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onceuponaloonatic · 4 years

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how did MiSaTzu first met? —🍊

i hope you enjoy !! thank you 🥺

“come on tzuyu, please?” chaeyoung begged. “pleaseeeee?”

“chaeyoung you are old enough to go by yourself.” tzuyu nodded. “i’m not supporting your obession with this model.”

“come on, sana’s so pretty and she’s not afraid to speak her mind. i really admire her as a fellow artist. i just don’t want to go by myself because i’m scared that something will happen. as my best friend it’s your duty to take me. this could be my only opportunity to ever see her in person, it’s crazy she choose our university to do her shoot at.” chaeyoung declared.

“it’s not my duty to do anything. besides, she’s not an artist, she’s a doll artists dress up to sell some magazines and clothing.” tzuyu rolled her eyes. “your not normally into this sort of thing, why is she different?”

“sana is different from other models, you’ll see. come on if you don’t want to do it for your best friend you will at least get the chance to see a pretty girl being pretty. it’s only for a few minutes.” chaeyoung begged. “i’ll buy you a coffee if you come.”

“fine, but only because i love coffee so much.” tzuyu resigned herself. chaeyoung grinned and pulled her alpha roommates hand.

“let’s go!” tzuyu groaned and let herself get dragged out of her dorm, just wanting this whole encounter to be over already.

mina was really tired. and not like oh i only got a few hours of sleep help me tired, no mina was i didn’t sleep at all last night please end me tired. she just wanted to finish her homework in her special spot and go back to her dorm to take a nap. her day so far hasn’t been great. she had nearly been late to her first class due to a mix up at the coffee shop and her laptop died in the middle of class. she really just wanted the day to be over.

her special spot was a grassy knoll that was scarsly populated. the campus was always crowded, so it was hard to find places like this where you could find some quiet. mina was proud of herself for finally finding somewhere quiet where she could get all her work done in peace.

however, when mina arrived at her special spot she found it was not empty like usual, it was super crowded with students and what looked like cameramen?

“crap.” mina muttered, already turning to find somewhere new when she noticed someone standing amongst the chaos. the girl looked to be faking a smile at all the attention on her, and mina was somehow able to lock eyes with her. mina stared into the girl’s hazel eyes and she was in a trance. those eyes, they were so pretty. as mina looked over the girl, she realzied the rest of her was just as pretty. perfect skin, slim waist, beautiful face. this girl was the epitome of beauty in mina’s eyes.

she felt herself drawn to this girl, and following her instincts she was able to get mostly through the crowd. sana, she heard that name being called out a lot. she figured it was probably the girl’s name.

“hi guys.” sana waved. “i’ll be starting my shoot now if you don’t mind.” mina looked a the girl again. she was a model. “thank you all for coming to support me, let’s all do our best today!” mina’s heart sped up at sana’s smile. “we can do a little fan meet when i’m done okay?” sana giggled and walked over to the middle of mina’s special spot. truthfully, mina always thought models and idols were a bit corny, but this girl was anything but corny. she was so natural, so gorgeous. mina couldnt help but stay, she was completely transfixed by this girl.

“mina unnie!” mina turned at the call of her name.

“oh, hi chaeyoung.” mina nodded, remembering the girl from her psychology class.

“here to see sana too huh?” chaeyoung asked, tugging on the tall girl’s next to her arm. “this is tzuyu, she’s my roommate.”

“hello tzuyu.” mina nodded her head to the tall girl. she was more of a classic beauty compared to sana, but that didn’t mean she was any less beautiful. mina was almost overwhelmed with how many pretty girls she had seen. mina noticed tzuyu was also staring at sana, and she completely understood as she turned back to sana. the shoot was over almost too fast, mina wasn’t ready to be this obsessed with a girl.

when it was over sana’s manager lined the crowd up to do a little fanmeet with sana. mina found herself in the line, not even fully processing what was happening. chaeyoung and tzuyu were behind her, and mina joined the conversation occasionally. it finally hit her when she was the next person in line, and as felt her heart beat in her ears when as she was walking up to sana.

“hello! what’s your name?” mina’s brain stopped at the beautiful girl in front of her.

“m-mina.” mina sutttered.

“hi mina, you know, your really cute.” sana giggled. “but you look tired, you should get some more rest and take proper care of yourself! such a pretty face deserves proper care.” sana reaches out and held mina’s hand. “promise me you will take care of yourself?” mina’s brain stopped functioning when sana leaned close to her. ‘she does this to all her fans, she does this to all her fans’ mina repeated in her head. mina couldnt do anything but nod. “good! you really are adorable.” sana giggled, reaching behind her to grab a magazine from the table like she was giving everyone. sana grabbed a marker and mina assumes she was signing it. “bye bye mina! take care or yourself!” sana waves after handing over the magazine, tzuyu coming up after mina.

mina couldnt believe what just happened. sana was somehow more beautiful up close. mina took deep breaths and tried to be in control of her heart.

when mina went home that night she was finally able to open the magazine sana had given her. sana’s signature was there like she thought, but underneath the signature, she noticed a heart and a set of numbers.

‘your so pretty mina-chan, call me’ mina’s heart nearly died at that note.

tzuyu took a deep breath as she walked up to sana. sana has been unusually touchy with mina. she had been observing sana’s interactions with fans, but mina had been treated a bit different than the others, and that intimated tzuyu, just a bit. mina was really cute, tzuyu had noticed, but she could tell mina was exhausted. if mina was an omega, tzuyu would presue her.

tzuyu took a deep breath, repeating in her head she was fine as she walked up to the girl who had caught her attention since walking in.

“hello!” sana smiled. “wow, two pretty girls in a row!” sana giggled. “what’s your name?”

“tzuyu.” tzuyu answered, trying not to let the panic in her head seep into her voice.

“hi tzuyu,” sana nodded. “your really cute too, and tall!”

“t-thank you.” tzuyu stuttered. “you are too.”

“oh thank you!” tzuyu was sure sana heard that all the time, so she was surprised sana seemed so happy about it. “but i’m not that tall.” sana laughed. “at least, not as tall as you.” sana reaches behind her for her magazine and signed it in front of tzuyu. “see you later tzuyu! take care!” tzuyu nodded and took the magazine.

“wait- see you later?” tzuyu opened the magazine feverishly. under sana’s name, she saw her phone number in clear font. tzuyu could feel the blush on her face, and she had to ignore chaeyoung teasing her for her flush.

#twice #minatozaki sana #myoui mina #chou tzuyu #satzu #2na #misana #twice satzu #twice 2na #twice misana #misatzu #twice misatzu #🍊 anon

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bluewatsons · 4 years

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Elliott B. Martin Jr, To Invoke or Not to Invoke: Tarasoff Is the Question, Psychiatric Times (September 27, 2019)

The author presents for consideration and discussion two personal stories in which the so-called Tarasoff Rule, or the “duty to warn” a threatened third party, was invoked. One was arguably appropriate; the other, arguably not.

Case Report

Two cases illustrate the dilemma of the duty to warn. The intricacies of Tarasoff involve so many variables, from state to state, scenario to scenario, case to case. How does one practice good clinical judgment? Following this piece, James L. Knoll IV, MD, provides a forensic analysis, in Psychiatric Malpractice Grand Rounds: The Tarasoff Dilemma.

I would like to present for consideration and discussion two personal stories in which the so-called Tarasoff Rule, or the “duty to warn” a threatened third party, was invoked. One was arguably appropriate; the other, arguably not. In my experience, invoking Tarasoff remains quite contentious, and even legal specialists are often indecisive. For patient confidentiality, details in the cases presented have been changed.

Case 1

When I was an intern, we had a young man committed to us for attacking his mother, and for continuing to threaten her. This was especially problematic in that he lived with her, had no intention of living without her, and his mother was firmly set on his continuing to live with her. We held him for weeks, into months. He had several forensic evaluations along the way.

At first resistant, he eventually agreed to take medication. He learned “to say all the right things,” such that the forensic specialist assigned to his case agreed with the judge in the case that there were no longer grounds to hold him against his will. I, and others who had worked closely with him, did not agree, and so the Tarasoff rule was invoked.

I sat down face-to-face with the young man’s mother. I discussed at length with her that the patient would have to be discharged, and the reasons why. I explained as concretely as I could that although he had previously repeatedly made physical and homicidal threats toward her, he recently had been taking medication with superficial improvement such that a judge, as well as a specialist in criminal mental health, had advised us that we could no longer hold him against his will. She acknowledged all this with tears in her eyes and stoic resignation on her face. She absolutely understood what I was telling her, but she made it quite clear that she would welcome him back home regardless.

Two days later, he was arrested for stabbing his mother several times in the face. She survived the attack. He was eventually committed to a state forensics facility.

Case 2

When I was a fellow at a major pediatric hospital, we had a very disturbed young man who had been sent to us by his outpatient therapist after he had revealed to her several notebooks detailing the many gruesome ways he was planning on eviscerating and alternatively torturing and taking apart piece by piece a particular older boy at his high school. The notebooks were filled, front to back, with minute, bizarre scribblings, macabre poems, as well as several hand-drawn pictures of a mutilated young man in various stages of deconstruction and decomposition. Here and there were very large printed words, “DIE! DIE!” followed by the intended victim’s name.

The victim was a student in the same school, two years older. He reportedly had no idea this younger boy, whose eroto-manic delusions had utterly gotten the best of him, felt this way about him. The patient’s target was captain of the football team, a major player on the debate team, highly ranked in his class, of a well-known and popular local family, and apparently destined for great things, not least of which was having the most popular girls in school hanging off both arms.

This younger boy was not popular. He was homely and overweight, suffered from psoriasis and acne, and was withdrawn and isolative. He had few, if any friends. His parents had put him in therapy for what they saw as depression related to his sexual orientation. It was clear over the weeks we had him in the hospital, however, that his depression was complicated by significant delusional thinking. He believed he in fact had had some sort of relationship with this other boy.

These delusions, in fact, were so intense, that our patient initially believed the older boy impregnated him. More importantly, and frighteningly, he believed he had been most grievously wronged by this boy. We never did learn what this great insult was. But, in lieu of his love/hate-object, he made frequent threats against his perceived unborn baby. He was determined to make “the father” pay for the perceived transgression.

By all accounts otherwise, the older boy had no idea this younger boy even existed. Again, we kept the patient as long as we legally could. He did seem to improve with the combination of medication and “milieu therapy.” Eventually we had no reason to keep him. His parents wanted him home; he wanted to go home. He was different than the young man in the first case, in that no one really believed he would now actually harm anyone. He seemed to have developed some insight, and he eagerly approached therapy. He had been in the hospital nearly three months.

My supervisors, in consultation with the hospital’s legal team, debated long and hard over whether Tarasoff needed to be invoked in this situation. It was illuminating to learn just how gray this area is. The legal team was mostly noncommittal. But eventually, and at the hapless trainee’s (namely, my) expense, my clinical supervisors came to view this opportunity to invoke Tarasoff as a “teaching moment.”

I notified the local police where this boy lived. I notified, with parents’ permission, the school administration. (The parents did not want their son to transfer to another school-our first, most insistent, and best recommendation.) And then I had to call the older boy’s parents.

A difficult conversation

“Hello? Mrs Smith?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, hi. My name is Dr Martin, and I’m calling from the hospital. You don’t know me, but I’m calling about your son.”

“Oh, my goodness, what about him? Is he okay?”

“Oh, yes. And I do apologize. He’s not here. In the hospital, I mean. In fact, I’ve never met him.”

“What is this about, Doctor?”

“Mrs Smith, I am required by law to inform you that we have a patient here who will be discharged tomorrow, and this patient has made repeated homicidal threats toward your son.”

“Is this some kind of joke?”

“No, no, Mrs Smith. I work on the psychiatric unit here at the hospital, and we have been working with this patient for months now. It is our opinion that this patient is no longer dangerous, but we are required by law to inform you of the threats made earlier to your son.”

“Who is this person?” I could hear the panic.

“I cannot tell you that.”

“What do you mean, you ‘can’t tell me that’?!”

“I apologize, Mrs Smith, and I know this is awkward-”

“No, no, no, no. You call me out of the blue, tell me you’re from a hospital, and then tell me you’re about to release a patient who has made threats to kill our son?! And worse, you tell me you cannot let me know who this person is!”

I had no response to that.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve, Doctor. Do you know who my husband is?”

“Ma’am, I once again apologize; and believe me, if it were up to me, we wouldn’t be having this conversation, but-”

“How dare you! How dare you call me like this! I’m calling our attorney right now! What did you say your name is?! We are going to find out who this psychopath is, and we are going to be sure this nutcase is not allowed anywhere near the school!”

“I have already notified the local police.”

“So they know the name of this psycho.” (I believe this was a statement).

“I’m going to call Bob right now. And you, Doctor so-and-so, believe me, you haven’t heard the last of this.”

That, in fact, was the last I heard of her, and honestly, I totally saw her point.

Conclusion

In the emergency department setting, we mostly turf cases in which there is a question of invoking Tarasoff. In other words, we commit patients to the hospital and let the inpatient folks deal with it. We work under a (creative) assumption that by doing so, we absolve ourselves of the duty to warn.

But again, I’ve never gotten a straight answer on that one either.

#emergency medicine #law and medicine #psychiatry #medical ethics #confidentiality #hipaa #tarasoff II #Tarasoff v. Regents of the University of California #duty to warn #tarasoff rule #mental illness #case studies

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imagining-sio · 5 years

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Adventure Awaits I

Medieval!Bucky AU

A/N: loved this movie as a kid among many others and I kinda wanna do my own version of it, hope you like it!

Chapter i

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

The gulls cruise over the shoreline, the thermal wind lifting them up with grace and fluidity. The tides themselves crash upon the wet sand with a rhythmic sound, a beat that, if standing upon the right cliff-face, it stems for miles. The very same winds that drive the gulls upward hit the cliff-face with the force of a stampede, and can knock one off its balance if not careful. Most stay clear from the edge, as the rocks are known to crumble at the faintest step.

Though, there is one who run toward the danger, or worse yet, dance upon it’s edge. It would be heresy for one to do it routinely. Such as it is today, a heretic to the sensible, responsible, and reasonable; in other, more plain words, an adventurous teenager.

With her sword and shield in either hand she slashes at her imaginary foes. Her grace and stamina are matched to few, more so that there are none left on this field but her and her horse who is grazing a few feet away, completely oblivious to this imaginary war. The female, ducks down to block a fictional wave of arrows, lifting the circular shield over her head. Her sword wushes in the blustering wind, her grip firm or else the metal knightly sword would fly from grip, as it had when she was a naive beginner with the weapon.

The Knightly sword itself looks out of place in her hand. It looks like a far wealthier object than the stature she would come from. Her clothing is muddy and worn, showing much use over the years. A stark contrast from the intricacy of the shield and the weapon that lie in her firm grip. The shield is of the same make, it’s light blue inlay of the circular design show a royal craftsmanship.

“King stark! Behind you!” The female, Y/n, shouts at her to the imaginary ally, protecting him from the even more imaginary and faceless foe. The great ruler of the Kingdom, in reality resides in his great towered castle, which itself sits firmly set in stone in the great Capitol. Y/n smites the fell creature with three staggering blows, finally finishing it off by stabbing the Knightly sword into the grassy knoll of earth.

There was a quick surrender of the foul troops, and they dissipated into the winds, like a wave of ashes, stemming her back to reality. The thrumming of hooves draws her out of her battle, and back to the land of Midgard. Her black horse lifts her head, the noise finally drawing her attention. Y/n readies herself for her approaching enemy, the sweat pouring from her brow. Her stance lowers, her shield in front of her, enough for her to see over it and sword pointing to the approaching figure.

“Y/n!” the shout makes her instantly relax, the sword practically plummeting to the ground again, while still in her grip. As she stands, the figure is finally spotted riding her speckled work horse over the beach grass covered hills of the cliff-face. The winds whisk her bright cherry red hair, and the flaps of the apron she wears as she rides side saddle. The young woman hops off the horse with the grace of a dancer, her hand coming to tuck her hair behind her ear.

“You mother is looking for you!” The redhead shouts over the winds, in case she cannot be heard from that distance. Y/n rolls her eyes so hard her head begins to follow. She tucks the shield over her back, trudging to the black horse that has lazily resumed her grazing.

“Of course she is!” Y/n grabbed the leather sheath for the sword itself, and tucked it away within it. Grabbing the saddle, Y/n hauled herself up to horseback, her feet easily finding the stirrups. Her horse raises its head in attention, and trots over to the redhead and her speckled horse.

“You know that you should be out here. Be lucky I found you before she did.” The redhead mounted her horse once more, riding side saddle as to protect her skirt and apron. The two girls stared at each other, only to begin laughing seconds later.

“You should’ve joined me. You would have made good practice.” Y/n giggles as the two trot their way back to their village. The gusting winds soon become a lulling breeze, one completely harmless, as it barely manages to move the braches of the wheat grass starts to overtake that of the beach grass on the cliff-face.

“Oh yes, because we have enough swords and shield for one single person in the village and you keep stealing them.” The redhead, Natasha as she was known, scoffed, throwing her head back in laughter.

“I could still teach you!” Y/n rebutted defiantly.

“You forget I am better with a stick that I am a sword.” Natasha eyed her, a knowing smirk grew across her face. The two rode from grassy undergrowth to a paved stone road, a showcase that civilization drew near. Soon, you could hear the hustle and bustle of the small village. Small plumes of make were starting to come into view, as did the thatch made roofs atop the stone houses that slowly and surely became more and more closer in proximity. Soon the market came into view, and People were running about for setting up decorations, as they did every year around this time.

The end of summer brought the celebration of the foundation of the Midgardian alliance, when the multiple city states finally sanctioned itself as a single country when it came under attack from foreigners of a dark and mysterious country merely twenty-two years prior. For the founding of the kingdom, they appointed their catalyst for their alliance, as he risked life and limb for the people of Midgard to be protected. The great King Stark then appointed a host of knights to join him in the Capitol as not only representatives of the city states, but to be his advisors and his men at arms. The Iron Knights as they are known throughout Midgard, the fiercest warriors of the kingdom.

Y/n’s own father was a great warrior, and the leader of the Iron Knights. As leader, he was practically the King’s right hand, hence the reason for the intricacy of the shield and sword Y/n covets so precious to her.

“You seem to be making progress on your wild goose chase.” Natasha stated, hopping off her horse, tying the bridle to the horse post beside Y/n.

“Very funny,” Y/n gave a empty glare. With their horses tied up accordingly, they set out into the village center, where the decorations were being tied up.

“Are you still on the hunt for your bird brain?” Y/n shot a knowingly look toward the red head, her smile only growing wider as Natasha’s cheeks were beginning to become as red as her locks.

“I don’t know what you are talking about.” she muttered, shoving the woman lightly, enough to move her a step to the side as she laughed.

“Hello, Y/n, hello Natasha!” the villagers greeted the two women as they passed. the two women would respond accordingly, as the custom in the village. Everyone knew everyone here, and they most likely watched the younger generation grow up to their current age.

“Y/n you mother’s been looking for you. What did you do this time?”

“Nothing much, I’m sure.” the woman grinned.

“Y/n you know better than to run off like that! You mother has been worried sick!”

“I didn’t go far.”

“Y/n L/n!” her mother’s voice pierced the air. The young women easily spotted the elder woman, and angry expression on her face as she stormed toward the two who sat on horseback.

“How many times have I told you, don’t run off like that!” she pulled the young woman by the sleeve toward their home.

“Thank you for finding her Natasha, Clint has been looking for your help in the bakery.” she quickly diffused any attempt of help from the red head by merely mentioning the boy’s name. Y/n watched in horror as her friend ran off in the direction of the bakery, where her little bird was working. The remainder of the walk to the house was silent, Y/n’s guilt mounting with every step.

With the slam of the wooden door, Y/n could feel the eyes of her mother glare towards the back of her head.

“Y/n, I understand you miss father greatly. But this running off has got to stop. I don’t need to worry about the village and you running around somewhere. Souls forbid, the cliffs.” Her mother ran a hand over her face, the exhaustion prevalent in her tone.

“How am I supposed to be a good knight if I can’t go anywhere!” Y/n protested.

“Knights don’t go running off into battle or for seeking adventure! Your father never ran into a fight, he only fought to protect us. Y/n Knights protect their people, more so, Ladies don’t become knights! So please, stop this impossible dream!”

“What if I don’t want to be a lady? I want to be a knight! And if I can’t do that than what am I?” Y/n flung her arms in frustration, the palpable silence the fell over the house was enough to hear a pin drop.

“Y/n, you will always be my daughter, no matter what life you choose.” Her mother sighed, bringing her child into an embrace, only pulling away to placer her within arms’ reach.

“I know how much you want this, no matter how hard I try to understand it. But you need to know there are other aspects to being a knight than fighting. Your father was an example of what a knight is supposed to be. He protects his people, he supports his people, as if they were his own family. The village is our family, Y/n, and we as the lairds of the land, must protect them should they need it. They’re other ways to protect people, please, let me teach you.”

Y/n’s lips formed a tight line, her brow furrowing. A sigh fell through her nostrils, her shoulders sagging at the weight of her decision.

“Okay.” She nodded her head weakly.

A great sigh passed through her mother’s lips. The elder woman happily embracing the younger with renewed vigor.

“Oh, thank you, Y/n. I need you to get ready for the festival tonight. Wear your Sunday best! The clothes are in your bedroom. For now, I need to help Mrs. Atkins, I’ll be back before evening.”

“If only you were here papa, maybe you could try to help me get to the Capitol for training, like you always promised.”

————————————————————————————————————

The night had proved good reason for the decorations, the whole village was in attendance. The people were alight with joy, sharing drinks and food with one another. Y/n’s mother was conversing with the successful owners of the village, as she was making her rounds with her constiuents. Y/n stood in full sunday best, her long dress in a pristine white cream color, the thick fabric concealing the fact that she still wore similar clothing that she wore earlier that day, only this pair was much cleaner.

“And how are we this evening,” Clint, the son of the local baker approached her.

“Well, Barton, though I am surprised that our mutual friend is not beside you.”

“I was wondering the same thing.” He mulled over his drink, taking a sip before speaking again; “I was wondering if you had seen her yet?”

Y/n’s head tilted to the side, her brow furrowing. It was not unlike Natasha to not show up somewhere. More so when it involved Clint. She always showed up at the agreed upon time, if she didn’t there was something wrong.

“I haven’t Clint.”

“Then we are in agreement.” he set his mug down upon the table Y/n sat. Y/n herself stood up, walking with her friend to find the missing redhead.

“Mother have you seen Natasha?” our protagonist asked her mother. The elder woman, shook her head, her brow also furrowing, having so much experience with the young girl and her habits.

“I have not, when was she last seen?” she asked her fellow townleaders.

“Last I saw she was over by the entrace facing the sea.” one member spoke.

“I thought she was over by the barn?” Another chorused.

“Alright, Y/n, you go to the sea road; clint and I will check the barn; you two go see if she is anywhere in the fields. Come back in ten minutes, here.” Her mother spoke with a level headedness that helped quell the young baker’s nerves.

Y/n hiked up the road toward the sea for a solid five minutes, the dress was definitely a hindrance on her progress.

“Tahsa!” she shouted as she struggled not to trip over her feet. Y/n cursed the dress under her breath as she nearly fell to the road for the umpteenth time.

A rustling in the bushes caused the young woman’s body to shoot upward. The darkening raod made it as if everything moved, that anything had a face to it, this was nothing like her imaginary foes from earlier that day. Of course, that was in the afternoon sun, this was in the covent of night, where the imagination may come back to haunt you.

“Natasha?” Y/n leaned toward the noise, which led to the cliff where she was that afternoon. A low drumming sound began to thrum through the air. Y/n, following the noise, quelled the uneaase in her stomach, nor did she care that the hem of her dress was bound to turn brown from the sand and dirt.

A shirll cry stuck the air as thunder from behind. Y/n whirled around in time to spot the flying figure. It was much larger than a bird, and was far to fast to be a seagull. Y/n was able to duck from the creature in time, with enough room to remain undetected as it descended down the cliff-face. Our protagonist followed the beast until she reached the cliff’s edge, to be met with a horrible sight.

Ships were beginning to dock upon the beach, with mass amounts of troops debarkig upon the same sands that she often rode upon her horse. Shouts and orders were being barked around as supplies were also being dumped as for the troops. The large beast that almost hit Y/n landed next to a figure whom stood directly beneath her. The large looming figure stood surveying his infantry, not even giving the flying beast the time of day.

“Do you have it?” he asked, his gravelly voice was enough to send chills up Y/n’s spine.

“N-no master.” The beast, whom now could apprently talk, spoke with a serpentine cadence, it’s head ducking low.

The figure backhanded the creature without a second thought.

“You were to steal the Iron sword. How hard could that have possibly been you imbocile!” the man boomed, his rage boiling over.

“They will never find it, master.” the creature defended.

“Oh, do explain, while you still breathe.”

“It fell in the Darkened Wood. No one dares go in there.”

Y/n processed the information with fever pitch. The Iron sword of the King had not only been stolen, but lost in the Darkened Wood. The sword itself was forged by the king, and it is said to have fabled abilities. Without it, the Midgardian would have never won their independence. The king has never parted with it, and it is said that without it he would perish. The king himself could very well be dead as we speak, and without this fabled sword, there is no hope of victory.

Invaders now line the beaches of her home, and without the fabled sword of the king, no one would be able to mass the amount of hope needed to defend themselves.

The Darkened Wood was what stood in the way for these people. It stood directly in the way for the path to the capitol, the road around it would take another week to get to the capitol, which was why it was presumably more used than the overgrown and dangerous road that ended within the confines of the Darkened Wood. The Sword lay within the confines of that forrest. That certainly narrowed down the playing field.

A faint touch upon her shoulder sent Y/n to jump out of her skin. A hand clasped over her mouth, silencing her from any noise she would have presumably made. Natasha held a finger to her mouth as to continue the silence, the same finger then pointing doward as to reference to the figures beneath them. The redhead tugged on Y/n’s arm, carefully guiding her to her feet. The two women crept backwards until they were at a safe distance, to which they turned and ran at full sprint.

Y/n’s dress tore as it came in contact with a thron bush, the ripping sound emanating throughout the fields. The two didn’t stop to think if it was heard or not, they simply kept running back into town.

As soon as the town came into view, they began shouting with great frivor. Their sout drew the attention of the entire town. Soon Y/n’s mother, and even Clint came to meet them.

“What’s happened?” Y/n’s mother noted her daughter’s dress and it’s dissaray. Clint rushed to Natasha, whom was in a worse condition. He quickly snatched a strewn tablecloth, draping it over the red head with great care.

“Ivaders, they arrived on the shore, they’ll be here shortly.” Natasha spoke between pants.

“Y/n?” Her mother probed for an answer. The young girl nodded her head.

“We need to get word to the Capitol, Mrs Atkins! Get my husband’s sword and shield!” her mother began to order towspeople to bring up barricades. The tailor, Mr Hilberg, handed Natasha an overcoat in place of her tablecloth.

“What do you need me to do?” Y/n asked her mother.

“No, I have something more important for the three of you. Clint go get their horses. Hurry!”

“Torches up ahead!” a man shouted from atop the roof.

Mrs Atkins returned with the sword and shield, handing it off to Y/n mother, who promptly handed the items to her daughter. Clint had arrived back with tow horses, his own, and Y/n’s, whose was the fastest in the village, but not necessarily the fastest on earth, it was a slim margin. Clint was already armed with a bow and quiver, as he was a prolific hunter in the village.

“I need you three to get word to the capitol as soon as possible, the sooner the king knows, the better the chance we have. Do you understand?”

“We do.” Clint set Natasha atop his horse, a large belgium workhorse big enough to fit the both of them. He then mounted, making sure Natasha was situated comfortably in front of him, despite the bright red tint on both teenagers’ cheeks. Y/n mounted her horse, looking to her mother, grasping her hand, at silent sense of peace in the midst of the fray.

“Go, hurry!” her mother slapped the bottom of Y/n’s horse, sending it into a gallop out of the town. Clint was quick to follow, the horse easily catching up to Y/n as they headed toward the Capitol as fast as possible. The three dared not look back, in case if anyone actually had seen them escape.

It wasn’t unitl daybreak that they had slowed down. The long grassy knolls were soon replaced with large evergreens of vibrant color. Birds sang throughout the woodland, to the point it was tough to say what bird was singing due to the amount of overlay.

Soon a giant fork in the road appeared. the one on the left retained its bright cheery image, it’s sign was well kept, and was inscribed with a newly painted ‘Captiol’. The other, which pointed to the opposite direction, was unkempt, and riddle with dark thorney vines. As Clint and Natasha rode forward upon the well worn road to the capitol, Y/n remained at the fork, mulling over a great decision.

“Y/N?” Clint asked puzzled, turning his horse with the bridle.

“The Iron Sword is somewhere in the Darkened Wood. The Ivaders are after it.”

“Y/n I don’t like where this is going.” Clint said with a warning tone.

“You shouldn’t.” Natasha voiced for the first time since they had been dispatched.

“They will most likely be after it just as much as they want to invade the Capitol. You go, I’ll go this way.” Y/n dismounted her horse, offering her to Clint and Natasha.

“You know no one comes out of their, right.”

“What choice do we have?” Y/n ripped her dress apart, revealing her clothing that she held under it. She attatched the sword to her belt, and placed the circular shield upon her back. Natasha disounted from Clint in order to mount Y/n’s horse. Before she did, she pulled Y/n into a warm embrace, one filled with a layer on morbid sadness.

“Be safe.”

“You too,”

A loud shout drew the three from the tender moment. The three turned toward the direction of the shout, which was the exact direction they had spent all night and morning running from.

“Go!” Y/n urged the two, watching them gallop away upon the safe road toward the capitol. Gathering the remnants of her dress, she hoped to buy her friends a few moments of time, by trailing the torn fabric behind her toward the more dangerous road. Y/n turned toward the road she had travelled, the sound of running footsteps growing louder, before finally turning toward the unkempt road filled with thorns and fog, running full speed into the Darkened Wood.

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Hope you enjoyed it, message me if you want to be tagged!!!

#bucky barnes x reader #James buchanan barnes #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes x reader #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #bucky imagine #medieval!bucky #medieval!au #Adventure Awaits #natasha romanoff #clint barton #ima let you wait to see who the villain is

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thehikingviking · 3 years

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Kandlbinder Peak & Ventana Double Cone from Andrew Molera State Park

Ventana Double Cone is a bit of an enigma. Standing at a mere 4,856 ft, it is not the tallest mountain along California’s central coast. I wouldn’t consider it well known either, as it lies deep within the Ventana Wilderness, hidden from all but the most committed hikers. However, what it lacks in elevation and fame, it makes up for in terms of remoteness, ruggedness and inhospitableness. I would go so far as to state that Ventana Double Cone is one of the most difficult peaks to climb in the state, at least at the time of this writing. At one point there was a long, but straightforward trail to the fire lookout on the summit. Access to several key trailheads has been closed due to wild fires and landslides, allowing the fast growing brush to quickly reclaim many sections of trail; ceanothus, manzanita, and of course, poison oak just to name a few. The Los Padres ranger district claims they have no money or resources to maintain the trails, so infrequent and minimal trail maintenance is done by volunteers. These efforts are just a drop in the ocean compared to what is needed to fully open up all of the deep Ventana trails.

I had been monitoring bigsurtrailmaps.net over the past few years to try to get a feel for the recent trail conditions. I was planning on climbing Ventana Double Cone from Pat Springs, but a second hand report described the last section of the trail as impassable. I then came across Mike Toffey’s trip reports on Peakbagger.com. He had recently summitted Ventana Double Cone and the nearby Kandlbinder Peak multiple times, and there was a lot of information in his trip reports. From what I was able to glean, horrible bushwhacking and crawling was necessary if one were to retrace his previous steps. Piecing together various fragments of information, I came up with a route that could potentially minimize the worst of the bushwhacking while allowing me to summit both Ventana Double Cone and Kandlbinder Peak. I discussed the idea of a trip and some strategies with Colin Gregory and Daryn Dodge, veterans from my previous Ventana Cone outing. Colin gave me the great idea to reach out to Mike Toffey directly, noting that Mike planned, “to return soon to spend a few days clearing it.” Mike confirmed in text messages that he was interested in returning yet again, and he agreed that my planned route, which would only be a slight deviation from his previous route, would make for a good choice. Remember when they said not to meet strangers on the internet? Mike would later confirm that our latest route was probably the easiest way to get the two peaks in one outing. We planned to start from Andrew Molera State Park along Highway 1, follow the E Molera Trail to Post Summit, continue towards Cabezo Prieto, and follow the ridgeline east until reaching camp along the ridgeline where Mike promised we would find reliable water. The next day we planned to follow the ridgeline up to Kandlbinder Peak, descend 2,000 ft into The Drain, and climb back out onto the summit of Ventana Double Cone. From our prized summit, we planned to retrace our steps, which meant dropping back into The Drain and reclimbing Kandlbinder Peak, Cabezo Prieto and Post Summit. This was different from Mike's previous trip where he stayed along the ridge between Ventana Double Cone and Kandlbinder Peak, which he reported as extremely brushy and downright dangerous. Once the trip was set, Kathy Rich decided to join as well since she was eager to see the center of Ventana Wilderness.

Colin, Mike and I carpooled together from San Jose. I was relieved to learn that Mike was a young, enthusiastic peak bagger, not so different than myself. We shared a lot of peaks of interest. I was perplexed as to why he wanted to return so soon. He claimed that he wanted to establish this route, and he also said he was eager to meet all of us, since he’d seen our names in various summit registers and on Peakbagger. We met Daryn and Kathy at the trailhead putting the final touches to their overnight packs along Highway 1. This is where I usually say that crossing the freeway was the most dangerous part of the hike, however for this trip that would not be the case. The trail ran perpendicular from the freeway and climbed steeply up the hillside until the cars became only an afterthought. I took note of the thick patches of poison oak that lined the trail. Shortly after we emerged onto a steep road that climbed up towards the giant switchback above.

I had done this section of trail once previously as a through hike from Pfeiffer Big Sur State Park to Andrew Molera State Park in an effort to climb Manuel Peak, Cabezo Prieto and Post Summit in one day. That was quite the eventful trip as we saw both a mountain lion and a condor on that lovely day. An apparent difference was the amount of green this time around. I last was here in June, but early April made for much better conditions.

The old road turned trail made a big switchback across the steep mountain face. Colin and Mike ran off ahead while Daryn, Kathy and I were content to hang back and take our time. I knew that this trip would take every bit of energy that I could muster, so I resigned to play the role of the tortoise in this race.

It was not long before Mike got his first tick. I had mostly forgotten about the suckers, lost in “what peaks have you done since” conversation with Daryn and Kathy. Mike is somehow able to feel the tick bite as soon as it starts to burrow in his skin, and can pull it out before it gets too deep. In the few times where I’ve been bitten, I can never feel the bite, and only discover them afterwards by brush of my hand. It was a somber reminder of what lay ahead, so I took some time every now and then to check myself.

We reached a patch of pines where we took our first rest. Mike claims that a rattlesnake struck at him at this location on a previous trip. I took my pack off and laid down in the shade. Somehow, Mike's water container leaked here and we expected no running water until reached camp. We divvied up the remaining water between ourselves to make sure our guide would have enough to make it. Pico Blanco stood majestically to the north.

We had a long way to go, so I shouldered the pack and we continued onwards to Post Summit.

The trail gradually climbed up and down, but mostly up through green grasses and brilliant poppies. After 4.5 miles we reached a grassy knoll that marked the end of the easy trail.

From here, a cut through the brush climbed steeply up the remaining mile to Post Summit.

I took this section slowly, as it began to get warm. I emerged from the chaparral onto a limestone outcropping which marked my first summit of the trip. To the northwest stood Pico Blanco.

To the southwest was the Pacific Ocean.

To the southeast stood Cabezo Prieto. Hello darkness my old friend.

To the northeast stood Uncle Sam Mountain and Kandlbinder Peak.

We continued along the ridgeline, doing the opposite of what I did a few years back. I was going through a lot of water and was concerned that I might run out. I put all my faith in Mike because if the water source at camp was somehow dry, it would become a seriously dangerous situation for me. Mike remained steadfast, but I needed to see it to truly believe it.

Down into a saddle, then back up a steep trail we went. It looked like at one point a road used to run over the ridge. How nice would it have been to have a trailhead at the summit of Cabezo Prieto instead? Mike got his second tick here, ripping it off his shoulder blade like a wild man. Ventana Double Cone began to peak out from behind Kandlbinder Peak. It was hard to believe that we would go all the way over there.

We took another long rest on Cabezo Prieto. It was a grunt to get there, but we were done with most of the elevation gain (sort of). I learned later that Colin threw up here, most likely due to exhaustion. We dropped down the ridge here, following what seemed to be game trails. Down, down, down we went, and steeply at that. What at first was grassy slopes slowly became brushier and brushier. Mike confidently led the way here, using his Fiskars 15 Inch PowerGear Super Loppers to clear overgrown sections when necessary. His knowledge of the terrain was invaluable. The “trail” which we followed was not much more than a weakness in the vegetation, and whenever something didn’t look right, he would take the time to make sure we didn’t wander far from the path. Some sections were incredibly steep, and I tried my hardest to keep my balance and not fall into one of the many patches of poison oak. I had long pants and a long sleeve shirt on, which would minimize my exposure to the plant, however it would be nearly impossible to get through without some oils eventually reaching skin. We sidehilled through lush patches of lupine, but such sections were short lived as it wouldn’t be long before we entered the thicket once more.

-Ceanothus

We paused at one of the old time Ventana Wilderness signs. I’m not sure what they represent, but my best guess is that they indicate where to drop down to a water source.

Our energy was wavering, as was the daylight. I was covered with sweat and dust. Mike promised us that we were close and we finally emerged on a god forsaken semi-flat section of ridgeline which we deemed Toffey Camp.

-Kandlbinder Peak & Mulberger Dome

I quickly set up my tent, then Mike and I dropped down 200 feet to refill our waters. Low and behold, there was fresh, running water just as Mike had promised. Hallelujah! The hike back up to camp wasn’t so bad, and we ate dinner as the sun began to sink below Cabezo Prieto.

The next day we woke up and got going a little after sunrise at 7am. We probably should have gotten an earlier start, but I was beat from the previous day’s adventure.

The Soberanes Fire scorched this whole ridgeline back in 2016. While most Californians are fed up with the many recent wildfires within the state, I welcome them as an opportunity to access some of the more choked in peaks. My only regret is not doing this trip a few years back when there was even less brush to contend with.

-Pico Blanco & Launtz Ridge

We waded through knee to waist high manzanita while staying atop the ridge. We reached a limestone outcropping that we had to climb up and over.

From the limestone peaklet, Mulberger Peak and Kandlbinder Peak stood only a short distance away.

The light manzanita slowly gave way to grassy slopes. I spotted a few ticks clinging to my pant legs here and I promptly flicked them off. Ventana Double Cone became visible as we gained a higher section of the ridge.

Mulberger Dome was upon us soon after. I was not aware that Mulburger Dome even existed until this trip. This feature and the subsequent Kandlbinder Peak are unofficially named after Alfred Kandlbinder and Roy Mulberger, original members of the Ventana Chapter of the Sierra Club.

We skirted below the rocky face to the left, then hiked steeply up the grassy slopes to the base of the crumbly dome. We had a short and loose class 3 pitch to scramble up. From our vantage point stood Ventana Double Cone. While it wasn’t very far away, reaching it from where we stood looked unimaginably difficult.

Further southeast were Ventana Cone, Junipero Serra Peak, Cone Peak and Twin Peak.

I gingerly scrambled back down to the more solid ridge, then looked back at the feature which surely gets only a few visitors per decade.

From there, we climbed about a kilometer and 500 vertical feet until we reached the summit of Kandlinder Peak.

Objective 1 of 2 was now complete, although I knew that I had to reclimb this peak later in the day if I wanted to return to camp.

Bottchers Gap, a previously popular but now closed starting point for both Kandlbinder Peak and Ventana Double Cone, was visible to the northwest. To the right of this stood Mt Carmel.

To the northeast stood Uncle Sam Mountain, a summit which my wife and I stood on a year prior while she was seven months pregnant.

Down below us to the east ran The Drain. Above that was Ventana Double Cone’s twin summit. Beyond that stood a line of peaks which included Ventana Cone and Junipero Serra Peak.

To the southeast ran the Coast Ridge. In the distance were Cone Peak and Twin Peak.

Cabezo Prieto, Post Summit and Pico Blanco completed the pirouette to the west.

I was already pretty tired. Something about off trail hiking really saps the energy from you. However I was now only an air mile from the summit of Ventana Double Cone. Several more hours of discomfort would be better than returning for VDC on a separate multiday backpacking trip, even if that required me to drop down into The Drain twice. So we began our steep descent into no man’s land.

Mike claimed that we would have easy boot skiing almost the whole way down into The Drain, however I did not find this to be the case. I contended with a lot of brush and loose rocky sections on my descent. Of the 2,000 ft elevation that we were forced to lose, I would say about 200 feet of that was nice boot skiing. Towards the bottom we had to take much care so as to not kick rocks down onto each other’s heads. The grade relented as we neared the bottom and our route turned into a dry wash. Colin claimed he saw a car further down The Drain, however no one had the energy to go and take a closer look. We speculated as to how a car could even be deposited in such a location. We eventually reached a junction with another dry wash. This would be the lowest point of our entire day. I waited here for the others while I wondered where the water that I so desperately needed was hiding.

Mike arrived a few minutes later to reassure me that water was accessible up ahead. Again, I needed to see it for myself to be completely reassured. We turned left up the wash as a group. After not so long, we came across fresh spring water, which proved Mike right yet again.

The water was delicious. We still had a considerable amount of gain remaining, and I noticed that it was getting late in the day compared to where I hoped to be. I turned up the pace a notch and marched up The Drain.

I looked back and noticed that Colin and Kathy were faltering. Colin caught up to me and told me that he was probably done, and planned to climb back up Kandlbinder Peak while he had some energy. Kathy voiced a similar plan, stating that her main goal was to see the center of Ventana Wilderness, and that she did.

We all stopped for a final rest at Little Ventana Falls before saying our final goodbyes.

Now it was just me, Daryn and Mike. I knew that suffering was in store, but I was committed to at least reach the summit, and hopefully make it back to camp that night. To the right of the waterfall was a 5.4 route which Mike carelessly free soloed on a previous outing. To the left was a class 4 variation. I was somewhat skeptical of the rating, but after doing the move I think the rating is appropriate. There are itty bitty holds and a lot of exposure as you shuffle across a barren rock face. We all made it across without incident and deposited ourselves above the falls.

Water would go back underground shortly after. The route from here was simple; just scramble upwards until you reach the summit. The next section was mostly class 2-3, but it was steep and tiresome.

Remains from the old summit fire lookout were strewn throughout the drainage. While the forest service went into Sykes Hot Springs and destroyed the hot tubs, all while blaming it on wild fires, for wilderness preservation purposes, I don’t expect them to ever pick up this garbage.

As we climbed higher, the notch a.k.a. La Ventana, became clearly visible.

Scrambling ensued as we climbed higher and higher. Now things were starting to get very interesting.

If the route had better rock quality, I would rate it class 3. However the crumbly rock underneath slippery sand motivates me to call it class 4. Perhaps we can settle on the rating of class 3+.

I focused as hard I could to not kick a rock on top of Daryn and Mike’s heads. Helmets are definitely necessary if attempting this route with a group.

The sketchy scrambling eventually led to some loose dirt. I crawled up the last section of the drain until I reached the ridgeline and the old summit trail. I could smell it now.

A few minutes later we reached the summit. Holy cow!

I was too tired to do anything at first so I just sat down and consumed my nourishment. With a strong pace, I estimated that we could still make it down with some daylight to spare.

To the east were South Ventana Cone, Ventana Cone, Pinyon Peak, Junipero Serra Peak and Black Cone from left to right.

To the south ran the grand Pacific Coastline.

To the west stood Kandlbinder Peak, Pico Blanco and La Ventana.

To the northwest stood Mt Carmel.

To the north stood Uncle Sam Mountain and Elephant Mountain.

And with that I completed the Ventana 15, and obscure list that I had been working on over the last several years.

https://www.ventanawild.org/news/fe99/peaks.html

This was my first “real” list finish, so this hike will always be remembered dearly. The wise man choses an easy peak to finish any particular list, however I decided to chose a damn hard one. So what does that say about me? The north summit looked comparable in height so we decided to pay it a visit after I had somewhat recovered. A weather instrument remained along the ridgeline, most likely serviced by helicopter.

There was some light bushwhacking to reach the south summit, but in doing so I set aside any doubts that I hadn’t reached the highest point.

While we had reached the summit, we were clearly not out of the woods yet. The main thing that caught my attention was the chute of terror. We took turns descending the chute so as not to kill each other. Going one by one added a lot of time, but was definitely necessary. Each of us kicked down several large rocks as we went, even though we were all trying to be very careful.

Once past the crux, I was able to relax a bit, but I could do nothing to forget about the elevation gain needed to reclimb Kandlbinder Peak.

-More Fire LO Junk

Descending back to the waterfall was tedious, but at least there was nothing life threatening during that section. The harrowing part remained when we had to downclimb the class 4 waterfall section.

The exposure was more apparent on the way down, and the holds were a little less obvious. I grabbed onto a crack and awkwardly set myself down onto safer ground. Daryn had a little more trouble than Mike and me, so we guided his feet until he joined us at the end of the pitch. I was relieved to be done with the technical portion of the hike. I filled up water one last time before it disappeared back into the ground, then we hiked down to the confluence of the two washes. Now the fun part would begin; a two thousand foot climb out of The Drain back to the summit of Kandlbinder Peak.

-Pinacate Beetle

As we climbed up the wash, I started to flirt with the idea of climbing to the window. I had already finished the Ventana 15, and the only thing holding me back from becoming a true Ventanaphile was to visit the namesake for the entire area. I floated the idea to Mike and Daryn, suggesting that it would not add much elevation or distance to include this slight detour, and they readily agreed. Rather than retracing our steps, we hung a little bit more to the right and aimed for the fabled notch.

I was getting very tired, but I had no choice but to continue. Mike and Daryn's sanguine attitude help me stay mentally strong. I had enough water and food, so it was just a matter of suffering for a little longer. The rock was loose in places, and there was still brush to contend with.

Through sheer grit and determination, we all made it to La Ventana where we found a shrine, a fire pit and several small treasures.

My favorite thing was the Wimp List, which was a binder full of people who set out for La Ventana but turned around. We considered adding Colin to the list, but decided not to in the end since he didn’t set out for La Ventana in the first place.

Instead we were all happy to sign the Window Walker List.

The views out of both sides of the window were limited.

There was plenty of fascinating literature inside the summit register box.

OPENING UP THE WINDOW

“Walking along the northern rim of the little Sur basin, one is aware of an unusual and mysterious feature on its opposite side, a gap in the ridge near the Double Ventana Cone through which, like through a window, one can see the distant mountain ranges. Its strange beauty, its remoteness and ruggedness, has that ingredient which lures and inspires men to heroic deeds. It must have held the same fascination even for the early explorers, for the Spanish christened three peaks and three creeks by its name. More recently two items were added to the list: A Sierra Club Chapter and a chapter’s journal, the one in your hand. We are, of course, speaking of the Ventana or the Window.

Like so many mysterious things, the window was an object of many legends. One of them said that it once was a silver mine. We know of at least one contemporary who, intrigued by the prospect of riches, went there to see if it was true. He found no silver but once back determined to find a silver mine elsewhere, which he did by judiciously investing in Union Ice.

Nature jealously guarded the approaches to the Window with brush, rock, and the absence of water, and only a few adventurers broke their way through to set foot in it.

Then about four years ago an idea came to the minds (obviously deranged) of two men to conquer and to tame the beasty feature. As so often happens, one of the men took the idea seriously and began a systematic exploration of the area. Not discouraged by two years of failures, he one day assembled a party of men, women and youngsters, a rugged set, and finally broke through the brush and storm to reach the gap. Finding there standing room only, they somehow survived a rain-lashed night and descended the next day, leaving behind a flagged route. This opened a lively navigation and more adventurers came from all sides, hacking and clawing their way up. Gradually, through persistent efforts of one man possessed with the idea of making the Window as popular as Plymouth Rock, the place was transformed into a cozy and likeable little spot. The crowning achievement came with the installation of a stove, carried there on the shoulders of still the same man; this made the place an official camp.

To commemorate this event, a be-in was proclaimed for Saturday, May 25, 1968. All invited were to converge at the Window, using ten known routes up (see map). At about noon that day, the stillness and serenity of the mountain was broken by echoes of yodels and shouts from all sides and a few hours later the place was packed full with prominent names of the mountain world. Again it was standing room only, but this fact made no dent in the jolly mood of the conquerors.

The remoteness of the place would never let one expect there more than the barest of necessitates, yet, like in the fairy tale, exquisite hors de ‘oeuvres were served on trays and a vessel with appropriate chaser passed around. Still skeptical of this show, someone wistfully said that he longed for a cold beer. Instantly a bucket appeared full of ice and bristling with shiny beer cans.

At this time, dazed and visibly shaken to tears by the spectacle, the man responsible for the whole occasion, Mr. Ward Allison, delivered a harangue, one of the best in his whole career. He revealed himself to be not only a leader but a poet as well, a combination found nowadays, only in presidential aspirants. For his deeds, he was awarded a medal and a laurel crown and a round of spirited cheers.

To top it all, as the day drew closer to evening and people began to cast anxious glances at the single tiny stove which was to provide a place for the cooking of 32 individual meals, a full course dinner of ham, yams, green peas and green salad was served. When on top of that a strawberry shortcake with fresh cream and fresh strawberries and bearing the initials of Ward Allison was carried in, the crowd broke into wild cheering and spontaneous singing.

We suppose that this time everyone who missed the news accounts of the event is wondering how all the food and ice, weighing over 150 pounds, ever got there. It’s simple. It came via the eleventh route (not shown on map), straight from the air. The U.S. Navy came to the rescue and dropped the goodies from a helicopter. A one-man ground support, after scraping the stuff off the brush and rock, kept it cool and out of sight until the proper moment arrived. Luckily, of all the contents, only four beer cans were damaged and had to be consumed on the spot to avoid waste.”

–Marcel Sedletzky, President, Lost Padres Hiking Club

Hikers Open ‘Ventana’ Trails

“Thirty-two Monterey Peninsula hikers and a dog climbed into Los Padres National Forest’s most inaccessible cranny, “The Window,” last weekend to celebrate the climax of several years’ trail-blazing work.

Food including an oversized canned ham, was dropped a day earlier from a helicopter piloted by Cmdr. George T. Gregory of the Naval Air Facility in Monterey, assisted by ADR3c Kenneth Jackson in a practice rescue operation. the food had been purchased by Los Padres Hiking Club, sponsor of the event.

“Ventana” is window in Spanish, so the notch on the divide between the Little Sur and Big Sur rivers has special meaning for Ventana chapter of the Sierra Club. The 32 Sierra Clubbers, ranging in age from 12 to 70, included nine members of the Los Padres Hiking Club. During the evening’s festivities, they paid tribute to Ward Allison, who has led many groups up to The Window in recent years, and helped induct into office the new club president, Marcel Sedletzky, who has worked to develop the four routes by which The Window can now be reached.

One party of size came in by way of Pico Blanco Boy Scout Camp, hiking along the Little Sur River until they turned off up Jackson Creek. A second party came from Bouchers Gap, Skinner Ridge and Pat Springs, and a third started from White Rock above Carmel Valley. A fourth group left from Big Sur State Park, climbed to the head of Ventana Creek, and there divided; some made the ascent of the Double Cone, while others climbed directly to The Window.

–Monterey, California Peninsula Herald (May 31, 1968).

The area is not very big, so it was fascinating to learn that so many people had been up there at one time. We blew some vuvuzelas and sorted through all the junk before going over our exit plan. Mike’s memory again proved to be invaluable as he suggested we follow a route through the brush, sidehilling along the northwest side of the ridgeline. I was of course sick of the bushwhacking at this point, but I knew not much remained. I gasped for breath above the foliage and saw Kandlbinder Peak not so far away with two figures on top. Kathy and Colin had waited for quite some time on the summit and gave us some cheers of encouragement.

Just when I thought the bushwhacking was over, more brush appeared. My mood started to improve once I started recognizing sections of ridge from earlier that morning. Kathy and Colin were gone by the time we reached the summit. I decided to log the summit of Kandlbinder Peak twice. When questioned by Mike, I affirmed that coming back up the peak from the drain was every bit as difficult as hiking up from Toffey Camp. I no doubt climbed the mountain twice that day. I took in the views again, this time with different lighting, before beginning my descent back down the hill.

-Big Sur Drainage

-Little Sur Drainage

-Uncle Sam Mountain

-Mulberger Dome

My goal was to make it back down to camp before dark. My legs had been complaining for the last several hours, but at least the temperature was nice and cool by this point. I had a few bars of service here so I made a quick Facetime to Asaka and Leif.

We closed the distance between Colin and Kathy, but we never caught them.

My goal shifted from getting back with daylight to getting back without having to use the headlamp. As we closed in on our destination, Mike told me about his experience with one of the Dark Watchers. On one of his previous outings, he noticed a lone headlamp as he approached Toffey Camp in the dark. He called out to the figure, but it vanished shortly after, leaving Mike to his lonesome in the spooky wilderness.

We reached camp without needing the headlamp. I had enough water in my reservoir at camp to save me a trip down to the creek. It took us over 12 hours to go less than two miles each way as the crow flies. I was beat.

The next morning we woke with less urgency, but I was still eager to get back to my car. I was really dreading the hike back up Cabezo Prieto, or any uphill for that matter. The heavy pack was dreadful, but if all went well, I would be back home in time for dinner.

The worst of the bushwhacking took place near the low point of the saddle. We managed to stay on track more or less, but it was still physically challenging.

Finally the big climb up Cabezo Prieto began. I was very slow, but speed didn’t matter anymore. We took a long break underneath a shady oak where I sipped on water and munched on miner’s lettuce. This stuff was more lush and tastier than the Sierra Nevada variety.

Once we reached Cabezo Prieto, Mike and Colin decided to head down to Pfeiffer Big Sur State Park. I agreed to pick them up later, since Kathy, Daryn and I were content to return the way we came. I enjoyed the many wildflowers along the way.

From Post Summit, I took one last look at Kandlbinder Peak. I will most likely never return.

While there was more uphill sections than I wanted, I really enjoyed the last few miles out to the car. Pico Blanco put on a show.

I was overcome with relief once I began to hear the cars on Highway 1.

I carefully crossed the road and wasted little time to take off my shoes and change my clothes. I bade Daryn and Kathy a brief farewell since I wanted to get out of there. I enjoyed the drive down south to pick up Colin and Mike. I ended up getting a mild case of poison oak later on that week, but at least I wasn’t bit by a tick. While I found the trip extremely strenuous, I was glad that I got to experience such a tremendous hike that only few will appreciate. A great group definitely made the trip much more enjoyable. With the pain of the trip still fresh in my memory, I’m already planning new Ventana Wilderness adventures in the near future.

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scurvgirl · 6 years

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Once There Was A Dragon

Calling this the Fairy Tale AU because I’ve been referring to it as a Snow White meets Beauty and the Beast and 100% more dragons.

Every Friday, Adannar sets out to collect necessary alchemical components and food. The food part usually doesn’t take so long, he isn’t particularly picky, but the alchemical components can be very tricky. For instance, he needs a type of moss that seems to only grow on this one hill on the outskirts of his territory. The hill has an altered state of being due to the life and death of a spirit of Renewal. Every now and then, Adannar will see another Renewal lingering around the knoll, which means the hill is in radiant bloom. He saw the spirit yesterday, so if he hurries, he thinks he can make it in time to harvest the moss.

The moss is infused with wisps of Renewal’s energy and aid in the creation of his little creatures as well as general maintenance. But today he is looking to augment building.

To gather the moss, Adannar must shift his large, draconic body into a form more suited for the task. He shifts into an elf and walks the rest of the way to the hill. This way, he also avoids alarming the spirit. The creature has been known to take to fright overly much, accidentally shattering itself. Such a delicate thing.

After a moment of walking, he realizes he has neglected this form. His hair has grown long and reaches his ankles, and he is thinner than previously. He is not gaunt, but the robe he has attached to this form is looser, giving it a much billowier look than intended. No matter, he is simply here to gather the moss.

He walks up the hill to where the moss grows in thicker patches on stones, shaded by the tall tree Renewal likes to spend its time. Adannar sets his basket down next to a large rock and takes out the small pairing knife. He gently works the knife along the rock to remove the moss, placing it in the basket as he goes. He needs a good bit of it, so he makes his way to several other rocks before feeling satisfied with the amount he has collected. He won’t return to the hill for some time to gather more. Renewal will need time to cultivate more.

With his basket packed and the day’s main task accomplished, Adannar shifts back into his true form. He picks up the basket with a particularly dexterous claw then launches himself into the sky to fly back to his roost.

The forest is in the foothills of a great mountain range that acts as a natural border between two kingdoms. He…doesn’t know the names of the kingdoms, but he does know that the one he is flying from is smaller and the kingdoms don’t always get along. His nest is in a lone, small mountain that he has dug and carved out for himself through the centuries. It was his primary objective for many years until he was satisfied with the outcome. It is not as gigantic as some dragons’ lairs, but he likes it – it’s homey and allows him to work.

He’s created all of the decorations in his lair, from crystal chandeliers to beams that support some of the ceilings to burnished floors. It is the only home he has ever known, and while on the modest size for dragons, it can feel large and lonely to him. His seclusion is not by his choice, but rather by the choice of others to create spurious rumors about dragons.

Every so often knights fancying themselves as dragon slayers find his home. They demand he relinquish a prince or princess he has not stolen then attempt to kill him. The ones that live because they wisely run have spread tales of him and his little automatons. They know him as the Mad Dragon in the Forest. But to his kind, he is simply Adannar the Lonesome.

His home is just as he left it, in a disarray that he has felt unobligated to fix due to his lack of visitors. His friends have taken to solitude as well, and he is unsure of how to broach the subject on breaking it. He longs for the days when his kind could just be, visiting not only other dragons, but people – elves, humans, dwarves, even the horned people to the north. But the dragon slayers have risen in prominence, dragons have been killed for being too…prominent. So they lay low, even if it means seclusion and depression.

Adannar does his best to remedy his loneliness by creating. As a result, he has created many, many little creatures – wisps woven into mechanical bodies that resemble woodland creatures. They populate his home and the forest, not harming anything, just…being. He has struggled to give them language to converse, however, despite figuring out how to give them full personalities and lives. He loves each and every creation, and each is given a name, but he longs for more.

He has moss to create and repair but a heavy melancholy overwhelms him when he returns home, the piles of stuff only reminding him of everything he should do. But he lacks any of the ability to actually do any of it.

Instead of doing of the work he ought to be doing, Adannar collapses into the pile of pillows and blankets that make up his bed. He falls asleep and drifts into the Dreaming much more easily than he has in the past, his soul drifting and floating through familiar pathways.

He is not seeking anything in particular but feels strangely drawn to a small cottage in the forest between his home and the kingdom to the west. He lets his curiosity pull him to the long-abandoned home. Or supposed to be abandoned. Through the bright colors of the Dreaming and the familiar spirits drifting through the space, Adannar sees a horse tied to a tree, nibbling on a bush.

Curious, Adannar floats down into the cottage, his body wispy and delightfully formless. It is strange to be this way, like he was before he was a dragon, but not entirely unwelcome. He admits, there are days where he longs for the simpler days of a bodiless existence. And it comes in handy for exploring his territory when the weight of his body is too much.

Inside the cottage, a small fire burns. It has the look and size of a fire recently made, or made by someone not accustomed to building fires. Curled by said fire is an elven woman with her legs pulled up in front of her body and her forehead leaning against her knees. Hair black as ink spills down in front of her face and down her back. Pastel pink and blue robes are torn from her ankles to her knees, stained by mud and dust. But her hands are soft looking, her nails delicately manicured. Not accustomed to building fires, then. A noblewoman, but a noblewoman far from where she is supposed to be.

Her shoulders shake, from cold or crying, Adannar can’t tell. But he can tell that she has very few items on her person, and there is no food in the cottage, he knows. The poor thing! She must be so scared and lonely.

Adannar drifts out of the cottage and back to his body, forcing himself to wake. A burst of energy fills him and spurs him to gather a few foods that are palatable to elves – bread, fruits, and cheeses. He even packs a wine that’s been sitting in his kitchen for some time.

With all haste, Adannar takes to the skies and heads for the cottage. He lands and shifts into his elven form before reaching the home, however, careful to not scare his guest away. Several of his mechanical creatures follow his path as he strides to the cottage. Once, twice, he knocks before opening the door.

“Hello?” He calls before entering. The woman gasps and shifts back, scrambling to her feet and fishing out a dagger in her robes, pointing it at him.

“Who are you?” She demands.

He blinks, “I could ask you the same, seeing as this is my cottage.” Alright, not really his cottage, but it’s in his territory and it’s been abandoned for some time, so it could be said it is in his possession at least.

She hesitates before speaking, voice laden with suspicion, “I did not think anyone was living here.”

Adannar shrugs, and smiles, “Well, I now live deeper in the woods, more room you see. Old wards alerted me to your presence.”

Her eyes narrow for a moment, her lips pressed into a harsh line, “How do I know you’re telling the truth? How do I know she didn’t send you?”

Adannar blinks, “I’m sorry, I don’t understand. No one sent me, just…myself I suppose.” He lifts the basket, continuing to smile pleasantly, “I brought food.”

“How do I know it’s not poisoned? She…she would do something exactly like that,” she says, taking a step back, hand still firmly gripping the dagger.

“I really do not know who you speak of, but it is a fair worry, there are some very concerning sorts in the world.” He opens the basket and samples each food item, careful to show her each one before he nibbles on it. He even tries the wine. A delicious rose that matches her eyes.

By the end of the demonstration, he can see the hunger on her face, lips parted and eyes devouring the bits still visible. He places the basket on the floor and steps back.

“You are welcome to as much as you like, I am not an impolite host.”

She eyes him for a moment longer before settling down next to the basket. First up are the strawberries. Then she nibbles on some cheese and bread. She pours a glass of rose with a shaky hand and seems to have to resist from downing the entire glass.

She must be starving to eat so quickly. But even as she devours the food, he notices her posture is straight, her fingers delicate and poised as they hold her food. A noblewoman retains her manners everywhere it seems.

“My name is Adannar, by the way,” he says. She pauses and looks up from her meal, bashful and without a napkin to properly dab away the fruit juice at the corners of her mouth.

“How remiss of me, I am simply so used to everyone knowing who I am. I am Serahlin El – just Serahlin. A pleasure to meet you, thank you for the food, it’s delicious.” Her smile lights her entire face up in a brilliant display and he feels his heart stutter for a moment.

It has been far too long since he has had company to feel this way about simply conversing with a woman. A woman who had just threatened him, no less.

“A pleasure to meet you as well. And if you have need of the cottage, you are welcome to stay, though I must insist on letting me actually fill it with things to make it habitable.”

“Oh that is,” she pauses, biting her lip, blushing, “that is too kind of you. This is your home and I would hate to impose.”

He waves her off, “You would not be imposing in the slightest. As I said, I live deeper in the woods. I would be a terrible host if I did not ensure your comfort, correct?”

Serahlin pauses, then nods slowly.

“Great!” He claps his hands and walks outside where many of his little creations have gathered, curious to see the mystery woman. The mystery woman who follows him outside and gasps at the sight of the creatures.

“Wh-what are they?!”

“They are my creations, do not worry, they will not harm you. Here,” he holds out his hand to her while a deer-construct named Huirin sniffing at Adannar’s other hand, “let me show you.”

Serahlin stares at the…mechanical deer and wonders briefly if she has fallen into one of the stories her maid used to read to her as a girl. The man, Adannar, holds his hand out to her, clearly gesturing for her to follow his lead and perhaps touch the creature. It is…overwhelming, to say the least.

It must be the lack of sleep over the last few days because she takes his hand, rough from building these…creatures. But he is gentle as he guides her hand to its muzzle. The metal is warm and smooth and the deer responds like a real deer, blinking and sniffing, curious. A curious air surrounds it as it steps closer to her.

“Oh, that is…”

“Alright, Huirin, give the lady space. I apologize, he is a glutton for treats and rubs.” A soft whirr emanates from the deer in what she can only assume be a noise of communication.

Serahlin swallows and retracts her hand.

Adannar, the man, is very…earnest in his kindness. When she had found the cottage it had been a blessing after the three days on the road, trying to get as far away from the palace as possible. Even if getting far away meant braving the Dragon’s Forest and even the dragon itself. There was no food or furniture, but it was something, which was more than she had.

The food Adannar brought was blessedly not poisoned and the more he acts, the more she is convinced he is not sent by her mother, but just a strange man who lives the dangerous woods…making mechanical woodland creatures.

It is too much to fully process at the moment lest she risk completely melting down in a sobbing mess. First her mother tries to kill her and now she is in a strange wood with a strange man and stranger creatures. Too much. Better to ignore it and let it happen than to think about it.

Adannar gives the creatures instructions, requesting they bring back everything necessary to make the cottage livable. But really, Serahlin doesn’t need it, she just…alright, perhaps she does need it. She hasn’t even been able to find food on her own, and only luck granted her finding that small brook to drink from.

“In a few hours, the home will be ready. Would…would you like a change of clothes? I have some robes that can fit anyone easily.”

She must look horrid for him to ask her such a thing, but she supposes it is part of the deal after spending three days on the road running from her tyrannical queen of a mother. She nods.

“That is too kind.”

“Nonsense, the world can always use more kindness.” He turns back to a creature, a large bird this time, telling it to bring back robes. She pulls her clothes closer to her body, stupidly worried over her appearance. He doesn’t know who she is or her status or anything. She is just Serahlin.

It makes his kindness nigh unbearable.

Don’t think about it don’t think about it.

Her hands return to her front, clasped together to keep them from shaking. Her distress must be obvious for Adannar to turn to her, brows drawn together in concern.

“When was the last time you slept?”

She swallows and considers lying, but what use would that be?

“Sufficiently? Three days ago. I have attempted to sleep more but the forest…I’ve never been without a bed.”

His expression turns soft, “And fear keeps you awake nonetheless.”

She startles, “I said nothing about fear.”

“You pulled a dagger on me when I first entered the cottage, your robes are torn, you have no supplies – you’re running from something. Do not worry, I don’t even know who to report you to if I even was the sort to do such a thing. And I’m not! I promise. Lots of people run from things! Often from monsters.”

Not for the first time she thinks of how strange he is. His way of speaking is foreign, as is his accent, robes…truly everything about him is odd. He is not from the neighboring kingdom, his mannerisms are entirely wrong, too open and honest. But he is not of her kingdom either, he is too earnest and bombastic. Besides, he is…in quite the disarray aesthetically, though it looks entirely more purposeful than Serahlin’s own current state of ruined robes. His hair has been allowed to grow significantly past fashionable length and what are his robes even supposed to be? They hang loosely on his frame, too big, and yet they are exquisite.

“Monsters?” She asks carefully.

“Yes, I’ve met many people fleeing monsters. Gurguts are common enough to run from, nasty buggers, they smell terrible. Bogfishers, though they’re less aggressive as long as you give them room. I once saw an entire village flee a giant that had decided to take over the village for some strange reason. And of course, there are more sinister monsters, abusers who make fleeing almost impossible. You don’t need to tell me what monster you’re fleeing from. Just know that you are welcome here as long as you need.” The mechanical creatures disappear into the wood, theoretically fetching the items Adannar has requested.

His words are reassuring in the least. She had not dreamed of finding safety in the Dragon’s Forest of all places, running from her mother of all people. And speaking of monsters…

“Isn’t there a dragon living in the forest?”

Adannar blinks and shrugs, “I’ve never been bothered by the dragon. Keeps mostly to itself from what I can understand.”

“That is a relief,” she sighs, leaning against the cottage wall. The knights had all said the same thing about the dragon in the forest being terrible and cruel and mad. She ran here because she knew that it would give anyone pause chasing her. Leave Serahlin to the forest, she’ll die soon enough with that dragon in there.

And perhaps she would have if she had not met Adannar.

Don’t think about don’t think about it.

“You are exhausted, please, sit, allow us to fix the place.” He guides her to a stump to sit on and she turns away from him.

“I am not an invalid, good sir, I am fully capable of helping.”

“I am not saying you are incapable, I apologize for insinuating such. Rather, I am striving to be a good host. Though I am failing if I am insulting you – what would you like to do?”

What a question. What would she like to do? What she wants is to sleep for week and to be taken seriously and not just as a silly princess. Not that she wants to tell Adannar that. He doesn’t need to know that she is more than what she seems to be, and that the monster she’s running from looks more like herself than a gurgut or bogfisher or whatever else he was on about.

Sitting is nice though, and she appreciates his candor. She is unaccustomed to such openly kind and honest behavior. He is bound by manners, clearly, but not in an effort to one-up her, but to genuinely be good to her. It is as foreign to her as his garb.

“I am quite fatigued from my journeys,” she says, “but if there is a task you need assistance with, please ask.”

He nods and continues to smile, “That I will. Rest is important, it is how the body naturally heals itself.” Several of the creatures return from their venture, carrying various objects in their talons or mouths or on their backs. Adannar waves his hands and conducts the items into the house by floating them in. There are thuds and scrapes but the entire spectacle is quite…amazing. He must be exceptionally gifted to be able to move all of this, and there is quite a bit, on his own.

“Do you require assistance? Telekinesis is not my forte but I can certainly reduce any strain.”

“What? Oh no, this is not very difficult me, don’t worry,” he affirms before returning to the task at hand. Posts and lamps and rugs and even dishes are floated in, arranging themselves into proper formations. But no, it’s Adannar doing all of this.

Exactly how powerful is this man? He says he made these mechanical creatures and now this blatant display of power is…it’s a bit concerning. Is she his guest or his prisoner?

“You are quite gifted with magic,” she says.

“I suppose.”

“It makes sense then for you to live out here, many would seek to use you or your power for their own gain.”

He hesitates but nods, “That is very true.”

“But it’s not why you live out here?” She presses.

The flow of items reaches its end and he lowers his arms. When he turns to her, she expects a harsh face, a turn in his demeanor to show that she is more prisoner than guest. But he only looks…sad, even with his smile and kind, yellow eyes.

“Not entirely. Many do not understand and what people do not understand, they seek to hurt or tame. I have no interest in either.” He turns from her, gold hair flowing away from him as he strides to his creatures.

“Food will be brought to you. If you are interested, I can teach you, or one of the spirits of the forest can teach you to hunt and gather and cook. I imagine noblewomen aren’t taught such things.”

Feeling suddenly defensive, Serahlin narrows her eyes and straightens her back, “I am not a frivolous dependent. I went out on hunting trips regularly with the hunts master.” Not that she learned that much from those trips, but still, his tone leaves much to be desired.

“I do not wish you to starve, Serahlin. I apologize for poor manners, the exertions of the day have left me fatigued,” he turns toward her, serious and solemn, “a caution about the forest - do not pass the waterfall to the east, many who do, do not return.”

What a cryptic thing to say. Before she can question him by what he means, he slips into the forest, seeming to disappear within the shadows. Strange, but it the Dragon’s Forest, strangeness is probably the norm as backwards as that sounds.

When he leaves, the creatures go with him, taking the low whirring that had filled the air with them. It leaves her with a sudden heavy silence and a full cottage for her to explore anew. Serahlin rises from the stump and heads into the cottage, now alight with warm candles and a much more sufficient fire. There is a sofa with cushions covered in a vibrant floral pattern that makes her smile. Behind the sofa against the wall is an oil lamp; and next to a bookshelf that even has a few books on it – old and weathered tomes on flora and fauna of this part of the world and even a few fictional stories.

She wanders up the stairs into the bedroom to find the fireplace in there lit as well, and a small oil lamp sitting on a side table. The bed is smaller than what she is used to, less extravagant, but it is beautiful all the same. It appears to be hand carved from a light wood, swirls and symbols etched into the small posts at the head and foot of the bed. The bedspread is floral as well, though different from the cushions on the sofa it’s still a beautiful print.

She wanders to the wardrobe on the other side of the bed and opens it to find it filled with robes. They are unlike any of the fashionable robes she had in the palace, but they are radiant in their own way. Best of all, they are clean and untorn.

Opting for comfort for the day that is winding to a close, she chooses the night gown, wrapping the soft simple robe to her body. She spends many minutes simply brushing out her hair, getting all of the knots and tangles that have formed over the past few days of running. It is not easy and by the end, the brush is covered in hair.

But her hair is brushed, and her clothes are clean, and she is exhausted. This place is strange, and she is alone. Before a few days ago she had never really been alone. There had always been people around her – servants, her mother, her sister, knights, nobles…. It is not a terrible thing, she doesn’t think, but it is not good either. She is alone because her mother wants to kill her, because another kingdom demands it due to their supposed honor. It’s ridiculous and sad and terrifying.

She lies back in the bed and looks up to the ceiling. As strange and scary this entire thing has been, she thinks she’s at least temporarily safe. Safer here at least than at the palace. Adannar seems kind, if odd and exceptionally powerful. He seems to be bound to a code of hospitality that obligates him to see to her needs, but she is unfamiliar with this code. Hospitality is expected back home but so is a certain amount of distance and an “accomplish what you can on you own” attitude.

Or maybe he’s mad and being quirky to get her to like him so she won’t question it when he starts performing magical experiments on her. If that’s the case, she has the knife and the horse to run. Though for now she is safe and in a very warm, soft bed. She waves her hand, switching the oil lamp off as her body drifts into the best sleep she has ever had.

#my writing #i wrote it! yaaay!#late night posting but whatevs #i'm pretty proud of this actually #i'm proud of the amount of description i managed #fairy tale au #adannar #serahlin #serannar #i do plan for other characters to be involved!#folks are welcome to guess who are dragons and who are not #hint - not what you're probably thinking!#anyways i hope y'all like this

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my-emotional-self · 6 years

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Let Me Protect You Part 2 Chapter 16 (Chris Evans x OFC Emilia)

Pairings: Chris Evans x OFC Emilia

Warnings: Swearing, Angst

Trigger Warnings: Mentions of Suicide and Self Harm

Word Count: 1.8k+

Timberline Knolls was located just outside the city limits of Chicago and was where you would spend the next month. The entire flight out you couldn’t stop crying no matter how hard you tried. You felt betrayed, deceived and you didn’t think you could ever look Chris in the face again.

They had a staff from Timberline Knolls meet you at LAX in case you tried to run. Lets face it, you would have in a heartbeat if you didn’t have a babysitter with you the entire time. You gave up, point blank and that was it.

The flight from Los Angeles to Chicago was long and daunting. When the plane finally touched down you were happy to be out of your seat as your legs and back became stiff from sitting so long. You would never understand how people flew everywhere all the time; it seemed like such a hassle.

Jack, your ‘babysitter’, helped you with your bags and escorted you out of the airport where a car was waiting for you both. More tears streamed down your cheek as you hastily wiped them away with the back of your shirt. You wanted to be positive about this experience; your boyfriend paying for you to go to one of the best treatment facilities? How could you not be positive about it? Oh, that’s right, because you felt he betrayed you, doing this behind your back and not even talking to you about it.

In a way, you regretted what happened the last time you saw him. All the screaming and crying, telling him you hated him and saying that the two of you were over. Did you really mean it? At the time, yes. But now, you were unsure. He meant well, but it still broke your heart.

It took a while to get out of the city, but other than that, you had arrived at Timberline Knolls rather quickly. You had to admit, it was a beautiful place. There was a long private driveway that stretched for miles through a forest before opening up to many smaller buildings. It looked rather cozy.

“Alright Emilia, we’ll do your intake assessment and then we will get you settled into your room for the night” Jack stated as he opened the door for you and led you to the main bigger building. Looking around, all the buildings were made of stone and brick and it made for a beautiful setting with the woodsy backdrop.

The intake assessment was the same as usual; question after question after question to get a better understanding of you. With it being your second suicide attempt, having Borderline Personality Disorder and also self-harming, you fit the bill rather perfectly to be admitted to this rehab center. But you quickly learned that this rehab center was a bit different. They took a more holistic approach to recover and that definitely piqued your interest as you didn’t want to be stuffed with medication left and right.

You thought you would fully shut down while you were here, not talking to anyone and just taking this as a free ride until your time was up. But after hearing everything involved, you were actually becoming more aware that this place might just be a good start. Not only did they take a more holistic approach to your road to recovery but they really help you to understand that you are not alone.

“At Timberline Knolls, we coach and reinforce each of our patients on interpersonal skills, emotional regulation skills and distress tolerance and management” Sara, the intake specialist declared.

You let out a sigh of relief as she spoke; nodding intently as you realized that this just might work for you. “This…this actually sounds like something that would help me” you replied with a slight chuckle. You sucked at interpersonal skills, distress tolerance AND emotion regulation.

Sara smiled at you with her big doe eyed brown eyes. “Well, that is what we strive for. So” she began to say as she looked down at your paperwork, “it looks like you will be with us for 30 days. Unless your doctors say you need more time.”

You cocked your head to the side, your brows furrowed. “I thought it was flat 30 days that I would be here?” you questioned.

“It looks like your boyfriend paid for up to 90 days, if needed.”

Your eyes became wide at her statement as your heart jumped in your chest. 90 days??? You couldn’t stay here for 90 days!! That was far too long! Anger bubbled within you and you spoke the only thing that came to mind, “He’s my ex-boyfriend.”

After your intake session was done, Sara took you to the dorm rooms where everyone was staying. She unlocked a door before opening it and motioned for you to step inside. You were blown away by how beautiful the room was. There was a queen sized bed, along with a dresser, two nightstands, your own small bathroom and an entire wall of windows. The color was a soft tan and the carpet was plush.

“It was requested that you have your own room. Now, this isn’t a prison or anything. But everyone needs to be back in their rooms by 10pm and wake up is at 7:00am.”

You gave her a slight smile as she closed the door. Noticing your bag was already on the bed waiting for you, you let out a sigh as you started to unpack. The room was warm and cozy as you felt a sense of loneliness.

As you finished packing, you laid down on the bed exhausted from the day’s events. It was definitely not how you planned on things going but nothing ever really went your way. Laying on your back staring up at the ceiling, you thought about what you would say to Chris when you ever got the chance to talk to him. You wanted to ask his forgiveness, in the way you treated him. You wanted to tell him how sorry you were for screaming at him. You wanted to tell him how much you appreciated him for getting you to rehab and the seeking out the help you truly needed.

In that moment, the phone rang startling you from your daydreaming. Sitting up, you stared at the phone as it continued to ring. It was 10:45 at night and it baffled you as to who could be calling. With hesitation, you lifted the phone off the cradle. “Hello?” you asked sheepishly.

“Ems” you heard your brother exhale from the other end.

Tears immediately welled in your eyes as you heard his voice. Your brother, your favorite person in the world who gave the best hugs, who made you feel safe. “Eric” you sobbed out, your body shaking the bed.

“How are you? Did you make it there safe? How is everything going?” Eric rambled out.

“I’m….I’m here. Safe and…and sound” you hiccupped out between your cries. “I-I just want to come ho-home though.” It was true. Even though this place seemed great and could really help you out, hearing your brothers’ voice just made you homesick instantly.

“I know Ems” Eric sighed out. “But that place is amazing. Chris and I researched all night that first night you were locked up. And you just….you just need to give it a try. I think it will really turn out to be great for you.”

You couldn’t even speak; holding your breath as you held back your sobs and became as quiet as possible. You didn’t want Eric to know how lonely you felt. He was always there for you and you didn’t want to make it painful for him.

“Ems?” he questioned when you didn’t speak.

“I’m he-here” you hiccupped quietly as you wiped your tears away.

“I love you Ems. Get your rest and I’ll call you tomorrow okay?”

“Okay” you whispered before the line went dead. You put the phone back on the holder as you crawled under the covers. You would give anything to be with Eric right now. He would make everything better again. You made a mental note to ask tomorrow if there was a time when family or friends could visit.

As you stared at the wall as you felt broken hearted and empty; not knowing how you would survive these next 30 days alone. Your phone rang again as you jolted upright.

“Hello?” you answered hesitantly, not knowing who it could be.

“Emilia” Chris’ voice sounded on the other end.

In one moment his voice sent both shivers down your spine, and anger boiling in your bones. You missed him dearly as you wanted to feel his lips all over your body and to have his strong arms surround you. Yet at the same time, you wanted to slap him in the face for doing this to you.

“Don’t hang up baby….please” his tone was urgent and pleading. At that point you wanted nothing more than to hang up on him, but you gave him the benefit of the doubt. “I miss you so much Ems.”

“Well maybe you shouldn’t have stabbed me in the back and put me in this place!” your voice rose with each word as your heart started to beat faster in your chest.

Chris let out a frustrated sigh on his end and you knew he felt guilty. “I’m sorry Emilia. Really, I am. I just…I just want you to get better. I didn’t know what else to do.”

You scoffed at his words. “You could have TALKED to me about this beforehand. Maybe if you set me down, talked to me about this idea maybe I would have agreed.”

“That’s the thing Ems. Keyword being maybe. What if you wouldn’t have agreed huh? What if your stubborn ass would have started a fight over this idea?”

Well, he had you there. You being the stubborn person you were would probably have put up a fight over this idea. But the way he said it made your insides boil. “You had NO right Chris! NONE! How could you do this to me? Now I’m stuck here for at least a month, maybe more!”

“I CAN’T LOSE YOU EMILIA!” he roared into the phone in frustration.

“Then maybe you should have just broken up with me then Chris. I told you what you were getting into, but you obviously didn’t think it was as bad as it was.”

“I love you Emilia” he whispered out. His tone was so soft and delicate that it made you shiver. “I love you so much it hurts. I don’t want to lose you. I want you in my life forever. When I opened the door to the bathroom and saw you there practically lifeless, my heart stopped. I don’t ever want to see that again.”

His words made your heart ache but you still couldn’t forgive him for this; not yet at least. Taking in a deep breath, you exhaled for encouragement as you let your mind free. “I’m sorry. Goodbye Chris.”

Tag List: @iamwarrenspeace @ssweet-empowerment @princess-evans-addict @patzammit @tacohead13 @white-chocolate-mocha-fan @littlemissacorn @miss-cap21 @missfirstavenger @captainamerica-ce @pumbibaby @remember-that-one-blog @wildestdreamsrps @kanupps06 @zohoffman @-fuck-you-world- @geeksareunique @libbitinasdeath @createdbytinyaddiction @kenzieam @stacieisaloser

#Chris Evans Fanfic #Chris Evans Fanfiction #Let Me Protect You #Chris Evans x OFC #Chris Evans Imagine #Chris Evans Request #Chris Evans x Reader

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champhangman · 7 years

Text

Reckless - Part 14

Part 14/??

Characters: AJ Styles, OFC, Baron Corbin, with special appearance(s) by Corey Graves

Summary: The newest woman on the roster finds herself making waves she never intended to, with men that are both off-limits to her.

"Hello everyone and welcome to a special episode of UpUpDownDown!"

AJ tilted his head from side to side as Xavier did his usual introductory speech. Kim sat next to him, smiling at Xavier's enthusiastic recap of the game they'd played previously. He took a sip of his drink, then reached for his controller.

"No spectators, so no distraction for either of you. Me and the guys will be in the other room watching, and once this is done I'll be back, okay?"

Kim got her controller as the door swung shut behind Xavier. There was silence between them as the game started. Aware they were being recorded, he kept his face impassive, chuckling when her team fumbled the ball. "Son of a bitch," she muttered, knee starting to bounce.

He wondered why she was so tense. It couldn't be their official rematch or the fact it was being recorded. He had been in Catering when Xavier had told her everything was set up. She was excited. Had even bantered that she was going to rub the Georgia boy's face in the dirt. No, it had to be something else. Maybe she and Baron had had another fight? He doubted that. Baron had been with her when she entered the room, and given her a kiss that had soured AJ's mood for a moment. Apparently they had worked out whatever had happened a few days earlier. Maybe it was—

"What the—" He cut off with a groan as her team easily broke through his and scored a touchdown.

"Your defense is crap," she told him. When he glanced in her direction he saw her lips curving into a satisfied smirk.

"My defense is fine," he insisted.

"Obviously not," she teased in a singsong voice.

AJ did his best to ignore the fact she was tense for the rest of the game. It was difficult, though. Occasionally her phone would vibrate on the table to her left and each time he could feel her shoulders go tight. He almost asked if she wanted to pause so she could have a moment to deal with whoever was messaging her, but halfway through the game she released a frustrated growl and reached over, powering her phone down completely.

"Sorry," she muttered, eyes on the screen. Despite the distraction she managed to score another touchdown. Squealing, she let her controller fall to her lap and clapped her hands together as a replay was shown. "This is so much better than the first time we played! What's the matter, Georgia boy? The camera make you nervous?"

He scowled in her direction. It was her fault he was playing so badly. And she had to know it. She distracted him by doing nothing at all. Just the sound of her voice, even though it was teasing him, caused his fingers to slip over the controls. Each time she moved he could smell her. Over the weeks he had memorized her scent: that tantalizing mixture of coconut shampoo, floral perfume and…her. and each time he smelled her he remembered that night on the dance floor.

Turning his attention back to the game, he tried his best to ignore everything about her that enticed him. An impossibility of course, but he gave a valiant effort. Her score went up, his stayed where it was, and he watched in horror as the seconds ticked down to zero, dropping his controller and pressing his hands to his face while she celebrated. He knew he was seen as a bit of a sore loser on the show and tried not to let that show, but when the door flew open and Xavier, Baron, Jey, Jimmy, Kofi, and Big E stormed in to congratulate her he couldn't help the petulant expression that came to his face.

"Beginner's luck," he said when she looked to him.

"Oh please," she snorted with a roll of her eyes, squealing when she was lifted by Baron for a squeeze.

There was good-natured teasing from the guys then Xavier wrapped up the recording, while Big E dove to rescue AJ's controller before he could send it flying across the room. Throughout it all AJ rolled his eyes, then headed out once Kofi and Jimmy sat down to play a game. He stopped short when he nearly walked into Charlotte, brow furrowing at the sight of a puppy cuddled in her arms.

"Isn't he adorable?" Charlotte cooed. "I'm puppy-sitting for Kim."

He'd heard Kim had gotten the puppy. Had seen her posts of the fluffball on Instagram. It was small, a mixture of breeds. Brown eyes looked at him and the small head tilted. And he felt his heart melt. "He's kinda cute," he admitted, reaching to gently rub the puppy's ears. "What's his name?"

"Honey, sweetheart, Mr. Cutie Pie…" Charlotte shook her head. "Owens said she should name him Killer or something menacing."

"I'm not naming the sweetest pup in the world Killer," Kim announced as she stepped into the hall. Taking the puppy from her friend, she cuddled him close then looked to AJ. "But I really think Madden would be perfect."

"Ha-ha," he retorted.

"You should name him something soon so he can learn it," Charlotte suggested, plucking a stray hair from her shirt.

"They're alright with you havin' him backstage?" AJ asked, watching the pup settle against Kim's chest. He envied the dog.

"Hunter said it's fine as long as he doesn't make a mess. And he doesn't. Do you, little man?"

The puppy looked up at her, then leaned to give her chin a lick, which for some reach made the two women giggle and coo even more. AJ realized he would never understand it. Puppies, kittens, babies… Every female he had ever known had always melted at the sight of small animals and children, with perhaps a handful of exceptions.

Charlotte excused herself, saying she had to get to a quiet space for a phone interview. AJ watched her go, then glanced to the closed door of the room he and Kim had just been in. "I'm guessin' you and Baron…"

He let his voice fade when Kim looked up at him. She gave a small nod but said nothing, smoothing the puppy's fur with one hand.

He waited, just in case she decided to explain how they had worked out their argument. He almost asked how, then remembered she hadn't told him what she and Baron had fought about. Only that Baron had mentioned people – meaning himself and Naomi – ragging on him about not watching the biggest match of her career. And that they had said things they hadn't really meant. She'd thrown him out and then… Then she'd ended up calling him, and he had had the best talk he'd had in a long while. He fully expected her to start talking to him, because lately she always seemed ready to talk over problems. At least, with him. But, surprisingly, she changed the subject completely.

"I better take him outside for a bit. There's a grass spot away from traffic, and he needs some exercise."

AJ opened his mouth to offer to go with her. Instead, he furrowed his brow as her expression turned flat. Her eyes were focused on something behind him. "What?" he asked softly, using the puppy as an excuse to reach towards her. His fingers met soft fur, then followed the pup's side until they lightly cupped her upper arm. "Sweetie?"

"I have to…" She drew in a breath, released it in a rush. "I should—"

She was still looking beyond him and, curious, he glanced over his shoulder. Several feet away from them were Corey and Tom Philips. Neither man was looking in their direction; they seemed more focused on whatever Tom was showing Corey on the paper he held. AJ felt Kim step away from him, and turned back in time to see her hurrying in the opposite direction. At a loss, he looked back to Corey and Tom. Corey lifted his head, expression inscrutable as he watched Kim retreat.

***

"What am I gonna do?" Kim sighed, watching the puppy examine another blade of grass. She was certain he had looked at, sniffed, licked, and pawed at each individual blade in the little knoll behind the arena. He had yet to do anything but walk, sniff, and jump at unsuspecting leaves that dared to be in his path.

"You know, I should probably work on cultivating my friendships with Becky and Charlotte and the other girls better… I'm sitting here talking to a dog," she sighed. He paid no attention to her, still more interested in the grass than anything she had to say. "Not that I could ever talk to the girls about this stuff… So it's either you or go back to writing in my diary, and I haven't written in that since high school."

He lifted his head, sneezed, and shook vigorously before trotting back towards her. She waited until he fell into her lap before snapping the leash back onto his collar, giving his stomach a hearty rub while he wriggled.

"And what am I going to name you?" she groaned. It seemed she had considered and discarded every name in the world since getting him just a few days prior. Nothing fit. He wasn't a Prince. Or a Killer. Or a Spike, Bear, Charming, Thor, Hulk, Louis, Harry… "Can't keep calling you Mister Man."

The puppy gave up and remained sprawled in her lap. Yawning, he stretched out his legs, tongue lolling as she continued to rub his belly.

"I don't care what Baron says, I'm not naming you Manfred." Baron had been reading a book on the first world war, and had suggested she name the puppy after the notorious Red Baron.

She lightly scratched his belly, laughing when his back leg began to shake. Scratching again, she giggled as his paw began to bang against her thigh.

"You little thumper," she teased, lifting him for a quick cuddle. Then, startled by her own brilliance, she gasped. "That's it! Thumper!"

He looked at her for a moment, then yawned. Completely disinterested. He began to squirm so she set him on the ground again, watched him begin to investigate another leaf.

"How's the newest addition?" a voice asked behind her.

She stiffened at the sound of Corey's voice. "What do you want?" she asked without looking behind her. In front of her, the puppy – Thumper, his name was Thumper, rolled in the grass and paid no attention to the unwanted visitor.

"You shouldn't be so surly. You'll find I'm easy to get along with when you're polite, Kimmy."

"Don't call me that," Kim snapped, whipping her head around to look at him. He was moving to stand next to her, eyes on the puppy as he squatted down. Turning her attention back to Thumper, she tried to ignore the scent of his cologne and the closeness of his body.

"He got a name yet?" Corey asked, resting his arms on his knees. He puckered his lips and made kissing noises.

Kim felt the leash waggle as Thumper scrambled upright. She fully expected him to ignore Corey. After all, he'd been rather ambivalent towards all the people backstage. Other than Charlotte and Becky, who cooed over him and cuddled him as though he were a human baby, and as such were rewarded with ardent kisses and cuddles, Thumper had shown little interest in anyone else. He was even indifferent to Baron, though he did tend to cuddle close to him while they slept.

Therefore she was confounded when Thumper bounded towards Corey, his fluffy fur ruffling in the breeze. She chewed on her lip, looking on in surprise as the puppy immediately placed both front paws on Corey's knee and sniffed his hands, then his face. Shocked when he actually began licking the man's chin, she grunted. So much for dogs being able to recognize assholes. Because Corey was an asshole, wasn't he?

"Thumper," she said softly, all her anger dissipating as Corey sat down so the puppy could crawl into his lap. "I just named him Thumper…"

"You're a loving little thing, huh?" He practically crooned the words, laughing while Thumper attempted to climb his chest so he could continue his licks. "What breed is he?"

"He…" Kim stared at them, trying to figure out what had happened to her hesitant, uninterested puppy. "He's a Shih Tzuh and Lhasa Apso mix. The shelter said he was the runt, and the last of his litter to be adopted."

"How could anyone pass up such a little sweetheart?"

Kim wasn't sure if he was addressing the question to her or to the puppy. He'd picked him up now, and didn't seem to care at all that Thumper was practically drooling on his face. Deciding the question was rhetorical, she loosened her grip on the leash and reached for the pup. "Here, let me get him off you—"

"Stop, he's fine." Corey flashed a charming smile and surprised her further by lying back in the grass. "I love dogs."

"And they love you too, apparently," she mused, shaking her head in disbelief. Thumper seemed content to crawl all over him, sniffing and licking and headbutting repeatedly. Obviously approving of the man, he finally flopped across his chest and panted happily.

Corey tucked an arm beneath his head. "I can't stay out here long," he announced, stretching his other arm between them. "But this is a better place to talk than inside."

She nodded, feeling dread start to stir within her stomach. And although she already knew, she had to ask. "What did you want to talk about?"

"I'm going to need some company tonight… Which hotel are you staying at?"

She answered, gaze on the side of the truck parked nearby. It blocked the knoll from the sight of any fans that gathered at the edge of the parking lot behind the arena, but if she looked over she would see if anyone approached from the arena. Luckily – she supposed – no one was approaching.

He brought her attention back to him by lightly grazing the outside of her bare thigh with the tips of his fingers. "I'll text you my room number."

"Tonight?" she whispered, mind immediately kicking into high gear. Surely she had a plausible excuse to not go to his room. "But Baron—"

"We both know he crashes as soon as he gets in. And if he doesn't…" Again the fingers brushed her thigh. "I'll wait up for you."

Asking herself why his feather-soft touch wasn't repulsive, she looked down at his fingers. They barely grazed her flesh and to anyone that happened to be looking it wouldn't be obvious he was touching her at all. "What if—"

"Don't worry yourself sick thinking about what ifs," he suggested. His fingers withdrew from her thigh so he could look at his watch. "You're a smart woman, Kimmy—sorry," he said quickly. "But you are smart. You'll know what to say if someone sees you."

She doubted that. She'd never been a good liar. As a child, her lies had been too detailed, too rambling, and her parents – especially her father – had known when she was spouting bullshit. Her mother could tell by the sound of her voice over the phone if she was just stretching the truth. She didn't know how exactly, but the people who knew her always knew when she was lying.

Moving the puppy, Corey sat up and removed his sunglasses. While clearing the dog saliva from the lenses, he looked to her. "I'll see you tonight."

"Tonight," she echoed with a faint nod. The dread in her stomach increased, twisting and tightening until she felt as though period cramps were starting up.

"And don't come wearing just a robe."

Perplexed, because she had just started thinking she should wear just a robe and nothing else, she tightened her grip on the leash when Thumper began to wander away from Corey's side. "Why not?"

"I like unwrapping," he murmured.

She wasn't sure why, but the statement sent ripples of warmth through her body. He liked to unwrap. She was so used to Baron, to the very few men before him, who always complained when she wore more than one layer. She had never had the privilege of being undressed by someone else, though it was something she'd wanted for a long time. She wanted the anticipation, the slow reveal.

"I'm not a present," she told him, pushing away the persistent longing and focusing on her puppy.

"Aren't you?" he asked softly.

Kim had no idea how to respond to that. It turned out she didn't need to, because when she turned her head to glance at him his lips covered hers. He didn't touch her anywhere else. Just used his lips, then his tongue, to take her completely off guard. She knew she should pull away but was unable to do so, caught by the surprising amount of tenderness in his kiss. She sensed an urgency, too, and when he pulled away with a soft groan he took his breath with him.

His tongue swiped his bottom lip while he put his sunglasses on. His eyes met hers briefly over the top of the frames, then he was standing. Leaning to give Thumper a goodbye head rub. Brushing off his jeans. Without a word, he held her gaze for a brief moment, then headed toward the arena.

"Well," she murmured once her tongue remembered how to form words. Thumper climbed into her lap, and she rubbed his head without thinking. "Well."

He looked up at her and gave a sharp, yipping bark.

"Well," she said again, glancing to the arena just in time to see Corey disappear inside. "…Shit."

***

"I can't believe it. You started without me?" Kim mocked outrage as she saw that the show was already playing. Hopping on one foot to avoid stepping on Thumper, she made it to the bed and perched on the edge.

"It's the last episode we watched," Baron promised, just as she recognized what was happening on the show. "I think I missed the ending so I wanted to watch the last half again."

"I don't even remember the ending so I think I missed it too." She bent to pick up Thumper and placed him on the bed. Unwinding the towel from her hair, she watched Kathy Bates on the screen. She had never watched American Horror Story until she had joined SmackDown, when Charlotte and Becky had insisted she start watching. In the ensuing weeks she had caught up and was currently halfway through the sixth season.

Combing her fingers through her wet hair, she let her gaze drift from the TV to her cell phone. The device had remained almost mockingly quiet since she and Baron had gotten to the hotel, save for a reminder from Charlotte about their planned run in the morning. Perhaps Corey had changed his mind, she thought, unplugging the phone and setting it on the nightstand before moving to pull on a pair of sweatpants and a tank top.

"Cold?" Baron asked when she settled on the bed.

"No, I just know I'll have to take him out one more time before I go to sleep," she explained, motioning to Thumper, who was now trying to burrow beneath the covers. Pulling him close, she hoped the puppy didn't understand that she was, for all intents and purposes, using him as a possible excuse to leave. Settling back, she let him go so he could explore.

Her phone buzzed just as Kathy Bates brought a cleaver down on an unsuspecting man's chest. Kim jumped, to Baron's amusement. With a groan she reached for it, breath catching when she saw Corey's name.

Come to my room.

Kim swallowed anxiously, glancing to the side to assure herself Baron was still focused on the TV. His hand was on her knee, fingers moving mindlessly, but she knew his entire focus was on the brutality of the cleaver-wielding woman onscreen. He wouldn't notice that she was pulling away until she was halfway across the room. She was sure of that.

I have to take the puppy out, she texted back, noting the room number he'd sent. He was on the next floor down.

I'm waiting.

And I'm with B. Her stomach twisted at the insinuation that Baron would be accompanying her and Thumper on their walk. But she was hoping that she could manage to avoid going to Corey's room. Just as she kept hoping that she would come up with something that would put an end to the craziness she was embroiled in. She drew in a deep breath to calm her warring stomach.

I'm sure you know how to get away from him.

I don't need you to stay the night. Half an hour, tops.

And my patience only goes so far.

The messages came one after another. Despite the ominous chill crashing over her like waves at high tide, she felt herself start to sweat.

I'll try.

She held her breath while waiting for his reply, barely noticing the blood and carnage on TV. Her stomach twisted again and she felt her mouth start to water. "Oh god," she moaned, pushing the puppy from her lap and scrambling off the bed. She stumbled into the bathroom, dropping her phone on the floor as she fell to her knees in front of the toilet. She managed to shove the lid and seat up just in time.

Once finished, she rested her forehead on her shaking arm. Her stomach gave a few weak dry heaves, causing her to tremble. She suddenly grew aware of Baron's presence. He was murmuring softly, one hand smoothing her head and the other gently rubbing her back.

"You okay?"

She lifted her head, nodding, jumping slightly when the toilet lid banged down. The sound of flushing filled her ears and she let him help her to her feet. He frowned, expression one of pure concern, and guided her to sit on the edge of the tub. Within seconds he'd removed her soiled tank top and was cleaning her face with a cool, wet cloth.

"Baby," he sighed, still frowning, reaching for another washcloth. "That's the second time you've been sick tonight."

"I wasn't sick at the arena," she insisted, taking the cloth and wiping her chin. "That was just a little indigestion from those nachos I got at the concession stand."

He looked disbelieving, but didn't argue. Once she was sure she could do so she stood, accepting her toothbrush and toothpaste from him so she could clean her teeth and mouth. He hovered nearby, continuing to frown while she brushed and flossed and gargled. "You want some ginger ale or anything?"

"I'm fine, babe," she assured, filling a glass with water from the tap to sip. "I'm not getting sick. It's probably those damned nachos."

"If you still feel bad in the morning will you get Amann to check you over?" he asked, following her out of the bathroom.

"I won't feel bad, but I'll go see him if I do." She gave him a mock salute while bending to retrieve her sneakers. She already felt worlds better. She was sure the brief spell had only been brought on by nerves, and helped along by the nachos with greasy, spicy cheese she'd scarfed down at the arena without thinking.

"You're going out?" Baron looked uncertain.

"I'm just taking Thumper for a walk. It'll help me feel better," she added. Making a mental note to give the puppy a few minutes of fresh air and grass before completing her other task, she put on socks and shoes, then dug out a clean bra and tank top. Her fingers hesitated over one of her prettier bras but she pushed it away, opting for comfort. She refused to wear anything that might have Corey thinking she wanted to entice him. Zipping her pink hoodie up all the way, she looked around for her phone and smiled when Baron handed it over.

"Do you want me to go with you?"

"No… Babe, you're exhausted. Finish the rest of the episode, okay? If you fall asleep before I get back we can watch the next one in the morning." Leaning up to press a kiss to his lips, she nearly sighed with relief when he murmured agreement. After grabbing her key card and Thumper's leash, she picked up the puppy and held him in one arm.

"If you start to feel sick—"

"I'll cut the walk short and come straight back," she promised. One more quick kiss, and she left the room.

She held onto Thumper during the elevator ride down to the lobby, attaching his leash while she carried him out a side exit. He took his time, sniffing and exploring and telling off a paper napkin, before doing his business in front of an ornamental hedge.

"Don't look at me like that," she muttered while bending to pick him up again. "I feel bad enough about what I'm doing as it is."

Thumper grunted, then headbutted her chin.

"Besides, you like him," she reminded once on the elevator and going back up. Of course, she doubted Corey would want to deal with a puppy… Groaning, she kissed Thumper's head then pulled out her phone to text him she would be there in a few minutes. She would have to come up with another excuse for the next time.

Not that there would be a next time. It was just going to be a one-time thing.

Right?

The hallway was, blessedly, empty. When she reached Corey's room she saw that the door wasn't quite shut all the way. Taking a deep, calming breath, she lightly rapped her knuckles on the door while nudging it open. She was met with a wall of humid air, and the fresh, clean scent of soap and shampoo filled her nostrils.

Corey appeared in the bathroom doorway. His hair was damp and mussed, the only further evidence that he had just showered. "Hey," he greeted softly, expression showing surprise when he noticed the puppy in her arm.

"He won't be any trouble," she said, reaching behind her to close the door. She set the puppy down, holding the leash loosely and looking on as he bounded over to greet Corey.

"Hey, cutie," he crooned, crouching to give Thumper a proper greeting.

Kim watched, once again astounded by Thumper's enthusiasm over Corey. It made no sense. Did he smell of steak? Or of the puppy biscuits she'd spent a small fortune on? Shaking her head, she watched puppy and man fawn over each other, deciding that it was an almost cute sight. Noticing that Corey was wearing a pair of dark jeans and a t-shirt, she wondered why he had bothered dressing at all. It wasn't as though she had any preconceived notions about what they were doing. Hell, she was fully aware of the absurdity that was their arrangement.

Sex, to buy his silence about sex that had happened previously. She was sure it was a plot in some ridiculous sitcom.

"I don't have long," she announced in a soft voice once Corey rose to his full height. He extended a hand and she passed over the end of the leash without thinking, biting her lip when he chuckled and bent to unhook it from Thumper's collar. The puppy didn't seem to notice, too intent now on sniffing every fiber of the carpet.

"Come on," Corey said, taking her hand and leading her further into the room. It was just like the one she and Baron had, just with a slightly different color scheme. A king-sized bed. Two nightstands. Two lamps. A low dresser with an entertainment center on top. A mirror on the wall opposite the window. A desk and chair, a phone, a clear plastic holder containing the room service menu and a hotel directory. In front of the window a loveseat, with a wing chair cattycorner to it, and a coffee table.

Instead of guiding her to the bed, he headed for the loveseat. The TV and overhead light were off, one lamp by the bed cast a soft glow throughout the room. He sat next to her, long legs stretching beneath the coffee table, and reached for his phone. "How long do you have?"

"No more than thirty minutes," she murmured, surprised to see him setting a timer. Why wasn't he pulling her into the bed and getting things started? Thirty minutes wasn't time enough for whatever he had planned and a cozy chat on the loveseat.

"Are you feeling better?" he asked softly, leaving his phone on the coffee table.

Disarmed by the question, she turned her head to stare at his hand when he'd stretched his arm out behind her. "I… What?"

"Becky said you weren't feeling well."

Becky had a big mouth. Looking away from his hand, which had settled on her shoulder, she watched Thumper dig at a towel on the floor near the bed. "I'm fine. It was just a little indigestion."

His other hand moved to rest just beneath her chin. At the barest hint of pressure she tipped her head back, finally meeting his light eyes. "How's your side?"

"It's okay. The soreness has worn off." What an insane conversation, she thought, moistening her lips with her tongue. His thumb brushed over her chin, then his lips were pushing against hers.

Just like that afternoon, it caught her off guard. It was both urgent and tender, too. But there were some differences. Instead of the outdoors she smelled only him. Instead of a soft breeze on her cheek there was his hand. It was soon grasping the side of her neck, resting over the pulse point below her jaw. His tongue was swift but thorough, coaxing hers with its flavors of cinnamon and chocolate.

She felt the zipper of her hoodie start to slacken just when he tilted his head. There was a new form of intensity in the kiss and she brought her hands to his chest for support. "Shit," she gasped into his mouth when the front of her hoodie parted for his wandering hand. Instead of going straight for her breast as she had expected him to, he instead moved his hand to rest at her waist.

He leaned back, pulling her with him, guiding her to straddle his lap. He sneaked another kiss while his hands reached to ease the hoodie over her shoulders and down her arms, tilting his head to softly caress the inside of her wrist with his lips.

Once the hoodie was gone she braced her hands on the back of the loveseat, holding her breath as long as possible. It came out in a shuddering gasp when she settled more firmly in his lap and felt his cock start to harden. Both his hands moved to cup her ass, and she gasped as they began to squeeze and rub.

"You like this?" The question was barely a whisper as his fingers kneaded her ass. His lips were warm, as soft as velvet, against her neck. "Doesn't he take care of you?"

She didn't answer. She was trembling. Sick with the knowledge that she was committing an act of betrayal. Disgusted because she was allowing it to happen. And, she realized as she squeezed her eyes shut, horrified that she was starting to enjoy his touch. She wished she could disconnect her mind from her body. Wished he would stop his heated whispers and get it over with. Wished she were strong enough to pull away and leave, consequences be damned.

Corey continued lightly kissing her neck, seemingly in no hurry to progress beyond her straddling his lap. He squeezed her ass then one hand was roaming her back, the other sliding to clutch her hip. Through the layers of cotton and denim she could feel him growing harder. He rolled his hips, hand dragging her tighter against him.

She gasped. It was involuntary but she didn't regret it, because his lips had begun caressing that one spot just below her jaw that sent a shockwave of desire through her body. He murmured, curious, eliciting another gasp when he started to gently suck the spot. His moan vibrated her throat, or maybe it was her own, and she brought her hands to rest on his shoulders. Squeezing her eyes as tightly closed as possible, she breathed a sigh of relief once he ceased sucking.

He moved his lips to her ear. His hand slid into her hair. "You're thinking too much."

"I can't help it."

"Shh…" He rubbed her hip, the movement almost soothing, and his fingers seemed to caress her scalp. "Don't think. Just feel."

"Corey," she began, shaking her head. "I don't—"

He sighed, breaking her train of speech, and leaned back slightly. "Open your eyes, Kimmy."

She did so, pressing her lips into a fine line. "Can you not call me that?"

His eyebrow lifted. "What do you want me to call you?"

"Anything. Just not… That."

"I don't do cutesy pet names." He sighed again. Drew her in for a brief kiss. "But I'll think of something."

She nodded, not given a chance to speak by the swiftness of his next kiss. It didn't feel as forced as their earlier kisses and, without thinking, sank into it. Her tongue rolled against his on its own accord. Her fingers began to tentatively explore his upper body. She found it horrifyingly easy to just forget and just feel, to lose herself. It felt almost nice to let everything go.

"Mm, shit," he moaned, gently tugging on her hair to break the kiss. "You do like this."

Her hips were rocking back and forth. She tightened her thighs, watched his eyes light with surprise. "I do," she admitted in a strained whisper, tugging on his shirt so he would kiss her again.

Digging his fingers into her hip, he forced her to stop wriggling. He ignored the little whine that escaped her, but gave that place just beneath her below her jaw a quick nibble. He moaned, hips rising and falling, until she could feel every inch of him pressing to her core. Kim was almost grateful when his mouth found hers once more. Taken aback by the realization that she wanted more, she pressed her body close to his, swallowed his appreciative moan, squirmed against his cock.

And broke away with a frustrated whimper when an electronic tone. Panting, she could only hold on as he leaned to silence his phone. She let her head drop to his shoulder, jumping slightly at the feel of his palms sweeping along her bare back. She couldn't remember her shirt being removed. He smoothed her hair, pressed a kiss to her cheek, guiding her so she sat upright. His lips met hers once more, and she thought she sensed reluctance when he pulled away.

Silent, she slid from his lap. A chill swept over her once she was away from him and she groped for her discarded hoodie, not noticing until she had it on and zipped that her tank top was hanging off the arm of the loveseat. Then he was kissing her again, and she forgot everything for a few more seconds.

Confusion set in as she made her way to the door, a sleepy Thumper in the crook of her arm. Turning to face Corey, she accepted the leash he held out and stuffed it into her pocket. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow—"

"You're thinking too much again," he pointed out softly. He smiled down at her, hair messier than it had been when she'd arrived. His eyes were still a little darker than they normally were, she was pretty sure. The hand that lightly cupped her cheek was warm. "No thinking when you're with me, princess."

"That's easier said than done."

#aj styles #aj styles imagine #baron corbin #baron corbin imagine #corey graves #corey graves imagine #wwe #wwe imagine #multipart:reckless

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jaeminlore · 7 years

Text

Dragon Tales // Zhong Chenle

the prompt: can I please have a nct Chenle fantasy scenario You can pick the au. au i used: A hoard of mini-dragons invaded my backyard tree-house and they insist on annoying you, my neighbor, by snapping at your outdoor gargoyle, I’m so sorry.

words: 1601

category: fluff + modern!fantasy

author note: my sister told me to name it this lol. this isn’t too romantic obviously since Chenle is an actual baby. still, please enjoy!

- destinee

Park Jisung was your best friend, but sometimes you wondered if it was just because your parents were the richest in the neighborhood.

With a three-story house, a pool, a private treehouse, and any game console you could think of, your house was heaven for any fifteen year old.

Currently, Jisung and you had just gotten off of school, and he took it upon himself to hang out at your house. The two of you turned on a game that didn’t require much thinking, like GTA, and hung out like always.

In the middle of an extreme car chase, Jisung paused the game. “I’m hungry.”

“Okay,” you replied. “You know where the kitchen is.”

Jisung set his controller down and got up, heading towards your kitchen. After a few minutes (which wasn’t abnormal since Jisung was normally indecisive when it came to snacks) Jisung made a noise of surprise.

You cocked your head towards the kitchen, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah!” Jisung yelled back. “Just a question, though. Do you know that there are a bunch of little dragons in your treehouse?”

“No way!” You hopped up and ran to the kitchen, beside your best friend, who stared out the window above your kitchen sink.

Sure enough, a bunch of mini-dragons, about the size of a small cat, were flying around your treehouse, gnawing on the wood and blowing fire into the windows.

“Oh no! Dad said he sprayed a repellant!” Since mini-dragons were pests, known for finding wood and destroying it like giant termites, there were many repellents that advertised keeping them away.

Obviously, whatever your dad bought didn’t work.

“Did your dad get it on sale?” Jisung asked, watching the dragons crawl around your treehouse. “Or from a street peddler?”

You slapped him, “Don’t joke about this. My treehouse has been seized by flying reptiles.”

You pulled open you back door and ran outside, hoping to somehow shoo the little critters away.

As you came closer to your treehouse, each dragon turned to hiss at you. One even dared to spit fire towards you.

“You should probably come back inside!” Jisung yelled from the doorway of the house. There was no way he was going to get burnt over a treehouse.

You huffed and stomped back into your house angrily.

The next day, you awoke to loud noises outside your window.

Thinking the dragons migrated to the front yard, you crawled out of bed and stomped over to the window, throwing it open and shouting, “Can you losers keep it down? I’m trying to get some sleep!”

Once you realized your mistake, it was too late. For there were no dragons in your front yard. In fact, nothing was in your front yard. The noise had come from across the street, where a small family seemed to be moving into the home that had been abandoned for months.

Your face turned every shade of red as the family and the movers looked up at you. “I’m so sorry! I thought you were a bunch of dragons!”

You locked eyes with a boy around your age, who seemed to be laughing at your expense. You wished he would stop, only he was really cute when he laughed, so that caused a bit of inner turmoil for you.

“Have a good move!” You said hastily before slamming your window shut and closing the curtains.

Maybe, if you never left your house, you wouldn’t have to see that boy and be reminded of your embarrassing mistake.

Jisung always came over on Saturdays, mostly because he had nothing better to do and you had video games.

So the two of you were back at it, seeing who could escape the cops first in your digital world.

“I called dibs on the purple car!” You shouted angrily as Jisung’s character drove off, leaving you surrounded by a bunch of cops.

Before you could slap Jisung, your doorbell rang. “Who’s that?”

“Oh,” Jisung stood up. “I saw your new neighbor playing outside and invited him to come play video games with us.”

“The one with the cute smile?” You asked without thinking. Then, you glared at Jisung, “Don’t you dare tell him I said that.”

“I would never.”

Jisung opened the door. “Hello, Chenle, or as Y/n likes to call you: the one with the cute smile.”

You walked over, subtly stomping on Jisung’s foot as you held out your hand. “Sorry about him. He doesn’t get out much.”

Chenle ignored your hand and pointed at you with a look of remembrance on his face, “Hey, you’re the girl who called my family losers!”

“No,” you denied quickly, blushing. “I called the dragons losers. I thought you guys were dragons.”

Chenle looked confused for a moment, before Jisung explained, “Y/n’s treehouse has been infested with mini-dragons and she can’t get them to leave.”

“Oh,” Chenle said. “That makes sense.”

You nodded and picked up a controller. “So, GTA?”

As awkward as that afternoon was, you were still glad you got to learn more about Chenle. The boy was humorous and adorable, and your face seemed to be a permanent pink when he was around.

Jisung definitely noticed, and the mischievous scoundrel made numerous hints towards your newfound crush.

Luckily, either Chenle was either too nice to say anything, or he was too distracted to notice.

You wished your small crush on Chenle was your only problem, however, the mini dragons had invited friends.

Now your treehouse was infested with at least fifteen little dragons, who had taken to venturing around your yard.

Some had even gotten into your neighbor’s yards, and Mrs. Na from next door had some choice words for you after one of them uprooted her petunias.

Your dad promised to call someone to relocate them. However, they wouldn’t be here for a few days.

In the meantime, you could only watch the fire-breathing pests take refuge in your treehouse.

Your loud ringtone woke you up. Squinting at the brightness of the screen, you were surprised to see Chenle calling you in the middle of the night.

“Hello?” Your voice was still soft from sleep. You rubbed your eyes as you waited for a reply.

“Y/n? I need your help,” he said. “One of the dragons got out and their bugging my gargoyle.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. Was he joking? Who owns a gargoyle nowadays?

“Gargoyle?”

“I’m petsitting for my grandma, okay?” Chenle explained, some exasperation in his voice. “But one of the dragons is snapping at him and I can’t get it to leave. Can you please come help me?”

You rolled your eyes, but you were already getting out of bed and pulling your jacket over your pajamas. After slipping on your shoes, you opened your front door and walked into the cold night air.

Chenle opened the gate to his backyard, allowing you to enter. He was in similar attire to you, his eyes bleary. The dragon must’ve woken him up.

Over in the corner of his gated yard, a little yellow dragon was snapping at a large gargoyle, who was fighting back in a rumbling voice.

“How do we do this?” You asked, shivering slightly.

Chenle shrugged. “Maybe if we spray it with the hose it’ll leave.”

“Isn’t that abuse?” You questioned the boy beside you.

He only repeated his shrugging action. “I don’t know. Have you got a better idea?”

“Yes,” you replied, looking at Chenle. “Have you got any raw meat? Like a steak or something?”

While Chenle went to check his freezer, you tried to approach the dragon.

“Hello, little guy,” you began gently. “Could you please leave Chenle’s grandmother’s gargoyle alone?”

The dragon looked at you strangely. After hissing at you for annoying him, he returning to harassing the stone creature.

“Please?” You begged as Chenle came out of the house holding a raw steak in his hand.

“I’ve got it! My dad’s gonna kill me when he find out the steak he spent all day marinating is gone, but it’s the only one we have.”

“I’ll pay your dad back,” you promised.

Hesitantly, you opened the bag and pulled the slab of meat out of it. The heavy spices alerted your senses, as well as the dragons, for he stopped in his bullying to sniff the air.

As he caught sight of the steak in your hand, he pushed himself up and began to fly towards you.

“Y/n!” Chenle warned. “Be careful!”

“I’ve got it,” you assured him right before you chucked the steak over the gate.

As predicted, the dragon flew off in the direction of the meat. You sighed in relief while Chenle ran over to the gargoyle.

“Are you alright, Hugo?” He began to examine the stone creature as if he could really be hurt by a small dragon.

You crouched down beside Chenle and apologized, “I’m sorry about that. They’ve been venturing out of the yard lately.”

“It’s fine,” Chenle replied. He turned to smile at you. “At least I got to see you again.”

“W–” Your heart stopped for a moment at his simple words.

Chenle only smiled, as if he didn’t know the effect of his words. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/n.”

“Tomorrow. Right.” You nodded, backing up and nearly tripping over a small knoll in the grass. “I’ll see you then.”

Chenle made sure you walked back to your house safely, remembering to wave at you just before you entered your home.

“Ah, she’s cute.” He spoke to himself as you waved back, a huge grin on your face.

~the end~

#nct dream scenarios #nct dream au #nct dream fluff #nct dream drabble #nct dream imagines #chenle scenarios #chenle au #chenle imagines #chenle fluff #destwrites #zhong chenle

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helly-watermelonsmellinfellon · 7 years

Note

Do you know of any yoi fics in the HP universe?

I wrote one but I haven’t seen any others. You certainly won’t find any on FF.net. Try AO3.

Ch. 11 of Always My Soulmate

Pairing: Victuuri

Fandom: Yuri!!! On Ice

Tags: AU, No skating, instead there is Quidditch, Fluff, the chapter on AO3 has more notes to read.

Sum: This is a Victuuri AU in the Harry Potter universe, where certain cultures believe that the Patronus(spirit guardian) can show you your soulmate if it matches another’s Patronus. Victor shares this belief because he has a mushy heart.

“We’re hosting a few students from Koldovstoretz?”

Yuuri and Yuuko shared a look, finding the news to be interesting. Rarely did they ever get visitors, and technically it would only the Americans or the English. So to get some visitors from a non-English speaking region would be lovely.

Nishigori wasn’t finished however. He pulled out a Quidditch magazine from seemingly nowhere and shoved it in their faces. “Victor Nikiforov of the Ramenskoye Rarógs is coming personally!”

Yuuri’s interest was caught immediately. He could tell that Yuuko was also ready to explode.

Victor Nikiforov was one of the best Quidditch players in the world and had been playing Seeker for his team for five years! Ever since he joined the team, Russia had yet to lose a game. He’d even lead his team to victory three years ago at the World Cup.

Yuuri himself was also a Quidditch player. He was Seeker for the Toyohashi Tengu. Had been Seeker for the past three years.

Unlike certain countries, they were not the sort to raise their standards for Quidditch players. If the person had the skill and their parents’ permission, then they could join the team if they were accepted. They didn’t have to be a certain age to join. Skill, not age, dictated entry.

Yuuri was considered the top Seeker in the Asian continent. Victor was considered the top Seeker in the European continent. Both of them would be sharing space for however long the Koldovstoretz students remained.

What could happen?

Yuuko giggled. “I can’t wait to go and tell everyone!”

Yuuri and Nishigori shared a look, but Yuuko was already gone.

Nishigori summoned his Tsunami and mounted it. “Alright Katsuki-san, there no time for playing around. Let’s train you up so if Nikiforov-san challenges you in any way, you can drill him into the water on your own turf.”

With a sigh, Yuuri hopped onto his Uzumaki and ascended into the stormy clouds.

Victor was so excited! Especially since unlike his classmates, he wasn’t going to be using a translation spell. He actually spoke Japanese, and English and Portuguese, not that those mattered at the moment.

Getting the Highmistress to even agree to an exchange program had been hard, but in the end, Victor had gotten what he wanted while letting the woman think she was benefitting more than he. It was all a part of the plan!

Victor got to travel to a new country for free, experience the culture for free, and meet his favorite Quidditch player for free!

Katsuki Yuuri had been on Victor’s mind for the past two years, and next year, Japan would make it to the World Cup where Russia would also be playing, and Victor could face the other in a real match finally.

He was looking forward to it! Mahoutokoro was said to reside at the top of a volcano after all!

Yuuri always regretted being one of the top students, simply because the color of his robes made him stand out. It was annoying.

Yes, gold was nice and it earned him a lot of respect as a top student, but too much attention made him uncomfortable. He already had enough fans from being a Quidditch player and having a cherry wood wand, he didn’t need any more fame.

“They’re here! They’re here!” Yuuko yelled, smacking Yuuri’s arm repeatedly in her excitement.

The skys were blue and cloudless for the first time in a long while. In the distance, they could see that a large, red creature that had a very rough likeness to a dragon, or maybe a hydra, was flying their way. Attached to it, were large golden reins that were being controlled by a very large man. Probably a half-giant if Yuuri was to guess.

The carriage connected to the creature was enormous. The size of a house even. Yuuri was sure that the inside was enchanted to make it even larger. It was lovely, decorated in shades of gold and silver, with intricate carvings. It was like a miniature Western castle on wheels.

An entire strip of rock had been cleared at the top of the mountain, in order to allow them to land. Yurri had a feeling that the landing would probably shake the foundations of the castle.

His assumption was proven to be correct. Also, the former idea turned out to be right, as about one hundred students stepped out of the carriage. They all looked perfectly comfortable, and no one seemed to be tired. Or irritable form long travel.

He could easily see Victor Nikiforov in the very front of the large group, smiling widely up at the white jade castle that Yuuri currently called home.

Victor was as attractive in person as he was in his photographs. Yuuri couldn’t help but sigh with delight.

The grandmistress of Mahoutokoro stood front and center of her gathered students, her arms folded as she bowed. The Highmistress of the other school, returned the respect given, and smiled. The two clasped hands in greeting.

They were polar opposites.

Yagiri-O-Sensei was small and thin, with long black hair that she merely kept back in a top knot. Her fringe was cut around her face perfectly, not one hair out of place. She was the no-nonsense sort, but did have a soft side here and there. Her eyes were as black as the night.

The other woman, whom Yuuri was informed was named Zlata Petrova, was long. It was the only way he could describe her. Not just tall. Every limb just seemed to be incredibly long. Her hair was golden, and he couldn’t see her eyes from his position, but he knew that they were light in color, otherwise they would stand out more.

Yuuri was lined up with his friends and fellow schoolmates.

They made twenty lines of almost ten each, the best students taking the front position, so their golden robes were perfectly on display.

It was always reputation first. Sometimes Yuuri just wanted to hide in a hole and sleep. Where no one gave a shit about his reputation or skills. Just peace and quiet.

“Konnichiwa!”

Yuuri blinked and looked up, finding none other than Victor Nikiforov leaning over him.

Yuuri had been reclined on the grassy slope on the western side of the castle, in a small place he liked to go when things became too loud. Sometimes it was hard to force himself to communicate with people. He needed regular breaks from becoming overloaded far too quickly.

Only Yuuko knew about this place, but somehow Nikiforov-san had found it anyway.

“Hello,” the smaller Seeker murmured carefully.

“I’ve been wanting to meet you for a long time, and now we can talk without being stalked!”

Victor plopped down on the grass right beside Yuuri, a grin on his attractive face.

Yuuri sat up then, looking the Russian over. His hair was grey. He’d actually been born with grey hair, which wasn’t that unusual in the wizarding world. Yuri’s sister was part Metamorph and had a purple streak in her hair when she was born. It happened.

Last time he’d seen her, she’d riddled her hair with blonde highlights because ‘why not?’.

“What did you want to talk about?”

“Everything!”

He found himself bombarded with many questions in which he struggled to answer quickly so he didn’t forget the answer to the next question.

“Gold is a status symbol. It shows that you are at the top of your studies and magical prowess. It usually takes until the second to last year to reach gold, especially for the hardworking students.

"The robes are enchanted to change color as you grow in magical ability. White is a shameful color for those who betray the magical society of Japan.

"The volcanoes do erupt on a yearly basis, though not at the same time or in a specific order. We are safe here, worry not.

"I do not have a girlfriend and I don’t want one. Why do you need to know?”

Victor smiled. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

“No. Despite the much lighter views here than in some other places - especially because of soulmates and all - we aren’t so open with relationships here. No one at the school would really mind, but even opposite sex couples aren’t overly affectionate in Japan’s magical community. That’s a private thing. Usually. Circumstances depend.”

Victor hummed. “I’ve had many girlfriends and boyfriends. They were kind of… lacking, I guess.”

“Are you looking for your soulmate?” asked Yuuri. “You do know that the chance of you actually meeting your perfect match in incredibly low, right?”

“I know! But that doesn’t mean I’m going to give up! Besides, I have a Patronus!”

“A what?”

Victor blinked. “We adapted the Latin version of the word. Hold on.” The other stared off into the distance for a moment, before his eyes lit up once again. “Shugo Seishin!”

Oh. In some magical communities, it was a belief that if two people had matching spirit guardians, then they were soulmates. It was supposedly one of the ways that people could tell if they were meant for each other. Another was sexual intercourse. Some other methods were wrong and not legal in Japan.

He wouldn’t even consider them.

“Do you have one?” asked Victor.

“No. That kind of magic is harder to do for those of us who’ve had relatively good lives. No joyful memory we use is ever good enough.”

Victor scoffed. “You don’t need memories, you need emotion!” He stood then, clasping a hand around Yuuri’s arm and pulling him up as well. “I don’t use memories because no memory will last forever. But happiness can be eternal. Come, let us try now!”

Yuuri stuttered and tried to pull away, but Victor was insistent, pulling out his wand and taking a familiar stance.

A few seconds later, a silvery figure leapt forth from the end of the wand, and galloped about the small knoll that Yuuri loved sleeping on.

Victor’s Shugo Seishin was an Abraxan. It was beautiful, with long wings that stretched out, and a perfect main of silver hair.

“Abraxans stand for beauty and quiet strength, according to my people. I like to think that it holds special meaning.”

Victor gestured for Yuuri to come and try.

The brunet stepped forward, only to be drawn into a light embrace, where Victor gripped his wand arm with one hand, and his hip with the other.

“You need to think of something happy. Something that could make you fly without magic even.”

Yuuri shivered, but closed his eyes to concentrate anyway. His current predicament was nice enough, and when he let his mind wander, it got even better.

Waving his wand and thinking really hard, Yuuri tried to cast the spell that had eluded him for so long.

Opening his eyes, he could see a small funnel of silver sprouting from the tip of his wand. Nothing grandiose or amazing, but for he who had never managed anything of the sort before, it was a big deal.

Unable to help himself, he turned around and embraced the Russian in his excitement.

“All you need to do is detail the thought that made this possible,” Victor whispered in his ear, making Yuuri shiver again.

That thought probably shouldn’t be publicized. Ever.

News spread fast that Victor Nikiforov and Yuuri Katsuki were now friends. Where every one of Yuuri’s classmates expected a pompous ass who would start fights with their star Seeker, they instead found a kind-hearted young man with a desire for happiness and peace.

Victor was a breath of fresh air. He also inspired many to step up their training. His presence made them feel like they could accomplish anything. And with the way he spoke of never giving up and always trying, Yuuri could understand their astonishment.

He was still shocked, and he was the one that Victor had chosen to spend time with the most.

Of course Victor brought his own friends into the fold as well. Yuuri’s small group of friends got on with Victor’s friends well enough, and they had already made a study group that would go out into one of the courtyards at lunch and do assignments together.

Yuuko was the leader of the study group, so to speak. She had the most efficient study methods available and together, the groups helped one another excel.

Victor was very… clingy. He liked to touch and be touched. It seemed to be his thing, and Yuuri had to get used to it because it happened all the time.

There was a running joke going around that Victor wanted Yuuri as a lover, but no one was willing to say it to their faces. It was whispered in dark corners and among the most quiet places in the castle.

Victor knew all about the rumors and he did absolutely nothing to quell them. Eventually, Yuuri lost interest in starting arguments over it, so he just dropped it. If people wanted to think it, then who was he to care? It wasn’t like he and Victor were being disrespected. They didn’t have partners or anything so no one could really be offended.

Victor’s arm was casually thrown around Yuuri’s shoulders, the two were on their way toward the stables where they and several others would be taking some of the Giant Storm Petrels out for a bit of a fly. Usually they would be having Quidditch practice, but the skies were perfect, and Nishigori preferred to train during terrifying storms. More work, he claimed.

Victor was excited because he’d never ridden a bird before.

“At my school, we have the Zmey. They are a relation to dragons, but aren’t considered dragons by most magical societies because they have multiple heads. Some of the mothers will let me near their clutches, and some mothers let me play with their drakelings.”

“Are they the same as the creature that carried your group here?” Yuuri asked, remembering the large being.

“Exactly! We have many of them, but Rostislav is the largest and strongest. He doesn’t let anyone ride him however. Stubborn.”

Yuuri smiled and thought of the creature that had managed to annoy the keeper of the stables.

He was apparently very picky on what he preferred to eat, which made feeding him difficult.

“I’m excited! Do you ride bareback?”

Yuuri face flamed. “Excuse me?”

“For the Petrels? Do you bridle them and have saddles of some sort or do you simply sit there?” Victor clarified, his mind obviously not going where Yuuri’s had.

With deep shame at his own lecherous mind, Yuuri responded in a positive. “We have saddles. You’ll see.”

Yuuri endeavored to keep his mind clear for the rest of the day, even when Victor insisted they share a bird. Even when they actually shared the seat. Even when he was forced to ride up front because he was shorter and 'should be able to see everything too’ according to Victor.

No, his mind did not wander once.

“Do you get snow around here during the Winter months?” Victor asked, curious about the current climate and the fact that it was in the middle of November and the temperature hadn’t changed yet.

Yuuri, who was busy sipping from a cup of tea, froze for a second. “Naturally, the islands do not get snow because the temperature stays around 22 °C year 'round. However, O-sensei takes ten days in December where she influences the weather and the atmosphere, to force snow to fall.

"The mahounashi at the nearby military base haven’t really noticed anything beyond the suddenness coming in December. O-sensei doesn’t keep the same dates every year, just so it can’t be tracked. So there will be snow, but only for a little while. She’ll tell us when.”

That was good. Victor loved the snow. “I hope it happens during my birthday.”

“When’s your birthday?”

“Christmas. When is yours?”

“The twenty-ninth of November.”

Victor would have to get him something then.

He’d heard some students talking about being allowed to have pets, and Yuuri didn’t have one at the school. And Yuuri also liked poodles.

Victor’s smile went wide.

He knew what to get Yuuri!

“Have you heard from Mari-chan lately?”

Yuuri shook his head. “She’s been really busy and I don’t want to get in the way.”

At Victor’s confused look, Yuuko explained. “She’s Yuuri-kun’s older sister. She’s away on a job right now, so she hasn’t been home in a while.”

“Oh.”

Yuuri was smiling though. “She’s out there being awesome, so I can’t complain too much.”

Victor got him a puppy! It was tiny and cute and he loved it!

He also decided to name it Victor, but called it Vic-chan when around others. Vic-chan came from the same litter as Victor’s own poodle, Makka-chin.

This made getting Victor a good gift even more important. He just didn’t know what to get someone who seemed to have everything already.

“I just want you to manage to create a Shugo Seishin. That’s all I need.”

And so Yuuri applied himself more fastidiously to training. If only to see Victor smile at him like Yuuri lit up his world.

Unlike the westerners, the Japanese did not rely on words to convey their magic. Intent was the most important thing, which was why only rituals needed words.

Yuuri meditated more than he ever had before. He studied carefully, and tried to find the amount of happiness within himself in order to conjure a spirit guardian of his own.

Yagiri-O-sensei decided to surprise everyone directly on Christmas Eve, by beginning her ten days of snowfall. The courtyards could be seen covered in couples rolling around in the snow and having snowball fights.

Victor was obviously excited and had somehow gotten into Yuuri’s dorm - someone probably let him in - in order to wake him up early to 'go play’. Yuuri allowed himself to be convinced because it was a special day and he wasn’t going to ruin it for anyone. Let alone Victor.

“I learned that the Japanese don’t really celebrate Christmas, but I wanted to get you a gift anyway. It’s outside. I was afraid of shrinking it, for fear of possibly ruining it.”

Yuuri was dragged along to the common room where very few people resided. Most were reading by the fireplace. The dormitory was rarely ever full on Christmas Eve. Romance was too busy being spread to do anything else really.

“I was surprised not to see Yuuko-chan here! She’s usually awake already!”

Yuuri yawned. “Yuuk-chan is a part of the Jizen group. She doesn’t have early morning classes today, so she’ll be sleeping in for now. Nishigori-san is a part of the Yuuki group. He had to wake up two hours ago for his classes. My group, Chugi, has no classes today.”

“Interesting.”

Victor pulled how in front of the fireplace and told him to wait. He then scampered off, leaving Yuuri standing in his pajamas.

There were a few snickers that he chose to ignore because he did not want to feed into their ideas.

“Here it is!”

Victor reappeared with a large box floating in front of him. It was wrapped in black paper and was sprinkled with glitter.

“Happy Christmas, Yuuri!” Victor exclaimed, throwing his arms around Yuuri and nuzzling his face into the brunet’s hair.

More snickers followed because Victor did not understand the significance of giving gifts on Christmas Eve. Still Yuuri was touched and resolved to complete his spirit guardian training as soon as possible.

With a wave of the hand, the wrapping vanished, leaving a simple, brown box and a lid. The lid levitated off the gift and was dropped on the floor so that Yuuri could look inside.

“Yu-chan!”

Yuuri’s mouth dropped open when his older sister popped out of the box to throw her arms around his shoulders.

Mari’s squad had been stationed over in Australia. They were supposed to be uncovering some kind of dangerous creature in one of the Australian deserts, at the behest of the Australian Ministry. Mari was a Magizoologist, and was considered one of the best in her field.

She had been gone for two years, and they’d only been able to Fire-Call one another a few times. Letters were even less frequent.

Yuuri took comfort in the lingering smell of tobacco in her hair. She hadn’t changed much, if at all. A little older and a little scarred on the one arm, but she was still the same.

And Victor had somehow brought her here.

Yuuri couldn’t help but send the other teen a grateful smile. This was the best gift he could have ever gotten!

Victor wasn’t expecting Yuuri to burst into his room. Rarely did the inhabitants of Mahoutokoro venture inside their visitors’ ship. But Yuuri looked insistent.

“Victor-kun, I wanted to give you a gift as well,” said the other, slightly out of breath.

Before Victor could even ask, Yuuri lifted his wand and made a small, circular motion with it. Immediately, a silver Abraxan shot forth, tiptoeing nearer to where Victor was seated in order to headbutt him.

The Russian gaped for a moment, before leaping off his bed and capturing Yuuri into his arms, kissing him soundly on the mouth.

From where they were peeking around the corner, Yuuko and Mari smiled.

“I don’t think they understand that the guardian’s only show who you love most. They don’t actually show soulmates,” Mari murmured, a small frown in place.

Yuuko tsked. “It’s adorable either way. And no one said soulmates have to get together anyhow.”

“True. Hey look, they’re tonguing now.”

Yuuko giggled.

{6 Months Later}

“I want a good, clean game,” the referee said sternly, eyeing up the players on both teams.

Victor and Yuuri shared a grin. There they both were, though it wasn’t as if no one expected it.

The Quidditch World Cup was held in Germany this year, and Victor’s team was up against Yuuri’s team, as many had predicted the former year.

Just because they were in a relationship, did not mean that they would not make each other work for the victory. If anything, this would just push both of them on to try even harder!

The Seekers both shook hands for good showmanship, and even shared a wink between them.

The players hunched over their brooms, and when the whistle sounded, they took off amidst the roars of the crowd.

Victor wouldn’t trade this for the world.

Check out my other Soulmate AUs!

#Victuuri #Victuri #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #yoi #yuri on ice #yuri!!! on ice #otp #gay otp #victor nikiforov #yuri katsuki #this

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joellbarham85 · 4 years

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From Tragedy to Sobriety

By Bill I., Transformations Alumnus

Hello, my name Bill and I’m an alcoholic. I started drinking regularly at the age of 13. Before I started drinking I viewed myself as pretty much a loser was never good at anything mediocre at best. I was full of fear and self-doubt. I was bullied in school and made fun of by older kids and that did nothing but make me recede more into myself. When I was introduced to alcohol my whole outlook on life changed. I was no longer a loser, I had self-confidence. I could relax around people and no longer feel like a target. I stood up for myself.

I made through high school up until I got expelled in my junior year. I moved out of my parents’ house and went to Baltimore, Maryland, where I got a job working construction. I was good at what I did and was promoted very quickly. At age 19 I had my own company truck and a 4-man crew working under me. I went to St.Louis, Missouri, and was there until Christmas of 1984. We were getting ready to take Christmas break. We went to work on a Wednesday and it rained the night before so I told the guys we couldn’t work and had them all come to my place for some beer and cocktails. Around noon one of the guys needed to leave so I offered him a ride. Big mistake!! On our way to his house, I was flying down a service road, I came to a knoll in the road and as soon as I ripped it there was a car at the stop sign I couldn’t slow down fast enough. I swerved to miss her as I swerved she proceeded to turn and I T-boned her hitting her driver’s side door at 70mph, she had her 13-year-old son in the car with her. That lady was Norma Rae Wilkins. She was 43 she had three children and a husband who loved her. She died at the scene of the accident. I was in a blackout and don’t remember much of that day. But I remember the crash like it was yesterday. When I was in the holding cell is when it hit me and if I ever needed a drink, it was then.

I told you that to tell you this; At that time and for many years later, I didn’t think I was an alcoholic. More about alcohol in the Big Book talks about all the ways we tried to control our drinking. I’ve tried countless times with no permanent solution; 14 rehabs, 13 1/2 years in prison. I wasn’t broken.

When I got to Transformations I thought I was done. I did the PHP and the outpatient programs there and I relocated to Florida. The thing was, I failed to grow spiritually. I failed to go on with the 12 steps. I had no solution. After a few months of no solution in my life, I resort to what I know works. You see, my mind was screaming and I couldn’t shut it off. So I started drinking again, and while it only lasted a few days, I was immediately homeless. The alcohol stopped working so I went to my other go-to which was heroin and I overdosed. I woke up in Bethesda Hospital very ungrateful. I tried another halfway and for a few months and I was doing alright. I still didn’t expand my spiritual growth and relapsed again on a flight back home to Pennsylvania.

I drank and did my thing like everything was good but deep down I knew, the seed was planted. I moved back in with my parents because that’s what all 52-year-old alcoholics do. Then the night came when my mother and I had words and I could see all the pain and hurt that I caused her. That stuck in my head. The next morning I woke up and something changed, I knew I couldn’t go on like this. I called a friend of mine in recovery and he picked me up and took me to detox. I went through yet another treatment center and had a spiritual experience. I knew something had to change. I became willing to do whatever it takes to stay sober. Today I continue with the same willingness and vigor that I had upon getting out. My sobriety date is 11/4/17. By the Grace of God, I am still sober and do my part to help others like me.

The post From Tragedy to Sobriety appeared first on Transformations Treatment Center.

from https://www.transformationstreatment.center/alumni/from-tragedy-to-sobriety/

from Transformations Treatment Center - Blog https://transformationstreatment.weebly.com/blog/from-tragedy-to-sobriety

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jasonstaylortx · 4 years

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From Tragedy to Sobriety

By Bill I., Transformations Alumnus

The post From Tragedy to Sobriety appeared first on Transformations Treatment Center.

source https://www.transformationstreatment.center/alumni/from-tragedy-to-sobriety/ from Transformations Treatment Center https://transformationstreatment1.blogspot.com/2020/03/from-tragedy-to-sobriety.html

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montyake · 6 years

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"Dear Bertie", published February 14, 2018 at 06:30AM :: ∩ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ∩ ~♥ Read and comment on this and many more works of Poetry, Prose, Plays, Publicity and Pulp at www.montyake.com

Love. Any colour, taste, or feel of it. We all love. For Valentine’s day 2018 our prompt was to write any short piece about romance or love, with the strict rule of not being cynical about it (for, in our edginess we often resort to treating it scathingly and mishandling love in our creative writing). I wanted to show that love, earnest love, could still be both happy and sad, without being cynical.

Here is a letter, written from Gerald to Bertie.

Dear Bertie,

Hello Bert! Sorry that it has been such a long time since my last correspondence. Thank you for your card at Christmas; I trust you received ours. I still enjoy seeing that fat little robin on my mantle by the window, even though the spring is well upon us. It will tickle you to know that a robin often pops by to look into my room here (I have named him Bertie too, for your sake) and I am certain that he is quite enamoured of that happy little chap on the card.

Arthur told me about Margaret. The family said they would send a card with deepest sympathies, to which I am assured my name has been attached. I trust that you received that, too. I hope the children are fine and still do not mind having you around. Mind, Danny is probably too busy these days to tend to the garden, so I am sure he is glad of your help. Are your fingers still green, Bertie? You’ll be sowing those brussels soon if you’re looking to enjoy them come Christmas.

Mine still come by each week, make sure I’m not up to any trouble here. Megan’s just had her second, who to his future discredit has been named after me. I’ll send you a snap of us with my next letter, provided she wants to bring little Gerald with her when she visits. I am very excited about meeting him.

I shall say a prayer for Margaret tonight. I recall when Mary left us. It isn’t so bad, old chum, they’ll be together now. Best give them enough time to really rip into us proper before we join them, eh? Get it out their systems, you know?

Before I came here, must have been August four years ago, I ventured down the old bridle by the church. You recall it Bertie? Grown over terribly before you left the village, but they gave it a good clear out when the new equine school took over Marsh Court. I made it all the way to the knoll, if you’ll believe it.

I pictured you with Margaret, and Mary with me, and I sat right on the lick of tall fescue where we would picnic in the summer. Not a soul came by the whole afternoon. I had wrapped a cheese and pickle sandwich for my lunch (wasn’t a spot on Mary’s hampers, you’ll recall) which I enjoyed with an apple I had picked on the walk.

Through the parting willow trees one can still see as far as Staunton, you know? All this time later and they still haven’t conquered our little patch of Avalon with that sprawling metropolis you used to go on about, old boy. Seems at times that everything and nothing changes, in the tick of a clock or a turn of the globe, it is all so familiar, and so new.

I would like for us to return there some time, Bert, the four of us. Perhaps in the summertime, eh? Perhaps for Mary’s birthday, when the blue fortunes bloom.

It looks as though I am out of field to plough, old friend, so I must bid you adieu. We look forward to your reply. Give our regards to Margaret. Let me know how things are with you, eh? You can continue replying care of Arthur, who will make sure your words reach me. Sending all our love to you and yours.

Faithfully,

G&M Read More

#IFTTT #WordPress #Montyake.com #Montyake

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thoshebebutlittle319 · 7 years

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Johnny. The safest hug. The loyalist heart. The only human cigarettes ever smelled good on. He is a protector. My surrogate brother. And the most formidable Sudoku opponent I have ever known. The only person that reduces me to tears of joy simply by entering the room. When I first met Johnny, there was no mistaking his blatant distrust of my friendly Midwestern charm. It was March 2010. I was just two weeks off the boat, an Iowa transplant in picturesque, but foreign Chester, Connecticut lands. The Pattaconk Bar and Grill served as the mid-point between work and home and since I didn’t know a soul in New England, it seemed a convenient spot to start making my mark on this little town. "Why do you always drink cider?" "I can't drink your beer, I have Celiac's disease," I explained. "What the fuck is that," Johnny’s eyes narrowed with skepticism. "It's a gluten allergy, I can't have anything with wheat flour," I said plainly, bracing myself for his condescension. His eyes rolled. "Jeez, so you're one of those people," he huffed, returning back into the kitchen. I had lost the battle. But I would not lose the war. My stepfather had warned me about New Englanders. "They're cold," he explained, "This will be a change for you." But my warm Midwestern charm had already melted the icy facade of one New Englander....and it just happened to be Johnny's best friend. I knew if my romantic fling should continue, this was one New Englander I needed to win over. I was not prepared to remain unliked by the Kitchen Manager of my favorite after work hang out for long. It was the end of April. The buds of the flowering trees in front of my Village Knoll apartment building were beginning to open, thanks to the generosity of seasonal temperatures. I stepped out of my apartment in a sundress and sandals, filled with a sense of signature springtime optimism. I made the mile and a half walk to the Pattaconk and sat down a couple bar stools away from Johnny. My new beau, Bobby was behind the bar and his buddy Jym walked through the door and sat down next to me. "Are you excited for May Day,” I asked, smiling from ear to ear. Johnny, Jym and Bobby looked me like I was speaking some foreign Midwest language. "May Day, like when you're calling for help," Jym inquired. "Ummm....no. Like May Day. Like the 1st of May when you leave your friends cups of candy at their front door and then run away before getting caught." The boys erupted with laughter. "You have to be the strangest person I've ever met," Johnny dismissed me and disappeared into his kitchen safe house once again. I left the bar that night, gleefully accepting my new mission. I walked to the Adams in downtown Deep River and bought gummy warms, Oreos and all the required May Day childhood fixings. I may never be a New Englander, but at the very least, I would not be ignored. These New Englanders would learn to love me. The next day, I showed up at the bar with an unusually large purse and waited for all the opportune moments to surprise my would-be friends with their May Day baskets. Bobby was easy of course. He smiled, laughed and gave me a kiss on the forehead. Jym blushed with embarrassment at the shock of a small cup of candy on his barstool after returning from the bathroom. Johnny slipped behind the bar to cash out one of his regulars and nearly walked right into a perfectly executed Midwestern May Day basket hanging on a tap handle. I couldn't hide my smirk. Johnny couldn't hide his smile. He grabbed my May Day basket, walked over to my side of the bar and dropped it in front of me. "I don't like sweets," he said, grabbed his beer and walked over to the jukebox. I wish I could say the May Day basket was my golden ticket. I wish I could say it only took a small cup of candy to win over Johnny. But nothing truly worth having is ever quite that easy. As most flings do, Bobby and I fizzled out by the end of June. Although I no longer needed Johnny’s acceptance to maintain a romantic interest, I refused to let some fizzled out fling rob me of the only place in New England that felt like home. I did not quit. In fact, I came more often. Every day after work, I would stop in to the Pattaconk, drink a cider, talk with the locals and say hello to Bobby and Johnny. It was a Sunday in the middle of July, and I was in the heat of tech week. I had been locked in a kitchen, cooking breakfast, lunch and dinner for New York City's most entitled chorus girls and I had had my fill. I showed up at the Pattaconk at 10:30pm, wearing shorts, a sweaty t-shirt and a ratty Iowa football hat, my face puffy and smeared with makeup from the hot summer day...and there was Jym and Johnny...at the end of the bar, watching a Red Sox game. They took one look at me. "You look like shit," Jym said. I couldn't hold back the tears. Johnny left his bar stool and poured a cider and two shots of Blackhaus. "Let's go outside," he told me. I followed Johnny onto the patio. He pulled out a chair for me, lit a cigarette and raised his shot glass. "Cheers," we clinked and I winced at the blackberry burn of the Blackhaus in the back of my throat. "Feel better?" he joked. I tried to smile through the tears. "So what's going on?" "You really want to know," his concern, although welcomed, took some adjusting to. "Of course," he said, "We all need someone to cry to." And just like that, a bond was formed. I talked about the homesickness. The loneliness. The heartbreak of realizing your childhood dream would go unrealized. And he listened. Bought me another shot. And listened some more. Next thing I knew it was 1am and the two of us were drunk off Blackhaus, laughing uncontrollably at Tim Wakefield’s batting average. Summer cooled into fall and fall cooled even further into winter. Every Thursday, Friday and Saturday, I would be at the Pattaconk at 7:30 sharp. Johnny was waiting at the end of the bar, a book of Sudoku’s in hand. "You ready to get smoked again?" "Whatever, Johnny. You can't get lucky every night." It’s been 7 years and I have yet to win a single Sudoku match. This was our weekend routine. Sudoku’s, ciders, Blackhaus and unlimited credits on the jukebox. The regulars would close out their tabs and retire for the evening. Johnny would close the kitchen, Bobby would clean the bar and I would help him with his pull for the night. Bobby would lock up, yawn and say good night. But Johnny, even in the dead of winter, stumbling and drunk, had no intention of allowing me to walk home alone. For Sunday Night Football, Johnny would make personalized gluten free pizzas for me, pepperoni, mushroom and jalapeno, as the boys devoured their wings and beer. Johnny shut down the kitchen early enough to catch the 4th quarter with me and the boys. “How’s the pizza?” “Terrible as usual.” I was even speaking New England sarcasm fluently. Johnny bought us a round of Blackhaus. “Guess who you’re meeting next week?” “Oh god, don’t tell me you’re seeing another actor,” Johnny groaned. He perpetually disapproved of any man in my life other than Bobby. “You’re funny,” I smirked. “I just so happens you’re going to meet my sister. And you’re going to like her.” “Oh Goood, you’re telling me there’s two of you???” My sister was in grad school in Salt Lake City, UT and was finally making the journey east to experience what all this New England fuss was about. I picked her up from the airport and took her straight to the Pattaconk, raving about our pending order of Johnny’s gluten free wings and french fries. I walked through the door at the Pattaconk, my sister following behind me. Johnny had just walked out of the kitchen, grumbling with his usual New England cynicism…but stopped dead in his tracks as soon as he laid eyes on my sister. I knew that her blue eyes, bouncy blonde hair and pure Midwestern sweetness would be no match for Johnny. She melted him from the inside out. The weekend we all spent together was the happiest I’d ever seen him. It was clear to me that his distrust of Midwestern friendliness was a thing of the past. My sister’s visit to New England was also a turning point for me as well. I had pushed myself outside any comfort zone I’d ever created and forged a family unit inside an inconspicuous drinking hole in small town Connecticut. But it did not trump the bond I shared with my big sister. The weekend after she left, I sat alone at the Pattaconk late Sunday night. I could see Johnny in the kitchen, wiping down the prep station. He turned off the light and saw me at the end of the bar. He came over, a sad smile on his face and gave me the longest, tightest hug. “You’re going to Utah, aren’t you?” I smiled back at him, trying not to cry. And nodded yes. “You need your sister,” he said, with a tight, brave smile. “And I know she needs you too.” “And don’t even cry about it because you’re coming back. This is where you belong.” A man of few words, but all the right ones. The morning before my departure that February morning, Bobby and Johnny dropped me off at my apartment. Johnny lit a cigarette and dug his hands in his coat pockets. He walked over, held me tight and wiped the tears from my cheeks. “You cry all the time.” I laughed. “You know I love you.” “Not as much as I love you.” As the years have gone by, Johnny is still the safest place I’ve ever known. Still the kindest heart, the warmest hug. The brother I never had. He would buy me Blackhaus for every victory and ridicule me mercilessly every time I cried over some defeat. He is a true soulmate. There is not a day that goes by that I don’t thank the Universe for leading me into that bar my first two weeks in New England. My life would simply not be the same had that day never happened. Home is not always a place, but sometimes a person. And that is the most beautiful gift of all.

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