In the stinging summer heat your car feels like a coffin, mosquitoes keep weaseling their way inside somehow. Their buzzing drone sounds strangely familiar, like a song that used to play constantly on the radio in 2007, one which you never learnt the name of; but everyone else seemed to know all the lyrics to. Like a distant childhood memory, barely graspable.
The air conditioner is busted, didn’t you install a new one just yesterday? Seems like this one is busted, too. You’ll purchase another one tomorrow. The old one functioned but it always leaked a strange green-brown liquid. One that you couldn’t help but wonder if was edible. Now you’re craving guacamole. You ask SIRI to find you the nearest Chipotle. SIRI responds in a dead language it shouldn’t know. Who even programs these things?
At the drive-thru, all you hear are faint screams, and then dead air. When you drive up, a boy in a rumpled t-shirt hands you your order. Telepathic franchises are certainly efficient, but it’s a bit difficult to sensor all your thoughts. Think about nothing but your order. Do you want a drink with that? Would you like the two-for-the-price-of-one-meal? Don’t forget to tell them you don’t want anchovies. If you waste a thought on anything else, they’ll know.
You have a feeling that the raccoons are starting a revolt, gathering all the small animals that live behind the tails of neighboring streets to take a stand before they’re road kill. Sometimes at night, when you’re driving back from work, you can almost swear that you’re seeing apparitions of shambling deer and scurrying squirrels crossing the road. Their bright, translucent bodies remind you of stars. You frown, you can’t quite remember the last time you’ve seen the stars.
The billboards are glitzy mediums of subliminal messages. Planting uncanny thoughts in order to brainwash the masses. GOT MILK? they ask. ARE YOU HUNGRY? ARE YOU HUNGRY? ARE YOU HUNGRY? ISOLATION, one reads. FEED US, says another. LIVE YOUR BEST LIFE! it urges. You want to look away, but for some reason, you can’t. They say that if you stare at a billboard long enough, it’ll burn out your eyes. One of your neighbors tried it, then spent three weeks at the hospital.
At a local cafe, there is a man sitting opposite to you who looks like he might be a time traveller. His greasy black hair is slicked back, like a detective from a 60′s noir, he wears a trench coat so long it hides the tips of his shoes. He is licking french fry salt off his fingers. He carries no phone and reads a newspaper that announces the beginning of what could possibly be a Great Depression. Whenever the waitress speaks to him, it is only in a hushed voice.
Your Facebook feed is crowded with warnings of another cyberspace war. When you look up from your phone at the people that wait alongside you at the pedestrian light, their eyes all glow an ambulance blue. You look away. The green light goes off. When you look up again, everyone around you has disappeared, but their phones remain, convulsing on the ground as if having a stroke. As you slip your own phone into your pocket and keep walking, you wonder if Google ate them all.
Along certain stretches of highway, no vehicle runs below the speed of 80mph. Along certain stretches of highway, cars vanish into tunnels & never resurface. Along certain stretches of highway, dead hitchhikers clamber atop of your hood and beg for a ride.
You’re convinced you’re seeing the same strangers everywhere. Why does every face strike you as one you’ve seen before? The little blue-eyed boy at the ice cream shop by the pier, causing a tantrum for an extra scoop, the man with the longest beard you’ve ever seen that sleeps on the bench outside your building complex and talks to the stray cats, the woman behind the pharmacy desk who wears too much lipstick and always asks you the same question. “Will that be all?” and when you say yes, she abandons her smile.
The elevator’s broken again, so you take the stairwell up to your apartment. The stairwell seems to go on forever. You have three bags of groceries in your arms. You feel like you’ve been climbing forever. Where did your apartment go?
You’d quite like to escape, to disappear into the countryside. Find a field or a lake or a grassy mountain. Your mailman warns you against it. Says even the people who manage to find the edge of the city, only fall off it.
Scream at me at the crosswalk? I'll take my time crossing.
So this just happened today.
I was on a run going the route I normally go. There’s a lot of
traffic lights and intersections, and I know how all the stop/start
patterns go for automobiles and pedestrians at this point.
I do try my best to make sure that I obey all stops, and I’ll double check even if I have right of way to cross the road.
So today, I’m approaching a 4 way traffic light intersection. I see
the traffic light that allows cars to pass through the crosswalk I’m
trying to cross turn yellow. Great, this means that I’ll have the little
white man signal to cross in a second. I slow down and push the button
to indicate that I want to cross anyways.
Enter crazy bitch. She’s pulling up to the intersection right next to
me on a red and is trying to turn right. She did have plenty of time to
make the turn because the pedestrian light hadn’t turned white yet, and
there was no oncoming traffic.
Instead, she slams on her brakes (I was completely on the sidewalk)
as if I had just tried to cut her off. She starts screaming at me (I
don’t know what she was saying as I was listening to music and her
windows were up). She gestures at the crosswalk light indicating that I
don’t have the right of way. She does this for 3-4 seconds and is about
to take off when, lo and behold, the pedestrian light turns white as she
continues gesturing at it.
So of course I step in front of her car to cross the road. Oops. My
shoe laces are untied. Gotta make sure those are tied extra tight. Stand
up and realize I’m tired. So I stand there for a second and put my
hands on my knees to catch my breath.
Mind you, this is a 20 second crosswalk, so this interaction doesn’t
last very long. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone so livid.
In hindsight, maybe this was a little dangerous because if the lady
actually was crazy, who knows what she would have done. There were no
other cars waiting to turn right behind her though, so I don’t really
tl;dr Scream at me for no apparent reason? I’ll use up the entire 20 seconds to cross the crosswalk.
MariChat Week 2 Day 1: Kisses. Didn’t think I’d pass this up, did y’all? *flashes Certified MariChat Trash badge* FEATURING: The Sidekick!Adrien AU.
Twenty-one year old Marinette Dupain-Cheng walked the lamp lit streets of Paris on her way home from work. As she passed an alley, an engine revved. Headlights blazed to life and half blinded her. She shielded her eyes. “Chat Noir,” she cried, “what would Ladybug say if she caught you stalking civilian women in the dark?”
He pulled up beside her, the LED screen on his cat helmet’s visor set to a mischievous smirk. “You tell me.” He patted the seat behind him. “Need a ride? We can take the scenic route.”
“I’m tired, kitty. Aren’t you tired?”
“Oh, absolutely. The life of a trust fund baby is so exhausting.”
Marinette put her hands on her hips. The LED visor changed to sad kitten eyes. She laughed and slung her leg over his bike. “Fine,” she said. “I didn’t feel like walking anyway.”
A/N: Thank you for the request, love! I hope you all enjoy them! <3
Kim Minseok (Xiumin)
Minseok would be
the type to know that something is wrong with you before you even knew. He would secretly pay particular attention to your reactions in situations
so he knew that something was wrong the moment you stepped foot in your shared
apartment. He would walk over to you as you were removing your coat and asked
what was wrong. You explained to him about your horrible day with your arrogant
boss but that you pushed through the day without giving up.
“Jagiyah, how do
you do it? You do so much and yet manage to smile at me at the end of the day.
I admire you so much,” he would say as he cuddled into your neck.
Kim Junmyeon (Suho)
After work you
found yourself crying quietly in the kitchen while you were preparing dinner
for you and your boyfriend, Junmyeon. When he arrived he noticed your red eyes
and nose and asked what was wrong. You explained to him how you had arrived
late to work due to traffic, how you managed to spill coffee on your new
pair of work pants, and how three of your clients had decided to leave for
another company. He would hug you from behind and place kisses on your
neck and shoulder.
“Let it all out, Jagiyah.
Sit here, let me give you a back-rub,” he would say guiding you to a kitchen
chair before gently rubbing your shoulders.
Zhang Yixing (Lay)
It took Yixing a
little while before realizing that something was bothering you because he was
working on some emails when you got home from work. He didn’t catch on to the
way you threw your purse down on the coffee table and the loud sighs you were
making as you sat silently on the couch. He would go peck your cheek to welcome
you home to find you silently sleeping against the arm rest.
After a short
while, he would wake you up from your nap and lead you to the bathroom and hand
you a towel. A proud but shy smile would grow on his face as he wrapped his arms around your
waist watching your astonished face staring at the bathtub. He had prepared a
bubble bath surrounded with candles and soft music to help you relax.
“Now, let’s get
you into that tub and you can just relax while I wash your hair, Bǎobèi,”
he would say as he stood behind you and helping you get rid of your clothes,
gently kissing your bare shoulders as you exposed them.
quick to notice your angry mood, so he kept his distance until he heard your
sniffles from the living room. He would run into the room to see that you were
wiping away your tears and he would run to cradle you in his arms. When you
explained how stressful your day was at school and that you had failed an exam,
he would try to make you laugh by making fun of himself.
remember that time when we couldn’t get out of the restaurant because I was
pushing on the door when the sign clearly read Pull?” he would say laughing hysterically.
Kim Jongdae (Chen)
Despite his busy
schedule, Jongdae would text you throughout the day to check on you. When you
hadn’t responded to his messages, he became worried and went to your place of
employment to look for you. After he arrived home, he saw that you were putting
away some laundry and without a word, he took you in his arms causing you to
break down. He told you how your boss had revealed that he had to let you go
because the department had to cut hours.
“I know you had a
bad day, but I’m here now. It’s okay now,” he would say sincerely as he stroked
This sweet giant would
feel sad when you snapped at him after you received a phone call from the
bakery saying that your friend’s cake order was not received until that
morning, meaning that the cake would not be done in time for the party you had
planned. After locating one at a local grocery store, the two of you headed
home only for you to trip on the sidewalk and send the cake flying out of your
hands and onto the lawn. You stood silently trying your best not to cry but
soon tears rolled down your cheeks.
“No, don’t cry,
Jagiyah. I’ll make this all better, I promise. You just hold on to me,” he
would say embracing you tightly.
Do Kyungsoo (D.O.)
As a school
teacher, you have a hard enough time keeping up with active students, but today
was a different day for you and you knew it the moment you arrived late for
work. The students were rowdier than usual because the end of the year was
coming up and the school was more lenient when it came to school work. It was
also the time where mischievous students participated in the annual senior
prank – unluckily you were this year’s target of “put wet paint on the
teacher’s chair”. As if it wasn’t enough that the printer had run out of ink
midway through your printing of the final exams, you now had to beg the not so
friendly principal for ink all while wearing a white painted chair mark on the
back of your skirt.
You broke down
immediately after arriving home, while your boyfriend was in the kitchen
cooking dinner for you. As soon as he noticed your tears, he ran over to you
and comforted you as he escorted you to the kitchen and distracted you by
putting on a pretend cooking show for you until the meal was prepared.
“A full tummy is
a happy tummy. Eat up, Jagiyah!” he would say passing you a set of chopsticks.
Kim Jongin (Kai)
You arrived home
after a bad day of getting splashed with muddy water as you waited at the
pedestrian crosswalk for the light. It all started when you were late to return back to work from a
lunch break that didn’t go well. You had called your order ahead of
time only to find out that the restaurant had mistakenly given your meal to
another customer. Your new order was going to take longer than expected so you
settle for a small bag of chips and a cold iced tea to hold you over until
dinner. As you made your way to your bedroom you find Jongin half asleep on
your bed, replying to text messages. He looked up when he heard you and noticed your cute pout, which told
him you were not having a good day, so he motioned for you to join him in bed.
“Put your head on
my shoulder and let’s see how we can make your day better, Jagiyah,” he would
say interlacing his fingers with yours as you talked about your day.
Sehun found your
annoyance with him entertaining. He knew you were having a bad day since you had
a flat tire and you were late for your morning lecture. The instructor had kept
you after class to scold you and that made you late for your afternoon exam,
which you failed by 2 points. At home, you tried to talk to Sehun about it but
he reacted with jokes to try to cheer you up, but that just made you more upset
to the point where you cried.
“Come into my
arms, you big baby,” he would joke as he held his arms open for you. “Jagiyah,
you don’t always have to be strong. I’d give anything to make your bad days go
away,” he would continue but this time with a serious face as he hugged you
lovingly and kissed the top of your head.
okokok i need to come up with something better how's. this. "Here, take my coat, you look cold"
Sankt Petersburg is cold. This is not unusual. What is unusual is Victor’s miserable state. He’d left his coat at the rink, and it was probably completely closed now. While he did have his wallet on him, his keys to his apartment (and the rink) as well as his phone were in his coat.
Not to mention Sankt Petersburg is cold, and now he’s cursed himself to going home in this miserable weather. He jogs as quickly as possible, trying to keep himself warm. His breath puffs out into the air almost like steam, and he can’t hold back a shiver as he waits at a crosswalk.
Suddenly, there’s a tap on his shoulder. “Here, take my coat. You look cold,” someone says in English.
Victor turns around in surprise, the first thing he registers being a fluffy-looking burgundy coat. “Pardon?”
The coat is lowered, and Victor is taken aback at the man offering it to him. Short black hair, brown eyes, clearly Asian features. His English sounds flawless. “I think you need it more than me,” he says.
“I can’t possibly-” Victor hesitates, of course. He’s more used to the infernal weather than this foreigner, surely. “That’s very kind of you, but…”
The pedestrian light signals to walk.
“I have a ride waiting around the corner, so I insist,” the man says. “Please, take it.” He drops it in Victor’s hands and walks past him onto the crosswalk.
Victor shivers again, hesitating still. He follows after him. “How will I give it back?”
“You can keep it.” Once they’re on the other side of the street, Victor watches, at a loss, as the man walks in a different direction from him now.
“At least give me your name?” Victor calls. He wants a name to put to this kind Samaritan.
He sees the man pause, a smile on his lips when he turns around. “Yuuri!” he replies. He looks immaculate for some reason, in that moment. The lightly falling snow contrasts with his dark hair and dark outfit, and the smile transforms him in a way that makes ‘He’s beautiful’ cross Victor’s mind.
He opens his mouth to give Yuuri his own name, but he is already gone.
Victor ends up donning the coat on the way home. It stops him from shivering, and smells the way that all clothes do when they’re freshly laundered. Comforting. He manages to show the doorman his ID to be let in and get the building manager to open his apartment for him.
Yuuri stays on his mind the whole time. Victor knows it’s foolish to think so much of a random encounter, but few people give away their coats so easily. Especially ones as nice as this one. He remembers the smile, the offer, the gentle way he’d spoken. The kind insistence that Victor take the coat.
What kind of person is Yuuri? Did he like dogs? Why was he in Sankt Petersburg? From Japan, or America, or where?
Deep down, Victor wants to meet him again. Return the coat, maybe ask him for a coffee and get to know him better.
He wants, and it’s silly, but he can’t help it.
The next day, Victor wears the coat on the way to the rink. If he looks around for Yuuri on the way there, well, only he knows that.
Yakov berates him for leaving his coat and everything at the rink last night — as well as Yuri for not noticing before he had left and locked up. Victor hardly notices, too light on his feet about Yuuri and his kindness.
It takes Mila shaking him while he’s tying up his skates for him to snap out of it. “Victor, you didn’t have your phone last night, right? Then you haven’t heard of what happened to Politician Duma.”
Victor frowns. He cares little for politics and politicians. “No, what happened?” he asks anyway.
“Someone blew up his residence!” Mila steals his phone and unlocks it, tapping in something before shoving the screen in Victor’s face. “Everyone’s talking about it though because it was some internationally wanted criminal, and no one knows the motive.”
The face that looks at Victor is blurry, likely from some low-res security camera shot, but a jolt of recognition goes up his spine. The person has slicked-back dark hair and pale skin, and the collar of a black shirt pokes up from their burgundy coat.
“He’s called Eros apparently. This is the best picture they’ve gotten of him, so it’s being televised everywhere.” Mila pauses. “Is something wrong?”
“Nothing,” Victor says. “Nothing at all.”
The burgundy coat burns a hole in his awareness now. The pockets had been empty when he had checked, not a single sign of the owner’s identity. Had Yuuri even been a real name?
As Victor gets on the ice, he feels his hopeful fantasies crumble. Was it really kindness, or did he want to get rid of coat to throw authorities off his track? Was I just convenient? he wonders.
If his skating has a heartbroken tint to it that day, no one dares to comment.