something about the beach. Something so isolated from the rest of the world, y’know? Not--not, like, when you’re at Ocean City in the middle of August, no, I mean--when you’re alone, and it’s maybe forty degrees out, middle of January, and you’re--maybe you’re listening to some acoustic cover of your favorite 2004 pop song, as is my wont, and--you just feel something. And it’s tugging at you, like, maybe the beach itself is the siren song from folklore. Maybe the beach is telling you to go--to go home, even if you and the beach have different definitions of the word. My definition is--uh. The house. With Elaine and Douglas and the hammock and the fireplace and the messy bedroom and the--the wholeness of it all. And the beach’s definition is the ocean, and the abyss, and what have you.

Except--no. That’s bland high-school level faux-existentialism, and I’m better than that. I promise you. I’m better than that.

But there’s something about the beach. Y’know? Just--just. There’s something. And I think it’s important to all of this, I--Look. Listen. Maybe I was homesick and I didn’t even know it before I came back. I think that’s the thing. I think it’s just delayed homesickness and exhaustion.

Lane and I can’t agree on napkin colors. We argued--not argued, that’s too strong of a verb--about that on the hammock the other night, is--is why that thought comes to mind, and how dumb is that, that we’re worried about that right now? It’s--it’s a lot. It’s--

[phone ringing]

Sorry, uh. Oh, hi, uh--Angie. God, I can’t get used to calling you that, I’m so used to Angela, it’s--nevermind. What’s--

[whispering]

What do you mean?

I’m recording my thing right now. No, you’re--My mic’s not picking you up, I can--is she--? How do you just--and then, poof?

That’s--Look, Laney has the car, right now, so I’ll have to walk or--or u--I’ll do something, It’ll--It won’t be the fastest, but I’ll be there ASAP, okay? As soon as I’m done with this. recording, and I will be soon, I swear, hon, okay? Okay, I got you, just. Just--explain the situation as best as you know it, and. I’ll repeat it into the mic. Piece by piece. For science.

[long beat. heavy, nervous breathing. measured, but nervous. whispers.]

Teresa went missing this morning, uh. Angie heard her get up around five AM.

[another long beat]

She went to the beach, she left a note that said she’d be back by nine. She has a class at nine.

[another beat]

Um. Oh God, um. Benji was up, he, uh--he texted Angie that he saw her by the beach around six. And AJ, who was on his way to SAT prep, uh, he--oh God, he’s so old now, what the hell, saw her knee-deep in the water at six-thirty. He yelled across to her, and she, uh--she didn’t respond. She just kept staring ahead, unmoving. Like she was--like she was hypnotized.

[guess what? it’s a beat]

Angie, hon, I need you to breathe--and they say that she just vanished at seven. In a flash of that dumb--that terrible, terrible light, that--an orb of it.

It’s eight-twelve, right now, and she isn’t back, and--Charlotte already knows, Lane still needs a call, but--

Um.

Angie hung up. Which I get. I--she’s hyperventilating, she’s--I should go over and check on her, I think I can get a rideshare to campus, but--

Oh my God. Oh my God--I--I just, I don’t--

Is she--

I thought the worst it would get was gonna be Charlotte--a baby--getting grabbed, and--roughed up a little bit. And that’s--that’s terrible, that’s terrifying, that’s--

But it’s--it’s not entirely impossible that that would happen to any of us anyway. We’re all--it’s more likely, more understandable to get attacked physically than to get bamfed away in an orb of light, y’know? Like--I’m sure, once this is over, she’ll never shut up about it--when I was, like, thirteen, I was babysitting her, and she made me watch Twin Peaks, like--girl was seven? I think, and making me watch her parents’ Twin Peaks season two boxset with her. What a--

She’s gotta come back, if only for the story of it. Sell her memoir to David Lynch, or whatever. She’ll come back, if only to do that. Love that kid. Hate Twin Peaks season two, but. Love that kid.

God. I’m--I don’t know how to--

I have to go. Uh. AJ’s turn is next week, so--he’ll give updates, but, just--oh my God. I’m sorry. I--I have to go help everybody, I’m--

Goodbye, I guess.

#transcripts #season 1 #robin #violet beach #violet beach podcast

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