@wayhavenots and @narrativefoiltrope and @agentnatesewell
Unbelieved basically was meant to be a love letter to the 30+ who haven't found themselves or who looking to make changes in their lives. The MC, and the ROs, were all various stages of self-/re-discovery. I was a little tired of how - at the time, I'd come up with this during the early 2020s - IFs seemed to have MC in their 20s and settled career-wise. There wasn't much love for anyone past 25, since I guess tumblr believes that's geriatric, or those still working on themselves.
But 'unbelieved' part wasn't just a play on how they didn't have people believe in them/had to come in believe in themselves and each other, but they were all supernatural creatures ... except MC [if I remember right]. They were all gathered together at a bed and breakfast, that was bequeathed to MC. Though it had romance, friendship was a very important aspect -- particularly between the ROs. What can I say? I'm a sucker for found family and platonic soulmates.
Catch the snippet below.
It usually starts like this. Bad news, that is. For you, bad news almost always starts like this -- it starts with a letter.
You come home from a late day at the offices. The majority of staff had called out sick today: from Janice, the office secretary, to your boss to even two of the janitors. You’ve been working at the office for almost three months and Tom, the head janitor, is always there from six am to six pm, five days a week. (*Thought; could be a fun personality choice -- how does MC know Tom’s name? Bc they’re observant? Bc they’re friendly? Bc they were forced to know d/t an office party celebrating Tom’s bday and they’re surprised they remember. Choice could be ‘you’ve never seen him take a day off’ ‘he told you he never took a day off’ ‘apparently’)
It was strange. However, you hadn’t thought anything much about it. (At least, not at first.) The weather is changing. If it wasn’t the flu, it was probably allergies, or a cold. Or maybe they were playing hooky. You had a lot on your plate today. The hours before and after lunch had really given a new meaning to all hands on deck. You had never realized just many clients trafficked through your small [dentist/law/medical/engineering/etc] office on a Thursday.
That fact didn’t leave much time for gossiping around the watercooler, speculating on your coworkers health status. (Choice: ‘As much you might have wanted to’, ‘Not that you would’ve wanted to anyway’)
You didn’t start thinking about the strangeness until you began flipping through the mail.
Garbage. Garbage. Garbage. Coupon. Garbage. Huh …. Ms. Hutchinson’s daughter was having a garage sale? Interesting. Garbage. Promotional. Coupon. Garbage. Letter from your great-uncle’s lawyer. Garbage. Gar --
Wait.
It feels as if your entire body prickles; like shocks of static are aligning against your skin or like that time your roommate in college attempted acupuncture on you (but thankfully you didn’t come off scarred forever). It feels wrong, your body. It feels -- <i>tight</i>. It might have something to do with the way your heart seems to have sunk into your stomach and your breath seems to have caught in your throat.
You’ve met your great-uncle’s lawyer three times in your life: once during your great-aunt’s funeral and once at your cousin’s funeral. The third time had been when you used to spend the summers at your uncle’s place, during dinner. The man had been coming to talk over some business and your uncle had invited him to stay. Because that is the kind of person your great-uncle is.
The entire affair had <i>felt</i> like a funeral - despite your uncle’s best efforts - because that was the kind of person his lawyer was. Marcus Pinkerton was as dry and bland as plain chicken dipped in sawdust. He was just <i>so</i> boring and <i>so</i> creepy. Little you had been shocked to learn that he was a lawyer instead of a mortician. Or Lurch’s dull cousin.
(Had you mentioned this man was boring?)
A letter from this man could spell nothing good for you.
Then again, letters rarely did.
You are not(/try not to be) superstitious. You don’t follow your horoscope. You barely blink when salt spills over - outside of a mess. Cracks and under ladders mean nothing(/very little) to you.
Your parents are straightforward, realistic people. And they tried to raise you to be the same. Sometimes you think they take it a little bit to the extreme -- but you suppose that’s what one can expect from a finance specialist and an actuary.
Anyway, enough about your parents. They raised you to be that way, sure. However, you saw merit in not wasting time believing in silly, fantastical ideas. You are <i>not</i> a superstitious person.
It is simply a <i>fact</i> that you’ve never received a nice letter in your entire life.
Beware the mailperson and their manila wrapped gifts. Or something.
You eye the envelope with trepidation and decide to get it over with (/bury it under --- note: this would be a branching bit → either MC pushes back opening it or they open immediately, in the end it leads to learning their great uncle passed away and left them stuff.) it. You ignore the slow way discomfort settles on your chest and begins to fill each crack, each crevice of your body like trepidation was a glass of water knocked over on a tiled counter creeping tightness through you. Slowly, slow your biceps stiffen. Slowly, slowly the muscles in your neck tense. Slow, slowly your mouth tries as you pull out a white sheet of paper and force your gaze to focus on the black print.
<i>Good evening [name],
I hope this letter finds you well - </i>
You bite back a snort as your eyes haggardly pursue the rest of the letter.
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rules: it's time to toot your own horn and find appreciation for your own writing by posting your personal favourite sentences/lines/quotes/paragraphs of your fanfics or original fiction. choose as many works as you'd like, (preferably they're already published somewhere but it's fine if you've never posted your writing but want to take part in the tag!)and let yourself (and others!) fawn over your literary talent! the goal of this is to read your old writing and find things that you love and are still proud of weeks or months or even years later!
A snapshot of Anki's past:
He imagines that is what God’s vengeance looked like to those who spoke of it in the Bible. The flames that eradicated everything in its way.
He imagines this is what the boy in front of him sees as he stares up at Anki, his bloodied nose the least of his worries. A blockade, a warning sign.
If he has hope that he’s going to make it out of this, he hasn’t been paying any attention. And for a moment he almost feels guilty.
Kendis after an unfavorable encounter that showed vulnerability:
Jerkily Kendis removed their clothing, carefully placing them on the bed, the need for ritual taking over even the impulsive desire to rip everything clean apart. [They did indulge in flicking their hairtie pettily against the wall. It twanged with such force it actually managed to bounce before it fell toward the floor.]
Prompt 'fruit' for summerinwayhaven
“Did Nate let you in?”
Tina barely resisted flinching. She had been so busy surveying that she had missed the slight shift in her friend’s posture. Kendis was now eyeing her from the corner of their eye. Tina rushed to deny the claim, wanting to spare her reluctant co-conspirator any trouble (or else he might not be any type of co-conspirator in the future) and dim the severe frown that marred the face of her typically mischievously grinning friend, as she bit the bullet to dare enter Kendis’ domain, “No. I slipped inside when he was leaving.”
Kendis stared at Tina for what felt like an unnaturally long moment. She met Kendis’s gaze head-on, only releasing a breath when a smile twitched at the corner of the taller person’s lips, and they rolled their eyes. “Ugh,” they scoffed. Dramatically, Tina thought. Not that she’d say it … in this moment, “he should’ve kicked you out. What a wimp.”
“Oh, yeah, your super tall secret agent vampire not-a-boyfriend is totally a wimp. And not at all because he’s polite and nice and takes pity on your worried best friend.”
--
“Darling, did you order –” He paused when he noticed one of the hands holding the two coolers upright wriggle at him in some sort of wave, “Who – Kendis? Kendis! Oh, my.” He immediately reached to take one of the coolers from her but she shooed him away with a nudge of her foot against his calf. (Thinking on it later, he would consider she probably meant to poke at his ankle.) He was too bewildered by their presence to even note the streak of dust and dirt left on his pants.
Untitled
His eyes remained shut as he tried to catch his bearings. More accurately they were glued shut. A mixture of grit and fear kept them in the same position. If he could, he would have done his best to keep his gaze shut from the world around him but his body refused to comply with his wishes. And he, Sylvestro Barnes, knew that no amount of ignoring the person who had dragged him into this situation would cause the other person to lose patience. The bastard had waited him out before, there was no way he wouldn’t have issue waiting for Sylvestro now that the other man had him right under his thumb.
from an old mini-narrative, circa early 2020s
She took a careful step closer, and cocked her head like a bird inspecting the scavenged sight left before it; clinical — displeased. She huffed out a little laugh, a disparaging sound. “That little bitch.” She closed her eyes slowly and breathed in just as carefully. “Crafty.” Lupe murmured, curious. Crafty yet disrespectful. She supposed that summarized who and what the town had been dealing with for months. “The body isn’t decaying.”
Lupe turned to the group – she almost looked impressed, still very much displeased, yet impressed.
She mulled her words for a moment before she continued to explain: Even a body set to be preserved by human means was set to decay, eventually. But the means preserving Cass were far from human. It was almost as if magic was holding her death hostage.
From an IF that will never be, Unbelieved
Your mother used to say the only good thing about this place was its wrap-around porch. Your uncle barely ever had enough funds for its upkeep but somehow it managed to balance some semblance of ‘intact’. The rest of the place though —
It seems that since you’ve last visited the outside has met the hodge-podge falling apart ‘charm’ of the inside.
You stand at the foot of the stairs, where the brick path melted into gravel and dirt before stretching toward the peeling paint of the bottom steps and taking in the once glorious deck. You tug your bag up higher on your shoulder. You take in a slow, steadying breath. You consider, once again, backing away from this.
But in the end, once again, nostalgia wins out.
I don't know what this is. I mean I do, but I don't lol. Anyway thanks to @ohmypawsandwhiskers for the tag!
He hunched slightly against the wind. It was an unusually cool evening but he didn’t feel it, not with the smoke from the cigarette that snaked into his lungs. The light at the end of it caught his attention. It did more to steady his jackhammering heart than the background swell and sway of people shouting, rushing to him and it reminded him of where he was — what he was. The light at the end of it stood out not as a hope – the light at the end of the tunnel – but as a warning; a blockade of unflinching fire.
He imagines that is what God’s vengeance looked like to those who spoke of it in the Bible. The flames that eradicated everything in its way.
He imagines this is what the boy in front of him sees as he stares up at Anki, his bloodied nose the least of his worries. A blockade, a warning sign.
If he has hope that he’s going to make it out of this, he hasn’t been paying any attention. And for a moment he almost feels guilty.
He bends down and picks up the wrapped package the boy had dropped. ‘Goods’ stolen from Anki’s … family. From the Vela Family.
Such a thing was tantamount to a death sentence.
And though Anki would not be the one who pulled the proverbial trigger – for all the dirty deeds he demanded, Basilio never requested that his nephew mutilate a body or physically destroy a life – he had set the trap. He had blocked the tunnel. He had made it sure that hope would not enter here.
He felt guilty because the child in front of him was just a boy. Unlike Anki, it was more than likely he hadn’t known what he had signed up for. Like Anki, he was without a doubt fodder: something easy to lose should the authorities suddenly decide to stop looking the other way, or competition chose to end things violently.
He felt guilty because he doesn’t think he’s ever looked at anyone with such fear.
Anki flicked ashes onto the ground as he bent down closer to the other boy – two years his junior – and held his gaze, a hand snaking behind to lock his snivelling, shaking head into place.
No. No, he had once. He kind of missed it. Having the ability to feel free to be so pathetically dependent on other’s mercy. To still believe in that.
“Wh-what’reyoudoin,” The boy … no. <i>No</i>. Michael. Michael. His name was Michael and he deserved that piece of dignity, did he not?
His uncle - Anki’s - Adrian would’ve said he would. But then, Adrian would’ve had a conniption if he learned just how truly Anki was involved in Basilio’s … happenings.
He knew. But he truly did not know.
Same could be for the bo – Michael.
Michael, Michael the archangel; Michael, a boy who did not live up to the name. But deserved mercy just the same.
“I could make this easier for you.”
“You’re – You’re letting me go?” The hope that rushed into Michael’s lungs almost seemed to counter the cigarette smoke that wafted across his face.
Pathetic. Pathetic. Oh, to be so naive again, the sixteen-year-old wished.
“No. I could make it easier for you.” He forcefully turned the boy’s gaze to the cigarette Anki had slowly removed from his lips, holding it now the way one might something made to strike. “I can make it so you do not see, or hear, what they will do to you. You will still feel, yes. Nevertheless, I believe, knowing these men, that seeing would make it worse. This is the only choice I can – I am allowed to give.”
It wasn’t hope, but it was its kindness. In a way.
tagging: @thedragonagelesbian @cigarettesandinevitablebetrayal @thecryptidenthusiast @loreofyore @narrativefoiltrope @dwead-piwate-meggers @clintnatalias @anticupid16 @chroniclesinlacuna @toads-treasures @vryptidart and whoever else wants to. and don't if you don't wanna
The sight she found was unsurprising. Tina slowly surveyed the structured chaos that spread across every nook and cranny of the small yet well-designed kitchen. Packages of mostly opened fruit settled near the sink, separated from the cooling fruit tarts by a pipe bag that looked like it had been squeezed within an inch of its life … in the proverbial sense – since pipe bags were inanimate objects.
The finished baskets for the summer fair were – well-wrapped and looking pretty – piled up in the corner, as if they were planning to stage a mutiny, and the unopened ones were stacked haphazardly, like unused chairs in an auditorium. She made sure to carefully track the variety of colorful and nicely scented details. If she was going to convince Kendis to let her help, she would have to at least show she wouldn't get in the way.
Kendis didn't take too kindly to surprise meddling in her kitchen. Or to meddling, period. Or, most times, to anyone but themselves in any kitchen they were in charge of.
"Did Nate let you in?"
Tina barely resisted flinching. She had been so busy surveying that she had missed the slight shift in her friend's posture. Kendis was now eyeing her from the corner of their eye. Tina rushed to deny the claim, wanting to spare her reluctant co-conspirator any trouble (or else he might not be any type of co-conspirator in the future) and dim the severe frown that marred the face of her typically mischievously grinning friend, as she bit the bullet to dare enter Kendis' domain, "No. I slipped inside when he was leaving."
Kendis stared at Tina for what felt like an unnaturally long moment. She met Kendis's gaze head-on, only releasing a breath when a smile twitched at the corner of the taller person's lips, and they rolled their eyes. "Ugh," they scoffed. Dramatically, Tina thought. Not that she'd say it … in this moment, "he should've kicked you out. What a wimp."
"Oh, yeah, your super tall secret agent vampire not-a-boyfriend is totally a wimp. And not at all because he's polite and nice and takes pity on your worried best friend."
Kendis set down what they were doing to properly scowl down at Tina. "You know I don't got no problem with throwin' you out."
"I know that's why I'm going to very quickly make you an offer you can't refuse. Let me be your taste tester." She rushed in that last sentence before Kendis could power up with a scoff or a 'psshaw' and, without a doubt, another eye-rolling.
Instead, blinked once. Then thrice. Then Kendis tilted their head as if they were a dog trying to suss out an unknown scent.
"And it's not because I don't think that you can't handle the doubled order. It's just … come on. We both know that Friedman is throwing a tantrum. He's pissed off about Douglas and won't admit it."
Kendis's nose wrinkled, head still tilted slightly to the right, "Or doesn't even realize that he is."
It was Tina's turn to roll her eyes. "I don't care. I just know he's taking it out on you, and it isn't fair. You'll get it done, and it'll be perfect. But with the new job, this, volunteering at summer camp, and –"
"Okay."
"-- and pet sitting for your downstairs neighbor, you won't have time to enjoy the fair because you're worrying about taking care of all the extr –"
"Tina. I said okay."
"Okay, what." Tina startled. Now it was her turn to blink. She had been full train ahead. She had come in ready to fight, so she was feeling a bit discombobulated.
Kendis let out a soft snort as they straightened their posture. "You can be my taste tester. And my basket deliverer. And … whatever else you wanna .. hel – do." They both pretended not to hear how Kendis stumbled over the word 'help'."
"What. Why."
"I mean you can still lea –"
"No! No take backsies. I said I was here to taste test, and I'm here to taste test. Use me however you want. Don't smirk."
"Don't tell me what to do. Here. Try this peach tart." Kendis had the decency to bite back a grin as Tina's nose automatically wrinkled. For a sweets goblin, Tina was surprisingly really against baked fruits. If she was volunteering to be an (not entirely) impartial taste tester – thus saving Kendis what would probably be ours of nitpicking at their own product – then it meant their friend was genuinely concerned about them overworking themselves.
They weren't jerkish enough to slam the door on that kind of sacrifice. …. And – and it really would be great to have the time to enjoy the fair.
—-
william bouguereau, les oranges
Iced fruits were one of the best parts of summer. From literal frozen fruits, to ice pops, to slushies that were often more artificial flavor than anything natural — it didn't really matter, there was something doubly refreshing about gorging on them on a cloudless, unbearably bright, and dry day.
This is how Kendis found themselves holding onto two stacked coolers as they used their elbow to ring the Verdas' doorbell.
They shifted from foot to foot in order to help alleviate the ache of her heavy packages. The sounds of feet stampeding in unison and screaming children, followed by what sounded like Sol's firm yet patient chastising, helped in ways hopping about didn't. A wide, amused grin almost took over Kendis' entire face by the time Verda opened the door for her.
"Darling, did you order –" He paused when he noticed one of the hands holding the two coolers upright wriggle at him in some sort of wave, "Who – Kendis? Kendis! Oh, my." He immediately reached to take one of the coolers from her but she shooed him away with a nudge of her foot against his calf. (Thinking on it later, he would consider she probably meant to poke at his ankle.) He was too bewildered by their presence to even note the streak of dust and dirt left on his pants.
"Yes, well. Very well. I assume you want the kitchen?"
"Yeah. Thanks! That'd be great."
It surprisingly didn't take long for him to direct Kendis—and the coolers—into his kitchen; likely, it was because the former detective wasn't an infrequent visitor to their home.
"There!" They huffed when she placed the coolers onto a clear counter.
"Yes, they certainly are. Now –"
Perhaps the correct adverb should've been 'why' instead of 'how'. Why had Kendis found themselves, at first on the Verdas' doorstop and now in their kitchen when they clearly hadn't been expecting her? Perhaps, hopefully, the question would be answered soon to help ease Solomon's already preoccupied mind.
"Fruit!" They interrupted abruptly with a proud beam.
"Fruit?"
"Mmhm." They punctuated as they began opening one of the coolers without even a 'how do you do'. (And certainly, still, without a 'why do I do')
Wisely, Sol decided it would be better – despite the sudden alarming screeching coming from his living room – to see than to ask further. And see, he quickly did.
"Kendis! Is all of this for the girls' party? There was no need for you to do that!"
"Of course, there's a need. I'm like your daughters' honorary godparent and, also, I'm awesome. There's no way I'd let my nieces not have a party filled with cool yet healthy food."
"It isn't as if the party was their idea." He chuckled. He couldn't help but point it out, even though he had a feeling it would go through one of Kendis' ears and promptly out the other. He and Eric had drawn the short straw during the last Parent Association Meeting. Though comparatively, hosting a BBQ for under-sixes was infinitely better than getting Halloween duty. Once the day was over, they would be clear from hosting for the rest of the year.
He was proven right by their airy wave, "Idea schmydears. Oh, and I hid a gin and raspberry tart for you and Eric like waaaay, at the bottom. You're totally welcome."
Verda bit back a smile, "Yes, yes. Thank you very much."
"Perfect! By the way they've been screaming, I'd say start with the slushies, do food, and finally treat them with the ice pops. All organic, I promise."
He couldn't help but be amazed by the sheer number of snacks. They would have to send some of the kids home with whatever the girls didn't want to keep for themselves.
—-
Umbrellas were one of the best inventions known to man.
Kendis and Farah ended up finding themselves caught in a downpour. The fall of rain was not overbearing but still heavy enough for Kendis to worry about it ruining her recently done-up hair. They pulled their bikes to a nearby stand – or, more accurately, both bikes belonged to Kendis, but Farah was borrowing one. They were teaching the vampire how to ride.
It had been a subject that had popped up randomly and the two of them, being the two of them, decided to chase that rabbit down the hole. Now here they were, bikes leaning against the broad wooden post of the stand, wet (the umbrella-less Farah more than Kendis) yet giggling.
"Hey, would you look at that?" Farah jabbed Kendis' side with her elbow, causing Kendis to flick Farah's arm in retaliation, "Didn't you need more oranges?" She returned as she smirked, unbothered, up at Kendis.
"Did I – Yeah! Yeah, I did. I definitely didn't tell you that."
"Didn't you?" She teased as she perused the large crates filled with different sorts of fruit. She didn't have to look behind her to know that her friend was rolling their eyes, she could hear it in Kendis' dramatic huff, "Fine. Fine. Fiiiiine! I saw it on Nate's grocery list."
Nate had taken to stocking the Warehouse with Kendis' favorite foods. He, at times, also made the effort to collect things Tina and the Verdas liked — but they came around much less frequently. Farah was often the one who was 'stuck' doing grocery shopping with him if he needed an extra pair of hands (that 'stuck' being a teasing exaggeration or close to an actual death sentence, depending on where they were going). She preferred food shopping to utensil shopping. The colors were pretty and Nate sometimes didn't scold her when she tried to touch them; unlike the way he acted at the home decor store. Accidentally break one or four bowls, and there would be a lecture every time they headed there.
Farah picked up a prickly fruit she'd never seen before. She was pretty sure it might be a pineapple. It looked like Spongebob's house. However, she'd never realized how pointy those things were.
Anyway, she picked up the fruit to ask Kendis a question when she caught the tail end of Kendis' pleased smile. It only took Farah a second to recall what might have prompted it.
"He's such a busybody." They mumbled under their breath.
The young vampire shot her friend a knowing smirk, "I thought you liked it when he acts like he knows your b –"
"That's a pineapple. And shut up, Farah."
Golden eyes twinkled with mirth before she let out an unrepentant cackle. They spent the next hour or so playing, "What fruit is this?" vs "I could make a really good [human food] with this". The rain had slowed into a drizzle fifteen minutes in, but the two of them ended up having such a good time in each other's company. And in the company of the oranges.
–
"Reasons why you just stuffed a peeled apple in my hands … Go!"
"Don't want it, don't eat it." Morgan scoffed as she began to walk away, "Don't care. You can throw it away. Just make sure that Nate doesn't come crying to me the next time." Muttered loudly by someone who supposedly didn't care.
Kendis considered lobbing the apple at the back of Morgan's head or chasing her down for an answer, but following through on either action was immediately halted. As Kendis had been putting their unappled hand into their purse to retrieve their keys they were met with something wet and sticky.
Slowly, they pulled it out and found it was a grapefruit. It was a grapefruit with a note pinned on it. The note was mostly indecipherable, but Kendis recognized the stationery they'd gotten for Farah, so that she'd stop using Kendis' good stuff for paper planes. If she squinted, she could almost make out parts that looked like Farah's scrawl. Not all of the letters melted into each other.
They could make out a 'get be' and 'eat' and 'well'. Or was that 'will'?
"Anyone wanna tell me what the fuck is goin' on??"
It had all started with an overgrown fruit basket Nate had delivered at her house. Then it had been Adam handing her slices of clementines during their meeting — he had actually stopped the start of it when he'd heard Kendis hadn't had a chance to grab breakfast beyond some grapes, from the aforementioned fruit basket that morning, to get it for them. They had been too startled to be … well much of anything.
Why were they all obsessing over fruit? Was this a reaction to the fruit-related products Kendis had created through the summer? Did they think she was on a fruit diet? That they could only survive on fruit or they would get sick and die –
Kendis stilled their stomping toward their car (obviously not awaiting the answer to their question; they had a busy day ahead and had no time to wait for more of UB's weirdness) as realization hit them like lightning striking a bare tree during a thunderstorm.
Awareness nearly split them in half as they spun suddenly to march back toward the Warehouse, but then spun again back toward their care, because they really did have things to do — for example, they had a follow-up appointment with their GP.
A follow-up to the bad flu Kendis had caught …
See, Kendis wasn't one to get sick and they weren't the best at taking care of themselves when they were ill. However, their packed summer schedule ended up catching up with them. It forced them to take the rest they'd been cutting off and Tina had parked herself on Kendis' couch to ensure Kendis took that rest. And Tina was as fierce as a pitbull when she wanted to be. No one had been allowed to disturb her rest.
It had just been a few days since their fever had cleared and only two days ago that they had been up and about.
They had been giving her fruit all day.
They had been giving her fruit all day!
How had it not clicked? 'Get be'… Get … be – Maybe 'get better'? Was that what Farah had been trying to say?
'Get be', 'eat', 'well'. The spare words Kendis had been able to read from the note attached to the grapefruit rattled in her mind as she drove down to the town square. The clementine. "Just make sure that Nate doesn't come crying to me the next time." The next time … the next time they were sick?
Their mind turned over the clues like they were testing the ripeness of mangos at the grocery store.
She suddenly wondered what the note on the fruit basket Nate had sent had said. She hadn't had time to read it before heading out the door.
They should be mortified that they hadn't noticed. Maybe even frustrated at the really weird and unexplained coddling. But … but, despite themself, all Kendis could do was feel warm.
–
"Food in the basket an' coolers?"
"Check."
"Okaaaay … we got the umbrella for Morgan?"
"Check! Verda said he found the old one in his attic, so he's bringing it just in case. And I got the earplugs, earmuffs, and walkman like you asked. I don't know why you had me buy all of this. It's not like she's going to stay the whole time."
"You talkin' like it came out your wallet," Kendis snorted as Tina rolled her eyes, " She should be comfy while she's there, yeah?"
"The only time I've seen Specialist Agent Morgan 'comfy' is when she's smoking like a chimney and making fun of people. She's so lucky that she's hot," Tina muttered under her breath.
"You're just still mad'bout what she said last month 'bout your –"
"Check!"
Kendis chuckled, "Okay. Sure, sure, sure. Umbrellas down. What about extra sunglasses and towels?"
"Check and check! And Farah said she'd handle the picnic blankets, and yes, I got one extra large one just in case … I think we're set to go now."
"You say that, but whose's the one who's gonna have to come back around if you forget something?"
"Adam?"
"Shut up."
Tina giggled, "You need to relax. Everything's going to be fiiiiine!"
"I'm relaxed an' everything's gotta be perfect."
"And it will be! Everyone's going to have a good time. We'll eat together and become closer. Just like you've always wanted!"
"I haven't always," Kendis scoffs, "You make me sound like some … some … like someone's grandparent. It's just a get-together idea I came up with, 'cause I thought it'd be fun. No big deal."
"Uh….. huh. If you say so. You can also finally say thank you to the agents for trying to boost your immune system with random acts of fruit." Tina smirked like she was funny.
"Thank them for what? No one told them to be weird about it, yeah?"
"Okay. Sure, sure, sure," Tina quipped, echoing Kendis' previous dismissal almost perfectly. "Not like you were touched or anything."
"Not like you're not touched in the head."
"Well, that's not nice."
"Yeah, whatever." Kendis huffed. "Apology accepted," Tina grinned, "You sure your car will be able to make it to the beach with all this in it?"
"Do you wanna walk there or do you wanna get in the car?"
What about kisses while hugging from the back for kendis x nate if you're taking prompts?
i, in fact, am! very tentatively. you get to be my writing for the day. yay you! .... or sorry.
Nathaniel didn't like to consider himself an impulsive man --- for the fact of the matter, he's spent the entirety of his lives cultivating the exact opposite image.
His fingers flexed into a fist after he placed his hand against the doorframe, the strength of his focus was so ensnared by the sight before him that it didn't register to him that his fingernails were eating into the meat of his palm.
It was on her neck. Nate squeezed fingers even tighter together as ... something, some feeling ... some sensation .... caught in his throat. Here at the entrance of the Warehouse's kitchen, after a long and tense day at the Agency, he found boundaries of his patience being tested ...
By the large streak that had managed to find itself on the back of Kendis' neck.
His body remained rigid, stiff as the feeling lodged inside of him, as he attempted to keep himself from just grabbing them into him. He knew ... thought made him stiffen even more, but he knew that it wasn't just his touch that Kendis shied away from. Yet the thought he made them uncomfortable for some reason made him want to push further, instead of falling back. He felt as if he didn't ... he didn't crowd her than she would slip away from fingers that they didn't dare let reach them.
That was unlike him. She made him so unlike himself at times, that he hated it. He hated it so much, he thought; and the corners of his lips flowed into a smile and the frustration he'd been feeling melted away. He couldn't help but picture all the possible reasons for the flour at the back of their neck.
He found himself stepping forward, easing away from the doorway, and giving into the temptation and desire to jerk her close to him. He really wanted to. He knew he could just ask for the touch that he badly needed but Kendis being Kendis there were worse things they could say aside for 'no'. And 'no' was already devastating in it's own right.
Before he could give into the temptation, she turned partly as if she sensed him. The corner of her eye flickered toward him before she turned back toward the counter, set something down, and turned back fully toward him.
Their eyes trailed from his not-at-all artfully tousled hair and took in the wrinkles on his shirt that he hoped he had smoothed away effectively as well as the scuff on the shoes that had been polished when he'd left earlier in the day.
"Whoa. Farah wasn't kidding. You look like --"
"Please," He sighed, tired for various reasons, "don't finish that."
She scoffed but despite that a smirk tilted her lips crookedly before she teased, "Hey. I coulda hit you right off with what Morgan said. But sure." They shrugged. "Since you had such a donkey's crackhole of a day," Nathaniel resisted the urge to wince as they continued on, "I suppose I should cheer you up. An' play nice. Whadda you want? I think the dogpark's still -"
"A hug." The words slipped out before he could stop himself.
He wasn't sure if he hoped that she hadn't or that she had heard his words.
Given her sudden stillness -- a stillness that was an absence of movement that almost rival a vampire's -- it really didn't matt what he hoped. What he wanted.
It felt as if minutes crawled by and he found himself agitated again for another moment in this extremely long day -- agitated in a way he'd never really been since he was a boy .... Perhaps the was the correct term was antsy.
Perhaps that was the feeling that kept itself stuck inside of him, under his skin. Kendis often had a way of making him feel antsy.
His typically quick tongue, adept at smoothing things over felt rigid in his mouth.
And she just kept staring at him. She truly did make him feel so unlike himself.
"Sure."
The word was stated so simply, without any argument Nate would have thought it was his imagination - he likely would have missed it if he hadn't been a vampire - until she opened their arms for him to step into.
"I -"
"This has a time limit so you better hop to it."
It was his turn to stare. Then blink. Then slowly his lips curved into another smile as he caught the impatient wiggling of their fingers.
He felt as if he were slipping free from the weight of the day ... and something extra as he fell into their welcoming arms. He felt almost delirious. He felt so very light as he took the opportunity to in turn wrap his arms around them.
"You know," he started, "for someone who dislikes hugs you are quite --"
"Your luck. You're pushing it."
"I wouldn't the man you -- you cared for if I didn't." Clearly he'd become a man possessed.
Kendis let out a loud snort near his ear and pressed a soft kiss at his temple; so, of course, Nate took the opportunity to place one at the corner of her lips. They rolled their eyes.
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duty towards the human being as such -- that alone is eternal. simone weil.
<a href="https://grapecaseschoices.tumblr.com/post/737133058096005120">submissive in the way a livestock guardian dog is submissive to the sheep it kills wolves for</a> / <a href="https://grapecaseschoices.tumblr.com/post/726717542428704768">genre of character: submissive the way a guard dog is submissive.</a>
<b>do more with:</b>
<a href="https://grapecaseschoices.tumblr.com/post/726394097977425920">it's about the person who thinks they're inherently violent choosing to be gentle with the person they love</a>
i must have flowers, always, and always. claude monet.
<a href="https://grapecaseschoices.tumblr.com/post/717440949641428992">"i set up a complaint box at work. people think HR set it up but it was me. at the end of every week i open the box and read about all this petty drama that's been building up".</a> <s>his uncle would kill him but i want to do more with andy O.O while not looking like he's O.O. erkan has always been nosy - remember all the blank spaced comments? lol - but a younger erkan is ... lmao.</s>
<a href="https://grapecaseschoices.tumblr.com/post/716126575924592640">"dont flirt with me cus ima flirt back and you gon catch feelings & im not"</a>
when the foundation's laid so badly that the whole house tilts, the sons. inherit grief. euripedes (tr. tom sleigh)
maybe: all these years spent thinking that i had super human self-control, and now i realize i just never put anything i wanted too badly in front of myself. emily henry.
The combination of 'unnervingly flawless self-control' with 'occasional tendency to engage in reckless, dangerous, and borderline self-destr
they have to invent a kind of committed relationship for hyper-independent people
i was tagged by the ever talented @brother-genitivi for wip wednesday and the talented ever @wayhavenots for sneak peek sunday, so i present wip sunday. snip sunwesday?
Dark, wide amber eyes look up at you beseechingly.
“Kendy. Asty gives goodnight kissies after tuck in time all the time, but you never do. You give hugs but no kissies! Kissies mean no more nightmares!”
A quick, loud gasp draws your attention toward a pair of eyes that would have been the first’s twin pair, if not for the fact that they were dark brown.
Other than the difference in eye color, despite being fraternal twins, Aster and Asher Blanchard looked remarkably alike. They had the same pug nose, the same beauty mark at the bottom of their right nostril and even the same location that granted them their gap-toothed smile – though the reasons they each had a missing right incisor was different. They looked more like their white father than Japanese mother, unlike their two older siblings.
Mr. Blanchard liked to say - with a loud, obnoxious guffaw - that maybe his wife had run out of ink. He had no problem saying it in front of twins.
Twins that were already almost 11 years younger than their next closest sibling. Twins that were much smaller than their peers, had been born too early. Twins that would have been alone – despite how doting Austyn and their eldest brother, Charles were – if not for each other.
Maybe that is why you were more lax in your boundaries with them than you were with other kids you baby-sitted.
“You want us to have nightmares, Kendy?” The main culprit asked, dragging your attention back toward her big, sad eyes.
It struck you that there was something particularly maneuvering about the younger ladies of the Blanchard family.
I am trying to figure what genre I have done -- like what in my writing could feasibly said to be other genre. I've done urban fantasy/paranormal, sci-fi*, done psychological/biological horror [arguably] for character-focused narratives.
I've not done a western [but i did do a bit of a 'this town body/mind, this arena, this prestige aint big enough for the both of us' a couple of times lmao.]
I think I would love to write a romantasy. Something "historical" that is either high or light fantasy. Actually, doing a western MIGHT be fun but I don't really know Westerns. Maybe a more traditional horror might be fun -- something like surburban gothic or americana. I've always wanted to do pirates.
*not sci-fi but speculative fiction [apparently, my bad. it was superheroes]
🫘 Spill the beans. What's a new project you're doing this year?
I answered here. But I will add that I am going to join more fandom events. I'm thinking mainly twc, but hopefully after my twc reread I will feel confident enough to at least throw Naveen at things. We shall see.
💥Is there a chapter, scene, or WIP you're most excited to write? Share a snippet or tell us about it!
I should get on that, right? Snippeting. I let both of my writing days pass me by lol.
I don't have anything in paricular outside of the project I mentioned. Specifically in that there are aspects of personality or time periods I would like to explore for the characters I am doing [maybe all except Val, but who knows].
