#Also I’ve probably consumed a total of one bottle of water over the past week

[idyllicdyl]

Also I started reading tomorrow, tomorrow, and tomorrow and they mentioned autostereograms (aka stereograms) and now I have given myself a headache from looking at so many

[emm-jayy]

sabotage - Spencer Reid

Summary: You start having a ton of bad luck, and you can’t figure out why

warnings: drugs (opioids, narcotics) but no actual use. gunshot

“God, I’m so sorry i’m late.” You say, setting your bag down, “My power went out last night, and my alarm didn’t go off.”

You hated being late, and since you were the newest person on the team, you definitely didn’t want to ruin what little reputation you had. You had been there almost a year, but it does take a lot for this team to trust a new comer.

“It’s alright Y/n, just try not to let it happen again.” Hotch says. “We’ve got about two or three days before we get our next case. Do any paperwork you need to catch up on, and mainly just relax. Good work these past weeks.” He finishes.

You sigh a sigh of relief. You really didn’t want to have to do too much work these coming days. You loved your job, but doing all of this work could get exhausting.

You take your bag from the conference room down to your desk in the bullpen, and begin working.

A few hours into your shift, you hear someone call your name. You look up from your desk, and see a mailman.

You get up, and head over to him. It wasn’t too unusual to get packages at work, especially if you listed the building on a form of some kind.

You sign for the package, and tell the mailman to have a nice day.

You head back to your desk to open the package. It was pretty small, and it looked nice enough, maybe like it had gotten beaten up in the postal service a bit.

You open up the box with a small letter opener on your desk, and then your stomach drops.

You recognize the bottle, and the contents inside.

Hydrocodone. One of your weaknesses back in the day. Beside it, there is a note, scrawled in horrid handwriting that reads, “Miss me?”

“Hey, Y/n, do you have that paper that you needed to sign?.” Spencer Reid walks up to your desk, luckily where he cannot see the inside of the box.

Still, you freak out and close the box a little too frantically, “Jeez, give a girl a warning before you walk up like that.” You say, searching your desk for the paper.

“I’m sorry, you seemed distracted and I really need that paper.” He says, shifting on his feet.

“Yeah, I get it. Just give me a second to find it.” You snap, still looking for the paper, “Here.” You say, setting it near him.

When you look up, you see a confused look on Spencer’s face. “Are you okay?” He asks, looking at you with a knowing look on his face.

“Yes, Spencer, I’m fine.” You say, hoping he’ll just buy it and leave. He does, and turns to walk back to his desk.

You sigh, and look at the box again. You take it, and shove it into your bag.

~

The next day, you walk into the office late, again. Hotch looks at you, arms crossed.

“I’m sorry, I had more bad luck. There was no hot water in my building.” You huff.

“One more time, and we’re going to have a serious talk.” Hotch says, walking back into his office.

“Hey, Y/n, there’s a package on your desk.” Morgan says, pointing towards it. You huff, and look at the package.

You see it’s a similar small box just like yesterday, with the same address. You looked it up last night, and it was just an old warehouse. You assumed it had little to no significance to whoever was sending you these packages.

You open up the box, careful to make sure no one else sees inside. This time, it’s a bottle of Oxycontin, with a note that said, “come talk to an old friend.”

You once again, shove the box into your work bag, and try your best to ignore it for the day.

The day is almost the same as yesterday, except for as you’re getting up to get coffee, you run into Reid.

“Did you know that the average cup of coffee has about 100 milligrams of caffeine?” He says, leaning against the counter, “And that caffeine is the United States most popular drug? With over 90 percent of Americans consuming it in some form. It’s also one of the easiest drugs to get addicted too since it’s so accessible.” He says, ironically drinking his own coffee.

“It’s definitely easier to get addicted to other things.” You mutter under your breath.

“What was that?” Reid asks, searching your face.

“Cool facts Reid!” You say, a tight smile on your face, and you begin to walk over to your desk.

“I have more if you’d like!” He says, a joyous look on his face, “For example, did you know the average age people start drinking coffee is age 12?” He says as you sit down at your desk.

“Reid, as much as I’d love to hear more facts about my favorite beverage, I’ve got to finish this.” You say, gesturing to the pile of work you have.

“Of course.” He says, heading back to his own, that was near yours, “Thank you for listening.” He says, softer than he usually speaks.

“Always, Spence.” You reply, looking into his eyes.

~

The next day is the third day in a row that you’re late. You begin to explain to the team the exact reason, that your car had run out of gas, when you see Hotch standing at your desk.

“Y/n, I need to see you in my office. Now.” He says, and begins to walk toward his office. The team gives you sympathetic looks, and you look down towards the floor, your face turning pink. You set your bag down by your desk, and head up the stairs.

After you shut the door to Hotch’s office, you immediately begin your apology.

“I’m so sorry sir, I have no idea what’s been wrong lately. It’s just a string of really bad luck. I understand that this is a professional environment and I shouldn’t be late, but-” You notice that Hotch’s hand is raised, telling you to stop. You fall silent.

“That’s not what I need to talk to you about.” He begins to explain. You let out a sigh of relief, maybe a bit too soon.

“There’s no easy way to say this Y/n.” Hotch sighs, looking down. “You failed your drug test. They found traces of Hydrocodone and Oxycontin in your urine.” Hotch finishes, looking up at you.

“W-What? That’s not possible.” You say, mostly to yourself.

“Y/n, I was able to look over your past when you applied for this job. I figured that you were too good of an agent to deny simply because of a drug problem years ago. But if you’re going to go and be careless-”

“If I had relapsed, I would’ve taken myself off of the team.” You say, looking at Hotch, “I have not been careless, but I have been keeping something from you all.” You say, digging your phone out of your pocket.

“For the past two days, someone has been sending me packages here. One was filled with a bottle of Hydrocodone, the other Oxycontin. Along with those, were these notes.” You say, showing him the handwritten notes.

“There’s no way it’s a coincidence that the same pills they’ve been sending me showed up on my drug test.” You shake your head, “I apologize for not coming to the team sooner, I thought I could do this on my own.”

“Where are these drugs now?” Hotch says, looking up at you.

“I threw them away, I should’ve kept them I know.” You say nervously.

Hotch sighs, studying the pictures. “I’m going to have to suspend you, that part is out of my hands. But I will get the team on this today. It’s okay if I tell them about your past?” He asks, looking up at you with sympathetic eyes, a rarity for him.

You let out a breath, and then nod, “They would’ve found out eventually.” You look out the window of Hotch’s office, looking at the team fraternizing. What would they think of you? Would they shame you? Understand? Reid would probably rattle off some statistics about suspended FBI agents. You almost smile at the thought.

“Alright then. Leave your badge and gun on my desk, and I, or any member of the team, will contact you when we have something.” You nod, and place your gun down, and pull your credentials out of your wallet.

You exit the office, and prepare yourself for the questions you’re about to be asked. You decide to let Hotch tell them, and answer the questions later.

You collect yourself, and walk down to your desk to grab your bag. You keep your eyes down, until Morgan decides to speak up, “Hotch come down on your ass for being late a few times?” He laughs lightly.

You offer a tight-lipped smile to Morgan, “Totally, that’s what happened.

You walk over to Spencer, who’s sitting on top of his desk, “Don’t solve too many cases without me.” You say, a hand on his shoulder.

“Wait, where are you going?” Spencer asks, turning towards you.

“Hotch will tell you guys. You all have my number, I’ll see you soon.” You offer a smile to the team of confused faces.

You walk out of the BAU doors, and into the elevator. You pull out your phone to get an uber, the same way you cake to work today, when someone else steps into the elevator.

“Hey.” Spencer says softly, “I couldn’t let ya leave without hearing from you why you’re leaving.” He says, looking down at his feet.

“Spencer?” You say, trying to meet his eyes. “Yeah?” He replies.

“How many suspended agents get to come back into the field?” You ask, a nervous look on your face.

“53 percent. Why do you- Oh.” He realizes why you’ve asked. Just then, the elevator dings, and you step out, and open the doors to the front of the building, still trying to get an uber.

You sigh, and sit down on the curb to wait for the uber. You hear the sliding of shoes on the concrete, and then, Spencer is beside you.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks, looking towards you with squinted eyes.

“No.” You sigh, wiping a frustrated tear away from your face. You weren’t typically the emotional type. “I’d rather have Hotch tell you all.”

“Okay. If you need anything, call me.” He says, standing up, and walking back into the FBI building.

~

“I know I said today would also be a paperwork day, but meet me in the briefing room. We’ve got a case.” Hotch says, addressing the bullpen, as Spencer walks back into the room.

Everyone stands up, and follows Hotch to the briefing room.

Once everyone is settled, Hotch begins.

“Over the past few days, Agent Y/L/N has been receiving drugs in the mail, along with handwritten notes. One said ‘miss me’ and the other ‘Come talk to an old friend’.” Hotch says, showing the pictures you had taken on the screen.

“And then, today, Y/L/N’s drug test came back, and she had tested positive for Hydrocodone, and Oxycontin.”

The faces of the team say it all, confusion, and disbelief.

Hotch attempts to ignore it, and brings up an even more hard to believe subject. “The problem with this is, Y/n used to be addicted to both of those drugs, so the Bureau is going to come down onto her. They’ve already made me suspend her.” Hotch clears his throat. “When I interviewed her, Y/n made it very clear she was off of those drugs. I thought it was stupid to deny such a good agent over an addiction that happened years ago. And I still believe that, so we are going to work to see who is doing this to agent Y/L/N.”

The team looks at each other, still in disbelief, until something interrupts them.

A mailman at the door, holding a box, “Package for Y/n?” He says. Morgan is immediately up, taking the box.

The whole team gets up as Morgan sets the box onto the table. He tears it open, and the team is met with yet another bottle, and a note that says, “Don’t be a stranger.”

“Reid, what is this?” Morgan asks, holding up the bottle. Spencer was still sitting down, looking at the small case file. He was in a daze of disbelief still.

“Reid!” Morgan says, louder this time. “Hm?” He looks up.

“What is this?” Morgan asks again, gesturing to the bottle.

Spencer grabs the orange bottle, “It looks like Vicodin. One of the easiest opiates to get addicted to.” He replies, handing the bottle back to Morgan.

“Okay, so we know that the unsub doesn’t know Y/l/n has been suspended. Otherwise they would be sending the boxes to her apartment.” Rossi says.

“It’s routine to investigate suspensions. But please, try to keep this as quiet as possible. I don’t want anything getting messed up to the point that Y/n can’t come back to the team.” Hotch says, looking around at the team.

“Alright. Garcia, I want you working people from Y/L/N’s past. Anyone who would know where she works now. Rossi and JJ, I want you guys looking at the address on the boxes and seeing if there’s any connection to the unsub. Morgan and Prentiss, look at the handwriting, and see if it matches anything we’ve seen from the list that Garcia gets. Reid, help them with that, and then, I want you to go to the Urinalysis lab to see if anyone could’ve tampered with the drug test.” The whole team disperses, but Spencer stays still.

“Reid, you okay?” Hotch asks.

“It’s just always the ones you least expect.” Spencer says, looking down at his shoes. Hotch looks at him, and then leaves, off to do his own thing.

Spencer pulls out his phone, and brings up your number. You two had never texted outside of work matters, and here he was, nervous as all hell just to text you.

“Just found out, how are you doing?” He types, and sends it. Nerves rack throughout his body, why the hell is he so nervous?

“I’m doing okay. What is Hotch having you do?” He reads. Spencer sighs, back to work talk.

“I’m helping with some handwriting matching and profiling, and then I’m going down to the Urinalysis lab to see if anyone tampered with your test.” He writes, and puts his phone in his pocket. He’s about to walk out of the door, whenever his phone starts buzzing.

He gets his phone out of his pocket once again, and realizes it’s you. He looks at his phone with wide eyes. He clears his throat, and smooths out his shirt, getting ready to answer the phone. He presses the button, and brings the phone to his ear.

“Hello?” He answers.

“Hey Spencer, sorry for calling, I just needed to hear you saying something.” You confess.

“Yeah, anything. What is it Y/n?” He asks, almost blushing at the fact that you’d call him. You two didn’t even talk that much, but he still very much enjoyed the conversations you did have.

“Can you promise to tell me anything important, as soon as you find out? I don’t want to be left in the dark.” You say into the phone.

Spencer smiles into the phone, “Of course sweetheart.” He says, but then freezes. Why’d he call you that? Why? He clears his throat, “Anyway, I better get going, I want this over as soon as possible.” Spencer says.

“Right, call me later?” You ask.

“Call you later. Bye Y/n.” He says, not really wanting to hang up.

“Bye Spencer.” You reply. He hangs up the call, and finally heads out the door.

He heads down to where Morgan and Prentiss are, and begins to look at the handwriting. It was crude, but in an odd way.

“I think the unsub might’ve written this in their wrong hand.” Spencer says, “I mean that’s a pretty good way to disguise handwriting, it’s very difficult to tell personality traits. But based on that, I think this unsub is pretty smart.” Spencer nods.

“I’ve got to get down to the lab, if you need anything, call me.” Spencer says, walking towards the door.

He gets in his car, and heads to the Urinalysis lab.

“So, is there any way that the test could’ve malfunctioned?” Spencer asks the man who tests all of the urine.

“I highly doubt it. We get false negatives sometimes, but almost never false positives.” The man in the lab coat says, looking at a chart. “I also believe we tested your agent's urine twice. That’s protocol for law enforcement and FBI if there’s a positive.”

“Thank you. Do you know how long it takes for samples to get here after the samples have been given?” Spencer asks.

“Couldn’t be more than a few days. Since we do monthly to bimonthly testing for you folks, they aren’t in the biggest rush.” The man says.

“Who transports the samples here?” Spencer asks.

“I don’t really know, a few different men have come in here.” The man says, seeming a bit nervous.

“Okay, thank you sir.” Spencer says, and walks out of the lab.

Spencer gets into his car, and pulls out his phone, dialing your number.

“Hello?” You answer, nervousness in your voice.

“Hey Y/n, I just got finished at the lab.” Spencer says, buckling his seatbelt.

“What did you find out?” You ask.

“Basically, a lot of people could have handled your sample. The guy at the lab wasn’t too helpful. I do know that the sample they tested definitely tested positive. I suspect that someone along the way either switched out the urine, or something like that. I think it’s a deadend to go through everyone who might’ve touched it though.” Spencer explains.

“Okay, thank you for telling me. Have you heard anything else from the team?” You ask, and Spencer can almost imagine you biting your nails.

“No, not anything that could lead us in the right direction, i’m sorry Y/n.” Spencer answers.

“No, it’s fine. Thank you anyway. I’ll talk to you later?” You ask.

“We will, bye Y/n.”

~

“Bye Spencer.” You hang up the phone, and toss it aside with a sigh.

You stand up, and head to your kitchen. You stand there for a while, contemplating what to eat. You decide you can’t eat anything at a time like this, and go back to the couch you were sitting on before.

You sit by the phone, just awaiting a call. He just called you, but yet you’re nervous for another one.

It would’ve made more sense for you to ask Garcia to call you with updates, as the most information goes through her, but you felt as if Spencer would be the most honest with you. You totally weren’t biased in any way…

Then, there was a knock at your door. You furrow your eyebrows, and head to the door.

“Ma’am? This is Agent Jones from the FBI. I have some paperwork you need to fill out.” You hear the man call through the door.

You look through the peephole, and sure enough, there’s a man standing there with a file in his hand.

“Could you hold up your badge to the peephole please?” You ask, still looking through the peephole.

“Of course ma’am.” He says, holding up his wallet to the door. The badge looks fine, so you undo the chain and open the door.

“Hi, come in.” You say, opening the door wider, and you go to the other room to grab a pen.

“Why didn’t Hotch just give me this paperwork before I left the building today?” You ask, confused, and take the file.

“Oh, everything was so hectic, with them working on your case and all, Hotch sent me down here to give this to you.” Agent Jones explains.

You sit down on your couch, and fill out the short form. You sign your name, and stand up to hand the file back to him.

“Thank you ma’am!” The agent smiles, taking the file from your hands, and turning towards the door. “Oh, and one more thing.” He says, turning back around.

The agent grabs the gun from his holster, aims it at your abdomen, and shoots. The silencer is one, so not much noise comes out.

You stand in shock for a moment, clutching the wound, and then begin to cough as you fall. The agent scurries out of your apartment.

As your vision blurs, you reach to your phone and unlock it. Unable to do anything else, you dial the most recent number in your call list, Spencer.

“Hello.” Spencer calls into the phone. When all you respond with is a cough, Spencer speaks again. “Y/n? Are you okay?”

“Shot… in apartment.” You muster, groaning at the pain.

“Oh fuck okay.” You hear Spencer call for someone to get an ambulance to your apartment, that’d you’d been shot. “I’m getting an ambulance there right now Y/n. I need you to hold on for me. Can you just keep talking to me?” He asks, frantically into the phone.

“Yes.” You reply, but your words slur, so it comes out like “yesh.”

“Okay good, now where are you shot Y/n?” Spencer asks.

You attempt to answer, but your eyes fall shut, and you begin to lose consciousness. The last thing you hear before you lose it completely, is Spencer calling your name.

~

The whole team looks at Spencer, when a horrid look comes across his face.

“She’s not answering me anymore.” He says, “Y/n? Y/N!” Spencer cries into the phone.

“Hey, hey hey, kid, it’s going to be alright. The ambulance is coming to her.” Morgan comes up to him, taking the phone from Spencer.

He looks up to Morgan with watery eyes, “What if she dies, and I never said how i felt about her?” He asks, a single tear falling down his face.

“Hey, come here pretty boy, it’ll be okay. As soon as we know which hospital she’s being taken too, we are all going there.” Morgan says, taking Spencer into a hug.

Spencer nods, wiping his tears away. The team sits in wait for awhile, until Hotch gets a phone call.

“She’s at Fort Washington Medical Center.” Hotch says after hanging up the phone. The whole team is up, and going out the doors to head to the hospital.

When the whole team arrives, Spencer is the first to go to the medical desk to ask for your name.

“She’s in surgery right now. I’ll tell you updates when I can.” The nurse at the desk says, checking a chart.

Spencer sighs, running his hand through his hair. He relays the message to the team, and a lot of them collapse into chairs in the waiting room.

The whole team sits in wait, until a doctor comes out.

“Are you waiting for Y/N?” The doctor asks. Spencer stands up, “Yes we are.”

“Okay, they are closing her up right now. The surgery had some bumps, but we were able to stop the bleeding.” The doctor smiles, and everyone lets out a sigh of relief.

“Thank you so much doctor.” Spencer says, shaking his hand.

“Are you her boyfriend? Because I can let the nurses know to have you in the room as soon as she wakes up.” The doctor says, genuinely trying to help.

“What? No, I’m not- I’m not Y/n’s boyfriend.” Spencer says, laughing nervously. Morgan comes up behind him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Have him be the first one in the room.” Morgan nods towards the doctor.

The doctor smiles, and leaves the waiting room.

“You’ve got to tell her how you feel man.” Morgan says, and Spencer nods.

30 minutes later, a nurse tells Spencer that you should be waking up soon. He gets up, and follows the nurse to your room.

He walks into your room, and takes in the scene. You somehow still look so beautiful, even after taking a gunshot wound.

He takes a chair, and sets it by your bed. Spencer sits in nervousness as he waits for you to wake up.

He sees your eyes slowly open, and how they drift towards him.

“Spence.” You say, a soft smile on your face, and then your expression changes. “Spence.” You say more frantically. “It’s an agent, and agent is the one who did this. I have no idea how I didn't see it-” You start.

“Hey.” Spencer says, putting his hand on yours. “Morgan will be in here later for your interview. Right now, I just need to tell you something.” He says, looking at you.

“Yeah, anything.” You nod, meeting his eyes.

“The thought that I could’ve lost you really brought some of my feelings to light.” He sighs, preparing himself. “I really like you Y/n, and if I don’t tell you now, i’ll never tell you. I should probably be doing this whenever you’re not in the hospital, but I can’t wait any longer.” Spencer confesses, searching your face for any emotion, when you laugh softly.

“What?” Spencer asks, his voice on the verge of breaking.

“As someone with an IQ of 187, I’m surprised you didn’t confess sooner.” You say, “I like you too Spence, ever since I came to the BAU.”

“339 days ago.” He says, under his breath, smiling at you.

“What was that?” You ask, a soft smile on your face.

“I met you 339 days ago, and that’s when I knew I liked you too.” He smiles.

You laugh, “I would kiss you, but I really can’t move right now.” You say.

“Here.” Spencer says, getting up out of his chair, and leaning over you.

Spencer presses a soft kiss to your cheek. “I want our first real kiss to be when you’re well.” He says in a soft voice.

“Okay.” You agree, “Can you get Morgan in here? The whole situation is fresh on my mind and I need to tell him.”

“Of course.” Spencer says, leaving the room to get Morgan. He then stays in the waiting room, so that Morgan and Y/n can get their job done.

“Soooooo.” Penelope says, snaking beside Spencer, “Did you tell her how you feel?” She asks.

“Yeah.” Spencer says, looking at the ground, “She feels the same.”

Garcia gasps, “Yay!” She wraps him in a hug.

About 15 minutes later, Morgan comes out.

“We’re looking for an Agent Jones. Y/n and I assume that he showed his actual credentials to her, because he assumed she’d be dead.” Morgan explains.

“Hold on, the owner of the warehouse the packages were getting sent from is owned by a Jones.” Rossi says.

“Everyone, get ready. Garcia, find all agents with the last name Jones, and get the name of the father from Rossi, get his address. Everyone else, let’s get geared up.” Hotch says.

Spencer walks over to him, “Can I stay with Y/n? I’m sure you’ve all got this.” Spencer asks. Hotch nods, and then walks out of the waiting room.

Spencer goes back into your room, and you smile.

“I’m going to stay here with you while they track down Jones.” Spencer says, sitting in the chair beside your bed.

“Can you tell me gunshot facts?” You ask him, a small smile still on your face.

“You just got shot, and you want to hear facts about it?” Spencer asks, laughing.

“Yeah.” You say, “What were my chances of living, Doctor?” You ask, laughing.

“About 32 percent, considering where you got shot.” Spencer replies.

“Hm, guess I did pretty good.” You say, shrugging your shoulders.

After a few hours of talking, and watching crappy hospital television, Spencer gets a phone call.

“Yeah, thank god, thank you Hotch. Yeah i’ll tell her.” He says to the phone, and then hangs up.

You sit up in your bed, and look at him expectedly, wondering what happened.

“They got Jones, and he confessed to everything. You're good to come back to the BAU once you're medically cleared.” Spencer smiles.

You let out a breath, a huge smile covers your face.

Spencer looks at you, and then leans down, taking your chin in his hand, and kisses you.

After you break away, he smiles.

“I’m sorry, I just couldn’t wait.”

~

tags: @cupcake525 @soupmakesmynoserun @elizabethkaylynn @drspencr @mattgraygubler @nanocoool @reid-187 @darling-doll9 @1800-fight-me @rachel-rebellio

[writethehousedown]

Things Are Really Cool (In Nazareth) (Ninex)- Ortega

a/n: wow hi, welcome to whatever the hell this is? this is a sort of a kind of a n19f verse/masp verse crossover set some years after the originals take place (but you don’t need to have read either to read this), borne out of the semi-autobiographical experience of my last few weeks at work trying to teach five year olds mid-pandemic. basically Nina’s a stressed primary teacher and Monet is her primary teacher girlfriend. this is fulfilling the prompt “Nice” only ten days late and also probably has one million and one typos in my haste to get it out in time for at least Christmas xo regardless, i hope u all enjoy and in the words of boyband JLS, “mewwy cwistmas”.

disclaimer: there are a couple of lines i’ve yoinked out of tv shows here- “lesbian having a panic attack” is adapted from Kimmy Schmidt and the “what are you, forty?” ones are from Always Sunny. leave me alone i’m too tired to be funny at this time of year xo

fic summary: When Nina’s headteacher asks her to pull a Nativity play out of thin air with only a week to organise it, Nina is simply too nice to say no. As a consequence, she is blindly oblivious to what her girlfriend Monet is planning, with useless lesbian results.

Nina knew she was a people pleaser. Always had been, always would be. She was simply too nice to say no to anyone. She had never been one to say no to anything.

She’d never taken the last remaining teabag for herself way back at uni; she’d always elected to leave it for Brooke or Yvie, knowing that Brooke would be grumpy all day if she didn’t have her morning cup of tea and not wanting to deal with the caffeine crash Yvie would experience if she made coffee as a substitute.

It had even started way further back in her life than her twenties. The most rebellious thing she’d ever done in high school was to pull out one of the cables of her German teacher’s computer at the back so she’d spend the whole lesson fixing it instead of teaching their class. In Primary, she was the stereotypical, insufferable goody-two-shoes: didn’t ever lose a minute of Golden Time, finished both her set tasks and the extension work that accompanied them perfectly, and was the worst kind of tell-tale.

(At the time, she thought her teachers loved that- the fact that she acted as their five-year-old corporate spy, ready to report any wrongdoings to headquarters. Contrarily, now that she was a teacher to five year olds, Nina thought that if she heard one more story about who skipped who in the line she would climb very slowly and very carefully into the staffroom microwave and blow herself into fifty million partially-heated bits.)

So when her headteacher ducked her head into her classroom on a cold, wet, rainy Wednesday after all the kids had been dispatched home, Nina panicked. Her eyes darted up to the displays on her walls. Fuck, there were still Halloween pumpkins blu-tacked up there. There was, so far, nothing on her December learning journey wall. And there were still Very Hungry Caterpillars made from bottle tops pushed into dollops of paint stuck to bright green backing paper which had been there since the kids’ first week at school back in August.

Well. Red and green were Christmassy colours. Right?

But Mrs Del Rio didn’t seem all that interested in the state of her wall displays. She’d come to ask Nina if she could film a Nativity play with her class.

“It’s for the parents really,” Bianca had rolled her eyes, folding her arms in her usual no-nonsense way. “Just something they can watch and share with the families since we can’t do a real Nativity. It doesn’t need to be anything big- just a few songs…one, two…say four. And then just have the kids in their costumes with a couple of lines. With a backdrop, y’know, there doesn’t need to be props. Just the baby Jesus…the gifts for the three Kings….maybe a couple of no vacancy signs for the innkeepers…that sort of thing. Just for before we finish up term. Maybe if it could be done by next Friday. That okay?”

And Nina, because she was a people pleaser, had nodded and said yes! and of course! and Bianca had nodded curtly at her in the frostiest thank-you the world had ever seen before leaving.

It had only taken the time in which Bianca’s heels had slowly disappeared from hearing distance for the reality of the situation to sink in for Nina. She’d just agreed to do a whole Nativity play, with songs, and costumes, and props, in the space of eight days.

She was going to be sick like little Jack had done that day he’d come into class and projectile-vomited halfway onto the carpet and halfway into Nina’s outstretched hands.

Nina was so consumed by the all-encompassing panic that she didn’t even flinch when there was a loud, jaunty knock at her classroom door.

“High Court Enforcement,” came a loud, brash voice, Nina finally turning to see who was there with glazed eyes. Willam leant against the doorframe, her messy blonde waves falling over the shoulders of her dark blue jumper like curly vines. She was the only teacher who could match the sass levels of the Year 6s and was a colleague that Nina both loved and feared. Loved because she was straight-talking and blunt and altogether hilarious, but feared because her girlfriend was the deputy head of the school and anything Nina said to her would definitely be reported back as gossip.

Also because she was, for all intents and purposes, a pint-pot riot.

“Nina. Nina. Nina,” Willam said repeatedly, her voice monotone and her persistence irritating. Nina mumbled something out.

“What?”

Nina raked her hands through her shock of frizzy blonde curls and sighed, her stress levels already rising. “I said I’m a lesbian having a panic attack.”

“Oh, that’s a mood. I was sent round to do the collection for the support staff but I’ve already spent forty minutes chatting to Alyssa instead of doing what I was asked. Got a grand total of a fiver so far,” Willam shrugged blithely, coming into Nina’s classroom and perching on one of the tiny munchkin-sized tables. “What’s up?”

The pressure-cooker that her mind was rapidly becoming told Nina to throw caution to the wind and vent, so she told Willam everything in a series of babbles barely comprehensible in the English language.

“So you’ve just agreed to doing a full Nativity video in the space of a week?” Willam cocked her head, pulling a confused face. “Why didn’t you just tell Bianca to fuck off?”

Nina paused, feeling all her panic momentarily leave her body as she fixed Willam with a glare. “Are you expecting me to answer that?”

“No, no. Shit, wouldn’t it have been amazing if you had, though? What d’you think would’ve happened? Maybe she’d’ve shouted so loud at you her lungs would’ve just exploded.”

Nina couldn’t help but blurt out a small laugh. “That’s way too dramatic. She wouldn’t even fire me on the spot because that would mean management having to go in and cover my class tomorrow while they tried to find my replacement.”

Nina regretted the small barb at their management team as soon as it was out, but Willam seemed nonplussed.

“Yeah. Court’s way too impatient to deal with your lil’ rugrats.”

“I’m too impatient to deal with them. I’m too impatient to deal with them on a day to day basis. How I’m going to teach them four Christmas songs in the space of a week, fuck knows.”

Willam cocked her head again, her smile becoming patient. “Well if anyone can do it, it’s you.”

Willam’s words were a small source of comfort to Nina. Suddenly everything seemed doable. She matched her colleague’s smile, glad she’d arrived in that moment. “Thanks, Willam.”

As soon as her words were out, she saw the small, playful twinkle in Willam’s eye. “Because nobody else would’ve been mad enough to agree to the damn thing.”

***

Getting her class sorted and organised for the day couldn’t really be likened to herding cats. No, this process was far more chaotic than that. At half past nine each day what could only be described as a minor tsunami of children hit Nina’s classroom: throwing their jackets into the designated tubs with wild abandon and subsequently knocking anything and everything off her adjacent desk, unloading every possible snack in their lunchboxes into their trays and Nina’s pleas for them to only take one snack out falling on deaf ears, spilling their water bottles and getting the zips on their jackets stuck and wanting to tell Nina a billion and one things that seemed to have happened in the 18 hours they had spent outwith her care.

During the month of December this chaos only intensified. Hats, scarves and gloves littered the classroom floor as they fell off the kids like baubles off a dead Christmas tree, shrieks filled the air as they discovered a new chocolate in the advent calendar, and at least half the class surrounded Nina like festive zombies as they all battled to win the competition of “Who can tell Miss West about what their elf on the shelf had got up to overnight the loudest”.  

Nina hammered the little bell she kept on her desk with the palm of her hand, stress levels already rising. “Okay, Reception! Jackets in tubs, snacks in trays and bums on carpet!”

As her class giggled about their teacher’s use of the word “bum”, Nina sat down in her wheely chair and waited for them all to join her on the little strip of carpet in front of her smartboard. It was moments like these where she’d be hit with a sort of out of body experience; she was someone’s teacher, she was this class’ first teacher. She was sitting in front of her class waiting to take the register and start their day. It was slightly overwhelming, even though she’d been doing the job for a number of years now.

Eventually her kids were all organised and she’d taken the register and made sure they all had a lunch to eat that day. Nina made sure to put on her best excited face as she prepared to tell them about the Nativity.

“Right, Reception!” she said, injecting lots of mystery into her voice like a storyteller. “I have got some very exciting news for you all today!”

Their little faces all grew equally excited as they were expectant, and Nina’s heart almost popped. Just then, Harry, a boy with enough gel in his hair to single-handedly keep Brylcreem in business for a year and huge bottle-top glasses’ hand went up.

“Yes, Harry?”

The boy bounced on the carpet, incredibly eager. “Can I tell you what my elf did last night?”

Ten more hands immediately shot up, and Nina’s heart sank. Great.

But she was still teaching four and five year olds and this was truly the most important thing in their little lives, so she fixed a bright smile on her face and tilted her head inquisitively. “What did your elf do?”

Harry was now sitting on his knees, towering over the other children and threatening to knock himself over with every passing second as he swayed in the nonexistent breeze. “He did a poop in my Dad’s shoes!”

The rest of the class shrieked with laughter in response. Internally, Nina was rapidly reaching her wit’s end. Love it. A bit of toilet humour to start off the Nativity rehearsals. Great. Exactly what’s needed. “Oh my goodness! What a cheeky elf!”

“He did three poops! And you know what else? They were cola jellybeans! I ate them!”

Sophie, a girl with long ginger hair in a low ponytail and a gap in her smile where two baby teeth once lived, gasped in horror. “You ate the elf’s poop?!”

The rest of the class fell about laughing. Nina had to get control back of the situation.

“Well thank you very much for sharing, Harry! Okay everyone, let’s pop our hands down.”

There were still ten hands waving proudly in the air like rebellious flags.

“We can do more elf stories at the end of the day if there’s time!” Nina lied. There would not be time. There was never time. But it placated most of her class enough for them to follow the instruction. There was, however, one remaining hand up which belonged to Jason, a boy with hair so platinum blonde it seemed otherworldly.

“It’s not an elf story! I’ve got a question,” he insisted, shouting out despite the fact his hand was already up. Nina relented, just in case he did have something important to ask. Maybe he was about to pee himself. Highly likely with the Reception kids.

Jason, pleased as punch that Nina was allowing him to speak, put his hand down. “Can I tell you a rhyming word I’ve just thought of?”

Nina’s smile grew all the more gritted, and the muscles in her face all the more tense. This was going to be the longest week she had experienced in living memory.

***

Nina would never get tired of living with Monet. The sound of her singing as the shower provided a backing track, the unholy racket she seemed to make when she cooked (a symphony of swearing, the banging of kitchen utensils, and the clattering of saucepans and baking trays). The smell of the Dior Sauvage she used instead of perfume and the Cantu hair custard she combed through her hair after she washed it. The fact that Nina could get a cuddle from her any time she wanted and the soft squash of her arms around her.

But living with Monet was best at Christmastime. The endless arguments they got into about their Christmas decorations and what looked best where, both stemming from a fierce loyalty to their own family traditions. The way they’d write their Christmas cards to their friends with a Christmas film playing in the background, and the way Monet would tease her about having such picture-perfect, font-like, primary-teacher handwriting. The way Monet would get too excited in the supermarket and load party food into Nina’s shopping basket like a child trying to sneak chocolate.

Even though Nina was completely exhausted, she still felt herself smile as she turned her key in the lock and heard her girlfriend loudly singing along with Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree, paired with the blast of the extractor fan.

“Hello?” Nina sing-songed as she closed the door shut, shedding her heavy jacket and her scuffed trainers and her backpack full of jotters that had been haphazardly stuffed in as she left work.

“Hello!” Monet chirped back, in what had become their tradition since moving in together all those years ago. “Your timing’s perfect, I just finished dinner.”

“Ooh. What is for dinner?”

Monet gestured to the pile of grated cheese, pan of bubbling baked beans, and loaf of white bread. “Beans on toast.”

Nina snorted and leaned against the counter. “Wow, don’t I have the most perfect domestic housewife! That must’ve taken, what…two hours?”

Monet reached over and squeezed her side, eliciting a yelp that would probably give their downstairs neighbours the wrong idea. “Shady bitch. It’s this or two rice cakes that’ve been in the cupboard for so long I swear they’re turning fossilised.”

“No, I’m kidding. Of course I’m hungry, thanks hun. I’ll make dinner tomorrow,” Nina promised, sliding into one of their second-hand wooden dining chairs as Monet plated up.

“No you won’t,” Monet frowned. “You look dead. What’re your kids doing to you, beating you with their tiny little chairs?”

“The fucking Nativity,” Nina sighed, pausing to thank Monet as she placed two slices of golden toast covered with beans and flakes of grated cheese down in front of her. Admittedly it did look like absolute heaven.

“Have you told Bianca to piss off yet?” Monet scowled, stabbing her toast so hard she threatened to break the plate in two.

“What kind of fantasy-land school do you work at where you can tell your headteacher to piss off and she actually listens?” Nina cocked an eyebrow at her, and Monet shrugged in agreement as she chewed a mouthful. “No, of course not. I’m going to make it happen, though, even if it kills me. We started learning the songs today, which you would think was a simple enough endeavour. Except my class, who usually can’t shut up if their lives depend on it, have all the singing volume and skill of one of Yvie and Scarlet’s cat’s chew toys. They don’t even sound like cats being strangled, that’d probably be louder. It’s like trying to have a sing-song with a room full of laryngitis patients. Except it’s not a room, because apparently we’re not allowed to sing inside because of covid. But I can teach Phonics and the kids can all make the ‘p’ sound at me until their hearts’ content and shower me with their spit like the world’s shittiest production of Singin’ In The Rain? Anyway, we have to rehearse outside. In December. I think my feet actually fell off.”

As Nina finally finished what had unintentionally become a fully-fledged rant, Monet attempted to compose herself as she wiped away a small tear of laughter from her eye and clutched at her belly. Nina watched as her girlfriend took a few deep breaths, then fixed her with a humoured grin. “But apart from all that, how was your day?”

Nina stuck her tongue out at her in response. “Shut up. How was yours?”

Monet rolled her eyes as she speared a bean. “Awful. Tried to assess time with my class today. God I love them, Neens, but they’re so bad, how can they be that bad?”

“If anyone can help them progress, it’s you,” Nina smiled encouragingly, only getting a shaken head in reply.

“No, I can’t. Nobody can. They’re beyond help. Some of the answers I got today wouldn’t even be believable if they were part of some TV comedy show. What month is Christmas in? ‘Santa’. The kid answered Santa. How many months are there in a year? ‘Sixty six’. How many days are there in a week? ‘Two’. TWO!” Monet cried, outraged. Nina couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up in her throat, and Monet pointed warningly at her in response. “Don’t you dare laugh. This is my reality.”

“Hey, you laughed at my Nativity nightmare!” Nina giggled, to which Monet chuckled guiltily. Nina paused to swipe a bit of toast around the plate with her fork, mopping up any stray tomato sauce. When she looked up from her plate, she saw Monet tapping at her phone. Nina frowned disapprovingly. “Hey. No phones at the table.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Monet apologised quickly, though didn’t put her phone down yet. “Monique’s just sent me a screenshot of her friend that’s getting engaged. Look at the damn size of this ring.”

Monet turned her phone to show Nina. Pictured was a diamond the size of a small Pacific nation and a band encrusted with tiny gems on the finger of somebody she’d never met. Nina couldn’t help the way she screwed her face up, which made Monet blurt a laugh in response. “Not a fan, then?”

Nina pulled a face in thought. She was sure that kind of ring made some girls happy, but to her it just seemed tacky and over-the-top, not to mention heavy. “I’m sure she likes it, but I wouldn’t want something that huge. Imagine working in a Reception class with that?! Play-dough stuck in all the little crevices. And Jesus, what if you lost it? Nah, it would stress me out owning that. I would just want one simple little gold band and one singular tiny diamond. Much less of a burden.”

Monet snorted a laugh as she finished her last mouthful of dinner. “You are the only girl I’ve ever met that would consider an engagement ring a burden. Christ on a crucifix.”

“Well!” Nina protested, before realising she didn’t really have anything else to defend herself with. Then, she narrowed her eyes at her girlfriend playfully, kicking her under the table. “Why’re you so interested in my engagement ring opinions, anyway? You asking?”

Monet chuckled as she put her phone face-down on the table. “Bold of you to assume I can afford council tax, never mind a diamond.”

Nina smiled, shrugging in agreement. “Yeah, fair. What should we do tonight? I have Maths jotters to mark but then that’s me done.”

Monet tilted her head, her expression thoughtful. “I would say fucking our shit days out but I don’t even have the energy to operate a vibrator.”

Nina almost choked on her food as she laughed. “Christ, that’s a mood. Finish dinner, pyjamas, rewatch The Office for the ninety billionth time then bed at 7pm?”

“Sounds good, babe,” Monet smiled, lifting her glass of water up to cheers with as if it was sparkling wine.

***

“Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way! Oh McFun it is to ride in a waffle sofen sleigh, HEY! Jingle bells, Jin-”

“Woah, woah, woah, woah, woah,” Nina cut in, waving her hands frantically and stopping the twenty-three five and four year olds that had previously been singing their little kidney bean-sized lungs out. “What are the words?”

Her class stared back at her as if she’d just asked her what twenty-eight times thirteen was. Although Jeremiah, who was already working at Year 5 level, could probably have worked that out given enough time.

“Oh what fun it is to ride in a one horse open sleigh,” Nina said, rhythmically and clearly. “You try.”

The children all parroted it back to her in their little voices, word-perfect. Thank God, thought Nina. Jingle Bells seemed to be the only song they recognised, so if they turned out to not know it after all then Nina would very probably need an inhaler despite the fact she wasn’t at all asthmatic.

“Let’s try it with the music!” Nina said cheerfully, making sure the bluetooth speaker she’d brought outside was still on.

“Miss West,” a small voice piped up belonging to Amber, the human embodiment of a whine. “I’m cold!”

“We’ll get inside soon!” Nina replied patiently. “Just let’s practise it one more time!”

“I’m cold too,” piped up Joshua, Amber’s male counterpart.

“I’m freezing,” Amber offered again.

“I know, it’s very cold outside!” Nina smiled sympathetically, even though her teeth were gritted. “But we can’t do our singing inside because of the virus!”

“Why not?” Amber pouted.

Nina didn’t really know. The answer was because of the care inspectorate guidelines, but that was incredibly far beyond the realms of a five-year-old’s comprehension. Just then, an idea struck her.

“Well we need to sing our songs outside so that Santa can hear them when he’s taking his sleigh out for a test drive!” she said animatedly. The wide eyes and ohhhh-s she received in reply made her feel like a genius. Move over, Steven Hawking. “Okay, one more time with Jingle Bells. Nice and loud for Santa!”

“Miss West?”

Nina blinked slowly and heavily, taking a small breath before answering the newest child that demanded her attention. “Yes, Sophie?”

“I’m cold.”

“I’m cold!! We’re all cold!!” Nina replied quickly, just that shade away from snapping so that her class knew she meant business. “We’re doing the song one more time and then we’re going inside! So nice big smiles, nice loud voices, and here…we…go!”

Nina pressed play on the song before any more children could regale her with tales of how their body temperatures had dropped to that of a snowman’s.

“Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way!” they all enthusiastically sang. “Oh McFun it is to ride in a waffle sofen sleigh!”

Nina rubbed so hard at her tired eyes that she thought they might disappear into her skull. She was momentarily glad of the fact that she didn’t have a teaching assistant to help her, as to have any other adult witness this would be embarrassing in the extreme.

Just then she noticed around five parents queued up at the nursery adjacent to the playground, watching with wry smiles on their faces as they waited for their children.

“One more time!” Nina cried, as she stopped the music with freezing cold hands.

***

“So Nina, when you gonna wife your girlfriend?”

Nina very nearly spat out her tea, a horrifying milky brown hurricane only just avoided. She hadn’t been expecting to answer deep, meaningful life questions in the staffroom during a lunch hour, but Willam was the human incarnation of petrol on a campfire and with her around things were always in danger of going from zero to a hundred very quickly. To Nina’s relief Courtney was also in the staffroom, and she whipped around from the countertop and gave her girlfriend daggers.

“Willam!” Courtney chastised her in a hiss that Nina wasn’t quite sure was meant to be audible. Willam only gave her an incredulous glare, affronted that she seemed to be the voice of reason in the conversational chaos.

“What?! Just askin’. I mean you’re what…twenty-nine? Twenty eight?”

“Twenty-six,” Nina replied. She was now at the age where being assumed she was older than she was was a curse, not a blessing. (If she’d told seventeen-year-old Nina that one day she would be disappointed at no longer being ID’d for wine at Sainsburys she’d have laughed in her face.)

“Exactly. That’s wifeing age. Mid to late twenties.”

“Hey, I passed that stage long ago, where the hell’s my ring?“ Courtney asked Willam, stirring the coffee she’d poured into one of the many, many “World’s Best Teacher!” mugs that littered the staffroom cupboards. Willam responded by turning around in her chair and positioning her pencil skirt-clad ass in the air.

“Right here, bitch!”

“Christ Almighty,” Courtney turned away from her, rolling her eyes so hard they looked like little spheric dice. As Willam gave her best impression of a seal on laughing gas, Nina cast her eyes over to Sasha who was sitting at the other end of the staffroom. As they caught each others’ eyes they shared a long-suffering smile that mourned the death of peace and quiet.

Nina was glad the conversation had been diverted from the subject of her perceived lack of marriage plans. Until Sasha opened her mouth, that is.

“I wouldn’t worry, Nina. Me and Shea haven’t had that conversation either. I mean we’d both love to, but there’s more important stuff for us right now, you know? We’re saving for a house and I think we’d rather live in a place we’ve chosen for the foreseeable future than just having one singular big lavish day.”

“It’s all about what you want to do with the person you love the most, isn’t it? Not just doing what society wants you to do,” Courtney chipped in, her voice warm and kind. “Like me and Willam used to be total party girls before we got our shit together. And now, like…there’s nothing I’d rather do of a weekend than curl up with her on the sofa and get all cosy with a film and a blanket and a cup of tea.”

Willam scoffed affectionately. “That’s your ideal weekend plan? What are you, forty?”

“Yes? As are you?” Courtney replied incredulously. Nina heard Sasha snort in her chair. As she turned her gaze back to the other two girls she realised that Willam was still looking at her expectantly. Nina sank back into her seat, a little reserved.

“It’s not really something we’ve spoken about? Well…no, we have spoken about it, obviously,” she babbled, watching as Willam took on the look of someone witnessing a victim of cardiac arrest. “Like we both want to get married. To each other, of course. But teaching is just such a busy job all the time and…you know, we only bought our flat last Summer and…I don’t know, it’s nice not to have everything happen all at once, right?”

Courtney nodded emphatically in agreement. “Of course! And I mean, if she asked, you’d say yes, right?”

Nina had to stop herself from pulling a face. How am I having this conversation with my boss? “Well, yeah. God, I couldn’t imagine life without her at all.”

Willam pretended to gag, which Nina thought was pretty rich from the woman who had begun the entire conversation. Courtney seemed to pick up on her girlfriend’s distaste.

“I don’t think Willam has ever said anything that cute about me!”

Willam turned around to look at her girlfriend, disbelief on her face. “Yeah, I only left my damn husband for you. Fuck me, right?”

Nina’s eyes widened as Sasha gave a yelp from across the staffroom. That was a small piece of workplace gossip she hadn’t expected to learn today. As Courtney’s face turned red and she shot Willam a warning glare, she turned to Nina once more.

“Nina, how’s the Nativity going?” Courtney beamed artificially at her, moving the conversation along with all the grace and decorum of a one-wheeled snow plow.

Considering the question, Nina thought that she’d rather be discussing marriage plans with her boss and colleagues again. “It’s going.”

“That’s a ringing endorsement. I’m sure that was on the poster of Titanic too,” Willam chipped in.

“It wouldn’t be any less disastrous than the actual fate of the Titanic, at least the passengers could’ve probably remembered the words to fucking Jingle Bells,” Nina deadpanned, causing Willam to break into fits of clubbed seal laughter.

Sasha pouted sympathetically from the other side of the room. “It’s those cute bits that the parents love, though, isn’t it? They won’t mind if they get the words wrong.”

“I’m sure there needs to be a foundation of at least an audible tune though, Sash,” Nina smiled resignedly back at her.

“If Bianca wants a Nativity so bad, just tell her to come teach your class,” Willam half-suggested, half-yelled. “Or get Court to teach them! They prolly don’t need to be in tune anyway!”

Courtney’s expression appeared to be the same as Nina’s after her morning’s rehearsal. “Do you ever stop talking shit?”

“You think I’m bad? That bell is going to go for the Comp’s lunch break in five minutes, Bob is gonna arrive, an’ then it’s RIP our eardrums,” Willam said, pointing to the staffroom door for dramatic effect.

“At least Bob has never presented his clothed arsehole to his partner in front of his colleagues,” Courtney cut in at once, her tone deadpan and making Nina splutter a laugh.

“Aw, c’mon Court! That’s just banter. These girls don’t mind.”

“It’s unprofessional!” Courtney clutched her chest. Willam only snorted in response.

“Unprofessional? What are you, forty?”

“We’re the same age!!” Courtney cried in response, her incredulous tone only setting Nina off in a further fit of laughter.

It was only later on that night once she had driven back home, parked, and approached her and Monet’s flat that Nina remembered the staffroom conversation. She cast her gaze up to their first-floor window in their red brick building, almost being able to feel the way her heart gave a swell at the sight of their Christmas tree framed proudly within the glass. And as she got in through the front door, Monet greeted her with a hug and a takeaway leaflet.

“We’ve got nothing in the fridge, so I thought we could get noodles? This came through the door today and I think-” Monet raises her eyebrows, slapped the leaflet into the palm of her hand decisively. “- it’s a sign from God.”

“Well, when you put it like that,” Nina laughed, shrugging off her coat and feeling grateful for not having to cook.

It was only when they were both curled up on the couch, empty pad thai containers in front of them, that Nina turned to Monet and saw the lights on the tree reflected in her eyes. She turned to her girlfriend, threw an arm round her and snuggled in to her side.

“What’s up?” Monet asked, her voice soft and sleepy and a little concerned.

“Nothing,” Nina sighed. It was true. There wasn’t really anything up, and she was the happiest she’d ever been. But she still turned to Monet, tilting her head up inquisitively. “You don’t feel under any pressure at all, do you?”

Monet snorted. “I feel under pressure to get fifteen children who can’t write the word cat on their own to magically be able to write a sentence by the end of the year, yeah.”

Nina rolled her eyes. “No! I mean, like…in life. You didn’t just…buy this flat with me because you felt you had to, right? You wouldn’t do anything because you felt obliged to?”

Monet raised a single eyebrow back at her. “Yeah, I decided to piss my life savings away on a deposit for a flat because I felt I had to. Jesus Christ, Neens.”

“No, no, I know,” Nina chuckled, realising how silly the whole thing now sounded. “But I just mean…in life, like milestones and stuff. You’d never do stuff because you felt you had to keep up, in some way? Reach some goal by a certain age?”

Monet brought an arm around Nina and cuddled her closer, kissing her hair and resting her chin on top of her head. “Everything I do in life, I do because I want to. Especially when it comes to you. Promise.”

Nina gave her girlfriend a squeeze, happy. She took a deep breath, smelt the fabric softener on Monet’s jumper that they both used but just seemed to smell better and feel softer on everything Monet wore.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

***

Nina sat in a child-sized chair with her knees practically up to her chest, a crumpled, printed-out script on her lap that she’d hastily typed up on her work iPad’s notes app the following evening. Her class sat behind her in costumes pulled on over their school uniforms, with books and pens and pieces of paper with botched photocopying on the back under strict instructions not to talk until the whole thing was filmed.

“Okay, Amber!” she smiled breezily at the small girl whose school blouse was sticking out under her angel costume. “You’re kicking off the video. So your line is two thousand years ago, an angel came to a woman called Mary. Practise it for me?”

Amber gripped the hem of her taffeta skirt in two tiny white-knucked fists. “I don’t want to.”

Nina bit her lip. Great start. Fantastic. “We can give it a try together?”

Reluctantly, Amber parroted the words in tandem with her. So far so good.

“Okay. Now do you want to go up against the backdrop and I can film you doing it?”

Amber’s ponytail full of flyaways swung wildly as she shook her head. Nina thought for a moment. Then her eyes came to rest on Hazel- the class’ Mary and, coincidentally, Amber’s best friend.

“What about if Hazel stands with you?”

That seemed to change things and, only slightly hesitantly, both girls got up in front of the hastily staple-gunned silver tinsel.

“Okay Amber. Two thousand years ago, an angel came to a woman called Mary. Ready?”

A nod in reply.

“Go!”

Amber took a deep, shaky breath in. “Two thousand years ago….a woman called Mary.”

Nina stopped filming, fixed the girl with a kind smile. “An angel came to a woman called Mary. Try again?”

The iPad was back in filming mode, and Amber went again. “Two thousand years ago, a…a…a little cute angel came to Mary.”

Nina stopped filming, fixed Amber with two thumbs up. That’ll do.

Things seemed to be going well as Hazel and Oliver (or, Mary and Angel Gabriel) got through their lines without too many bumps in the road. Then, it was time for Amber to take to the stage (or blue curtain with a tinsel border) once more.

“Okay Amber, so your line this time is…Mary told her husband Joseph. Want to practise?”

“Mary told her husband Joseph,” Amber repeated, with all the enthusiasm of a patient about to undergo a colonoscopy. With two days til the deadline, this would have to suffice.

“Perfect! Ready? Three…two…one…go!” Nina smiled encouragingly, as she hit record.

Amber stood beside Mary and Joseph, a little grin on her own face. “Mary told her husband Joyce.”

“…Joseph,” Nina reminded her. Where the fuck had Joyce come from? She hit record again.

“Three…two…one…go!”

“Mary told her husband Joyce.”

Nina couldn’t stop herself from bursting out laughing. “Joseph, Amber!”

The little girl nodded earnestly. “Joseph Amber.”

Nina spluttered. “No…Amber is your name. Joseph is Mary’s husband.”

“Ohhhhhh.”

Nina shook her head, amused. This was what she loved about teaching. None of the other girls working from home could say that they got to spend their day feeling like they were stuck in an episode of You’ve Been Framed.

“Go again. Mary told her husband Joseph. Three…two…one…”

“Mary told…em…um…I can’t remember,” Amber giggled. Nina could feel her own giggles bubbling up inside herself, but she had to stop otherwise it would set her whole class off.

“Mary told her husband Joseph,” Nina repeated, both Amber and Hazel now giggling to each other. “Shh shh! Okay…three…two…one…”

Amber composed herself, took a deep breath. “Mary told her husband Joyce.”

Christ Alive. Nina gasped incredulously, unable to help herself from laughing now. The whole class, Amber herself, and Nina was pretty sure God, were all doing the same. She put her head in her hands, her whole body now shaking with laughter. “Joseph!!”

She already couldn’t wait to tell everybody she knew this story. Not least so she could cement in her mind that it was something that actually happened to her, and not just simply the script of a comedy show she’d dreamed up. Miraculously, mercifully, she managed to get the rest of her class settled down and for Amber to say the correct line on film, even if Nina could be faintly heard frantically mouthing “Joseph!” in the background.

Eventually they reached the innkeepers. Easy enough, in theory.

“Okay, Carter,” Nina smiled encouragingly at the first innkeeper. “When Mary and Joseph ask for a room, you say ‘no, sorry!’. Okay?”

Carter nodded, half a finger stuck up his nose. Nina gestured to him to put his hands down, then began filming. As directed, Mary and Joseph asked if there was any room at the inn.

“YES,” the little boy shouted. The whole class burst out laughing. Nina did not.

Just then, Willam walked past the open door with her class. She gave her a look of inquisition, shooting her a tentative, questioning thumbs up.

Nina put her head in her hands in reply.

***

By some miracle of nature (although it could also have been Nina giving up on work that afternoon) Nina had made it back to the flat before five o’clock. This never happened- five pm was usually the time she left work, but a day full of recording Nativity clips and then putting them together on iMovie while her class played (read; caused havoc) had been tiring and she needed Monet, chocolate, and Merlot.

Only the first thing she heard when she opened the door to her flat wasn’t Monet singing, or the hum of the extractor fan. It was the grainy crackle of a Zoom call and an incredibly distinctive voice.

“So when you doin’ it? Do it tonight. Do it when she gets home from work.”

Monet’s voice- humoured, long-suffering. “I’m not doing it then, Vanj, she’ll be exhausted.”

“That was honestly your best suggestion? When she gets home from work?” Brooke’s voice. “Aren’t you the pinnacle of romance!”

Nina had realised that Monet was on a Zoom call with all the girls, from the way Vanessa had obviously kissed Brooke on camera was being met with half a dozen cries in protest from the others. She excitedly shrugged off her coat and unwrapped herself from her scarf, eager to see her friends again. Part of her was intrigued, though. Why were they all calling each other without her?

“My question is how you’re going to do it,” Akeria’s voice came, as questioning as always. “It needs to be good but it better not be too damn cheesy.”

“An’ you better make sure she got her nails done, she might say no if she ain’t got her nails done!” Silky came shouting through Monet’s Macbook speakers.

“Yeah, you better make it as romantic as you can, Mo,” Scarlet added, making Nina wonder what the hell it was they were all talking about. Before she could wonder any further, she heard Yvie’s distinctive snort of a laugh.

“You are in no position to speak about romance, I mean, need I remind you how you asked me?”

“Shut up,” Scarlet replied, her tone a little bashful as the other girls laughed.

“Monet I could hire you a plane if you really wanted,” Plastique offered, making Nina snort despite the fact she had no idea what the conversation was about.

“Shut up, bitch,” Nina could practically hear the roll of Akeria’s eyes.

Nina toed her shoes off and finally padded through to the kitchen, where Monet’s eyes grew wide when she saw her, her body visibly flinching.

“Hey, babe!” she smiled, looking a little startled. “You’re home earlier than usual!”

“Oh sorry, am I interrupting your Zoom call with all your side chicks?” Nina deadpanned, forcing her way onto Monet’s lap to see her friends on the screen.

“Ninaaa!!!” Vanessa’s face popped up first, her friend waving excitedly as she sat on her sofa in Brooke’s arms. “How are you, girl?”

“Shattered,” Nina sighed, rubbing her eyes harshly. “Just filmed the whole Nativity with the rugrats today. Think it took ten years off my lifespan. How’re you?”

“Good,” Brooke smiled back through the screen. “We ordered our Christmas food today. Trying to convince this one that we don’t need twelve pigs in blankets between two people.”

Vanessa scowled back at her from their position on the sofa. “Uh, yes the hell we do!”

“Twelve pigs in blankets as well as the turkey, stuffing, and all the veg? Y’all are gonna explode,” Akeria said disapprovingly.

“Kiki! How are you?” Nina cried with delight, seeing her friend’s tired but smiling face appear on screen.

“Good. Don’t stop work for a while yet, but it’s fine. Still flat hunting.”

“How’s Pri?” Nina asked, heartened by the way Akeria looked down, trying and failing to suppress a smile.

“Yeah, she’s good. Still batshit crazy. Horny all the time.”

“The ideal girlfriend, really,” Yvie said, a wry smile on her face.

“Nina!” Silky suddenly cut in, yelling. “Did you hear any of what we were talkin’ about before?”

Nina frowned, shook her head. “Something about planes and nails. And cheese. I’m too exhausted to have paid enough attention. Why, were you having a mad bitchfest about me?”

“Trying to ask the girls how best to dump you,” Monet deadpanned. Nina shot Monet a look and squeezed her leg, resulting in her girlfriend yelping and cracking her knee off the table.

Whatever the previous conversation was was soon forgotten about as excited catchups took over. Silky was excited as she was interviewing some singer that Nina had never heard of and wanted the girls to help her work out what questions she was going to ask her. Yvie and Scarlet were lamenting the fact they had to host both of their families for Christmas and had bought a turkey so big Scarlet wasn’t sure it would fit in their oven, and Plastique was telling them the weirdest things she’d been gifted by companies desperate for her to endorse them on Instagram.

“I got a box of sex toys from LoveHoney. That was probably the most random. Me and Naomi had a wild fucking night that night.”

“STOP BEIN’ GROSS,” Silky had yelled down the line, causing Nina to hammer Monet’s volume down button.

Eventually the call came to an end, but not before lots of promises to catch up soon once the situation across the world was better than the shitshow it was currently. As Monet closed her laptop, Nina threw her arms around her neck and nuzzled into her side.

“I miss them,” she sighed, and Monet patter her back comfortingly.

“I know, babe. I miss them too.”

There was a moment of pensive silence, and then Nina spoke again, the Nativity never too far away from her mind.

“I can’t export this video.”

“What?”

“The Nativity video. I can’t export it,” Nina muttered pitifully against her girlfriend’s shoulder.

Monet kissed her hair, making to stand up. “You get a cup of tea. I’ll fix your video.”

“You’re the best,” Nina sighed gratefully, walking over to the kettle.

It was only after she’d sat down with a cup of tea and Monet had promised she’d sorted her video that Nina thought about the conversation she’d walked in on earlier.

She had a strange feeling that it had something to do with her.

***

When Nina arrived at work that morning, she could tell something was…a little different. She couldn’t really tell what it was. It started with the slightly knowing smile Tatianna shot her from across the corridor.

“Congrats, Nina!” she shouted down to her before she ducked into her own classroom.  

“Uh…thanks,” she replied a little too late. Okay, the Nativity process had been stressful, but did she really need congratulated?

She supposed she appreciated it. It had been a whirlwind of a process, after all.

Only the odd thing was, it continued. The congratulations came pouring in; Alaska, Ivy from the Nursery school, Alyssa had cooed and gushed for ages about how exciting it was and how happy she was for her.

Nina had only blinked in reply, a little bewildered. “Thanks, Alyssa. It was a stress, but they managed to pull it off in the end.”

Alyssa gave her a funny look, then realisation seemed to dawn on her. “Oh…they’re non-binary! You know I never knew that, sorry sugar. Well congratulations to you both.”

With that, Alyssa hurried away only leaving Nina more confused than ever.

What in the fuck?

When the bell rang and Nina went to collect her class from the line, things only got weirder. Before she could hurry her class inside, Harry’s Mum waved at her from behind the school gate, beckoning her over. Nina’s heart began to sink- she was going to ask her why Harry was only a shepherd, wasn’t she, or why he didn’t get a solo during Little Donkey, or some-other-bullshit-like-that.

To Nina’s surprise, she held up a sparkly gift bag.

“Hi, sorry for bothering you!” she beamed at her. This was already unheard of- a parent apologising for taking up her time? Nina was beginning to question if she had slipped through a crack in the fabric of reality while she’d been sleeping when Harry’s Mum spoke again. “Me and the other parents had a quick whipround and got you a couple of things and a little card to say congratulations! We thought it was the least we could do given your lovely news.”

It was only after Nina had thanked her profusely, taken the bag and led her children into class that her words sank in. What lovely news was she on about?

Nina taught that morning in a daze. Well, ‘taught’ was pushing it; the last few days of term were always movie days or games days, and today was the former. Nina had decided to inject a bit of an educational element to it by showing her class Nativity and then asking them if they thought the film’s play was better than the one they’d put on. Despite it being one of her favourite Christmas films, though, she still wondered why everyone had been congratulating her today. Maybe her Nativity video had really been so amazingly good that people just had to comment on it. Nina decided that this was the only plausible explanation, and so was feeling particularly spirited as it reached breaktime and she sent the kids out to play.

She was sitting in her classroom reading all the messages she’d missed on her group chat when Willam practically crashed through her door.

“Oh my God!” she yelled, practically vibrating with excitement. “Congratulations, you lucky fucker! That’s gotta be the cutest damn thing I’ve ever seen. I mean Bianca probably wants your head on a plate for keeping it in, but still! How’re you celebrating? Should we go to the shop at lunchtime and get prosecco? I mean it’s the last few days of term, I’m sure drinking on the job’s allowed. Court wouldn’t tell anyone.”

Willam was talking with such speed that it took a few seconds for Nina to register everything she’d said. “Why…would Bianca want my head on a plate?”

Willam snorted. “I mean it’s kinda obvious. You don’t think she’s gonna be pissed about it? Then again, maybe she won’t. I don’t know, I can’t get inside her head. I’m not on that Honey I Shrunk The Kids kinda bullshit.”

Nina felt her head was so clouded that even if she possessed the brightest fog lights in the world she still couldn’t see what Willam was trying to say.

“Willam,” she asked, slowly and carefully as she rested her head in her hands. “What the hell are you talking about?”

There was a pause as Willam froze, then as her eyes became huge and wide as she slowly raised a finger to point at Nina. “Jesus Harvey Christ. You…you don’t know, do you?”

Nina frowned, bewildered. “Know what?”

“Oh my God. You don’t know. This is the best thing ever. You don’t even know!” Willam howled with laughter, then, before Nina could ask what she was meant to not know, Willam had dashed out of her classroom and had begun yelling into the hall. “Courtney! Court! She doesn’t know!”

Nina began to feel her heart beat in heavy thuds as the bell went to signal the end of playtime. What didn’t she know?

Eventually Nina managed to reach the end of the day. How, she didn’t know. She was so confused by all the different odd events of the day that she felt she didn’t properly make sense at any point to her class, but that probably didn’t matter as they were all so wrapped up in Christmas nonsense that Nina could’ve left the classroom and they wouldn’t have given a shit.

She was just getting ready to leave work for the weekend when Bianca stuck her head into her classroom and made her almost jump fifty feet in the air.

“Nina,” she began, in her own blunt, abrasive way. She didn’t wait for Nina to greet her as she continued. “I know you must be wandering around with your head in the clouds at the moment, but next time do you think you could maybe just run the video by me first? I mean you’re very lucky that the parents took that well. I mean it’s really about the kids, y’know?”

Nina could only blink at her wide-eyed like a deer in the headlights, getting into trouble but not entirely sure what for. Loath to say anything in response, she simply nodded.

“I mean you should’ve really kept it out,” Bianca frowned. She let the awkward, tense silence hang in the air for a few moments before a humoured smile appeared on her face. “But congratulations. I’m very happy for you.”

Without stopping for Nina to reply, Bianca had turned on her heel and left her classroom. Nina could only look at the space she’d previously been standing in. Maybe all of this was a dream. A fever dream. She’d probably contracted some sort of illness and was experiencing some hallucinogenic vision.

She didn’t know how she made it home without causing a crash, but she managed, and as soon as she was through the door she began to vent to the person she loved most.  

“Monet!” she called through to the kitchen, hanging her belongings up. “I’ve had the weirdest fucking day in living memory. So first all the teachers were congratulating me…then I got a present from the parents…then Willam was screaming about me not knowing something…and then Bianca gave me a row at the end of the day…but I still don’t know exactly why…but then she said congratulations to me too?”

It was only when Nina stopped and walked through to the kitchen that she saw the kitchen table all done up with candles and laid beautifully, Nina’s favourite meal (slow cooker beef and buttery mash) on two plates, and Monet sitting at the table with her makeup done, dressed in a backless blue bodycon that Nina had once very nearly broke the zip of trying to rip it off her one weekend away.

“Uh…” Nina frowned, more confused than ever. Slowly, as a smile spread across Monet’s face, she began to connect all the dots of weird and the picture it presented illustrated that somehow her girlfriend had to be behind it all. “Okay, what’s going on?”

Monet got up and leant against the kitchen counter. She very gently took both of Nina’s hands in hers. “You didn’t watch the whole video once I exported it, did you?”

Something like dread crossed with excitement began to pool in Nina’s gut. She narrowed her eyes. “Monet…what did you do?”

Wordlessly, Monet reached back across to the table where she picked up her phone and loaded up the Nativity video. Skipping to the end, she got past the end of Jingle Bells and showed the video to Nina. The screen faded to black, and then, Nina watched as another little title card faded into view.

To the teacher that always gives so much of herself to others, I now want to give all of myself to you.

Miss West, will you marry me?

Love, Monet x

And suddenly everything in Nina felt as if it was made of fire, adrenaline and jet fuel. Her eyes flew open, her hand smacked against her shocked, gaping mouth. Her pulse raced and her heart hammered and all of her limbs turned to jelly to the extent she wasn’t sure she was able to stand any more. When she took her eyes off her phone screen and looked at Monet, her girlfriend was down on their kitchen floor, down on one knee like in every princess movie Nina had ever seen, her hair soft and curled and loose on her shoulders and a bright smile on her painted taupe lips. Gemstone tears brimmed in her dark eyes and hung from her lashes like icicles, and there, in her outstretched hands, was an open navy box.

Inside was a ring - gold band, one small diamond - and it was when Nina saw it that she gave a sob, her own tears springing from her eyes like a broken fountain, uncontrollable and erratic.

“Oh, baby, c’mere,” Monet gave a small laugh, shaking her head and immediately rising from the floor to wrap her arms around her in a hug. Nina took a few shaky, shallow breaths, pawing at Monet’s chest to release herself from her grip and look her in the eyes.

“You! You knew…all this time, and you…you put it in the video, oh my GOD, Monet, I could’ve got in so much trouble…I did get in so much trouble, oh my God…and you didn’t even tell me-”

“I thought you’d at least watch the damn thing through before you uploaded it!” Monet burst out laughing through her tears, and Nina joined in in a lightheaded, giddy way.

“I can’t believe this is real. Fuck. My whole body feels like that time we did poppers in Crete. Oh my God. Is this happening? You want to marry me?”

“Well, I would love to marry you, but I’m waiting on an answer,” Monet smiled bashfully, bringing her arm out from around Nina’s waist and holding the ring up so Nina could see it.

The diamond only seemed to glisten more when she saw it through the tears in her own eyes, and the gold shone warm like the brightest star. It was an engagement ring- her engagement ring- and it was real, and it was surreal, but Monet was in front of her waiting for an answer with tears in her eyes and hope in her heart that matched her own.

And Nina had never been one to say no to anything.

[thepencilnerd]

– a budding romance | part 1 –

➵ After moving into a new apartment, Min Yoongi stumbles across a flower shop down the street who’s radiant bouquets and even brighter personality catches his eye. What happens when two completely different worlds collide? 

➵ pairing: min yoongi x reader

➵ genre: fluff, angst, slow burn, strong friendship/family dynamic, strangers to lovers, barely a soulmate AU

➵ word count: 16.8k

➵ warnings: swearing, very heavy angst, alcohol consumption, discussions of mental health and past emotional trauma—if you are in need of help, please please seek out professional care. there is hope out there and people that are here to help you. you are not your illness and always remember that you are not alone. 

➵ a/n: I finally decided to get back to writing since I was on spring break for a short period of time (and because staying home is cool :) this story was inspired by my newly developed passion for houseplants, of which I’ve amassed a collection of over 30 in the past few months and totally don’t have an addiction to...  This chapter turned out to be a very filler-heavy introduction to the universe it takes place in; although there’s not much romance in this part, I’m very happy with how the friendship dynamic between our main/secondary characters and their backgrounds turned out, so I please forgive me ^^

I’ve missed you all so freaking much, and I cannot thank you enough for showering Melophile with so much love throughout the past year. Thank you for being patient with me during my hiatus, and I hope you and all of your loved ones are staying safe, healthy, and happy ❤️enjoy, and please stay tuned for part two ❤️

“Where do you want the shelf?” the mover asked while holding one end of the wooden bookcase. 

The sleep looked up from his seat by the kitchen island and “Right by the window,” Yoongi directed, guiding him to the west-facing window that opened up to his balcony. “Thanks.” 

Tipping each of the movers, he thanked them once and bid them goodbye, shutting the door. The whoosh of the door closing left him alone in his new apartment with nothing but hastily arranged furniture, the quiet murmur of traffic outside, and of course, his thoughts; he was finally moved in. 

Yoongi had thought about moving out for years now, but never brought up the topic until Seokjin, Taehyung, and Jungkook were traveling out of the country more. By the time university had started, he and the guys had all agreed to move into a duplex a few minutes away from campus for time, money, and friendship’s sake. It was only a matter of time before the three boys were scouted off the street by the head of a modeling agency. Might he add that it was a late Friday night, post-finals season of senior year, and all the boys were more than inebriated, so how the man decided that giving contracts to three loud, wild, and utterly wasted uni students was astounding. Either way, the three stooges dropped out to pursue a career in modeling faster than you could say ‘show in Europe.’

After graduation, Namjoon brought up the idea of moving into a smaller building, to which Jimin and Hoseok disapproved of with arms crossed and pouty faces. Taehyung and Jungkook tried to come to an agreement and schedule what times of the year they’d be in town, but with their unpredictable schedules, it was a pointless compromise. Seokjin—the oldest of the seven—was expected to move out before any of them, so it wasn’t much of a surprise when he eventually offered to share a place with Taehyung and Jungkook. They were still employed under the same agency and manager, so understandably, they would all share similar shows, shooting schedules, flights, and time spent in and out of town. It was also pretty close from here, so the seven would still be able to spend time together when they had the chance to. 

Yoongi was the first to offer moving out so the four of them wouldn’t have to be crammed into a small condo. He had booked a few producing jobs here and there while still at university, so he practically had a contact list of full-time connections. Plus, Jimin had decided to enroll in a master’s program for traditional dance while teaching at a nearby dance studio, Namjoon started his first semester towards a postgraduate degree in literary criticism (again, how the boy had even passed his G.E. chemistry class in sophomore year was beyond anyone’s wildest imagination), and Hoseok had landed a solid job teaching hip-hop classes at the same studio Jimin was at.

“You’re sure you’re okay with it?” Jimin asked Yoongi with worry laced in his voice. The four were lounging in the living room of the quiet apartment. Seokjin and the two younger ones had moved out earlier that morning, and they were probably still getting settled. It was only a ten minute drive from Namjoon, Hoseok and Jimin’s new place. Thankfully they’d all be living a relative distance to one another even after moving. 

Patting him on the head, Yoongi’s lips formed a small grin. “Don’t worry about me. At least I won’t have to deal with Hoseok’s late night gas bombs...” 

Hoseok’s face burned bright red and his eyes grew wide as a storm of curse words flew out of his mouth. “Hey! Don’t blame me, tell Namjoon to learn how to cook raw food all the way through!"

To this, Namjoon threw his comforter at Hoseok, nailing him square in the face. Jimin held back his giggles while Yoongi stared wistfully. He would miss them more than he thought. 

“It’s only a few minutes from your place so I’ll come and check up on you guys every once in a while,” Yoongi sighed, leaning into the couch. With everything packed and sent off the day before, it was the only piece of furniture left in the apartment. A distant memory resurfaced as his eyes drifted to the dented armrest. He and Jungkook had bought it at the thrift store on 5th Street after weeks of Seokjin complaining that there was no place to sit and watch TV; a past time he required to “relieve him of his grievances.”

Yoongi cleared his throat, redirecting his attention back to the present moment. “You know, just to make sure you haven’t all starved or strangled each other.” 

The four shared one last month together and even helped Yoongi find his new place eight blocks down. According to Yoongi, the day Hoseok ran into Yoongi’s room with the crumpled piece of paper was a match made by hell and granted by heaven.

Snapping back into the present moment, Yoongi’s watch read 12:45 p.m. He rubbed his eyes at how dreadfully early in the day it was and his body was already begging for sleep. By the magic laws of the universe, the familiar sound of his ringtone reverberated through the barren apartment—his new apartment. Walking to the kitchen counter, Hoseok’s name flashed across the screen and Yoongi swiped to answer the call. 

“How’s our big boy doing?” Hoseok immediately shouted through the receiver. 

Yoongi scrunched his face in displeasure at the volume but couldn’t hide the slight smirk that grazed his lips. “I’m doing great mom, thanks for checking in.” 

“We wanted to know if you needed any help settling in!” Jimin’s soft voice, as usual, offered with nothing but joy. Judging by the distant sound of complaining and forced laughter, he had taken the opportunity to snatch the phone away from Hoseok, and Namjoon was now holding him hostage with the force of tickling. 

“I second that!” Namjoon’s voice boomed in the background.

Yoongi allowed himself the barest hint of a laugh. “I already had help from the movers, so the furniture is decently positioned already.” Opening up his fridge, he saw that it was unsurprisingly empty other than a few bottles of water. “I might need to run to the grocery store though. Can I call you guys after I get back?” 

“Jimin, I swear to god you’re going to regret sharing a room with me!” Hoseok’s voice echoed closer from the other end. 

“Call us when you get back! It’d be nice to get to know the shops around the neighborhood,” Namjoon backed up with confidence but he suddenly yelped in pain. Yoongi pictured Hoseok jabbing him in the side like he always did whenever they fought. 

Hoseok huffed as he brought up the phone and was in possession of the device once again. “We’ll swing by your place at 6 with food, so don’t worry and buy some basic groceries. Namjoon, I swear—”

“—and make some neighborhood friends!” Namjoon blurted out. “We’ll see you soon!”   

“See you soon!” Jimin added cheerfully. 

“Miss you bud!” Hoseok chirped. 

“Bye guys,” Yoongi chuckled. "Don’t kill each other.” Clicking off, he sighed once more before admiring his new place. The one-bedroom penthouse came with a decent sized-kitchen, in-unit washer and dryer, and included utilities. Not to mention the extra room that he had already moved his studio equipment into and man, that balcony view. It wasn’t considered budget-friendly for it’s square footage, but for the amenities and the part of town it was centered in? A steal.  

Even though a job in the music industry didn’t exactly pay well, Yoongi considered himself lucky to have gotten the exposure he did so early. He had been bound to music for as long as he could remember, and it was during his middle school years that he discovered the editing software that changed his life. By junior year of high school, Yoongi had accumulated hundreds of thousands of followers and millions of listens on his streaming account. After he declared his major in university, renowned musicians from all over the world were flooding his email with requests for new songs, collaborations, editing, and everything in between. 

As fame and status quickly began consuming his every waking thought, a dark cloud loomed over him. There had been a period of time when sitting in his studio was no longer enjoyable and felt like pure hell. Slowly but surely, it was the same cycle over and over again: get a request from a record label, make a new song, send it back to the tone-deaf money hungry CEO’s of the music industry, and then get feedback on how it’s not catchy enough or "up with the times.” God, that pissed him off more than anything. Good music shouldn’t have to be labeled as such because it fits into the typical mold of some teenage trend; that’s what makes it good.

That’s all they cared about these days. No meaningful lyrics or real talk about everyday life and how the world goes around—only songs about meaningless sex, regretting one night stands, repetitive ear worm tunes, unrequited and dumb young love, or things that talentless, plastic Instagram models could lip-sync and stick choreography to. It’s hard to pursue your passion in a field that you love when it’s hellbent on destroying itself. 

Don’t even start with the controversies Yoongi dealt with on a daily basis. Flashy yellow headlines that talked about who this mysterious producer Min Yoongi was, where he was brought up, who he’s dated/is dating, his sexuality, and even his family members and their backgrounds. All of these were topics that every single news and social media outlet had the audacity to stamp on hundreds of magazines covers and copy/paste on their blogs, yet if given the chance, none would have the real guts to ask him in-person, face to face. 

Yoongi found himself falling into periods of constant downward spirals. What would he become if he gave in? Who would he be if just shut up and took the money? If he listened to what everyone had to say and gave them everything they wanted? Would they love him any less or hate him even more? 

It was half past one when he realized that he still had to go to run errands. Another 30 minutes of the day spent lingering on things that can’t be changed and don’t matter, he noted to himself. Wonderful. 

Despite the chilly weather, Yoongi opted to throw on a hoodie and call it a day. His decision to wear ripped jeans was poorly made, but he refused to admit that laziness was the culprit for not packing some spare clothes into a suitcase before moving day. Before stepping out, he quickly slipped on a beanie and a face mask for privacy’s sake. He was really not in the mood today. 

Murmuring a quick thanks to the cashier, Yoongi walked out of the grocery store as fast as he could. Within minutes, people had gathered in a crowd around him asking for pictures, autographs, voice memos, and the works. 

Every single time he had to turn down someone’s request for a picture because he could not miss the last bus; constantly hiding in fear of someone catching him and finding out where he lives, or worse: his family members; always trying to leave the house at the most awkward time of day so he could actually walk around and get basic shit done. No one knew it, but he hated himself for feeling like the biggest asshole that ever existed when in reality, he was just trying to live a normal life.

Yoongi loved music, but more than anything, he loved how there were people who truly empathized with his songs and the effort he put into making them. He missed the days before fanbase culture mobbed those who genuinely understood what he was trying to say. He missed going out with the guys and not having to worry about strangers following him home and leaking his address for publicity and likes. He missed having the decency of basic privacy and boundaries. Yoongi was grateful for everyone’s unnecessary unconditional love for his work and lifelong devotion to music, but after all, he was nothing but a human being who needed some space to breathe. 

Today was no different. He got lucky and managed to snag enough fruits and vegetables to fit into a single paper bag before the overwhelming screeches and overlapping voices forced him out of the mart. 

One of the security guards and a few cashiers were kind enough to hold back a few of the people who tried following him out. Giving them a quick bow before scurrying out, he felt like an even bigger nuisance. 

What kind of a prick like me disrupts people’s day-to-day life just to get some food... 

Should’ve worn a damn ski mask.

Yoongi was two blocks from his apartment complex when the smell of smog and car exhaust was replaced by a tidal wave of—roses? The fragrance of fresh flowers flooded his nostrils with a vibrancy and sweetness that he had never smelled before. Trying to find the source, he stumbled across what appeared to be hole-in-the-wall flower shop. 

Treading carefully towards the vivid assortment of colors and warm light, he glanced over at the array of plants that graced the outside shelves. It wasn’t until he started feeling hot that he noticed a patio heater beside the entrance, which doubled as a lamp. 

As he admired the wide variety of colors, leaf shapes, and aromas, Yoongi picked up a weathered terra cotta pot. The gritty surface of the pot was splotched with discolored patches of white, probably from water and rain. It housed a plant with small, plump, ovular, dimpled emerald green leaves, and it was vining up the bamboo stick that was staked in the center. 

A delicate shuffle of shoes on hardwood accompanied a soft voice. “Need help finding something?” 

Looking up, Yoongi’s eyes met the young woman’s gaze. Even through his mask, her friendly smile seemed to glow brighter than the embers from the patio heater. Underneath her apron, she was wearing a fluffy white sweater and a pair of comfortably loose jeans that were decorated with colorful paint-splatters. 

Blinking hard after catching himself staring too long, Yoongi shook his head and put the plant back. “Just looking around. Nice place you got here.” If he spoke any quieter, he’d have a new job singing lullabies to babies.

Knitting her eyebrows with an inquisitive stare, he felt his pulse start to pick up. Did she recognize him? Was she going to freak out? Was there something on his face? 

She brought her finger up to her quirked lip and widened her eyes. “Botanophobia is my area of specialty!” she exclaimed with joy. “You don’t have to worry about killing a single plant under my wing.” Picking up the plant he set down, she held it out towards him with a warm grin. 

Yoongi won’t be the first to admit that of his absent green thumb. When he used to visit his grandmother, she’d always tug on his ear for picking at the hanging pots draped underneath her patio. He didn’t even have a plant near his vicinity until Taehyung brought home individual cactus for each of the guys. Something about keeping it on their desks for focus and oxygen or whatever.

Needless to say that Namjoon and Yoongi both learned very quickly that cacti don’t like water as much as you think. 

“Oh,” Yoongi waved his hands in defense. “ I’m not really a plant collecting type of guy.” 

The girl rolled her eyes teasingly and handed him a ball of twine from her pocket.

“Stay here until I get back,” she commanded with a stern look and playful confidence. “I’ll be but a moment.” Retreating back into the shop, Yoongi was frozen in place. Guilty if he leaves, not guilty if he stays—

Right as he was about to put the twine on the shelf, the girl came out of the shop with a paper-wrapped package. “Water it once a month and keep it by a window, preferably brightly lit but not necessarily,” she instructed with nothing less than an energetic smile. “They kind of thrive on neglect.” 

He was taken aback. “But—” 

She held her hand up to halt his rebuttal and took back the twine. “Think of this as a little welcome to the neighborhood gift. I know all of my locals by heart and I’ve never seen you around before.” 

“I can’t just take a plant from you,” Yoongi huffed, slightly annoyed at her stubborn nature. She was determined, he’d give her that. 

Shaking her head, her hands didn’t move. “You can pay me back the next time you visit, and if you still haven’t fallen in love with this guy—” her head motioned to the paper-wrapped plant in her hands. “—then I guess I’ll just have to work harder.” 

Yoongi bowed his head in thanks and accepted the parcel with a tightly pressed smile. She was definitely not one to give in. He couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy that there were still people in the world who loved their jobs as much as this woman. 

The dimming sky signaled that it was time for him to get back home. Waving goodbye, the sound of his steps grew louder as the echo of her voice faded farther away. “See you around!” 

Sure, the pessimist in him spat. 

You awoke to the gentle sound of rain pattering against your window. Drops bounced off of the glass as the sound grew harsher, the water droplets ricocheting off of the already-streaky pane and onto the surrounding leaves of the tree whose branches caressed your small windowsill. The freezing cold air whistled through the crack between your window pane and the latch, causing you to shiver reflexively.

Stretching out your limbs, a large and clearly gracious yawn left your mouth, which harmonized in tandem with your outstretched palms and scrunched face. The warmth of your rumpled and disheveled sheets made you groan, your body naturally refusing to leave the comfort of your own bed. Did you really have to go out today? Using the rusty spring of the mattress to swing your legs over the bed, your feet grazed the cold, damp fabric of your carpet—

“Crap.” Partially awake, your aching limbs dashed across your small studio apartment and rummaged through the pile of rubbish in the spare closet, fishing out an old bucket. You ran back to your room and placed on top of the wet patch of fabric just underneath the foot of your bed. The sound of water hitting the carpet soon turned into muffled pangs. The culprit? A leaky spot in the ceiling of your humble abode that you had so graciously discovered months after you’d moved in. 

Your landlord/makeshift, of course, said he couldn’t do anything about it. Something told you it wasn’t that he couldn’t, but rather, he couldn’t be bothered to...

The pleasantly dull morning heaviness that weighed your body slowly retreated, and left you fully aware that your feet were still wet and freezing cold. Very, very cold. It was Monday, right? A sigh escaped you as your hand came up to rub your eyes. Definitely a Monday. Stretching once more, you sat silently and found a moment of peace in gazing at the pouring rain that battered your window. 

There was something oddly relaxing about watching the water droplets slowly slide down the glass. Whether it was the transparency of the glass against the clarity of the rainwater, or the different textures of sound as the droplets bounced off of the window onto the tree leaves, one thing was certain: overcast skies and the fresh smell petrichor was one of nature’s many great gifts. 

Since the day was still immersed in the early hours of the morning, you were compelled to stay inside and burn through a book or two while in the comfort of your own bed. However, your fairytale fantasy was shattered by the reality that was your day job. You washed up, got dressed, and didn’t bother adding any extra layers to combat the cold. It was, of course, the sensation of the icy biting air against your flushed cheeks that made you treasure this kind of weather all the more. The haphazard toss a mini-umbrella into your bag and the clink of a lock and key was quite complimentary. 

Ever since you were young, you’d loved flowers. Red roses, to be exact. It was in your best interest as a 6-year old to tag alongside your dad on his trips to the hardware store. Each time you came home, you ended up bringing a 99-cent fern home that ended up dying a week later. No matter how much your little heart adored each tiny gem, it was only a matter of time before you drowned the plant with too much water. In your pre-pubescent mind, taking care of a plant meant watering it. Every day. Little did you know that tending to a garden meant leaving it alone and giving it time to grow by itself. 

Hundreds of plant funerals were held from the tender ages of six to fourteen. Years of experience, tears, frustration, determination, and love ended up raising your brown thumb well. Who knew that you’d end up majoring in biology and horticultural studies? Not to mention starting up an independent business as a flower shop and nursery. Now that was something to be grateful for. 

It might seem strange to many; working a job that doesn’t pay a ton or have a stable workload, sitting in a humid shop some days with nothing but the rustling of dried bouquets to keep you company, or learning to appreciate the quiet solitude of white noise against morning traffic. It may have seemed like torture for anyone with some ounce of sanity, but to you, it was home. 

Nothing excited you more than when you received the bi-weekly shipment of new plants. You were lucky the rain had stopped by the time you made it halfway to the shop. Marco, your go-to greenhouse guy, was just in time. He was wearing a blue sweater and the navy scarf his wife, Lucia, knitted him for Christmas four years ago. 

You’ll never forget the gifts they exchanged that year. It was two days before Christmas and Marco was so busy with deliveries, he didn’t have time to get Lucia a present. Of course, seeing him ramble his worries to you while bringing in the day’s shipment made a lightbulb go off in your head. 

As he was unloading boxes, you ran inside and whipped up a somewhat-simple but ever-classic arrangement: red tulips, white honeysuckles, baby’s-breath stems, and a mix of myrtle and lemon leaves to balance out the flower to foliage ratio. 

Before Marco could leave, you put the finishing touches on the lush bouquet and finished it off with a gold-dusted bow for added holiday spirit. 

“All done!” Marco bellowed. Running out of the shop, you handed him the box that sheltered Lucia’s gift. 

“Merry Christmas,” you whispered with a giddiness that couldn’t be held back. 

“Oh, bella...” His reaction was priceless. With a mouth parted, sparkling eyes, and a wonder-struck smile to top it all off, this was why you loved your job. 

“Red tulips for a perfect love, honeysuckles for devoted lovers, and baby’s breath for everlasting love.” The words rolled off of your tongue like a second language. 

Marco was still speechless. “You shouldn’t have—”

“Marco, my business would not function without you and neither would I,” you hushed. “This is the absolute least I could do for you and Lucia.” 

“Bella!” His deep voice brought you back to the present day. The nickname always made you feel fuzzy. “How are you?” 

“I’m doing wonderful, Marco.” Your eyes beamed. “How are Lucia and the girls?” 

He laughed, shaking his head with a grin. “As wild as always. Fia and Gianna just started 2nd grade a few days ago. They’re growing up too fast.” 

Your heart melted. “It’s always like that, isn’t it? Time flies...” The wistful tone in your voice didn’t go unnoticed. “Anyway, what’s in today’s box of treasures?” Rubbing your hands together like an animated cartoon, your eyes lit up at the sight of all the new varieties that peeked from the boxes. 

“Oh you’ll love these!” Pulling out one of the 4-inch grow pots from the boxes, he revealed to you a healthy Hoya bella. The delicately draped stems with spear-shaped leaves and grooved foliage was breathtaking. A few of them even had a few peduncles, which was where flowers bloomed from. Hoyas were known for their delicate, candy-like flowers, and Hoya bella was a prolific bloomer. 

If you had to choose a favorite type of tropical genus, it’d most definitely be the wax plant family. There are hundreds of species within that range from your typical waxy, thick and succulent leaves to thin, hair-like sparse leaves that looked like grass. Expensive grass, might you add. 

You couldn’t hold back the excitement. “You brought me hoyas!” Jumping up and down with an overzealous amount of energy, Marco bowed for dramatic effect. Today was already off to a great start. 

He counted all the boxes one more time, summing up the numbers in his head. “There are also some krinkle 8′s, compactas, variegated and green carnosas, more bellas, australis, curtisii, pubicalyx, burtoniae, lacunosa, and only a couple linearis. You know how popular those are these days.” Each time he listed off another set of species had you spinning. “The bottom boxes have some pothos, rubber trees, ferns, tradescantias, and peperomias.” 

“Thank you thank you thank you,” you exclaimed while giving him a big hug. “Don’t count me guilty if I run home with a few of these.” 

A hearty laugh reverberated from his chest. “Always a pleasure, bella. I have to get going. Watch the rain! I’ll see you next week!” 

Bidding him a goodbye, you reminded him to drive safe before he was off. 

The first customer of the day was a regular; you could spot her bright red lipstick and pinup elegance from a mile away. If she hadn’t said anything, you could have sworn she was related to Marilyn Monroe. 

 “Good morning, Ms. Simmons!” you greeted as the chime on the door jingled. “How are you?” 

Her bright red lips curled into a grin that revealed her immaculate smile. “I’m doing very well, thank you dearie.” Did you mention that she had an Irish accent? 

Stepping out from behind the counter, you pulled out the freshly wrapped parcel and unfolded the top to show her. Cupping your hand to speak, the words came out in a whisper. “I got the new shipment of linearis.” 

At this, her eyes grew bigger and mouth rounded into an O. She’d been waiting for these grass-leaved hoyas for months now and you had made a promise to her that she was the first on the waitlist. 

“You are an absolute jewel my love, an unreal star!” Handing you her usual payment method of cash, you made sure to choose the fullest plant for her before she arrived. Also, you may have added in a begonia and African violet or two. All in the name of agape love, truly. 

Even though she celebrated her 70th birthday over the winter, Ms. Simmons was a regular ever since you opened the shop. She always made the two mile walk from her home to your shop every Monday and you couldn’t understand for the life of you why. All you could do was be the best at your job and treat your customers as well, if anything, better than they treated you.  

“I’ll see you next week, Ms. Simmons,” you smiled, holding the door open for her as she went on her merry way. 

The rest of the day was business as usual. Mary, another regular, came in looking for a rubber tree and a peace lily; she’d just moved into a bigger house to accompany their newest family member, and needed some green so the place didn’t look so sterile. 

Isaac, the pastor who worked at the local church, was in need of some rose arrangements for this weekend’s sermon. He always loved how full the ones you had out on display were. 

Kat was an old university friend you had stayed in touch with and a fellow “hoya head.” She was the sweetest girl and always brought you coffee and a perfectly toasted bagel whenever she visited. The doorbell always chimed at exactly 12:25 p.m. and she never missed it once ever since you opened the shop’s doors. 

“You got a perm?!” you gawked. She’d gotten another haircut. Her once long, pin-straight dark brown hair was now shoulder length and curled like Shirley Temple’s signature look. “You look a-freaking-mazing!” 

Tussling the curls with one hand while pushing up the bridge of her cat-eye glasses with the other, she reminded you of a revamped 70’s Betty Boop. “Thank you darling, I’ve been meaning to chop it all off for a while now but the weather has had me down in the dumps,” she remarked in an over the top, received pronunciation accent. 

Shaking your head and appreciating her choice of clothing, you couldn’t help but applaud at how she always chose fashion and style over basic comfort.

"We got some bellas and compactas so grab ‘em and go before you get a cold.” Her red dress and black cardigan ensemble was an eye-catcher but did not bode well considering the cloudy sky.

She rolled her eyes in an exaggerated manner. “Yes mom, I’ll take those two and a krinkle, if you please.” You will admit, her energy was something you never got tired of. 

The wrapping of planters had become muscle-memory now. Wrap around, fold over, crease the edge, tuck in the sides, and tie with some twine. A snip here and brushing off the excess soil there and voila. 

Before she left, you handed her the umbrella you brought from home. “Get home before it starts raining!” you nagged. “I only live a few minutes from here so just take it before you ruin your clothes.” Kat definitely needed it more than you. 

She wrapped her arms around you in a familiar hug and promised she’d call you back at home. “Love you!” Perfect timing, too. Right as the door shut, the slow patter of rain had started sprinkling the rooftop, and cars started whooshing by with an added splash. 

Cradling your warm cup of coffee was a routine on Kat’s visiting days. The rain was now trickling down the ridged shingles of the roof and down the gutter, droplets of water blurring into coiled trails. Absolutely mesmerizing. After making a dozen bouquets that were on today’s order list, Sara, Louie, Timmy, Kyle, and George visited one by one to pick them up. Soon after that, the day started slowing down and the rain showed no signs of stopping like you had anticipated. It was nearing closing time too, so maybe it was a good idea to head home a bit early. 

You rushed to bring in the buckets of pre-cut flowers and ready-made arrangements from outside. You ended up wrapping everything up right on time. Even better, a few new faces showed up. All of your linearis and bellas had sold out today (no surprise), and you got to meet some new customers right before closing time. It was nothing but a joyous and success-filled day in your eyes. 

Gripping the cold metal, goosebumps prickled your skin as soon as your fingertips rolled down the gate over the store windows. A smile of triumph grazed your lips. The quietest of goodbyes escaped your lips.

Until tomorrow. 

The buzz of alcohol and smell of grease wafted in the air as they all got crazier by the minute. 

Namjoon had already burned through three bottles of beer and was on the verge of losing his sense of direction. Hoseok was two sips in before his face flushed a bright red. Jimin was prancing around like a fairy after his third shot of tequila. Taehyung and Jungkook were singing and dancing to bad karaoke songs, nearly knocking over the TV a few times. 

Seokjin was the only one who was mildly sober. Again, mildly is a word that should be used very lightly. "Since when did you have a green finger?”

The five paused their shenanigans to glance over at the single plant that decorated the otherwise empty bookshelf. 

Yoongi chewed silently, unable to come up with any response. 

Jimin hiccuped before talking. “Didn’t you kill a cactus a few years back?”  

Again, Yoongi chose to stay silent and give an unbothered shrug. Hoseok’s face still looked like he was contemplating the meaning of life, but he managed to nod his head in confirmation. 

“Yeah, Namjoon drowned his, too,” the youngest spoke with a ditzy tone. Taehyung giggled like a child at Jungkook’s strangely accurate description and pointed at Namjoon. Some comment about his messy hair or turtle glasses, or a combination of both.

“I’m old enough to take care of myself so I should be able to take care of some stupid weed.” For some reason, Yoongi’s mouth burned saying those words. 

Namjoon rolled his eyes at the comment and got up to grab some water. Of course, his drunk state amplified his clumsiness and caused him to bang his knee against the corner of the kitchen island. Hoseok and Jimin burst out into cackles and snorted as Yoongi rolled his eyes. The alcohol was beginning to pass like water. He should slow down. 

“Apparently that one thrives on neglect.” Yoongi finally broke his vow of silence, changing the topic and directing his attention to Jimin and half-there Hoseok. “How’s teaching going?” 

Leaning on each other as the alcohol sleeps finally kicked in, they could only raise their thumbs-up with half-lidded eyes. 

Coming back with a tray of water cups that remained miraculously intact, Namjoon collapsed down into his seat. “They’ve been working every single day for the past month now. Jimin has his mid-semester show coming up and Hoseok got booked for some choreography with a local theater group.” 

Yoongi downed one last mouthful of the bitter drink before calling it quits, enjoying how it burned his throat as it made its way down. “And you guys?” 

Seokjin and Jungkook all murmured something about an upcoming shoot in May for the spring catalog. 

“Jungkook and Seokjin got booked for a perfume ad and I got an acting gig,” Taehyung explained. The excitement was evident in his voice. Yoongi congratulated the three, cheering them on with another shot. 

He turned to the boy rubbing his bruised knee. “And you, Joon?” 

It was Namjoon’s turn to shrug. “School is school. Always studying, reading, writing, nothing new,” he droned in a monotonous voice. “How’ve you been handling everything?” 

He was talking about all the new deals that Yoongi was offered in the last couple of weeks. Every post on social media was rampant with news of Min Yoongi’s latest tracks and upcoming collabs. Although the boys would never fully understand his stress, their sympathy for him was plenty enough.

“Same old same old. Money hungry bastards trying to get my advice on shitty tracks that have as much depth and complexity as a poptart just to get my signature stamped on it.” Yoongi spoke with painful honesty, causing everyone to sober up and focus on him. He took a final swig of his drink. “Whatever sells, I guess.” 

Namjoon and the others shook their heads in agreement solemnly, showing his wordless support and understanding. “You’ll get out of it, Yoongi. Trust me.” He patted his friend’s shoulder in vain, but only Yoongi knew it. 

Trying to swallow the words, Yoongi looked over at the snoring bundle that was Jimin, Hoseok, Jungkook, and Taehyung. Seokjin was probably passed out in the bathroom. His upper teeth raked across his lower lip, savoring the dull sensation that felt more real than the situation he had gotten himself into. 

“Yeah. I’ll get out of it.” 

Spring was always the best time of the year. All of the flowers were in bloom and sunlight was streaming through everyone’s window without being unbearably hot. To top it all off, it was also the busiest time for you and your business. The shop was always flooded with customers marveling at the colors that decorated the exterior. When the inside of the shop finally cleared out, you were able to take requests for individual bouquets, parties, and weddings. 

“Need some help?” a familiar someone shouted through the crowd of people. 

Your head snapped over to the upbeat and bubbly voice you knew by heart. “Kat!” Hugging her over the counter and bringing her behind the register, you quickly thanked her before running around frantically with a notepad in hand. 

This became a routine about two springs after you opened up: people piling in by the masses for a chance at bringing home the freshest roses, tulips, and succulents you had to offer, Kat making her weekly visit and seeing you overwhelmed, weaving her way through the horde of people crammed inside the shop and lined up outside, and finally putting on an apron of her own and managing the register while you paced back and forth getting people’s orders. 

“What would I do without you?” you mouthed to her as you formed your face into a meme-worthy cry face.

She stuck her tongue out and managed the register like a pro, fingers pressing buttons left and right at lighting speed. You giggled and went back to jotting down everyone’s orders. 

1x assmt/ peace lilies; red and white in ceram. pot

2x 4-inch maiden hair ferns delivered

1 bqt/dozen red roses w/ filler foliage

1 bqt/dozen red roses w/o filler foliage

1x dozen individually wrapped W roses with gld. ribbons

R, W, PRP, PNK tulips w/ queen anne’s lace

Succ. terr. for bday, round jar, colorful

Over the course of one day, you used up three ballpoint pens and couldn’t feel your fingers or your cheeks. Writing and smiling at the same time should be an official sport for next year’s Olympics. Kat fared no better. Slung over the register like a floppy piece of bacon, the only indication of any remaining energy from either of you was the heavy sound of breathing. 

Stretching out your hands, you set down the notepad and groaned. “Kat?” Checking to make sure she was alive, she groaned back in response. “Thank you.” 

She looked up and rested her cheek against the gold glass of the counter. “Welcome,” she mumbled, flashing her signature smile. It was a quarter past seven but you usually closed the shop by five, so why were you and Kat still here? After the commotion of today, both of you were too exhausted to close up, so you just brought whatever flowers from outside remained and ordered some takeout to eat here. 

Standing up, your body needed to step outside and get some fresh air. Kat was knocked out comfortably on the counter, so you decided to leave her alone to nap in peace. The first step you took outside made your body tingle. You were constantly running back and forth earlier, but being out of breath and in a mental flux with all the orders made you feel like you were floating. 

You inhaled the cold air as deeply as you could and breathed out with an equal amount of force. The sky was tinted a coral pink color and the sun was barely kissing the horizon. Thank you spring for yet another marvelous attribute that only you can provide. 

Right before you were about to step back inside, a familiar masked figure entered your field of vision. “Hey!” Calling out through cupped hands, you prayed he could hear you over the few cars that were driving by. His head perked up and even behind his covered face, you could see that he was surprised. Ducking his head in a makeshift greeting, you waved him hello and goodbye, happy to see his masked face again. No point in calling him over this late at night. He probably had things to do. Didn’t we all? 

Jungkook and Taehyung were the first ones to point it out. 

“Yoongi...” Hoseok uttered. 

“How could you?” Seokjin continued, mouth agape in pure disbelief.  

Namjoon shook his head. “I can’t believe you’ve done this. ‘Responsible adult’ my ass.” 

“You’ve had it for two weeks and it’s already dying!” Jimin was the one who finally blurted it out. 

Yoongi rubbed his sore eyes. It was 11 in the morning and he was exhausted from staying up all night. The deadline for his upcoming track was this Friday and contrary to popular belief, making a horribly repetitive and catchy song was a lot harder than you’d think. The guys managed to find some time in their schedules to come visit him. He never thought the day would come where he wanted them to stay home. 

“It’s fine,” he grunted. 

“When was the last time you watered it?” Hoseok asked, inspecting the sick looking plant. He was making that weird face. The one where his nose wrinkled at an invisible stench and eyes narrowed into slits. 

“Don’t know,” Yoongi shrugged while chugging a few mouthfuls of water and relished the feeling of cool liquid coating his parched throat. 

They all surveyed the state of the place. There were crumpled scraps of paper that littered the hardwood floor like confetti. Empty water bottles were spread across the bathroom, music studio, kitchen counter, and balcony shelf—and who could forget the pile of worn hoodies and shirts that were nestled in the sofa corner and had slowly been growing bigger, congregating to form a laundry mountain. 

Namjoon was the one to point out that the fridge was still pretty much empty. “Did you even go grocery shopping, Yoongi?” He spoke with the tone of concern now. If anyone knew how persistent Yoongi was, it was Namjoon. This wouldn’t be the first time he’s skipped meals and sleep just to work on a song. 

“Yoongi, we can go out for you if you need us to,” Jimin offered as usual. Hoseok and Namjoon voted in support of his idea, already mouthing a list to Taehyung and Jungkook. 

“We’ll go to the supermar—” Jungkook was cut off by Yoongi’s sudden spike of anger. 

“I’m fine,” Yoongi replied a bit too harshly. He could only hold in pent up frustration for so long before he burst. “I don’t need you to go grocery shopping for me. I don’t need your help. I appreciate it, I really do, but it’s not your job to bear my burden of being a nuisance.”  

They stayed quiet. The ball was already rolling and he needed to get it all out. 

“You think I don’t want to go out? To step outside for one day and have nobody recognize me?” Yoongi scoffed, voice dripping with venom and sarcasm. “I want—” he paused. “No, no. I crave that more than anything. The anonymity I had in high school when I was a nobody and only had you guys by my side. 

“Back when I didn’t have to bury myself underneath hoodies and beanies, suffocate myself underneath scarves and face masks, or wear sunglasses when it wasn’t the slightest bit sunny out.” Yoongi held back a scream and ran his hands through his hair in anger, tugging at the strands so he could feel tense pain nip at his scalp; he needed to feel anything other than this—this thing inside of him. Realizing that he had directed his vexes toward the wrong people, he sighed. Yoongi buried his face into his hands, disappointed at himself for doing it again. 

Sinking into the ground, he couldn’t find it in himself to shed a single tear. In a fit of blind rage, he had just yelled at his childhood friends for absolutely no reason. Guilt was starting to eat away at his conscience; he’d fucked up—bad. What the hell was wrong with him? 

The six kneeled down beside Yoongi and enveloped him in a silent hug. The boys had formed their group of seven in middle school and were forever bound by their loyalty to one another. Pushing past the temper tantrums of adolescence and living through the toils of university was all accomplished by the means of what connected them as a whole: friendship. Friends were there for each other through thick and thin, and they knew that none of them were free from the confines of daily life; friends were family

Yoongi pressed the palms of his hands harder into his eye sockets and blinked back the ache that was diffusing across his muscles. 

I’ll get out of it. 

It was an unusually cloudy day for spring. The grey clouds that were spread out across the sky didn’t seem to bode well for the day ahead. Today went by slower than usual. Granted it was a Sunday, but still—it was an off day. 

You were in the middle of pruning the plants that were set up outside the shop when a hand tapped your shoulder. Turning around, you were greeted by a doe-eyed young man and his equally handsome friend. You had never seen them around before and they were each carrying two insulated grocery bags by their sides. 

“Good afternoon.” The latter greeted you with an immaculate smile, bowing slightly. His friend mirrored the greeting, also presenting himself with his own charming grin. 

Starstruck for a moment, you blinked a few times before gulping nervously. “Pleasure.” You mentally face-palmed your brain. Great job. 

The big-eyed one spoke with a certain shyness you couldn’t put your finger on. “We were looking for some advice on plants. For a friend.” Chuckling, he scratched the back of his ear. It was only after a few moments to process their appearances did you realize that they were both attractive enough to be models, or something of the sort. Maybe your eyes were tricking you, but you felt like you’d seen them on last month’s fashion catalogue...

“I’m Jungkook by the way.” Shaking his hand, you couldn’t help but be aware of the pink that crept up your face. You tried to hide it with a nervous smile. 

Act professional, you mentally scolded. “______,” you introduced yourself.

The other apologized for his manners and shook your hand as well. Your small fingers paled in comparison to his. “Taehyung. Nice to meet you.” His blinding smile made you blush furiously and you were dying inside. 

“So uh—our friend, he has a plant like this one,” Taehyung continued, stopping to point to the tray of green carnosas beside his knee. “—and it’s starting to turn brown?” 

“Hmm...” you frowned. "Does your friend always have the air conditioner or heater running? Something that might cause the air to dry out?”

The two stared at each other at a loss for words. “Not really, he always complains that the weather is too hot to turn on the heater yet too cold for the AC,” Jungkook elaborated. 

“Oh!” He gasped as if a mind-blowing thought had struck him. “There’s a humidifier by his couch. Remember? He always used to complain about nosebleeds when we lived by uni.” Jungkook shook his head up and down like a cartoon, probably recalling this as well. 

You were stumped. “You’re sure they’re brown leaves, right? Not yellow?” 

They nodded. Damn. Yellowing leaves almost always indicated over watering or under fertilizing. Browning edges and tips usually meant that the plant needed more humidity, but full blown brown leaves? 

Sighing in defeat, you packaged a small packet of water-soluble fertilizer with instructions and handed it to doe-eyed . “Try this and see if it helps,” you instructed, praying it would. Hoyas were known as bullet-proof plants, so why a carnosa of all species was starting to decline was alarming. 

They thanked you for your help and asked you a few more questions before leaving. 

“By the way,” Taehyung asked. “Do you do arrangements for large-scale productions? Like photoshoots?” 

You said yes with a gentle smile. “Occasionally I will, but being such a small shop, I try to limit it to only during the springtime. It’s harder to fill out orders for big events when there aren’t that many materials to work with.” 

Jungkook’s eyes got bigger than you thought to be possible and beamed, still running his hands through his hair shyly. “Would you be interested in helping us out?” 

Raising your eyebrow at their request, you were curious. “What exactly would I be helping with?” 

Taehyung started stuttering, his turn to be shy. “We actually have a spring photoshoot coming up for our modeling gig, and we thought it’d be cool to have an actual set full of flowers. Not just a big, white room with oversaturated fluorescents.” 

“So you are models?” You felt like Sherlock Holmes had cracked the case. 

This time, they were the ones who turned tomato red and cleared their throats, scratching their heads nervously. Humble folks. 

“Don’t fret, your secret is safe with me,” you comforted. “What kind of theme are you trying to go for?” 

You conversed for the next half twenty minutes about their ideas for the shoot and a little bit about their backgrounds, and you managed to exchange numbers. It turns out they were quite the dynamic duo. 

If you hadn’t reminded them that they had groceries that needed to be taken home, you could have easily talked to them for another couple of hours. They were the welcoming social butterflies, not the typical annoying ones that felt the compulsive need to blabber on about nothing. 

After saving their contacts into your phone, Taehyung and Jungkook thanked you once more for your time and said they’d see you around. 

What an interesting day it turned out to be indeed...

“We come bearing gifts!” Taehyung announced grandly in his signature deep voice. Setting down the bags, the six got to work organizing the food stash. Jungkook, Taehyung and Seokjin were fortunate enough to be in town for a while before their next shoot, and Jimin, Namjoon, and Hoseok were on spring break. Basically, all of them had been camping in Yoongi’s living room for the past few weeks, and he wouldn’t have had it any other way. 

Jungkook and Taehyung had bought enough food to last all of them for a month had they still lived under a single roof. Jimin got to work on washing and slicing up the vegetables, Seokjin was dividing up the cuts of beef, and Hoseok was boiling some water and sauce for the pasta. Meanwhile, Taehyung was busy figuring out how to set the temperature dial on the oven and Jungkook was scolding him every few seconds for not letting him do it. 

Namjoon was keeping a keen eye on the water to make sure it was boiling.

“Do you think he’s still sleeping?” Sat on the bar counter of the kitchen, he propped up his chin while resting his elbow on the table. 

“I hope so,” Hoseok sighed. “But you know he never sleeps even at the best of times.” 

Jimin shook his head. “He was snoring a little earlier, but he might just be swaddled underneath the covers,” he added, the satisfying crunch of the vegetables timed perfectly with his words. 

“He’ll be okay, right?” Jungkook asked with worry evident in his voice. 

“He’ll talk about it when he’s ready to, but until then, it’s not our place to pry.” Seokjin was the class clown of the group, but every so often he let the wise part of his brain come out. “Let’s cook up a feast, pop open some bottles, and have a good time just like the old days.” 

“The water is boiling!” Namjoon shouted, a bit too loud for Hoseok’s taste. He jumped at the sudden spike in pitch like a cat. Bursting into a fit of laughter, Hoseok whacked Joon on the forehead with the wooden spoon, making him howl. A spitting image of siblings fighting on Thanksgiving. 

In the other room, Yoongi let out a deep sigh from beneath the jumbled mess of covers. The smell emanating from the kitchen made his mouth water and fooled him into thinking he was still dreaming. 

Sitting up slowly so the blood wouldn’t rush too quickly to his head, he stared outside at the glimmering lights of the city that lit up the dark sky. Across the street, he could barely make out the flashing shadows of people’s TV screens behind their blinds and the monotonous, undecorated, cement balconies. For the most part, the sight was nothing extraordinary. 

If he shut his eyes and listened closely, he could hear the faint hum of sirens; feel the quiet murmur of the heartbeat that lived and breathe in the city. If he silenced his mind entirely, he could smell the wet cement through the crack of his open window, still damp from the rain that poured hours earlier. 

His footsteps were light as he made his way to the kitchen, but not before sneaking a glance at his friends from the hallway. Hiding behind the doorway, Yoongi listened to their voices; somehow even throughout puberty, he could still tell exactly who’s voice belonged to who just by the energy their words radiated. 

“You told me to tell you when the water was boiling!” Namjoon defended with a whine, still rubbing his forehead from where Hoseok struck him with the spoon. He swore it was turning red.“I told you the water was boiling!” 

Jungkook hung his head down to hide his wide-toothed grin. He was trying his hardest to hold back the snort that threatened to escape. “I think Hoseok meant to let him know with some bit of sanity, not intentionally scare him.” 

“Either way, Hoseok definitely knew the water was boiling,” Taehyung chuckled with his mouth half-full. He always liked sneaking bits of food whenever they cooked something. 

“Stop eating all the carrots, Taehyung!” Jimin yelled for what seemed like the hundredth time. “I hope your nose turns orange.” 

His hand stopped midway, the carrot a mere centimeters away from his mouth which was still open. “Can—can that actually happen?” he sputtered. 

Yoongi could picture Jimin’s smirk down to the last dimple. “I don’t know Taehyung, ever wonder why some babies turn orange? 

“It only happens if you only eat carrots for a long time, like a carrot juice detox or something.” As usual, Seokjin was the voice of logic and mild reason in Yoongi’s absence. 

Taehyung pinched Jimin’s cheek as revenge, popping the carrot into his mouth. 

“I don’t know Taehyung,” Hoseok warned, sucking air in between his teeth for added effect. “Now that you mention it, your nose is starting to look a little bit—” 

“What?!” A few chunks of carrot came flying out of his mouth, causing the boys to explode into snickers and simultaneous “ew’s.” Taehyung ran to the nearest bathroom and nearly ran face-first into the mirror trying to get a good look at his face. 

“Hoseok!!!” he screeched like a demon. “You are so freaking lucky we don’t share a room anymore!” 

Jungkook was starting to hyperventilate and clap like a seal, while Jimin, Seokjin and Hoseok sounded like they were on laughing gas from all of their snorting. “How do you fall for that sort of thing?” Seokjin forced out while clutching his stomach and nearly bursting into tears. 

“God you guys are so stupid,” Namjoon facepalmed. In reality, he was hiding his ear-to-ear grin and his cheeks were sore. “I don’t know how we dealt with each other for twenty years.” 

This made all of them laugh even harder.

Still hiding behind the doorway, Yoongi felt a bruising pain bloom from within his chest. It started deep down in his ribs and moved up his chest, crawling up his throat and contracting every muscle and scraping against every bone as it made its way farther up. The ache grew into a bubble, inflating itself bigger and bigger until it hurt for him to swallow or breathe. His knees buckled from beneath him as his back slid down the wall, his body curling into a crouched position. He looped his hands behind his neck and tugged his face into his knees, the familiar darkness comforting him. He wanted to scream until his throat refused to; punch something until his knuckles were pink, kick a box, bite down on a towel until his gums ached, throw a glass at a wall and watch it shatter into pieces, thrash around until his limbs went numb from the buzz of blood circulation. 

He wanted to cry but he didn’t; he wanted to feel the tears as they trailed down his face. He wanted to feel the burning sensation of them trailing down his skin each time he wiped them away, cheek stinging even more after he did. 

He needed to cry but he couldn’t. 

“Do you wanna go wake him up, Taehyung?” Seokjin asked, his voice waking Yoongi up from his daze. It was more of a gentle command than a question, really. “He never gets mad at you for waking him up.” 

On cue, Yoongi walked into the kitchen and pretended to rub his eyes as if he were still sleepy. Sitting at the table, he blinked a few times to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. “Wow, you actually managed to cook something and not burn my place down.” His chest was still sore and all he wanted to do was crawl back into bed, but there was also a part of him that was genuinely impressed by the setup. 

“Hey, we’re not all like Namjoon.” Hoseok poked fun at him again and twirled his spatula as if it were a hypnotist wand. 

“At least I made sure the water was boiling,” Joon mumbled under his breath. 

Yoongi had no energy to smile, but he managed to lift the edges of his lips into the ghost of one. “I’m starving,” he spoke as his voice cracked a little. 

The dinner table was already set and they just needed to bring some spare plates over. As everyone began gathering around the food, Yoongi felt the swelling in his chest begin to calm down. He was still having trouble breathing deep breaths, but it was better. Better than nothing. 

“Want some water?” Jungkook offered, face still flushed red from laughing earlier. 

“Thanks,” Yoongi accepted. He patted the youngest on the head and ruffled his hair like the high school days. Looking around, he studied every single face of his friends, admiring traits he hadn’t really taken the time to appreciate before.

Pouring him a glass, the boys soon joined Yoongi at the table, wine glass in hand. Hoseok handed the extra one he had brought to Yoongi, sneaking him a wink. A grin spread across his lips.

Jimin passed around the bottle of white wine as Taehyung cracked open a mini bottle of red for himself.  All eyes darted towards the second youngest, causing him to raise his hands in defense. “Chardonnay gives me a hangover sometimes!” 

“Mhm,” Jungkook hummed. “Totally the chardonnay.” 

Another circle of laughter encompassed the table. Right as they were about to start eating, Hoseok remembered that he forgot to take the pasta out from the saucepan. 

Namjoon stood up so fast, he didn’t have time to voice his pain when his toe struck against the table leg. “I’ll get it!” he volunteered before anyone could stop him. The dining table was right beside the kitchen so why was he in such a rush? 

The others trusted him enough with a simple task like pouring something out of a pan into a dish. At least, that was until the boy decided the pasta was lacking a little bit of “zest,” so to speak.  

“Jungkook, where’d you put the basil?” he asked while shuffling through the refrigerator. 

"In the fridge, second drawer,” Jungkook answered, going back to take a bite of his steak. “Why?” 

“The pasta needs some green!” he said with far too much energy in his voice. 

Jimin, Taehyung, Seokjin, Hoseok, Jungkook, and Yoongi all looked at one another with the same puzzled expression before shrugging it off. That classical fiction analysis class was probably making him go kooky. The peace lasted for about half a second until Namjoon asked where Jimin had put the knife. 

Their calm expressions immediately turned into ones of sheer terror as they looked at each other and scrambled out of their seats at the speed of light.

“Namjoon!” they screamed in unison. 

Kat nearly dislocated her jaw. “He texted you again? What did he say? Did you text him back? What did you say? Was he being a dick again? How—”

You smacked your hand across her mouth in an effort to shut her up. Her overzealous energy was really a double-edged sword. On certain days, you absolutely thrived on it. On days like this, you hated it with a burning passion more than you hated maidenhair ferns. They were beautiful in theory but were a bitch to keep happy. 

“Kat,” you stopped. “I love you and I would do anything for you, but I really need you to just shut up for right now, okay?” Nodding slowly at your request, you carefully peeled your hand off of her mouth. 

“Are you okay?” she asked instead, much calmer than before. “You seem a little off.” 

Sighing, you decided it would just be better if you showed her the texts. 

Douchebag: hey ______, is this ur number? [ 2:22 p.m.] 

Douchebag: i got a new phone that’s y [ 2:23 p.m.]

                                                                                         You: yea [ 2:29 p.m.] 

Douchebag: how’ve you been [ 2:35 p.m.] 

                                                                             You: good, you? [ 2:42 p.m.] 

Douchebag: {download image.jpeg} [ 2:44 p.m.]

Douchebag: I wanted to snap u this cuz I was wearing the sweater you got me but I guess u don’t have snap lol [ 2:45 p.m.]

                                                                   You: I deleted all of my apps                                                                               and never got back to                                                                                        reinstalling them, sorry [ 2:50 p.m.]

Scrolling through the rest of the messages, Kat scoffed in disbelief. “I knew he was scum, but catching up after three years of nothing and acting like everything is peachy keen is a new level of assholery,” she rambled on. 

You rolled your eyes, resting your elbow on the counter and palm cradling your temple. “What can I say. I definitely know how to pick them well.” 

“And the goddamn audacity of him to send a shirtless pic, masking it as a ‘thank-you for buying me that sweater’ schtick?” she growled, fist clenching around nothing while picturing his face.

“An absolute disgrace,” you tagged along. 

“It’s not your fault, ______,” Kat soothed. “I would’ve fallen for his mind games too if he charmed me like that.” She took a sip of her iced coffee and shook her head vigorously. “God he makes me want to punch him in his stupid ugly face with that stupid dumb grin and those stupid poofy curls in his stupid misshaped head—”

“Kat,” you warned again, begging her to calm down. Her vernacular wasn’t the best, but damn was it amusing at times. “We just texted back and forth to kill some time. It didn’t mean anything and it’s not happening again.” It felt like you were trying to convince yourself more than her. 

She studied your expression carefully before deciding what to say next. “If he ever crosses the line again, call me.” Placing her hand over your free hand, she gave it a good squeeze. The edges of your lips curved into the tiniest smile and you instantly felt at ease. 

“Have I ever told you how lucky and grateful I am to have met you?” you chuckled, ignoring the throbbing in your temple that started early in the morning. 

Tossing her hair behind her shoulders like an actress from the Golden Age of Hollywood, her teeth glimmered like diamonds against the bright red lipstick she had on. “As am I, my pumpkin patch sweet pea,” she beamed.

Covering your face to hide your painful grin, the door chimed, welcoming a customer. You fanned your face to calm down your rosy cheeks. “Welcome!” you greeted with your usual bright tone. 

“Don’t touch anything,” someone criticized, the quiet sound of a hand smacking skin resounding through the small shop. 

“I didn’t!” another voice, most likely the one who was scolded, replied in an irritated whisper. 

Sitting up straight, you saw three young men standing right by where the glass terrarium displays were set up. You’d recognize that toothy smile and round face anywhere.

“Jungkook!” Finally getting out of your chair, you couldn’t help but be excited to see his face again. Kat’s eyes almost bulged out of their sockets as she stared back and forth between you and the guys with a blatant, “are you kidding me, you met a cute guy and didn’t bother mentioning it to me” face.

Poking the shoulder of his friend who was scolded, Jungkook greeted you with his signature smile and energetic wave. “______! Namjoon, Jimin, this is ______.” 

The taller one shook your hand. “Nice to meet you,” he spoke gently with a close-lipped smile and sensed a child-like wisdom from him that you couldn’t exactly put your finger on. It didn’t help that his horn-rimmed glasses made him look like a teacher and a student. 

“Jimin, wonderful to meet you.” The shorter-statured boy addressed you with a nearly angelic tone, voice softer than what you’d imagine clouds to feel like between your fingertips. His silver-dyed hair added to his overall ethereal aura.

Still sat at the counter, a starstruck Kat greeted the three with more confidence and gusto than you could ever muster. “Honored to meet you, I’m Kathryn but please call me Kat.” She strummed her fingers in the air as if she were plucking a harp. Jungkook, Jimin, and Namjoon grinned, already sensing the quirky nature of her personality. Yup, Kat’s so-called “Kat-Attack” was definitely contagious. 

If you had a dollar for every time you blushed because of Jungkook and/or his friends, you’d have enough money to buy your own greenhouse—and live in said greenhouse. It wasn’t until Kat forcefully coughed up her left lung out that you registered how long you had been shaking Jimin’s hand. Pulling away abruptly, you let out an awkward chuckle. This was totally not weird at all—just three attractive, charming, attractive young men who waltzed into your shop on an ordinarily quiet day. Nothing weird. God, you were making it so weird—

“I’m gonna go get some coffee, do you guys want anything?” Kat asked out of the blue. If she was going to do what you think she was about to do...

“No, that’s alright,” Jimin turned down kindly. “We stopped by a café on the way here, but thank you for offering.” 

“No problem at all!” Kat smirked just the slightest bit while saying this as if she’d gotten away with a bank heist. “I’ll see you after work, ______!” As she was walking outside, you saw her shoot you a mischievous wink through the glass before running off. 

“So,” you started, trying your best to carry on the conversation as if you weren’t the most socially awkward human in the world. “What brings you and your friends in today?” 

Jungkook, still as shy as ever, ruffled his hair lightly out of habit. “Well, you see, me Taehyung, and another friend of ours moved into an apartment a while back, and it still doesn’t feel...” he paused, trying to think of the right word. “—homey enough.” 

While listening to Jungkook, Jimin and Namjoon were exploring the shop, taking in everything they could with their eyes, smelling what they could with their nose, and feeling every leaf and petal with their fingertips. 

“We’re not the roommates,” Namjoon joked. “He dumped us ‘a while back.’” He acted out air quotes around the last three words. You held back a snort. 

“He didn’t dump us, Joon,” Jimin corrected. “He found someone else who makes him happier.” Jimin pouted, raising the back of his hand to his forehead and sniffling like a kid. 

Jungkook rolled his eyes and scoffed. “These two goofballs are with my other friend,” he clarified. “Taehyung, Seokjin and I have a pretty hectic schedule because of, you know...” Jungkook’s face was dusted with a shade of pink, clearly still too bashful to admit that he was a model. 

“I understand,” you nodded, still biting the inside of your cheek to refrain from smiling too much. “So you, Taehyung, and Seokjin share an apartment while Jimin, Namjoon, and—?” Trailing the sentence off with a higher pitched voice, Jimin got the message. 

“Hoseok,” he finished for you. “He’s an even bigger dolt than me and Joon combined, trust me.” The image he painted made you giggle.

Eventually, you arrived at the best conclusion you could form with the information given. “Right, so the six of you are best friends and live in two apartments.” 

“In theory, yes,” Namjoon established. “But we also have Yoongi who lives by himself.” 

“He’s the guy who Taehyung and I came in asking advice for?” Jungkook clarified, helping you recall back to the first time you met them. 

You heard Jimin exhale deeply. “He’s sort of like the dad of our group, if you know what I mean. Quiet, kind of emotionally detached but in reality just doesn’t know how to express himself—that kind of thing.” 

“Oh.” It slipped out by accident and sounded more melancholic than you thought. You tried coming up with something to neutralize your slip-up. “I’m really glad he has you guys as family.” 

Jimin and Jungkook gave you a heartfelt smile—then there was a thud. 

Turning around, Namjoon was hiding his face behind his hand while rubbing his temple. The grow light that was hanging still from the ceiling was now swinging back and forth like a pendulum. 

You were wincing as if you felt his pain secondhand. “Are you okay?” 

He nodded too quickly as if trying to convince you that he was really okay. “Fine. Good. Flower shop. Plants need light. Forgot about the dangling lights. A lot of them.” he sputtered like a morse code machine. 

Turning back to Jungkook and Jimin, they too had their faces buried in their hands out of sheer embarrassment. Sometimes, people found it hard to believe that Namjoon was that clumsy in his actions, but even harder for Jungkook and Jimin to tell them that he was their senior. 

“Anyway,” Jungkook coughed. “Our new place looks kind of uninviting and Jimin thought adding a couple of plants might make it more cozy.” 

Jimin had made his way to the syngoniums and rhaphidophoras. “We have better luck with plants than Namjoon and Yoongi. They don’t exactly have the greenest thumbs.” 

Chuckling, you directed their attention to the macrame the 6-inch pothos n’joy that cascaded from the ceiling. Coincidentally, Namjoon was inspecting that exact one. Perfect. “Actually, he’s a pretty forgiving little guy.” Stepping up the ladder and bringing him down, Jungkook’s eyes grew big and his hands flew out to hold the ladder steady. “Thanks,” you blushed again.  

Holding the plant up close now, you let them admire the creamy white variegation, watercolor patches of green, lighter patches of green, and the lush leaves. You also showed them the golden pothos, which was a more of a typical chlorophyll green, but it had beautiful yellow and white specks of variegation throughout the foliage. 

“I’m assuming you’re all still beginners,” you inferred, to which they all nodded in agreement. “These guys need lots of bright light, but don’t press them up against a window or they’ll get sunburn,” continuing to explain. 

“Water them every few weeks and wait until they’re bone dry, then give them a good, thorough drench. Don’t overwater them or they’ll hate you for it, trust me. They rarely ever need fertilizer, but I’ll give you guys some packets to last you a couple of months.” 

“Can we take them all home?” Jimin gawked, head tilted up towards the sky and staring at the ceiling that was ornate with vining, trailing, hanging, and branching foliage. 

An amused laughter left your lips. “I wish you could, but the next time you come and visit I’ll let you take one of those home,” you promised. “If you want another eye-candy foliage one, you could also take home a brasil.” Holding up the heart-leafed philodendron, the neon yellow stripes down the median of each leaf and clusters of light and dark green looked like they were hand-painted.

“Oh me, me, me!” Jimin’s hand shot up in the air, flapping it back and forth vigorously. 

“Could I take one of these too?” Namjoon inquired with a 6-inch pot in hand. “Rhaphid—off... fera—?” he tried to sound out, earning another giggle from you. 

“Rhaphidophora tetrasperma but it’s more commonly known as a mini monstera,” you clarified. He formed his lips into an o shape, caressing the delicate split-leaved foliage. “I think you’d be more than able to take care of that one.” Jungkook coughed to hide his snort. 

“We’ll make sure he doesn’t drown it,” Jimin assured, throwing you a sly wink. Add another dollar to your bank account, would you? 

“Hello, last time I checked we came here to buy housewarming gifts for my house?” Jungkook reminded them in the form of a rhetorical question. 

You patted him on the shoulder to wipe the pout off his face. “There’s more than enough plant love to go around.” 

“We’re gonna be here all day...” Jimin sighed in content, gently feeling the fuzzy leaves of some African violets. “Say sorry to my bank account for me, will you?” 

“I second that,” Namjoon added. “What on earth is this?” Holding up a 2-inch grow pot, you pursed your lips at his dumbfounded expression, eyebrows raised and wrinkled at the odd looking succulent. 

“It’s a lithops.” His face contorted more at your reply “They’re also known as living stones. As they grow, they split in half and pop out little baby lithops.” 

Blinking to process what he had just heard, Jimin groaned and shielded his eyes. “Don’t say it, Joon.” Looking closer at the plant Joon was holding, Jungkook parted his mouth—

“It looks like a lil’ol buttcrack,” Namjoon pointed out bluntly. The three of you let out a synchronous sigh and buried your faces into your hands, but couldn’t help and burst into laughter right after. 

“We are going to be here all day, aren’t we,” Jungkook said muffled through his hands still covering his face.

After the last crappy 72 hours, you were more than grateful to have them keep you company for the day. "I’m more than happy to make some new friends while doing my job.” The words flowed freely from your mind, excited to get to know them better. 

After sending each of the guys home with enough plants they could manage to carry, you closed up the shop for the day. Kat texted you right after the guys left in a panic. She completely blanked about the gala she had to attend for her design and commerce class and was running to catch the metro. You could tell she was still adamant on wearing her fashionable but not functional cube-heeled oxfords, as her texts were a mixture of all-caps lock and garbled, choppy sentences. 

As you made your way back to your apartment, you couldn’t help but hear a jumble of voices arguing with each other in your head.

Text him back, he misses you. 

Don’t. He’s just using you to get what he wants again. He’ll leave just like that last time. Remember last time? You don’t want that to happen again do you?

Scum. Dirtbag. Trash. User.

What if he means it this time? 

Asshole. Player. Heartbreaker. 

Maybe he’s changed. 

Don’t do it. Put your phone down.

What if he actually misses me? What if it’s different this time? Just text him. Nothing bad will happen if you text him once. 

Everything bad that can happen will happen, it’s only a matter of—

The slamming of your door seemed to silence the conflicting pieces of your collective conscience. Leaning against the door, you clicked your lock and pressed your hand against your chest, willing yourself to calm down.

You tossed your keys onto the counter and jumped into the shower as soon as you threw your clothes into the laundry basket. The steam engulfed your body with a pleasant heat, releasing the tension in your neck and shoulders that had built up from the sleepless nights in bed. 

After spending a little less than an hour in your makeshift steam sauna, you remembered that you actually had utility bills to pay. You quickly got out of the shower and slipped on your usual attire of joggers and an old shirt. The place was chilly, so you slipped on a cardigan for good measure. With your hair wrapped in a towel, you searched through your fridge for something to eat.

“Damn.” The words left your lips before you could stop them. 

Of course, it was pretty much empty. You were so caught up with spring orders for the past few weeks, you didn’t get a chance to stop by the grocery store on your way home. Settling on half of a turkey sandwich leftover from yesterday, you were grateful you still had a few cans of soda left to compliment tonight’s gourmet feast. 

You made yourself comfortable on your couch that was arranged right across your balcony. There was no use in having a TV if you couldn’t afford to pay the electric bills, and you wanted to utilize the limited space of your studio to its fullest. The fizz of the soda nearly made you choke. It had been a hot minute since you had soda, relying purely on coffee for the past few years to give you that caffeine boost. 

The sound of sirens wailing echoed throughout the city and pierced through the hum of traffic with ease. Leaning your head back into the dense cushion, you closed your eyes and listened; the relentless thumping of your upstairs neighbors, probably having another night of friends over; the faint shouts from the restaurant across the street that was overflowing with diners, typical of a Friday night; the gentle whisper of cold air that bled through the crack of your sliding balcony door. You needed to get that fixed ages ago. 

The food wasn’t going down well. It was that damn soda. Putting down the last few bits of the sandwich, you stood up and stepped outside onto your balcony. The lights flickered on and you admired the plant shelves you’d set up a few days after moving in. It was a teeny tiny space, but the luscious array of green, pinks, reds, white, and every color in between made it all the more bearable. 

You propped your elbow up against the rail that guarded the edge and breathed in for four seconds, held it for five, and exhaled for six. It was working, right? Your hands came up to the sockets of your eyes, applying the slightest bit of pressure to them. There were days where you really wanted to sleep for days on end; a hibernation, if you will. Today was most definitely one of those days. There was one problem—how were you supposed to fall asleep if you were too afraid to?

You were scared of seeing him in your dreams. Not even dreaming about him, no—the fear of encountering him as a random stranger while you were on your way to the floral market or a jogger passing by on your stroll in the park. His face resurfaced in flashes The glimpses of your favorite memories together were now inescapable bursts composed of your worst nightmares. 

You hated him. You loathed him with all of your heart, despised him with every fiber of your being and with every single living cell in your body. You wanted to forget about him; you wanted to forget he ever existed and that he ever met you. Every single moment you shared with him and every second you wasted pining over whether he loved you back; you wanted those years of your life back. 

But you knew better than anyone that time was never forgiving, and you would never get to relive those years ever again.

The funny thing—actually the hilarious thing—was that you hated yourself more than you hated him. You hated yourself for being the one who introduced yourself to him at that stupid party; you never should have gone to that stupid fucking party. You were such an idiot, what were you thinking? 

All those days, months, and years you spent constantly hovering over your phone, begging and pleading for him to send you a text. Something, anything to acknowledge that he still knew your name and to give you the opportunity to manipulate it into meaningless signals, then use that to convince yourself that he actually did care about you. 

You couldn’t remember for the life of you how or why you started falling for him. You both agreed to it no-strings-attached. No cuddles, no aftercare, no dates, and definitely no kissing in front of other people or hugging each other. He said his reputation would be ruined if his friends found out about you two. 

In love with the idea of being in love, you agreed without a second thought. No feelings, no crossing the line. Simple. 

Until he started breaking the rules. 

He’d get jealous of you hanging out with other guys, blowing up your phone with questions and angry paragraphs along the lines of “You’re not going to parties anymore unless it’s with me” and “I can’t believe you hung out with Aaron of all people. You know he’s a complete fuck up, right?” 

 Then he started caring—at least, acting like he did. Pretending. Faking. Lying. Masquerading. Call it whatever you will. He held you close to his chest after spending time with you in his bed, wrapping you under the covers to keep you warm. You’ll never forget the warmth of his chest as his heartbeat thumped against your ear. His fingers traced the outline of your face when he thought you were asleep, never knowing that you did everything in your power to hold back your smile. Then there were times when he’d leave you right after, making an excuse about a night out with his friends or a project due tomorrow. It was always due tomorrow. Other times he would go to the bathroom and then come back to throw you a towel. 

“My roommates will be here any minute. You should hurry up,” he’d warn.

Case and point, his games worked. After three years, you were head over heels for him. The memory of how it ended was blocked from your mind. Anytime you tried to remember that day, you always ran into a concrete wall. It was almost as if you built it to protect yourself from something, but what? 

The only thing you could recall were the tears. Maybe they were his too, but you vividly remember yours. They flooded your vision with a cloudy film, overflowing in streams and trails down your face and even causing you to choke on them. And the screaming—god, the screaming... More memories flooded in as your hands cupped your ears.

“I’m sorry, okay?! I’m sorry that I want what’s best for you and that you can’t see how much I care. I’m sorry for being so blind and seeing you for who I wanted you to be, that I couldn’t see you for who you truly are! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—”

Shutting your eyes tightly, you felt a drop of wetness fall dribble down your cheek. You were crying again. A sniffle followed the scoff that came out of your mouth. What, three years have already passed since then? Three years and you were still crying over that asshole? 

Wiping at your face with the rough fabric of your sleeve, you bit your lip to concentrate on something else. You stared at nothing to the point where everything looked blurry and your eyes stung. The temperature suddenly dropped, indicated by your shivering. You couldn’t afford to get sick and hurried back inside. 

Before you knew it, the clock had struck 11:00 p.m. and you were not the slightest bit sleepy. Sheltered in the safety of your own home, you had an idea that would not only get your mind out of the rut you’d fallen into, but also . Digging through scraps of loose paper, dry pens, and trash in general, you found your old earbuds. They worked perfectly fine, okay? Why fix something when it’s not broken? 

Plugging them into your phone because yes—you had a phone which was one of the dying species that still had a headphone jack—you turned on your favorite playlist (appropriately titled stre$$ed) and commenced dancing in your room like someone from the 70′s. The only thing missing was a pair of flare-cut jeans, a splotchy tie-dyed shirt, and a pair of Kat’s over-the-top disco boots.

Even though your neighbors were assholes about keeping it down after lights out, you chose to be the bigger person and take their residence into consideration. Mouthing the words silently and jumping as softly as you could, your damp hair stuck to the edges of your face and flung around, hitting your cheek a couple of times. Truth be told, you were far past the point of caring. 

Each time your foot came thumped against the plush carpet was an invigorating strike; every head bob was a liberating release; each labored breath and winded puff felt like the exact opposite, a breath of fresh air.

An escape. 

You flopped onto the bed with a heavy exhale, trying to catch your breath. Panting, your face felt hot and every part of your lungs burned like you were being roasted alive on a bonfire. The back of your hand felt cool against your forehead and your eyes began drooping at the soothing touch. Before you could pull the covers up, darkness engulfed your senses and you were out like a light. 

Yoongi couldn’t sleep. He had counted backwards from one hundred, two hundred, five hundred, and maybe a thousand. He tried listening to a random playlist full of rain sounds, alpha waves, crickets, and a fireplace crackling. All that came from that was an unnecessary number of bathroom trips, ear scratching, skin itching, and throwing off the covers from the heat he was imagining.  

Sitting up in annoyance, Yoongi sat on the edge of his bed with his forehead resting on his hand, elbow propped up on his elbow. He couldn’t stop thinking. Thinking about his job, the deadlines he had to meet, the songs he had to make, lyrics that still needed to be written, phone calls and emails he needed to send out—he was supposed to call his mom during lunch. 

“Fuck,” he swore, rubbing his eyes again. Looking at his alarm clock, the time 12:12 a.m. was outlined in blue. He initially settled on the traditional red one while at the store, but Hoseok convinced him to opt for a more “peppy color.” Yoongi’s lips curved into a soft grin at the memory. Within seconds, his eyebrows knitted together into a frown and his eyes flickered, the subtle expression he bore moments ago now a stone cold gaze. 

No matter how hard he tried and how badly he wished and prayed, he couldn’t compel himself to cry. Despite his adamant concentration and determination, he didn’t shed a tear. Not being able to force it out without knowing what it was, proved to be absolutely suffocating. 

He tried focusing on something else. The lights, the city, the sounds—he needed to focus on something else. Gazing through the window he’d familiarized himself with, Yoongi took in the view. From his room, he was able to see a picturesque layout of where the biggest main streets of the city intersected. Through the fog, he could also make out the faint edges of the longest footbridge that ran across the skyline. Looking down, the warm glow of street lamps and building lights twinkled through the dark night like man-made stars. 

Lifting his head up to the apartment complex directly across from his, there were still a couple of lights on here and there. Yoongi felt validated in the sense that he wasn’t the only one who had sleepless nights. One by one, they started to fade, each apartment light turning off as someone’s hand flicked a lever and went to sleep. It was strangely relaxing to watch. After about twenty minutes of staring intently at every person tune out for the night, he narrowed his eyes at one that remained. 

Directly across from his apartment was the faint yellow glow of someone’s balcony light. He imagined the wonderful warmth radiating from it, closing his eyes to immerse himself in the imagination. Looking closer, Yoongi saw the shadow of a woman leaning on the railing. She was shivering. 

Bringing her hand up, she wiped at her face and started laughing—crying? He couldn’t see in the dark all that well. Trying to get a closer look, he forgot about the glass that separated him from the outside world and face planted the pane. Wincing in pain, he wrinkled his nose and inhaled sharply through his two front teeth. 

He shook it off and centered his vision back to the balcony opposite to his room, remembering to open the window this time. Cold air bit at his cheeks but he ignored it, determined to find what he had witnessed seconds ago. The girl was still leaning on the rail and was staring at seemingly nothing. Her shoulders hiccuped up every few seconds and hands came up to wipe her face again. 

Definitely crying. 

Yoongi was awestruck. How good did it feel to finally get it out? Was it worth it? Did it feel like you could breathe again? Yoongi soon realized that he was jealous—no, he envied her ability to weep; her ability to shed real, painful, cathartic tears. 

He envied the one thing he couldn’t have and would never be able to get. 

Following your movement back inside, he should’ve gone back to bed himself, but for some reason, he just couldn’t. His gut told him not to, but then again, that way of decision-making was a 50/50 bet. 

Whether it happened in the blink of an eye or this was all some sleep-deprived dream, she ended up going from crying her eyes out to dancing her heart out? She reminded Yoongi of Seokjin’s drunk dancing; good but not good, sane but not entirely, and so rhythmic yet incredibly off beat. Her vibrancy was contagious and made Yoongi smile a real smile for the first time in a while. If you told him that she had bawled herself delirious two minutes ago, he would have snorted. It looked as if she didn’t have a single worry or care in the world....

He felt like a creep. He shouldn’t be up, period. He should be sleeping, not spying on his neighbors. Worse, they weren’t even neighbors, had never met before, nor did they even come a foot close and live in the same building. 

Hell, that made it so much freaking worse. 

He sighed at how pathetic he felt. Was he that desperate for something he didn’t even know? Yoongi decided to call it a night. Crawling into his covers, they never seemed to keep him warm, no matter how tightly he wrapped himself in them. It was either searing hot discomfort paired with cold sweat or ice cold feet and teeth chattering. 

That night by whatever random laws of the universe he slept soundly. Not once did he shoot open his eyes from nightmares or stir in his sleep out of discomfort. Maybe it was from witnessing someone’s emotional outpours and experiencing them vicariously through his own means, or maybe it was the satisfaction of selecting all of his unread emails and archiving them until tomorrow, one thing was for sure—Yoongi had accomplished his goal of sleeping through an entire night; something he hadn’t done for years now... 

I’ll get out of it.

“I never thought I’d ever say this,” you started, trying to close your agape mouth. “But I think you guys might have one too many plants.” Looking at their coffee table, it was overflowing with the eight boxes you’d delivered this morning. Yes, there were eight boxes full of plants delivered to a single apartment. Marco would have the time of his life restocking for next week. Jungkook, Taehyung, Hoseok, Namjoon, and Jimin helped you carry up the boxes and were all staring at the ground sheepishly, their hands clasped behind their backs like children who were caught stealing cookies from the cookie jar. 

You offered to deliver the boxes to their places separately, seeing as they had different spaces and floor plans, but that cheeky bugger Taehyung convinced you to rendezvous at his place. Then you wouldn’t have to go through the trouble of walking back and forth between the shop and their corresponding buildings, and the guys would get a chance to meet you. 

Guilt gnawed at you for making them interrupt their daily schedules just to bring home some houseplants, but Jungkook insisted that they were all free for the next two weeks; spring break for Jimin, Namjoon, and Hoseok, pre-season break and scheduling bookings for Seokjin, Taehyung, and Jungkook. 

Meeting Seokjin for the first time and Taehyung for the second was a memorable experience, to put it lightly. You walked in on them running around half naked and throwing crumpled balls of clothes at each other. Turns out they had been arguing about who’s turn it was to do the laundry and neither of them were having it. Long story short, you lived life by the rule that first impressions were a good indicator of someone’s unfiltered, raw, underlying disposition, and in this case, it proved to be entirely true in the best way possible. 

“We’ll share, we promise.” Jimin was the first to break the silence but still had trouble meeting your gaze. 

Jungkook pointed an accusing finger at Seokjin and Taehyung, his turn to talk. “They didn’t believe us after they saw how many plants we came home with, so we figured we’d invite you over to meet them in person and see whether they convert or not.” 

“Safe to say that we are officially convinced,” Taehyung raised his hands in surrender, elbowing Seokjin to do the same. 

Hiding your smile by pressing your lips together, a tingling sensation spread across your face at his odd choice of words. When you reminded them about their hectic schedules and voiced your concern about them being able to keep up with care, Seokjin revealed his contract agreement with Hoseok. “He promised that he’d come by and water them whenever we’re out of town for longer than a week,” the eldest explained while biting back a smirk. “He kind of owes me a lifelong debt...” 

Forcing out a tight-lipped sideways grin, Hoseok slung his arm over Jimin’s shoulder, bearing a smirk of his own. “Don’t worry, Jimin here owes me a debt of his own.” 

A sly grin crept along Jimin’s face. "Considering that my lifelong debt doesn’t have to do with the fact that you bl—” Before he could finish, Seokjin and Hoseok’s hands flew up faster than lightning to cover the boy’s mouth. Taehyung nearly spit out his water and the others were near tears and clutching their abdomens, their mouths sealed tight and refusing to let out one of their pact’s biggest secrets. You admired how loyal and strong their bond was, a rare thing in this day and age.

Shaking your head to distract yourself from their incessant laughter, you pressed your hand over your forehead and widened your eyes in concentration. “Well, let’s get to organizing, shall we?” 

Unpacking the boxes one by one, each contained an array of species from pothos, philodendrons, syngoniums, hoyas, pileas, peperomias, baby rubber trees, rhaphidophoras, sansevierias, ZZ plants, money trees, and finally, two mature, green monsteras for each of them to keep in their living rooms. Not knowing what kind of lighting situation they had going on, you tried to limit your recommendations to medium-light tolerant plants. After they alerted you about their east and south-exposure windows, you were relieved in your selection. 

“I call the big guy,” Jungkook cooed, picking up the staked rhaphidophora and clutching it to his chest and smirking coyly. “For my room.” 

Seokjin whined loudly. “We live in the same apartment!” 

Taehyung let out a disappointed sigh and shook his head. “You see what I have to deal with every day?” 

Namjoon reached for the philodendron micans. “It’s like velvet!” he commented in awe as he felt the leaves. It was nicknamed the velvet-leaved philodendron after all, but his reaction made you feel fuzzy with plant love. 

“Woah this looks like an alien’s flying saucer,” Hoseok noted. Picking up the pilea, it never struck you that the round, green disks did, in fact, look like flying saucers. Once everyone was satisfied with what they were taking home (it ended up taking a lot less time than you predicted), you went to work arranging them around the living room, bedroom, and kitchen, all while explaining to them the water and light requirements, periodic maintenance, and looking out for pests.

You urged Jimin, Namjoon, and Hoseok to go back to their place first, assuring that you’d meet them there. They said it was no bother and wanted to witness your working process. You were just doing your job, but seeing them fascinated by your passion and vigor was much more endearing than you thought it would be.

Just as you were hanging the macrame pot by their balcony, you heard the front door click open. Taehyung, Jimin, and Namjoon were holding the step ladder steady for you. 

Since you were concentrating on getting the nail at the right angle, you paid no attention to it, assuming it was Hoseok or Jungkook going to recycle the used wrapping paper and packing materials. 

“Yoongi!” Jimin called out.

“Good to see you dude,” Taehyung beamed. “Sorry, our hands are kind of full.”

“Could’ve given me a heads up that you had a guest over,” he grumbled, but you couldn’t hear through the rustling of the leaves that smacked your face. 

The sound of footsteps grew louder from afar, then paused when you felt a presence behind you. “Jungkook,” you called out, turning your shoulder and looking down to where he was standing. “Do you mind grabbing the pliers from—” 

Here’s the thing you never understood about step ladders. Standing on them is considered a safety hazard, yet it’s method of use and reason for existence is to be stood on. You wished you remembered this when you decided to turn around and look down at Jungkook, except, it wasn’t Jungkook. It wasn’t Hoseok either. Despite not wearing a mask or beanie, you instantly recognized that cold gaze, piercing through yours like daggers. 

He was equally shocked and mirrored your exact reaction, eyes growing wide and mouth parting as if you were staring through double-sided plexiglass. 

“Yoongi, this is _____,” Jungkook introduced comfortably, conversation flowing freely from him. “______, this is Yoongi. The dad Jimin talked about.” While the boys broke into convulsions of laughter, you and Yoongi were still shellshocked. Of all the people that could be in this friend circle, it had to be the guy who crossed paths with you a few of times on the street?  

You didn’t register that you’d lost your footing from the ladder until the familiar weight of gravity tipped you over. The last thing you saw were multiple pairs of hands reaching out to try and catch you, but it was too late—your body collided into his before crashing onto the floor as one whole, the clear thud of wood against flesh echoing throughout the apartment. 

That’s definitely one way to make a first impression.

[veinereastath]

lack of time (find some time for me);

Some time ago I wrote in one of the “gush about your OC” asks that Irina trimmed John’s beard once, and I’ve decided to elaborate on the subject, so have this... Thing. Pairing: Deputy (more or less) Irina Carter x John Seed. Warnings: None. Well, just a bit of blood, sexual tension, beard trimming, you know how it goes. :)) Word count: 2629. Sorry for eventual grammar mistakes, English hard mucho very~ ~    John's home, however cozy and quite nicely furnished, was not exactly what suited Irina’s taste. Although she was reassured by the sight of those well-known wooden panels and decorations - including deer skulls and stuffed predators, probably gifts from his oldest brother - she felt jusr overwhelmed by the size of this place. Her heart still belonged to those small cabins in the woods, or even a forest in itself, beautiful despite its dangers. 

   She was used to spend the night on a tree branch or in small caves. She usually had company in the form of rats, sometimes wolves also appeared, but after a while it ceased to discourage and frighten her. Routine. At some point she realized that animals in the Whitetails became so used to her that they were almost ignorant about her presence.

   The ranch was, however, an unusually extensive property, and the only living things around were humans - that bothered her. Irina was used to being among animals, but people always heralded potential problems. The only trusted person - though the term wasn’t really appropriate - was John, but she didn’t feel comfortable enough – not to mention that it would just look weird – to follow him everywhere in order to get rid of the uneasiness.

   Not to mention that she shouldn’t really be here, and if any of the guards caught glimpse of her, she would be probably shot on sight. To Joseph’s greatest displeasure, she imagined.

   John got used to her visits, unpredictable and random, and they didn’t bother him at this point. Quite the contrary – he liked them, because it was the only chance to get to know her better. Irina was fascinating, but infuriating as well. He hated and loved her at the same time, because he wanted to know every single detail about her past and her mind, but she was only giving him the bare minimum. And though he liked to unveil everything piece by piece, he wasn’t really patient, and after days, weeks and months of playing this game with her, John’s jaws were clenching with more force, and his eyes were more sharp every time she was saying “no”, or just giving him this ominous half-smile of hers.

  Irina wasn’t attractive in the typical sense of the word; the longer he looked at her, the more flaws he saw - lips that were rather narrow, a nose that for most of today's society would be considered a bit too big, eyebrows devoid of natural, feminine shape and symmetry. It seemed like she had never cared her appearance like most women – or, should he say, women that he used to know - did, but it was good because it meant she had more serious priorities. Deputy was also thin, but he suspected that being starved by Jacob had the greatest impact in this case. Her breasts were small, and torso in general was even slightly androgynous. Scoliosis did not escape his eyes either.

   She had her flaws, but John knew that people were not perfect by nature; and he sometimes scoffed at himself when he realized that he was giving her appearance too much of an insight. It didn’t matter how she looked like.

  But there were things he adored in her as well.

   A massive scar cutting through her left cheek and distorting the corner of her lips was a fascinating thing – because while it definitely wasn’t something that could be called a jewelry, he was quite close to calling it this way. It was giving those typical, half-smirks of her even more dangerous notes, and in a very weird way seemed to just be destined to be there. John couldn’t even exactly remember how she looked like before the scar incident, and he didn’t really mind. It was unique, and made her look totally different dependable on the light source – when she was sitting by his fireplace, the flames dancing on her features made her look, interestingly, nearly divine; but when he was looking at her in his bunker in a dark room, where only half of her face was visible, he was pretty sure that before his own eyes stood the devil himself.    Irina was a mess. Wild mess, indeed; always in a rush, always chasing someone or being chased, but she seemed to truly enjoy it. And even when she was standing right in front of him, covered in blood and with wet clothes sticking to her figure, John saw in her eyes those well-known sparks of excitement, like if she wanted more, more, even though her body was screaming and begging for a rest. She couldn’t live without a fight. Got addicted to it, pretty much like he used to with cocaine and women in the past, and how he got addicted to her. It wasn’t safe, it wasn’t even totally rational, but he didn’t want to fight with it, and allowed the addiction to consume him whole.

   “Fuck.” John cursed under his breath, closing his eyes and looking at his hands, standing in front of the mirror. He wanted to start his typical, mourning routine, but his mind had other ideas and wandered somewhere else, somewhere where it definitely shouldn’t be right now.

   “Fjandinn.” This made him open his eyes and look in the mirror once again, only to see her leaning on the doorframe. Fjandinn, he repeated in his mind. Considering the way she liked to use this word, he already managed to deduce that it was something close to English “fuck” or “damn”. “Does even something so simple as trimmering your beard makes you go all cogitative?”

   He clenched his jaw, but not in fury, rather in an amusement, meeting her eyes in the mirror. She was smirking, it was barely visible, but he saw it. Clever girl. “You’re trespassing, Deputy. Or are you here to arrest me for something? I don’t see a warrant.”

   Irina sighed, averting her gaze and trying to focus on untagling a strand of her hair. Covered in blood, he noticed. So, everything seemed to go as usual in her life so far. “Naaah.” She murmured, sighing quietly. “Just trespassing.”

   John smiled a bit. The audacity. “Came to steal another bottle of alcohol, I presume?” He asked, his eyes wandering to her slim fingers, fighting doggedly with strands of hair, combined from probably all shades of blonde know to this world. He even saw bits of light brown here and there.

   “No.” She seemed pensive, like if trying to say something. Something that required her to be careful. “I was just passing nearby. Thought I would come in and see what’s up.”

   Well, that would explain the hesitation, John thought. It was hard for her to admit that she genuinely wanted to see him, because it meant she really cared. Her pride, as always, was standing in her way, but this time she won the battle with herself. He was proud, but now it was his time to keep it to himself.

  “Well, as you see, ‘something so simple as trimmering my beard made me go all cogitative’.” He repeated her words from before and she smiled bitterly, but still didn’t look at him. “So I dare to say that I’m well.”

   “What were you thinking about?”

  Well, he was pretty sure that this question will make it’s appearance, but that didn’t mean he prepared a good response. About you, he wanted to say, but he bit his tongue. They were both prideful, it seemed, too prideful to admit that they have each other in their minds most of the time, one way or another.

  “I’m afraid I can’t share these thoughts with you. It’s confidential, you see.” It was his time to send her a half-smile, with a hint of cynicism in it. Irina looked at him in this very moment, and he saw something flash in her brown eyes. Irritation mixed with interest. Oh, he knew that she would give a lot to get her hands on some secrets regarding the Project’s plans for the future. He also knew that this is not going to happen.

  “’Confidential’.” She repeated and chuckled darkly. “I’m pretty sure that me and you sleeping with each other once in a month or so is also confidential. Would be such a shame if Joseph and other VIPs of your merry little cult got to know about it.”

  He looked at her, sharpness in his blue eyes, but it only seemed to make her happier, because she smiled, and the smile was nearly genuine. Nearly. He turned around, finally, to actually face her, and leaned on the closet. “A-aah. This knife cuts both ways, dove. You’re way too smart not to realize that.”

  “Mhhhm.” There it was, the hint of resignation. “You’re no fun, John.”

  She rarely spoke his name aloud, and it made him feel something, a burn in his chest, but he decided not to dwell on it. “Of course not; I’m a professional. But there is always time for fun after the work is done.”

  The girl hissed at him, but he didn’t miss the mirth in it. “Cheeky bastard, that’s what you are.” And with that she slowly walked over to him, holding the tangled strand of hair in her hand. Now she’s going to change the subject, he thought. “Help me, will ya’?”

  He clicked his tongue in amusement but didn’t say anything, gently taking the problematic strand in between his fingers after soaking them in water. “Who lost his life today, hm?”

  “Today? No one. The blood is two days old.” The ease with she was able to give such an answer was something that fascinated him. He chuckled shortly, slowly managing to win the fight with her messy hair, then brushing it behind her ear, mildly looking at the scar on the left side of her face. She always seemed to be nonchalant about it, and even now she didn’t flinch – but he knew how to read people, and never missed the ever so slight hint of irritation when his eyes were focusing on her distorted cheek.

  “How about a shower, then?” John suggested, doing everything he could right now in order not to wrap his arms around her and hold her tight. He could never figure out why he wanted to do it, it just seemed to be an impulse. Sometimes he just wanted to hold her and don’t let go, sometimes to throw her into his bed and make her forget about everything else in the world. But something in him, the pride, he realized, wasn’t going to allow John to admit just how much he cared. She’s still an enemy, he reminded himself. Oh, but that only makes everything so much more interesting.

  “I don’t have a time.” Irina murmured, and it seemed that she was fighting with something in herself as well. Lust or love, he had no idea. “Need a help with…?” She pointed her finger at his beard, just barely touching it with her fingertip. But it was enough to make him gulp.

  “Don’t have a time for a shower, but you do have a time for that?” It would sound desperate and needy if he just straightforwardly said ‘yes, feel free to help’, so he absolutely wasn’t going this way.

   “Your suggestion about me taking a shower could lead to only one outcome, and for that I indeed don’t have a time.”    “And what outcome could it possibly be?” Of course, he just wouldn’t be himself if he wouldn’t start teasing her, and even though his face was stoic, the blue irises of John Seed’s eyes were glistening with obvious answer, the one that he was undoubtedly trying to put in her lips.

   But she just shook her head, fighting with a smile trying to form on her face. It also had a second purpose – the hair once again fell loosely on her face, hiding the blush that started to blossom on her cheeks. You started it, she reminded herself, but it didn’t make it any different. “Just… Sit down.”

   John literally purred, and she just clenched her jaw. Irina didn’t say anything else because she knew her voice would start to tremble. Her eyes were focused on the floor when he brought the wooden chair closer and sat on it, with his legs spread so she could stand between them. Oh, fuck you, John… Well, at  least you’ve got trousers on.    She reached her thigh holster – slowly, not to disturb him – and took a knife, getting ready to start. But in this moment those blue eyes of his darkened, and he grimaced.

   “What? You didn’t think I will use an electric razor, did you?” Her words were full of amusement and this time she could fight with an ominous smile that appeared on her lips. “Oh, come on, John, I’m from a wilderness. Using something like this would be a true heresy, in my case.”

  He huffed in agreement and clicked his tongue again, gently but firmly grasping her leg to make her come closer. He didn’t spread his legs only for her to stand so far away from him, after all. Irina hissed again, but he wasn’t bothered by it. John noticed long ago that she was indeed somehow wild, and half of her mind was spoken in growls, hisses and other sounds.

  To his interest, Irina seemed to be experienced in beard trimming - she knew how and where to cut, as if she had done it many times already. It made him frown slightly, and he gave her a questioning look. John didn't have to say anything. You know me, he thought. You know what I mean.

  “I used to know a lot of bearded men before.” Was her answer, and his nostrils flared up a little.

  “Do I want to pressure this subject, or…?”

  “No, I think you don’t.” She cut him off, but not angrily, clearly focused on her work and not interested in small-talk of any kind. He felt her fingertips brushing his chin as she tilted his head higher, his whole throat at her disposal, knife literally kissing the skin on it. “Don’t say anything and try not to swallow right now, unless you want a cut on your Adam’s apple.”

  He won’t listen to me, she thought. He won’t fuckin… Yeah, of course he won’t.

 John didn’t listen indeed, because he gulped with as much strength as he could possibly muster, while looking her dead in the eye. Irina didn’t say anything, just closed her eyes and sighed. Why did I fell in lo-- Why are you like this…?

  A narrow trickle of blood began flowing down his skin, but the bastard didn’t even flinch, just kept staring at her, a silent challenge in his eyes. “I’m bleeding, officer. Could you help me?”

  “Poor choice of words, my boy.” He was older then her, but it didn’t matter. “Said to a wrong person, they could be misinterpreted in a very, very bad way.”   “That’s why I’m saying them to you. You’re not wrong person, after all.” Or are you? He didn’t have to say it, because she caught the wind of it immediately.

  Irina sighed and put her knife away, then painfully slow kissed his neck, tasting his blood on her tongue. His grip on her leg got stronger and she barely stopped a whine that threatened to rise from her throat.

  “Come on, Deputy. Don’t be shy.” He murmured into her ear and with one strong pull she was forced to sit in his lap, his right hand immediately clutching to her hair, while left one trailed under her shirt, caressing her spine.

  It turned out she had to find some time, after all.

[serendipitous-magic]

Any advice for a lovelorn lesbian? 🥺 My girlfriend and I broke up out of necessity instead of want and idk what to dooooooo

Honestly, I’ve been there :( Not fun, not nice.

I’d say, don’t be afraid to just sit in some sadness for a little bit. (Also I got off on a tiny tangent, I am sorry, I swear it relates. The salient points are bolded below if you wanna skip down there.)

Sounds like weird advice, because nobody wants to feel bad, and especially because in modern society we are so HIGHLY discouraged from feeling anything negative at all. Happiness is equated with fulfillment and success and health and etc. etc. etc. Capitalism doesn’t help that, either - buy happiness in this bottle, buy it in a box, have it shipped right to you, drink it, eat it, watch it, consume it! Unhappy with your skin? Buy this cream! Unhappy with your plain boring water? Buy this flavored water! Look how happy the actors in this commercial are!

And we live in a world of instant gratification. Uncomfortable or unhappy with literally anything? There’s a quick fix that the internet can give you in seconds. Want to watch that one movie you saw once as a kid? It’s on Netflix or Youtube, you can watch it this very second. Bored? Constant, instant content. Lonely? Constant, instant access to conversation. Need more glue because you ran out? If you don’t want to go to a store you could still have it by tomorrow if you pay for one-day delivery. 

And honestly, I think that kind of society can be damaging. We’re constantly and actively encouraged to fix all our problems right now, and if we’re not happy with something, then get happy quick, here’s a list of quick-fix ways to cheer the hell up already! It’s not great for the general populace’s mental health. We’re not supposed to just brush our bad feelings aside and put a band-aid over them right away like that. Emotions exist for a reason and sometimes the best thing we can do is let them exist and do their job, even if they’re not comfortable or pleasant. (More on that below.)

This may be inaccurate, but I feel like, in Ye Olden Days, it was considered more normal and acceptable to be sad. Unhappy, uncomfortable, whatever you want to call it. You were expected to have ups and downs - as people do. Novels from the time talk about people having weeks or months of unhappiness, and no one batted an eye. (As I’m typing this I realize that it may sound like I’m trying to downplay depression, which I’m not at all - I mean regular-sad, not depression-sad.) In modern times, what’s people’s response to someone - even ourselves - being sad? Better fix it, right? “What’s wrong with you? Why are you upset? Better do something about that. What can we do to make you feel better, right now?”

And while taking steps to feel better is important, I also think that there’s an importance to giving yourself time to just sit in an emotion and let it process - especially an emotion that modern society might usually try to rush you past. 

So, to summarize all that rambling, my advice is: let yourself feel. Don’t try to rush yourself to bounce back and be happy again right away. Maybe that processing time is a few days, maybe it’s a few months - depends on how attached you were/are to the relationship. But give yourself that time. A breakup can be totally peaceful and mutual and still knock you on your ass for a bit. And that’s okay - in fact, it’s probably a good thing. If it didn’t, it could mean that you weren’t that invested in the relationship in the first place.

Another piece of actual advice, after all that rambling it took to get here: give it a little bit of buffer time before you start to figure out if you’re gonna stay friends afterwards or not. For some post-breakup relationships, it works out great to remain friends; in fact, my current bff was once my S.O. (before I realized I was gay 😬 sorry dude) and it worked out great. But for some breakups, it can be too painful to just be friends afterwards, and it just doesn't work. Either way, I’d say don’t try to decide that immediately. Take a little break from each other - again, that might be days or it might be weeks. Then talk about it. (Or you may have covered that already, in which case, disregard.)

This sounds super cheesy and unhelpful, but: after you’ve allowed yourself some time to just feel your emotions and let them do their job (they’re actual, physical chemicals and they have a job to do inside your brain, which I think a lot of people forget; they’re not just non-corporeal ~vibes~, they’re physical things, and they have a purpose. If you let them do what they need to do, it’s easier for you to do what you need to do from there onwards.), find a couple things to be grateful for about the relationship. It sounds like you two didn’t part on bad terms or anything, it was just out of necessity, so especially in that case - find a few things about the relationship that you can be thankful for, as you (when you get to that point) let the rest go. And by that I mean, did this relationship teach you how to fight more fairly when you have a disagreement with your partner? Did it make you a better listener? Was it exactly what you needed during an otherwise difficult time in your life? Did you laugh a lot? We have to part ways with a lot of people in our lives for a lot of different reasons, but there are always these little things that stay with us - these ways they’ve touched our lives.

And lastly: don’t isolate yourself. (Kind of difficult while we’re in quarantine / social distancing, I know.) But if you live with somebody you can hug, do it. Call a friend, or facetime, or text, or however you like to talk. It can be really, really easy, especially right now, to shoulder hard times alone, and often that can just make you feel lonely and make it worse. (I am for sure guilty of that.)

[ashisbaeee]

Are You Happy?

A/N:  while planning out chapter 10 for Her, this idea came to mind. I didn’t want to wait til the end of the series to post it, so here you go! haha. I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I have enjoyed writing this for you all. sorry for any errors.  as always, your feedback is greatly appreciated. enjoy💗

2.3k words(as you can see I got carried away😬)

italics are Y/N’s thoughts 

___________________________

     You couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that now resided in the pit of your stomach. Something was up and you couldn’t lay a finger on what it was exactly. Maybe it was the amount of stress that you’ve been dealing with for quite some time due to the fact of being short-staffed for a couple weeks now; everyone scrambling about in your unit, their bodies running on a few hours of sleep and consuming rather dangerous amounts of caffeine. Stress and work loads were through the roof, while morale ran on the opposite side of the spectrum. Every single one of your fellow coworkers trying their absolute bests to push through and  do their assignments for the day. Maybe that was the probable cause of your uneasiness. Who knows, because you sure as hell weren’t. Due to your long (and I mean long) long hours spent at work, you kind of neglected everything else. You were so focused on your job that you put everything-your life, your family, your friends, and last but not least your boyfriend, Tom on the back burner. They have all in some way became an afterthought, as terrible as that sounds. 

       But it could also be your current relationship with Tom that has you feeling this way. If you were being honest, you can’t remember the last time you guys did something together. It had been a few weeks or so since you guys had last gone out on a date. Tonight, you were going to change all that; after coming home from work you decided that you were going to spend some much needed quality time with him. Even if it ends up just being you both cuddled on the couch as a movie played-just enjoying being in each other’s company and feeling the heat of his body against yours as he lazily ran his fingers through your hair like you liked as you returned the favor and drew imaginary shapes and lines on his arm and chest, or  if you did something totally different and you guys cooked dinner together. Literally anything, you didn’t care what the activity was, as long as you were together spending time, that’s all you wanted. 

    During your break, you sent him a text asking if he wanted to eat something specific for dinner or if he was open to do something when you got home from work. About an hour or so after hitting ‘send’ you felt your phone buzz. Sure enough, it was your man. He replied saying he was open to do anything not before saying that he’d be a little late in coming home, about 45 minutes after you’ve arrived home since he and the boys had gone out to the golf course. 

   7pm couldn’t come any sooner. After giving report to the night shift nurses, you hurriedly ran to the locker room to grab your belongings and headed out the door. As soon as you got to your car, you took your phone out to text him. 

Y/N: Hey babe. I am on my way home. Would you like me to pick something up for dinner? Or do ya wanna cook something up together? 

Tom🥰♥️: hey, I don’t care. Anything sounds good to me. The guys and I are on our way home. Mind if they join us? 

Anything. That doesn’t make things easy! I was kinda hoping you’d give me options so it would make things a bit easier. What would they like? Pizza? Chinese? Italian? I was kinda hoping it just be us two, but I guess they can come over for a while. I mean it has been a while since I had last seen them anyways. So I guess it’ll be nice to catch up for a bit. Maybe tomorrow we’ll spend time together, just the two of us.  I wonder if I should ask if they’d like me to pick up some beer. 

Y/N:  no, of course I don’t mind. It’d be nice to catch up with them. does pizza sound ok? do you want me to get beer? 

Tom🥰♥️: yeah that’s fine.. get pepperoni, Hawaiian and plain. we already got the beer. 

Is it me or does he seem angry? Annoyed maybe? There’s definitely some kind of tone to these texts. Our conversation all day has been dry. This isn’t really like him. This is not his usual texts. I guess I’ll have to see when I get home. Let me be wrong, please. 

Y/N: ok. Got it. I’ll see you soon. I love you. 

Tom🥰♥️: k, see u

Well damn, okay. He hit me with the ‘K’ response. There is definitely something wrong. He didn’t even say ‘I love you back’. He ALWAYS says it. Did I forget something? An important day? His birthday? Someone in his family’s birthday? Our anniversary? Or did I say something?  Did I do or did not do something, did I say something for him to act this way towards me? Ugh, I guess I’ll find out sure enough once I get home. 

During your drive home you replayed everything. You frantically looked through your calendar to see if in fact you had unknowingly missed an important event, but there was no indication of anything. From what you could remember, there was nothing that you said or an event that you had missed. nothing , absolutely nothing came to mind as your mind tried to conjure up a plausible reason for his new found coldness. 

As you pulled into your driveway, you saw Haz’s car, signaling they were all home. As aforementioned earlier, Tom said they’d arrive some time after you but seeing as you stopped to pick up the pizzas, they managed to get home before you. Miraculously, with everything you were holding, you managed to open the front door. As soon as the guys were aware of your struggle, Sam jumped up from his seat on the couch to lend a hand. Once he set the boxes of pizzas on the coffee table, be brought you in to give you a hug, not before asking how you were doing and stating how he and the rest of the family had missed you dearly. One by one the rest of the squad, Haz, Harry, and Tuwaine and greeted you and briefly hugged you. Tom was the last one. He gave you a short smile(a pretty fake one) before he hugged you and kissed your forehead. Your forehead for crying out loud. It wasn’t like you guys never showed any PDA in front of the guys but this, this was way out of character for him. There was clearly something bothering him, and you were going to make it your mission to find out what it is. It would have to be delayed a bit since you had no intentions of causing a scene with all the guys here. 

You quickly went into the kitchen to grab plates and napkins as well as a bottle of water for you. Once you arrived back into the living room, you passed each one a plate as you all began to eat. During dinner, you managed to catch up with everyone. All the lads telling you what was new with them and updating the group with whatever was new on your end, and venting about work. They had then proceeded to ask you when you’d be able to take time off of work so that collectively y’all would do something. They lads sharing that they have all missed you dearly. You had missed them too. You told them that you’d talk with your manager the next time you were scheduled to work to see when that would be; hoping it was sooner rather than later. The stress was really taking its toll on you. 

Hours passed and many many laughs later, the lads decided it was time to call it a night. You took a look at you phone-2:30am. Everyone not really wanting the night to end. This was long overdue. During your laughs and when one told a funny story or was just talking about something, your eyes always found your way to Tom. Usually, he’d lock eyes with you. But not this time. This time around, he made eye contact with everyone BUT you. Whenever you spoke or if someone had asked you a question, his eyes went straight to the floor. Whatever was there was way more interesting than you. You took in his appearance; he seemed rather tense, as if he was on guard or something. And you kept replaying your whole interaction when you came home. How when you looked into his eyes, his eyes looked different. It appeared to be more dull, there was no sparkle or glimmer in his eyes. And as you sat where you were and indeed looked over at his direction and watch his facial expressions, it validated that there seemed to be no sparkle-no joy to be found. Something was off with him.

Wow, it’s half past 2? It sure as hell doesn’t feel like it. This was nice. It was amazing to unwind and just chill with friends. Oh how I’ve missed this. 

You bid the guys good night as you went on to clear the empty pizza boxes and beer bottles that littered the living area. Once all was said and done, you went upstairs to your shared bedroom. 

As you laid in bed, you took this time to catch up with your man. 

You sat up, your head against the headboard as you initiated the conversation. 

“Hey babe, how was your day? I’ve missed you”

“It was fine. Yeah missed you too”

“Tom, can you please look at me?”

“I’m trying to sleep, Y/N”

“Just for a second, please?” you shamelessly begged. 

With a deep sigh, he finally complied to your wish. 

“Yes?”

Sure enough, it was the same lifeless stare. 

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine” 

“You say you’re fine, but more importantly are we fine? Because you seem a bit distant. Did I do or not do something? I know I have been so focused with work and all but did I forget something? An important date? I looked at my calendar and I didn’t see any events scheduled. Or did I say something? Can you please talk to me and let me know what I did wrong? Because I know something’s on your mind and I would like to try and help you. Y’know we can talk about anything, right?”

Silence. Absolute silence. And it was eating you alive, absolutely killing you. This dead air between your bodies was unbearable. 

“Tom?”

“Just thinking is all”

“Thinking about?”

“About us. Where we stand” 

S I L E N C E 

He sighs again before continuing on. 

“Just how things changed between us”

“What changed between us? Besides us not really spending as much time together?”

“I-I uh, I uhm, I don’t know”

“A-are you not happy? Are you not happy in this relationship? Do I not make you happy anymore? Tom, please. I’m begging you, please talk to me. Can you please let me know how things have changed between us? Is there someone else?” 

“No, there’s no one else. I, I don’t know. I mean yeah, I was before. I was happy, uh, I think I’m happy. I don’t know. I guess you being busy and us not being able to spend time got me thinking is all”

He’s not happy? What? He was happy before but doesn’t know if he is now? he doesn’t know? He’s been thinking? Of what? How can he say this all cool and nonchalantly? 

“Y-you-you’re not happy?” your choked response pierced the air. As you shamelessly started to break down and dissolve into tears. Not caring how you would look, not even bothering to wipe the ceaseless tears that fell from your cheeks, to your sweater and ultimately unto the blanket.  

He sat across from you in bed as he watched your face contort in this newfound pain. He hated seeing you cry. His actions may not have shown it, but this was painful for him too.This was pain on a whole different level. This pain affected you mentally, physically and emotionally. He sat in silence. I mean, what does one say to that? How does one respond?

As you cried, you felt his eyes on you. You dared not look in his eyes. As you bawled your eyes out, a part of you hoped that he would say something, anything. Anything to break this unbearable situation. But nothing. 

His lack of response was in fact a response. You’ve got your answer. Message received, Tom. 

With that, you got up and walked to your closet. You pulled out a duffel bag as you haphazardly threw your clothes in it. 

He watched you intently as you stuffed your bag. Still not saying a word. 

Once you were done, you turned your body to talk to him, eyes glued to your beige colored carpet. 

“I know work has been crazy but never would I have thought that it would lead to this.  If you aren’t happy being with me, who am I to stop you from finding your ultimate happiness? I’m not cruel and evil; I would never do that to you. That would be so selfish of me to do so. You have every right to be happy. You truly deserve to be happy and everything more. I am sorry for wasting your time and I’m sorry that I wasn’t able to do so. I want you to be happy, even if that means us not being together. What a ride this has been. So go out there, go out into the world and find that person that truly makes you happy. Someone that brings you nothing but joy. Take care of yourself, Tom” you murmured as you  slung the duffel bag straps on your shoulders and proceeded your way down the stairs and out the door. Out of his life forever.

___________________________

tagging some mutuals: @hollandroos @parkeret @gab-spidey @roses-hxlland @unholyholland @sleepybesson @moonlightom @peterpcrker @hollandinq @ihrielloyer @spideybitey18 @jackiehollanderr

[forever-rogue]

The Edge of Thirty - Part 8

Summary: Everyone seems to be getting married, having babies, or “growing up.” Except Y/N. Suddenly at almost thirty, reality seems to be crashing down on her – and hard. Nothing seemed as daunting as turning thirty…until she met Gwilym Lee anyway.  

A/N: Hiya! Thanks for reading and supporting this story. I hope you enjoy!  Please note there are a lot of up and downs in this chapter and more to come! Also, if tags aren’t working please let me know, or if I’ve accidentally forgotten to add (my b)!  Taglists are open! xx

Pairing: Gwilym Lee x Reader

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: slight language, sexual innuendos

MASTERLIST

“And I love you.”

Gwil gently put his arms around her waist and picked her up, holding her tightly and securely against him as she wrapped her legs around his waist. Neither of them exchanged anymore words as their lips never seemed to part, breathless kisses exchanged with a sense of passionate urgency.

He kicked the door shut and set her down, pushing her against the cool wood, his hands freely roaming her body. She opened her mouth in a silent moan as he kissed along her jawline, working his way down the column of her throat, effortlessly finding her sweet spot and nipping at the soft delicate skin his came into contact with.

As much as she wanted him to take her then and there, and God knows her body was screaming out for him, she put her hands on his shoulders and stopped him. She shook her head gently, and pecked his lips gently before pushing him a step back gently.

“What’s wrong, love?” he asked quietly as he traced over the contours of her face gently, his warm, sweet breath fanning over her face. She relished in his touch, enjoying the sweet smell of mint washing over her.

“Nothing’s wrong,” she reassured him, putting his hands on either side of his face, pressing her lips against his, “not with you. You’re perfect. But I’ve got a few things to talk to you about.”

“Are you okay? What’s happened?” he took her hand in his and and led her over to the kitchen, pulling out a stool at bar and motioning for her to hop up on it. She stared at the marbled countertop, tracing a finger over the quartz vein, doing her best to prevent any fingerprints. His apartment was always immaculate, and she always worried that she’d break something, or damage anything. But he insisted that it didn’t matter - he gave her the run of the place and had even offered her a key, so she could come over whenever her heart desired.

He gave her a shoulder a reassuring squeeze, sensing that she was trying to avoid the issue but doing her best to overcome it. She turned to face him for a moment, giving him a small smile as he got up and walked over to the fridge.

“You, my darling, look like you could use a drink,” he said as he opened the luxe looking fridge, ready to grab the chilled bottle of wine he kept for these types of situations. Y/N started to giggle to herself knowing full well that she was the last person in the world that needed a drink. He turned to her, an eyebrow cocked as he tried to read her, “and just what might be so funny?”

“I’d like a drink, but perhaps some sparkling water?” she said once she’d calmed down from her fit. He looked between her and the bottle, trying to make the connection between it and her refusal, a nervous look crossing his handsome features, “oh, no, no! I’m not pregnant or anything like that! I’ve just…pretty much consumed enough alcohol for a small army over the last several days.”

“Oh,” he let out a sigh of relief as he placed the bottle back into the fridge and pulled out a couple of ornate glass bottles filled with fizzy water. He handed her one of them, opening his own and down a long drag. She watched him for a moment, admiring his side profile, getting lost in her own daydream before snapping back into reality, “what’s been going on then, pretty girl?”

“Well, I, ugh it’s a lot,” she admitted as she put focused her attention onto the glass bottle, tracing her fingertip over the design. It was now or never, and she knew she needed to be honest with him, “I feel like there’s a lot more to me than you would probably think.”

“Try me,” his voice remained calm and unchanged as he set the bottle down and leaned against the counter, giving her his full attention. Noticing her hesitation, he leaned over and touched her cheek gently for a moment, his warm hand sending shivers down her spine - even the simplest of touches was electric, “you’re not the only one who’s ever done a bad thing. I’ve made my fair share of rash, impulsive decisions that I’m not too fond of.”

“Hard to believe,” she let out a long breath, chuckling slightly, “look at you, the picture of perfection: cool, calm, collected, composed, Professor Lee. And then there’s me: reckless, wild, and upsetting everyone. What a pair.”

“That’s what we call a dynamic duo, my dear,” the corner of his mouth pulled up into a smirk, “just because I don’t look it, don’t think there haven’t been plenty of fuck ups when I was your age.”

“I suppose I’ll just have to take your word for it, won’t I?” she pondered, and he gave her a swift nod, pointedly making eye contact so she would continue. Straightening on her stool, she pushed the bottle away, a soft scraping sound echoing throughout otherwise quiet kitchen. The only real sound in the pristine apartment was the soft ticking of the clock that hung in the living room, “so I may or may not have lost my job. I won’t know for another two weeks. I’m on suspension.”

“What the hell happened?! Was it because of me? I-I can go right down there-“

“No, Gwil, it’s not you. Definitely. You’re the only good thing that’s happened to me in so long,” she confessed, hoping he won’t overreact and blame himself for everything. Not that he would, likely, he was cool as ice and didn’t jump to rash conclusions unlike she had a tendency to do, “it’s Crickle and his endless vendetta against me. He’s been wanting to get me fired since I started teaching there. He’s always loved Ben but had a disdain for me. I don’t know what it is – probably because I’m not fancy like you lot with your PhDs. But he hasn’t liked me from day one.”

“I mean...it is pretty hard to beat a fancy, overly hyped up degree,” he joked but she just stuck out her tongue at him.

“Whatever it is actually is,” she cocked an eyebrow at him, “he’s always had it out for me. I think he only hired me because Ben’s my best friend, and he practically adores him. But, last week he went to Ben to try and get information on me, and to have Ben basically try and throw me under the bus. Which, if we’re being completely honest, I totally thought he did. I jumped to a bad conclusion, and ended up in a big argument with him over everything. I stormed into office and yeah...things weren’t pretty. We had a fairly bad falling out.”

“Are you still fighting with him?” he asked sympathetically, but thankfully she was able to shake her head and say no. He was curious to meet this mysterious best friend Ben. If he didn’t know her, he could have easily beloved they were lovers, with how fondly she spoke of him. It would be an interesting treat, he concluded, to finally meet her friends, and have her meet his. Who you chose to keep close by often spoke volumes about a person. But by the way her eyes lit up whenever she spoke of him, told him he was extremely special to her, “I’m curious to finally meet him.”

“No, we’re not fighting anymore. He came by and we talked,” she said quietly, “he’s probably the reason I’m here. He dragged me out of bed and told me to stop feeling sorry for myself and set things right. He’s a good man, and I’m often not even sure why he’s dealt with me for so long-”

“Probably because he loves you, just like you love him.”

“I do love him,” she hoped he didn’t feel the need to compete with him or was overshadowed by his presence in her life. Ben was a constant and he wasn’t going anymore, others had come and gone but never him, “he’s like my brother. Don’t you worry Gwilly, he’ll never be like you though. But you will get to meet him soon - this weekend at the wedding.”

“Ahh, well, I’m looking forward to it...I’m sure he’s got plenty of stories to tell me,” he gave her the softest of smiles as he walked around the counter and effortlessly hoped onto the stool next to her. He nudged her knee with his, a sort of intimate gesture, as he indicated for her to carry on, “I’ve already told you, love, I don’t care about your past. You are a good person, whether or not you choose to believe it.”

“Promise?” she asked quietly and reached down and gave her knee a soft squeeze, “after my little outburst with Ben, I went home and started drinking. I was sure I was going to lose my job, and to be quite frank, I’m not positive it’ll still be there for me. So, I suppose I better start keeping my options open. It was just everything, it set me off and I don’t handle these things well...but I’m working on it.”

“Why do you think this demonic headmaster has it out for you?” Gwil mused out loud, ran a handle over his stubble in contemplation, “is he jealous that he’ll never get to shag you?”

“Gwilym Lee!” her eyes widened in both horror and disgust as she pictured him lusting after her. She sincerely hoped that wasn’t his motive - she’d rather have gone after a slug than ever get closer than three feet to Crickle, “that’s the biggest horror story ever. I do hope not, otherwise I should be finding a new job either way. No...he’s just...I don’t fit the stereotypical picture of what he has for a young woman. I don’t think the others teachers like me either, they’re the ones that started telling him they’ve seen me around town when I’ve gone out. And that I was out drunk one morning and causing a scene. Which wasn’t entirely true - I was hungover and reacting to the news that one of my other best friends was pregnant!”

“Hmm,” he teased her, “sounds like a perfectly valid reason to hate you. Young, pretty, likes to go out and have fun...”

“Be serious!” she giggled in spite of herself, sticking out her tongue at him, “I could lose my job! What am I going to do then?”

“You have me,” he stated as it was the most obvious thing in the world, “you know I could take care of you if you needed it-”

“I-I’m not going to take advantage of you like that Gwil,” she felt a blush rising in her cheeks in spite of herself, “I want this to be an equal partnership, and that involves me contributing. Not living off of the hot English professor that everyone wants to shag!”

“Fair enough,” he agreed, “you think everyone wants to shag me, huh? Am I really that good looking?”

“I mean, you’re alright,” she made a so-so gesture with her hand. She knew he was more than alright, as close to perfect as a man could get really, “enough for a bunch of little uni students to pretend Professor Lee is fucking them when they’re with their inexperienced boyfriends.”

“Professor Lee...I could fuck you in my classroom sometime. You can be a naughty school girl, and we could do it in every inch of my office,” he said everything so calmly, like he wasn’t just pondering about wild, passionate sex, which was enough to cause her cheeks to turn a bright crimson, “you know if you want.”

“Of course I want to!” she practically blurted with overly zealous eagerness, her hands flying to her face - she hadn’t wanted to come off that desperate. He raised an eyebrow at her as he took a drink from his bottle, and she wished more than anything else to be that bottle, and to have his lips on her. Shaking her head, she realized she needed to pull herself together and not just lust over him, that could be reserved for later, “but in all seriousness, Gwilym, what am I going to do? I don’t want to lose my job, I love it, and my kids.”

“You’re not going to get fired, love,” he said quietly, “I know the kids love you just as much as you love them. Jenny almost never stops talking about you, or Deacon. If you’re a good teacher, which I can see that you are, you have nothing to be worried about. We can fight it if something does happen.”

“We,” she repeated the word out loud. It was such a nice word, she decided, and she wanted to hear more of it, “I like the sound of that. It has a nice ring to it.”

“Indeed it does,” he reached down and pulled her stool closer to him so there was very little distance between them, “please just promise you won’t just shut me out again. I don’t want to hear that you’ve been feeling so down and drinking so much. You can tell me anything - anything.”

“T-there is one other thing...” she started, swallowing the lump in her throat that had suddenly appeared. He looked at her expectantly, such a soft expression in those bright blue eyes, She tried to get the words out, but it just wasn’t working. Instead, she just smiled at him before forcing out, “that I love you. Very much, and it’s both amazing and terrifying. That’s all.”

“I love you too,” he beamed at her, closing the distance and pecking her lips with each slow, punctuated word, “why don’t I show you how much?”

Lucy and Rami’s wedding rolled around faster than she could have imagined. After months of laborious planning, hours spent over the tiniest details, their big day was finally here. Y/N had worked hard to make amends with her friends throughout the remainder of the week, feigning that she’d been under the weather - Ben had been a good sport and hadn’t spilled the beans on what had actually transpired between them. What was done was done and they didn’t need to know all the details. Knowing that everything was going to be okay was enough.

And they had finally all met Gwil - a feat nothing short of a miracle considering her recent relationships had been nothing more than a few days long, if more than a night. But no, he had accompanied her and presented the picture of tranquil perfection. He was dressed smartly, putting almost everyone else there to shame, but he carried no false bravado or swagger about anything, he was just utterly himself.

And of course everyone, including Ben, had wholeheartedly approved of them, whispering under their breath about how lovely he was, as if she was not already aware. So tall! So handsome! So kind! So lovely!

But as she was standing there at the altar, perched next to Becca and Tessa as Lucy and Rami exchanged their vows, she found herself slipping into her own thoughts, hoping she didn’t appear too lost or gone. She forced herself to look at the nervous and giggling bride and groom, trying to intently memorize every word they were saying, but it was no use.

A million thoughts raced through her mind as she realized that could have been her in Lucy’s position. It would have been, it should have been her - but it wasn’t. She knew, of course, that things happened and life was what was, but it still caused a pang of sadness in her heart. She had wanted this so desperately and was denied, but as her gaze started to wander, she spied Gwil sitting among some random members of Lucy’s family, several rows back, his eyes glued to her. He was her future now and that made her very happy indeed.

The corners of her mouth stretched into a small as she realized she must have been frowning before. Praying she hadn’t made anyone odd faces and didn’t seem to be disparaging anyone, she chanced the quickest of winks at Gwil before giving her full attention back to the others. Maybe life didn’t always work out how it was supposed to, or how one planned, but that was okay. Sometimes the future held what you’d been looking for and needed.

She almost bounded into Gwil’s arms when she spied him after the ceremony, milling about near the entrance, waiting for her with a big grin on his face. He held his arms open to her and picked her up off of her feet, clinging onto her tightly in his strong arms, planting a gentle kiss on her cheek, trying his best not mess up the makeup that had been meticulously applied.

“You look absolutely beautiful,” he said tenderly, letting her back down onto her feet, helping to keep her balanced in the sky-high heels. Lucy had always had a love of stilettos and everyone would be damned if she didn’t have her bridal party wearing them on her big day, “you okay there, champ? You’re almost as tall as me for once!”

“Very funny, Gwilliam,” she teased, running a hand over his cheek, touching the delicious stubble he had there. He appeared so divine in his suit, opting to wear a bow tie instead of a regular tie, and easily put everyone else to shame. But she couldn’t wait to tell all the intricate layers off of him later and have him stripped under her. Trying her best to suppress the thought, she remembered where she was, and spied Ben walking over to them, “not everyone can be a tall tree like you. By the way, this is my best friend, Ben. Ben, this is Gwil and I can now confidently say that I wasn’t making either of you up!”

“Ben,” he wrapped an around her waist, tucking her securely into his side before extending his hand, “it’s an absolute pleasure to meet you. She goes on so much about you, I almost thought you might be conjoined at the hip.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Ben eagerly shook the other man’s hand, and it was clear that the two of them were sizing each other up. There were calm smiles on their faces, and they seemingly approved each other. It mean the world to her that her best friend and boyfriend got on. Neither of them appeared to be going anywhere, so it didn’t really give them much of a choice. Ben looked over at her, giving her a wink before giving his attention back to Gwil, “this one’s been absolutely over the moon about you. Gwil this, Gwil that, I feel like I’ve been dating you as well.”

“Ben!” she burrowed her face into Gwil’s chest, in a vain attempt at hiding her crimson cheeks. He soothingly rubbed her arm up and down, laughing at her sudden shyness, but kissed the top of her head, careful not to muss her hair, “you’re supposed to be on my side, not his!”

“I am on your side,” he innocently shrugged, gave her wide doe eyes, “I’m just pointing out the facts. But, Gwil, trust me, if you ever need any good stories, I’ve got them all. We’ve known each other since we were about six, I know almost everything about this one. I’m sure you’ll fit right in with the group!”

“I’ll be keeping my eyes peeled for you later!” Gwil promised Ben as Tessa came over to drag the two of them outside for pictures. Y/N gave him a look of warning, waggling a finger pointedly at him before turning her attention back to Tessa, who had one of each of her hands on either arms. She sighed lightly at the giggled best friends, wondering how she had ended up playing babysitter to the two of them.

“I like him,” Ben commented under his breath, nudging her arm gently. She smiled in spite of herself but nodded excitedly, biting on her lower lip lightly.

“You’ve barely exchanged more than a few words with him,” she reminded him, looking at him with a raised eyebrow, but relief flooded her veins at the knowledge that he approved of her boyfriend.

“That may be so,” he said as his face turned into a serious expression, one he normally reserved for when he was putting on his Dr. Jones persona, “but I can tell. He gives off good vibes.”

“Thank you,” she whispered quietly in response to his declaration, “you have no idea how much that means to me. I love you, Benny.”

“I love you too,” he promised before he was removed from her, lined up along Rami’s side along with the rest of the groomsmen. She tried to hold back her tears at the touching scene, feeling for the first time in a long time that everyone was slowly falling into place.

A few days ago she would have been glad for all the free flowing alcohol, but today it was almost enough to make her stomach churn, so she vehemently avoided it, opting instead to remain drinking her water, sparkling never still of course.

“Hey! Are you gonna come and dance with me?” she grinned at Gwil as she flopped down in the seat next to him, her face flushed from all moving and gyrating from the dance floor. Gwil had been posted up at one of the abandoned tables, nursing a beer while he chatted away with Ben. She had been worried for a few moments, wondering just what Ben would tell him, hoping it wasn’t all sorts of embarrassing stories from when they were teenagers.

“Of course love,” he took a swig from the bottle, “give me five more minutes and I’ll join you, yeah?”

“Only if you absolutely promise,” she stood back up, kicking off her heels, finally as her feet screamed for relief, before kissing his cheek, and seeking out Becca and Tessa. She turned around and gave him one last wave.

“You’d better go and join her,” Ben chuckled, “she’s impatient and has a hot head, which I’m sure you know all about.”

“She’s something else,” Gwil agreed, tapping the lip of his bottle thoughtfully, “but I happen to love her very much. It feels silly to admit, but I’m really happy to have met you all now. It means a lot you know.”

“We’re glad too,” Ben clinked his bottle against his, “it’s been a long time since she’s been with anyone. Sometimes I wondered if she’d ever find anyone again-”

“Again?” setting down his bottle, he gave Ben a mystified glance, trying to decipher what he meant.

“Losing James was really hard for her. It seemed like she’d never get that spark back, but you’d never be able to see that now,” he stated, not realizing that Y/N had still neglected to tell Gwil anything about James. She had planned on it several days prior, but wasn’t able to do it, leaving it for another time, “what’s wrong?”

“James?”

“Her fiance...he passed away after getting hit by a drunk driver in a car accident several years ago,” Gwil’s jaw almost hit the ground at Ben’s words. He had no clue, not an inclination even, about the existence of James. But here it was - a mountainous revelation laid out before him at once, “s-she must have told you? I mean, he was a huge part of her life, she was going to marry him...”

“I-I’ve got to go,” he said suddenly, almost jumping out of his chair as a confused expression fell on Ben’s face. It took him a moment to put two and two together, and then it hit; Y/N had never mentioned so much as a word about James.

Y/N looked over to see a distressed Ben and Gwil exited the room, clutching his suit jacket in his hand. She made eye contact with Ben, who gave her a forlorn expression as he shook his head and mouthed I’m sorry at her.

She pulled up her dress and ran after him, hoping her strides would catch up to his long legs. Following his path, she bounded down the hall, which luckily contained no other people, when she spotted him.

“Gwil! Gwilym!” she put her hand on his arm, but he flinched out of her touch, turning on his heel to face her, an unreadable expression on his handsome features, “what’s wrong, love?”

“James,” the name rolled off his tongue with more salt than he intended and he could tell he had struck a nerve by the way she recoiled from him. Her eyes widened with fear as she realized that the truth had somehow slipped out. He didn’t break eye contact with her, even she tried her best to avoid looking at him, “who is James, Y/N? Tell me who he is.”

“I-I, Gwil, you have to understand that it wasn’t easy for me. I don’t just go around telling people-”

“I’m not people, Y/N!” he raised his voice, and she was taken aback for a brief moment - he’d never been this loud with her before, “I’m your boyfriend! I’m supposedly the man you love.”

“Gwil, please just listen to me,” she was desperate, trying to hold back her tears as she internally urged him to see reason, “I-I wanted to tell you-”

“Then why didn’t you?” there was an exasperated look on his face, and he ran a hand over his stubble, trying to calm himself down. He didn’t know how to feel - there was sense of annoyance, sadness, and a little bit of anger. He had been begged her, on several occasions, to just open up to him, “what prevented you from telling me, Y/N? I have told you so many times to just open up and talk to me.”

“I was scared,” she dabbed at her eyes with the back of her hand, “it’s just...I can’t just open up and spill all of my secrets. It took me years to get over him.”

“He was a secret?! What other secrets are you hiding?” they were both breathing heavily, chests rising and falling in anger and annoyance.

“Nothing - I just don’t like talking about it. I was supposed to marry him, and he’s dead, okay? I don’t why you’re making such a big deal out of this!” her own voice was rising and she hoped no one would come in and over hear their argument. She didn’t need to go on and ruin Lucy and Rami’s big day.

“Because it is! I asked you about past relationships, I’ve told you about my own almost marriage,” he was flailing around wildly now, trying to get his point across, “I’ve asked you to open up to me, Y/N. I told you that your past doesn’t matter to me, besides what would have happened if you’d told me? It’s not like I would have been upset! I know what’s like to lose people too.”

“Well, you’re sure acting upset right now,” she pouted at him through tears, wishing she’d just gone and told him the truth from the beginning. But she was too stubborn for her own good and held back a big part of her past, and now it had come back full circle to bite her in the butt.

“That’s because I am upset!” he sighed and furrowed his brow, taking a moment to calm himself, “I have tried my best to be patient with you, darling, I really have. I have asked you repeatedly to open up to me, and you still haven’t. I don’t know what you need, Y/N, and I can only give you so much.”

“Gwilym-”

“Y/N, I love you, I really do,” he bit his lip, mulling over his words carefully, “but I can’t keep doing this anymore. This constant up and down, going in circles, back and forth. I just...I don’t know if this is going to work.”

“P-please no,” she grabbed onto his arm, ready to cling onto him and be for forgiveness, “please don’t leave me. I-I love you, please. You have to understand-”

“And that’s what makes this so hard,” he took his arm out of her hands, letting his fingers brush over hers one last time, “I know you’re being honest...this time. But what about in a few years from now? What if we got married? Had children? Would you be hiding things from me then? I asked for one thing, Y/N, that’s all. It was never supposed to be this complicated.”

“Don’t walk away,” she almost sunk to her knees, begging him to stop and not leave. He had welcomed her back before with open arms, but she wasn’t so sure he’d do it a second time, “please, I’ll tell you everything, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Gwilym-”

“Goodbye, Y/N,” he said quietly, taking a step back from her, a pained expression on his own face. This was just as hard for him as it was for her, “I do love you, you know, truly.”

“Don’t leave me,” she repeated quietly as she watched his retreated back, staying there for a long time even after he had gone. She was on her knees, weeping only, wishing that she could take it all back. But she couldn’t - he was gone. For good this time.

“Y/N?” Ben asked quietly as he finally found her. He leaned down and put a hand on her back gently, but she just brushed him off, “love, I swear I thought he knew, I-I wouldn’t have said anything if I knew.”

“It’s okay, Benny,” she sighed, letting a sob rack her body as she plopped down the floor and leaned against the wall, “it’s my own fault. It’s over. It’s all over. He’s gone.”

Permanent Taglist: @ruinerofcheese @courtneychicken  @santa-crew@supernatural508 @ssweet-empowerment@nerissa98@jamesbarnesappreciationsociety@buckybarnesappreciationsociety@wearegoldeninthenight@mannatgalhotra@prxttybirdz @piensa-bonito@mightyhemsworthy@shewalksinanotherworld @jems8241@bookaddic@fairyxxfighter@asguardiansoftheavengers @esoltis280@the-bright-lights@artisticlales @loislp @dixonsbugaboo@sleepylunarwolf@patzammit@thisismysecrethappyplace @princess-evans-addict@bookgirlunicorn@makapaka11 @bornfortherainydays@avipshamitra@clumsy-clara @justanewqueensfan@yourealegendroger@anna1523@queenficarchive@thesecondlastjedi@bitemerog@rogernroll@secretsweetscollectionblog @sheridans-dynamos@dinkiplier @deacontaylormercurymay @starrystarrybabe@nicholasbich @musical-prostitute-my-dear @onexlittlespark@benhardyseyes @marvelstuck @thickthighsandbasicbrowneyes@whenthe-smokeisinyoureyes @wonderwich

TEOT Taglist: @geek-and-proud@everybodyplaythegame@anchoredbylove @m0etenchandon @lv7867@queentrashcanfics@bohemian-war @bnhvrdy @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming@metaphorical-love-for-a-car @ramibaby @another-life-addict@queentrashcanfics @rosedeacy @softbenhardy@totallynerdstuff@rachelweiszs-areawoman @lelifesaver @live-at-the-rainbow @kerstin-p @i-cant-remember-my-old-login @crazylittlethingcalledobsession @booksaremylife602 @daisy-chains-over-diamonds @littleliv1 @punygodd @doctorscompanian @yourealegendroger @r-edspecial @ixchel-9275 @dessert-hardy @ezmina98 @ispewglitter @totallynerdstuff @joefucksdonuts @danamaleksworld

[tiny-personal-university-thing]

Skincare and Other Ways to Live Your Best Life

Skincare 

So I've had a lot of improvement in the condition of my skin (in terms of the occasional hormonal acne, and hyperpigmentation that serves to remind me how wonderful my pre-teen and teenage years were), and I thought it would share it with you all my routine. 

Let me preface this by saying that I have tried everything for my skin. I’ve tried Proactive (which only really seemed to bleach my pillow cases), Tetracycline and Minocycline, all of the top of the line products from companies such as Peter Thomas Roth. I even went through all of the INTENSE steps to get on Accutane, only to find out that it doesn’t really do anything at all for hormonal acne and hyperpigmentation - and at that point the occasional cysts I would get were few and far in between *knocks on wood*. Long story short, you name it - I have tried it. 

However, I have recently become some what of a product junkie, and have a mildly elaborate skincare routine that is relatively inexpensive, and actually works. Since I fully believe in sharing the wealth, I thought I’d share.

Mornings

I start off by washing my face using Noxzema Classic Clean. Noxzema is a timeless product - something your parents or grandparents probably used back in the day. It is by far the cheapest face wash I have ever owned (about $3.99-$5.00 depending on the retailer). I found out about it through my ex-boyfriend’s mother - who actually recommended it to me to ease the pain of a sunburn, as it has a cooling effect. You can read more about Noxzema here

I then move on to toner. I use Witch Hazel. It’s incredibly soothing, gentle on the majority of skins (so don’t come for me), and again - pretty cheap. I have found that it retails for usually $3-$5, with more high end brands (perhaps with Rose Hips Oil) going for $6-$7. I have used Witch Hazel for years and I love it so much. Technically, you don’t need to use a toner, but since using it twice daily I have really seen a difference in my hyperpigmentation and the overall oil production on my face. You can read more about Witch Hazel and it’s benefits here I apply Witch Hazel to my face using cotton pads, making sure to use both sides of the cotton pad all over my face. 

Last, I use exactly 3 drops of Tea Tree Oil. As with most essential oils, you will probably want to dilute it with water, or even our good friend, Witch Hazel. Let me warn you now Tea Tree Oil is STRONG. Personally, I do not dilute it; however, you might want to at least build up a tolerance to it. Again, it is very strong - in smell and in potency. With this being said, I have used it every day for the past couple of months and have actually taken a strange liking to the smell! You definitely get used to it. Additionally, I have found that it doesn’t burn or irritate my skin, but use. your. best. judgement. Finally, Tea Tree Oil can be found cheap at many retailers. I purchase mine at Walmart for around $8 and the bottle will last me about a month and a half. You can read more on Tea Tree Oil here  I apply the Tea Tree Oil directly to my face, using my hands to massage it into my skin until I don’t feel the liquid anymore. I will say that Tea Tree Oil definitely does not feel like oil, that is to say that it doesn’t have the same consistency as something like coconut oil. 

I then proceed with my make up. 

Nights 

(Skip this step if you are not a make-up wearer) I begin by removing my make up with a make up remover. Currently, I am using Clinque’s Take the Day Off make up remover. It ranges between $10-$30 depending on if you buy it at Walmart or Ulta/Sephora. However, it is easily the best make up remover I have ever used. It actually takes it all off in one quick swipe. 

I move on to using Noxzema again to really make sure I get all of the make up off.

Next, I do one of two things. Every other day, I alternate between one of two products. The first product is a Dead Sea Minerals Clay Mask, which you can get for about $3-$5. I leave it on for about 10-15 minutes, and then remove it using Noxzema and my Panasonic, but you can totally just use your hands. On nights that I don’t use my clay mask, I will use this amazing new product that I was fortunate enough to receive a sample of from Sephora - it’s the AmorePacific Enzyme Peel. Now, this is a pricey item, I won’t lie to y’all. But it makes your skin feel - and I don’t say this often - like a baby’s butt. I alternate using it because for a tube of it, it ranges between $45-60. But again - wow. It really works so well. It is also apparently one of the best selling beauty products in Korea. And it doesn’t burn or dry my skin out. I am so in love with this stuff. It’s a powder that you put a couple drops of water in, work it into a paste, and massage into your skin for about a minute. Again, I really only do this at night and every other day because it costs a pretty penny. You can read more about Dead Sea Minerals Clay Masks here and the AmorePacific Enzyme Peel here. 

I then proceed with Witch Hazel. Again, I make sure to use both sides of the cotton pad.

Next, I use my Tea Tree Oil. This time I can use a couple more drops since I’m not really concerned with my face looking a little shiny or smelling like ... well Tea Tree Oil. It just makes my boyfriend crinkle his nose because I “smell like a koala.” 

FINALLY, I finish it off with a dime size (lol more like a nickle) portion of my Curology bottle! First of all, for those of you who don’t know about Curology - it is a personalized skin care product that you can purchase online. I was able to receive my first bottle for free (I only paid $4.95 in S&H), and received it in two weeks. Curology really easy, you can do it on your phone. Essentially, you will need to answer some questions about your skin type, what your concerns are, etc. And you will also need to upload pictures of your ENTIRE FACE WITHOUT MAKE UP. Here are the pictures I took for your reference. Curology also connects you with a skin care professional to answer all of your burning questions about how to use your Curology. It also comes in a precious little box that says “I was made for you,” and I found that to be incredibly endearing. For the second box, I paid $19.95ish. The bottles also last you for about 60 days, so for how well this product works + how much money it will save you in potential dermatologist appointments is so worth looking into. Again, you can get your first bottle for $4.95, so why not? 

Then I get my beauty sleep. 

Self-Care 

Especially if you have chronic pain, or stress/anxiety - I highly recommend the following:

Epsom Salt Baths - Personally, I like to pair my Epsom Salt baths with water that is pretty hot - almost too hot? But definitely know your limits on this one. I don’t want any of you passing out in your bathtub and turning into soup. Don’t put that evil on me, Ricky Bobby. 

For baths - while I am soaking in my warm water that reminds me of the pit of Hell from which I came, I enjoy watching Youtube series such as Ask a Mortician, Buzzfeed Unsolved, various beauty gurus, and a plethora of other subjects. What I am trying to say is - take your time in the tub. Really allow yourself to detox. 

For showers - pump up the jams, and get your inner Beyonce on. Nothing screams louder to me that something is off about me than whether or not I sing along to songs. If I notice that I am not singing to a bop I know the words to by heart, I stop for a second and ask myself what is bothering me.

You can also take some time to write down your thoughts in a lovely journal, doodle a bit, or look at aesthetically pleasing images which there are a plethora of on Tumblr. 

I also found out the other day that we have to physically help our lymphatic systems drain. An un-drained lymphatic system (so to speak) can lead to you not functioning the way you need to, and just not feeling up to anything. I highly recommend that you read up on your lymphatic system here. However, long story short - you can help your lymphatic system out by staying hydrated, alternating between hot and cold (like a hot bath and then a cold shower), practicing deep breathing, or going for a brisk walk. 

I also recommend drinking about a tea spoon of Apple Cider Vinegar twice a day. The benefits of Apple Cider Vinegar are numerous; however, here are some of the most significant ones: 

weight loss, reduced cholesterol, lower blood sugar levels and improved symptoms of diabetes

Additionally - and this is important - if you chose to incorporate Apple Cider Vinegar into your daily regiment, be SURE to purchase the one that says “with the Mother.” I don’t know who she is, but that is the kind you need! Without going into too much detail, it definitely keeps you -- regular, shall we say? Apple Cider Vinegar tastes, well, like sewer water some might say - so you may want to dilute it with water or juice. Also, because ACV is quite acidic, you may want to drink it through a straw so that you don’t end up completely toothless. I am currently consuming 1 tea spoon in the morning, and 1 tea spoon before bed!

Also, ACV is apparently a great alternative to Witch Hazel! 

It is also good to do little things that may make you feel good about yourself, like making your bed, painting your nails, letting your conditioner sit in your hair for a little longer, treating yourself every now and again, or maybe indulging in a little retail therapy.

Etc

Eliminate anyone from your life that makes you feel less than

Drink your water and take your meds

Make time for yourself. Do the things you love. You cannot just work, study, and go to class 24/7.

Don’t be afraid to invite people to go out.

Don’t be afraid to say no to people when you have to, this includes clubs, work, or hanging out with friends when you really need to eat, sleep, do some homework, get groceries, etc. 

Anyway, I hope that some of these prove to be helpful to y’all! I know I promised that this summer would be the summer of self-care until classes resume for the fall, and I haven’t posted as much as I promised. I do hope to be better about that. Feel free to message me with your favorite skin care/self care methods, or comment them below this post. Additionally, I hope it goes without saying that if you can’t use these methods for any reason - you won’t try them, and that I am obviously not a doctor and can’t give you medical advice. These are all just things that have worked for me this summer, and I have definitely seen improvement in my skin, body, and well-being. 

I hope everyone is enjoying their summers! 

[thecoroutfitters]

Written by R. Ann Parris on The Prepper Journal.

There are probably 1,001 uses for wooden shipping pallets besides sticking them in a burn barrel. We can regularly source them for free or for very low cost by talking to distribution centers and contractor supply stores about their breakage piles, eyeballing the dumpster areas of shopping centers and warehouses, or checking sites like Craigslist and Freecycle.

Spin around online and you can find all sorts of projects and builds for people of all skill levels. They can make our lives easier and seriously cut our costs in many cases. A free item with that much potential makes them an automatic must-have in my book. I’m mostly going to talk about simple builds this time around, but pallets also get turned into pretty impressive structures, gardens, and furniture.

Pallets come in several standard sizes and a handful of configurations. While the type can matter for some of our projects due to the number, cut, and spacing of boards, for the most part applications are pretty universal. For details about shipping pallet types and sizes, check out this site http://www.airseacontainers.com/blog/most-common-shipping-pallet-measurements/.

Disassembled = Board Lumber

Remember, once disassembled, our pallets are just lumber. That opens up the whole world of projects. Rifle racks for the range or safes, food storage shelves, bird houses and playhouses; anything we’d repair or build can be done with pallets.

Those boards also have use in hiding some of the “ugly” around our homes. We can use them to sheath everything from our water storage totes and barrels, to whatever containers we’re planting in.

We can also double up our pallet boards for a little more durability and strength if we want. I mention this because some stuff is heavy and would do better with a 2×4 than 1×4. (I tend to live in the “abundance of caution” and JIC world for the most part, although I’ll dispel that and make heads spin in the next section.)

Safe or Unsafe

How “safe” the various treatments used on pallets is for us depends on our intended use, even if we’re worried about chemicals. Most articles and videos will tell you that only HT-Heat treated pallets are safe, although others include debarked (DB) and the “safe” EPAL European designator. I’m not going to hand my kids lead pacifiers or mix up powdered milk or pony drenches in bleach bottles, but I also don’t get too wrapped around the axle on some fronts. This is one of them.

If you consume Big Ag meats (supermarket to Outback or Whataburger), farmed or bottom-feeder fish, “normal” supermarket eggs and dairy, soda or anything in the center aisles made with corn or soy, or if you drive 3 hours/week, burn trash, touch cash and then your face/food, smoke (anything), handle lead (ammo), sit by campfires, live in a city, microwave food in plastic, use rain catchment without serious decontamination filters, have dark irrigation hoses or foam mattresses, or buy commercial animal feed … don’t sweat those markers too much.

One, you’re more likely to die from a vehicular accident, and be hospitalized from supermarket leafy greens or infection contracted in the hospital than from one more of the ubiquitous chemicals around us. Two, those chemicals mostly only become available as our pallets (or anything) decays. That means tiny increments released over time (vice chugging a can of stain). Chemicals mostly head downward with moisture, with only some outward contact spreading outward – only fractions of them are available for possible uptake. Only fractions of that then ends up in the seeds and fruits we eat.

All that said, the warnings about chem-treated pallets originate from garden methods using them, then became universal “rules”. (Pallet garden potentials are so numerous, I’m not even going to talk about them here – they rate an entire article.)

Point is, don’t blanketly accept conventional wisdoms without thinking them through. They may not even apply (or are total bunk). Some stuff, for some/many people, is worth stressing. Some stuff isn’t.

Water Storage

Speaking of safe and unsafe, the conventional wisdom is that we don’t want to store plastic containers, particularly of water, on concrete due to the chemical interaction that allows contaminants to enter our foods. There’s some hot-not and storage-duration wiggle room, and while I tend to err on the side of caution in this case (and when it comes to previous milk containers), there’s some myth-truth proposals here http://www.preparednesspro.com/myths-and-facts-of-water-storage to spur analytical thinking.

For the most part, I don’t really see how laying cardboard, 2×4’s, or 1×4’s under plastic barrels and buckets destabilizes them unless somebody gets really cute (or stingy). Personally, I’m a big believer in keeping stuff up off the floor, period. Even beyond chemical interaction concerns, being able to stack stuff also comes in handy, both to maximize storage space and in some cases to make it easier to use.

One point to note about water in particular is that it’s heavy. Not only does that apply to any rack we use, it also applies to container sizes. The older I get and more injuries I accumulate and heal, the more I’m willing to downsize. That includes containers for dry goods and water.

It’s just easier to build structures for, pull down, move, clean, and refill a 3-6 gallon bucket than a 35-55 gallon barrel. About the only remaining exceptions in my various storage are wheeled trash cans.

*Those are not food safe, either, if it’s a concern – told you I’d make heads spin. (Most of my trash cans hold mylar-bagged foods and animal evac feed and supplies; some are wash/laundry water catchment).

As-Is Uses

There’s lots pallets can do for us even if we’re not yet DIY-ers, and lots that requires minimal building skills. For one, just getting stuff off the ground, as mentioned above. That can be hay, mulch, bagged amendments, toolboxes in our sheds or outdoors, food storage buckets and barrels, or creating elevated resting platforms and feeding stations in pens or pastures that tend to get muddy.

They can help keep our boots cleaner – and to some degree limit the risk of slipping in wet and icy weather – by creating walkways, and prevent ATVs, Gators, carts, and bikes from bogging down or tearing ruts on trails and in gardens. They can also decrease or eliminate risks and wetness from ditches and seasonal streams, making getting around faster and easier.

Steps & Rails

If we’re on a tight budget, we might find we can use a boost as well as a stepping stone. We might also decide that a step or hill is a little too much for us as we age, get pregnant, or face injury. Pallets can help us there, too, and it tends to be a ridiculously easy build.

Go easy on how high we go with these things – I’ve seen some crazy. They are wood and even treated, they are eventually going to rot and crack, and need replaced. Also, make sure you anchor these things together and to the ground.

If you want or need steps or a sidewalk past mud, a hand rail is usually a fantastic idea, even if it’s just posts somebody can snag. We can turn other pallets into those rails to increase safety and ease.  

Simple Builds

There are plenty of other simple builds out there that at most require splitting, hanging, or trimming an as-is pallet to size, adding some screws or in some cases a hinge, a few hooks, and some cord or chain. The ease makes pallets a valuable learning tool (and confidence boost) for preppers who are just dipping their toe into DIY. The in-expense also means if there’s a screw-up, no big. Scrap lumber is handy to have around.

Some of the simplest ways to use pallets is just to slap three or four of them together to make a work bench, desk, countertop, or table. Flip that on its side, link a few in series, and you’ve got a leaf mold or compost heap. With a sturdy wall or a couple of convenient trees and $3-10 in hardware, and you can make one or two pallets into a permanent or Murphy-bed style station that functions as a desk, a table, or a workbench, indoors or out.

With some additional screws and hooks or disassembled boards, we can use a wall or those handy trees to hang our tools in a shed or outside the garage. We can also hang them from the sides of our tables or benches.

For a really simple build, just fix a handful of shipping pallets together with deck screws (flip-flop which side is up as you stack to increase shelf depth). Add caster wheels and it’s a rolling storage shelf or workbench.

With some cinder blocks or some 4x4s, we can create shelving with very little building experience, using whole pallets, pallets that are cut in half to make shallower widths, or disassembled boards. (Remember: even a pint canning jar is heavy on its own and holds another pound worth of liquids or foods – use healthy boards and consider doubling them up.)

Another super-simple build using just deck screws is stacking a few pallets and adding one perpendicular to form an L shape. Set that on some cinder blocks and top with a mattress, seat cushions, or pads and you’ve got a bench seat or day bed. Some additional lumber or blocks creates storage spaces for totes, baskets, or drawers salvaged from a wrecked dresser or filing cabinet.

If you’re after some inexpensive yard, starter-home, or bug-out location furniture, the sky is the limit and the internet is just full of ideas. Personally, I’m not much for the rustic pallet look, but with a coat of paint or whitewash, our pallets can get prettier if and where it matters.

Fencing & Pens

Another fantastic use for pallets that requires little DIY experience is fencing for our dooryards, gardens, and animals, to protect trees, or just to increase our privacy a little. We can use them pretty much as-is and connect them to each other, standard fenceposts, or poles we make our or a neighbor’s overgrown saplings and trimmings. We can also pull a board or two from each to cut at an angle and drive into the ground for stability or to use as an overlapping connector between pallets.

If heights of 18-24” work instead of 3-4’, we can very quickly halve our pallets and double the area we enclose. We can also totally or partly disassemble them and churn out top-rail or a 2-3 rail plank fencing, or do some extra cutting for an HOA-acceptable picket fence.

If we have problems with raccoons reaching through our poultry and rabbit fencing, we can brace whole or half-height pallets against our existing runs to add depth. Likewise, they can create a buffer to allow some grazing but keep chickens and goats from eating something to the trunk or roots.

We can also take pallets apart and reassemble them in a solid wall if our birds/hares like to do dumb stuff like huddle in a corner where something can get its claws through – there’s little worse than a disassembled critter the predator couldn’t even get out to eat.

I said I wasn’t going to talk about pallet gardens, but when it comes to fencing, that’s actually one of the benefits they offer. Pallet fences allow us to grow vertically either on the protected inside or on the outside of critter pens where our critters can’t reach, or both.

Pallets for Preppers

Pallets can be an excellent step into the world of DIY for beginners, as well as help everybody save money. Gardens, livestock feeders, and sheds are big enough categories to really rate their own articles, but there’s so much more. If you’ve got a need, see if somebody has a how-to using pallets, but don’t forget that pallets are also just board lumber waiting to be sanded.

 Follow The Prepper Journal on Facebook!

The post Prepper Must-Haves: Shipping Pallets appeared first on The Prepper Journal.

from The Prepper Journal Don't forget to visit the store and pick up some gear at The COR Outfitters. How prepared are you for emergencies? #SurvivalFirestarter #SurvivalBugOutBackpack #PrepperSurvivalPack #SHTFGear #SHTFBag

[myneighborhood-thelake]

Mt. Whitney, May 2021

Sometimes a sufferfest is exactly what the doctor ordered, and, thankfully, permits to hike Mt. Whitney (14,508′) are online. It takes a little searching on recreation.gov for the permits to come available, but they can be booked immediately. On Monday, May 24th, a day hike permit for Wednesday, May 26th became available, so I grabbed it.

OK, I had scored a permit the week before, but I’d strained my right calf during a 3 mile run and wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to hike 21+ miles in the backcountry with a bad calf. In the meantime, I had strained my calf more on a 5 mile run, but I really wanted to get back onto Whitney.

I left town about 11:30am on Tuesday. Unlike previous trips to the Eastern Sierras, I was in no hurry. This time I decided to set cruise control at 70 MPH (the speed limit), and see what gas mileage I could get up to. It also took the edge completely off of driving. A few podcasts later and mileage was showing a solid 44 miles per gallon. Considering it’s an SUV (a compact SUV, but an SUV all the same), I was pretty happy to see 44 MPG.

Around Bakersfield, I cut east and crossed over the mountains to Tehachapi. Hitting the 14 North, I let the hypermileage goal go and bumped cruise up to 75. Fuel mileage dropped, but that was OK. Cruising along without much traffic I rolled into Lone Pine around 5:30 or 6:00pm.

Also unlike previous trips, I had no need to stop in Lone Pine, so I turned left on Whitney Portal Road and proceeded up the hill to the Portal.

It’s somewhat early in the season, so I wasn’t sure if the parking areas would be filled with hikers’ cars or if there would be spaces available. I had decided to literally car camp for the night and just needed a parking spot and not a campsite. Thankfully, hiker parking was only about 50% full, and I backed into a nice spot really close to the trailhead.

Camping - a Honda CR-V is the definition of “compact SUV” which may make a few folks wonder how my 6′1″ frame can fit to car camp. If you slide both front seats all the way forward and put down the back seats there’s enough room for a twin mattress in the back which is just long enough for me to sleep on.

I spent some time organizing my pack for the hike, laying out my sleeping bag, and boiling water for some freeze dried beef stew.

I was so close to the trailhead that I had to check pack weight and was OK with my pack coming in at 15 pounds.

(that’s 8.81# of water (4l), 1# first aid kit (I could reduce that), 0.83# H2O filter, and about 1 1/2#’s for my pack (1.62# to be precise). That means there was 2 3/4# of food, sunscreen, trail meds and such. I’m not in shape to hike 20+ miles at altitude, so cutting down on pack weight helps a LOT!

Freeze dried beef stew? 10/10, perfection. Maybe one of the best freeze dried meals I’ve ever had even though it had been in my camping box for probably 5 years (or more).

After cleaning up a bit and popping up the sunroof for ventilation it was time to crawl in and try to get some rest.

Suprise, surprise, it was super comfy. I read for a bit and finally got tired enough to try and sleep. I was planning on a 2:30am wakeup and 3:00am start on the trail. Usually sleep is elusive and sounds from other campers and cars inhibits good rest but not this time. I was quite comfy and drifted off easily.

At about 1:45am I woke up feeling quite rested. Sure, I tried to go back to sleep for my 2:30am alarm, but I felt perfectly rested and decided after a few minutes to get on with the day.

The previous night I had setup my morning caffeine (mandatory) in the form of a mountain mocha. 2 starbucks Via instant coffees and a packet of hot chocolate (that had probably been in the camping box for 5+ years). After drinking that and consuming a banana it was time to hit the trail. At about 2:15am or 2:20am, under the light of a full moon, I hit the trail.

Even with the full moon I still needed my headlamp due to treecover and cliffs blocking the moonlight. At this point I kicked on the high beam for my headlamp and realized I’d made a mistake... When the high beam starts flashing it means batteries are low. Ooops. Looks like this hike will be under the weak light of low beam. Oh well. I usually carry extra batteries and never use them, so this was OK in my book. I just needed to be sure to be off the mountain before darkness fell at the end of the day.

Passing a few folks with fuller packs and trekking poles I was glad of two things - low pack weight and being able to focus solely on my pace. I was just cruising along knowing that I wasn’t in shape or trained for distance. I’m just stoopid enough to know how to suffer well.

I totally missed when I passed Lone Pine lake, just focusing on the trail ahead and taking frequent small sips of water from my Camelbak. For water I had my 3 liter reservoir and an additional 1 liter water bottle for a little more than a gallon on board. I like the additional 1 liter because I can use it if my reservoir hits empty between water stops.

The trail started dropping down which was a bit disconcerting. I know that the trail drops a couple hundred feet right before Outpost Camp, but I couldn’t be there yet. Turns out I was there! 2 easy hours on trail and the sign “Outpost Camp” was right in front of me. 3 1/2 miles in 2 hours is pretty pedestrian, but for me, at altitude, it’s a good pace.

I had the option to refill my water at Outpost Camp but did not need to and cruised straight through. Note to anyone thinking of doing an overnight trip on Whitney - don’t stay at Outpost Camp. It’s too low down the mountain and leaves way too much for day 2. Shoot for Trail Camp instead which is at 12,000′ and 2 1/2 miles further up the trail meaning 2 1/2 miles less to cover on summit day.

Leaving Outpost Camp I did my usual and got lost trying to find the trail. The moon was well past the mountain, providing no light, and my headlamp was pretty pathetic by then. I inadvertently looped in a big circle before stopping and using available clues - water sounds. Being color blind does not help when the trail is just a different shade of grey than surrounding dirt. No worries, after homing in on the waterfall sounds I picked up the trail again and started my relentless progress toward Trail Camp.

A word about the trail - it is a trail, but it’s also pretty difficult. Lots of rocks to step up on or over, all of different sizes and at random distances, so you have to really pay attention to foot placement and balance. You can’t get into a rhythm and just cruise along. It also saps a lot of energy.

At this point I realized that my balance was really bad. Normally above 10,000′ the altitude really hits me hard. This trip I didn’t have any problems with altitude sickness, but my equilibrium was TOAST! It was not fun stumbling around at points, and my right shin took the hit on an unforgiving granite rock. My right calf was also aching pretty steadily.

Before Trail Camp I passed a party of 3 guys, one of whom asked “are these the 99 switchbacks?” No, man. We need to get to Trail Camp first and THEN we get to do the switchbacks.

I think it took about an hour to get from Outpost Camp to Trail Camp at 12,039′. My water reservoir felt good plus I still had the 1 liter backup bottle, so instead of stopping to refill I cruised through Trail Camp and on to the 99 switchbacks.

The switchbacks run up the face of a cliff and are pretty tough. Lots of granite steps requiring good foot placement and working the legs with their random sizes from only a few inches tall to big steps at 2+’ tall. Plus they are above 12,000′ and the air definitely feels much less dense. It was about 1/3 of the way up the switchbacks that I took my first break just to catch my breath. I think it may have been the first time I ate. Stroopwafels are amazing...

Oh yeah, I never count the switchbacks. You’re either done with them or have more to go, so just keep moving.

About 2/3 of the way up I had been trudging along, head down, eyes on my feet placement for each step, with my boony hat blocking any view of the trail ahead. I stopped to get a Gu Chew out of my left hip belt pocket, which is much less accessible than my right hip belt pocket. It took some contortion, but I finally got them out and popped one into my mouth.

Sure, there are better packs for endurance activities that make it easy to access pockets, but I’ve had my Salomon pack for 23 years now, and it still works.

After chewing for a bit I looked up and jumped back in surprise! About 2 feet in front of me, sitting on a boulder just off the trail was and extremely pretty, very blonde, woman in her early 20′s. Where the hell had she come from????

She apologized for scaring me.

I apologized for stopping in her personal space.

I’ll be honest, it took me a few moments to decide she was real. It was really weird.

Oh well, onward and upward.

The water in my reservoir ran out just before Trail Crest (13,777′, 8.5 miles), so I stopped to put the water from my 1l bottle into the reservoir. I also looked down the trail to see if the mountain sprite was real, and she seemed to be.

After downing another stroopwafel and some Gu Chews (expensive gummi bears), I shouldered my pack and headed towards the summit. Thankfully I was still not feeling any signs of altitude sickness. 

After Trail Crest there is some exposure to potentially long falls off of a cliff face, but the danger is pretty minimal. Well, except when a corner is exposed and still packed with snow. THAT got the pulse to spike a little, but soon the summit house was visible in the distance. Still a long way off but visible. Just keep moving.

At this point I was really feeling the effort and it’s about 14,000 feet in elevation making for slow hiking. I was able to catch a couple and then turn right up the summit dome. There’s not really much else to say other than - just keep walking, and then there’s the summit. 14,508′ (10.7 miles)

I think it took about 6 hours and 15 minutes to get to the summit which is a pretty good time for me, and maybe one of my fastest. Add in I’m doing no endurance training and feeling no altitude sickness and I was super stoked.

As usual. Take summit picture, eat, drink, relax, shoulder pack and start going back down. Yup, that’s about as exciting as it gets. I left the summit at 9:00am

The trip back down was uneventful. Saw a bunch of people heading up, so I stepped to the side and let them pass which gave me a few breaks. I do not appreciate the elevation lost just after Trail Crest on the way up because it’s elevation that needs to be gained on the way back and on a difficult section of trail, but it is what it is.

I cruised down the switchbacks and stopped in Trail Camp to filter water and refill my reservoir. It was nice to take a solid 15 minute break. Of course I ate another stroopwafel. Damn, those things are AMAZING!

My hands were so swollen with edema that it was a bit challening to pump the filter, but that’s why I don’t use trekking poles. My hands always puff up like cooked sausages and make it impossible to handle trekking polls. Plus, it’s one less thing to worry about. - the trekking poles, not my hands.

Back down the trail. Now I was tired, my legs were feeling the effort from the trail and constantly changing terrain. Just keep moving.

Down through Outpost Camp, by now it was 1pm, but it felt like it was 6 or 7pm due to my early start. Somehow, along the way, I got completely off trail and wound up on the shores of Lone Pine Lake which I had not even seen on my way up. I’m pretty sure this was another case of missing the trail due to blending colors and sunglasses, but I wasn’t worried. I could retrace steps or do a little bushwhacking which is what I did. After crossing a couple of creeks and doing some minimal bouldering I was back on trail and heading down.

After loosening up my watch a few times due to swelling, I saw that I had an outside chance of being done in 12 hours or so. Normally the trip down is a breeze compared to the trip up, but the trail conditions always limit my ability to make time on the descent.

About 1/2 mile from the end I saw a family, with young kids, having a picnic by the side of the trail. I took my eyes off the trail in order to say something nice to them about getting their kids out. Unfortunately, right then the trail dropped off by several feet which meant I landed solidly on my right foot and sent a serious jolt directly up my calf that hurt like HELL!

I limped the last 1/2 mile to the trailhead being very happy that it had occured so close to the end of the trail.

Something like 12 1/2 hours had elapsed, and a lot of those hours were exactly what I needed, time utterly devoid of anything other than focussing on the trail directly in front of me and where I needed to place my feet. Suffering has a way of distilling life down to its essence, and I’m very happy that I get to experience this when I choose to.

After that it was a 7 hour drive home. After a quick stop in Lone Pine for a full tank of gas, a coke, and a package of Oreo’s, I was on the road back to San Jose, arriving home at about 10:30pm.

[afigureofspeech]

You were never in any danger: a Kastle rec post

Hey y’all. If you follow me already, you may not have realized that I’ve gained some fandoms recently since I’ve been too busy to do something as time-consuming as reblogging all the stuff I scroll past but yeah, I’ve currently got two other rec posts sitting patiently in my drafts, just waiting for me not to be destroyed by grad school. As you all may know though, The Punisher comes out today, so I really just couldn’t help myself.

I didn’t expect to be here. I get the sense that most people on this ship didn’t either? Cool, we’re all in this together. I haven’t even been here that long; I happened to see someone freaking out on my dash a few weeks ago about that part in the trailer where they’re on the floor and Frank touches Karen’s hair – you know the one – and, well, somehow I wound up rewatching all the Kastle scenes over and over and over… I was even planning on waiting until next week to binge the whole season, when I’m on break and recovering from minor surgery and all, but I’m way too hyped to wait so I’ll probably get to it this weekend instead.

In any case, this isn’t a full rec post cuz the series dropped and I just wanted to get it out. Please forgive the general messy and incompleteness, I’ll do an update later when I have the time. Now a full rec post! Tried to fit in as much as I could think of. Also, if anyone out there has some fics (or anything else) you want to rec, please do! Like I said I am new here and I haven’t had the chance to go through the whole AO3 tag (yet lol).

My other rec posts can be found here.

Hope you enjoy~

* = new

Update 12/19/17: So apparently there is a limit on how many links I can have in a post. In the interest of being able to add more fic, I have removed the extra sections for fanart, fanvids, etc. If you go to some of the kastle blogs I link to at the bottom though I am sure you can find plenty. Sorry about that!

→ FANFIC

alamorn

AKA Under Investigation AO3 Their first meeting after she told him he was dead to her doesn’t go exactly how he thought it would.

glove upon hand AO3 Frank Castle, metaphorically standing in his half dug grave, takes a literal hand to get out.  [Post-Punisher s1]

trouble in mind AO3 Frank didn’t like to ask for things. That wasn’t a surprise — she knew that about him before she knew almost anything else. That Frank Castle, he’s a monster, he’s a machine, he doesn’t know how to ask for help. It’s lucky for him that Karen has never waited to be asked. [Warning: explicit sexual content, femdom, pegging]

alchemistc 

after AO3 | Tumblr He presses his lips into her hair and breathes deep, chest expanding against her side, arm curled around her, and Karen thinks - Do we deserve this? [Punisher speculation]

can’t no preacher man AO3 | Tumblr She breathes a sigh of relief when she catches sight of the shape of her late night visitor, and then stifles a snort at herself. Only Karen Page would find the sight of Frank Castle relieving.  [Part 2 of the devil’s backbone series] 

hangman’s knot and three mouths to feed AO3 | Tumblr “Was in the neighborhood. Thought I’d drop in. ”She kinda wants to punch him in his stupid face, but she knows it wouldn’t help. It wouldn’t even land, unless he wanted it to. Besides, it’s not like she could make the bruises littering his skin any worse than they already are. Frank Castle, Walking Bruise. Somehow, it just doesn’t have the same ring to it as The Punisher. [Part 1 of the devil’s backbone series]

walk together with our hands up in the sky AO3 | Tumblr Frank and Karen in the aftermath.  [Post-Punisher s1]

you bear the scars AO3 | Tumblr “Men.” “Tell me about it,” Trish says, her voice somehow managing to convey both too-chipper energy and exasperation of the highest level. “I don’t know how much I can, actually.” Trish grins, tipping the plastic bottle in Karen’s direction. “The Punisher has taken you on as a pet project, you spend your days building up more enemies than even Jessica can manage on a bad day, and you’re totally attracted to a vigilante who prowls the streets at night killing people. Does that pretty much cover it?” “How did you - I am not - there is nothing going on between me and Frank!” [Part 3 of the devil’s backbone series] 

angel_deux

AKA Puzzle Pieces AO3 Jessica Jones is not an easy friend to have. And Karen’s not even really sure if she can call her a friend. But Jessica is a good person to have in your corner in a crisis, which is good, because one of Frank’s enemies makes a sudden reappearance.  [Part 2 of The Sinner and the Saint series] 

Between the Sinners and the Saints AO3 A new villain with killer aim nearly takes Frank out, and he makes the call to go to Karen for help. Karen, who hasn’t seen him in months, who has been wishing she could take back those words she said to him in the woods. She never thought she’d get the chance to repair what they both broke that night, so once he’s back in her life, she’s not going to let him disappear again so easily.  [Part 1 of The Sinner and the Saint series]

Tough Girl is What I Had to Be AO3 Lisa Castle survives the incident in Central Park, and Karen Page wants to take care of her. Set in an AU where Lisa survived but Frank had no knowledge of it until after the events of Season 2.  [Lisa lives AU; you didn’t know you wanted this but I’m here to tell you that you absolutely do]

carrythesky 

i started all the wars AO3 | Tumblr  (Turns out fighting’s easy, once you start. The problem is that he’s never learned how to stop.)  [Punisher speculation, all the angst]

It’s still heavy Tumblr  [Karen Page grows up pretending. She escapes to the broom closet downstairs, curls into the dark space and when she closes her eyes she’s an astronaut, a deep-sea explorer, a knight scaling tall towers to rescue damsels in distress.]

things you said in the dark Tumblr  [Sometimes, late at night when her eyes itch with exhaustion and the words on her screen become a jumbled blur, sometimes, she thinks of home. The most recent memories are transparent as glass but her childhood is a series of fragments, fuzzy at the edges - rain on the breeze, gingersnap crumbs, Kevin laughing over his shoulder and running ahead, always just ahead - And this, plucked from the haze: Penelope Page hunched over the kitchen table in the middle of the night, crying.]

untitled Tumblr  [q: what scares you? a: you have your good arm around her torso, barrel shoved up under her chin and the magazine is an arm’s length away but you’re still careful, careful. she is steel beneath you and that’s when it hits, that’s when you picture your twitchy finger slipping and a bullet going straight through her skull, in and out before you can blink. the elevator door slides shut and you can’t pull away fast enough. (you are the most dangerous thing her hands have touched.)] [How to pack a punch in 500 words or less holy sHIT]

edourado 

Bodies make it perfect AO3 | Tumblr Drunk Karen is a test to Frank's will power  [Companion piece/sequel to Second Night; warning: explicit sexual content]

Boss AO3 | Tumblr Tumblr prompt: "I need you to scream for me. You're Karen Page he's the Punisher, he will come for you." in which Karen hurt and taken by a villain and Frank is enraged."  [Established relationship; warning: explicit sexual content]

But you’re the truth AO3 | Tumblr Tumblr prompt: Frank patches Karen up after she's hurt because of a job and goes after the people who harmed her. Romantic-ish Special appearence: Max, the Pitbull [Companion piece/prequel to For I can’t help falling]

For I can’t help falling AO3 | Tumblr Tumblr prompt: After Frank leaves his hesitation aside, he gets skin hungy   [Companion piece/sequel to But you’re the truth] 

Have you seen my best friend? AO3 | Tumblr Karen finds a dinosaur toy in the subway.  [Everybody lives AU, feat. an adorable Lisa; warning: explicit sexual content]

Hungry AO3 | Tumblr She fought it. With everything she had, she fought it. Karen can only fight for so long.  [Companion piece/sequel to Never Had; warning: explicit sexual content]

Karen AO3 | Tumblr Prompt: someone hurts Karen and Frank hunts them down. As he is at it, he realizes his feelings for her  [Warning: off-screen attempted rape]

Never Had AO3 | Tumblr How can you mourn the loss of something - someone - that was never truly yours?  [Angsty Matt POV, one-sided Karedevil; companion piece/prequel to Hungry]

Not Pete AO3 | Tumblr * She doesn't like the new name  [Post-Punisher s1; warning: sexual content]

Ordinary People AO3 | Tumblr (Part 1, Part 2, Deleted Scenes) Prompt: Best friends who are the Old Married Couple but fail to notice they're falling in love until is too late.  [AU]

Pour AO3 | Tumblr * She pulled his boots off him before they finished the first glass. They now sat under the couch, forgotten.  [Warning: sexual content]

Second Night AO3 | Tumblr Tumblr prompt: Frank shows up drunk at Karen's door, and she's on edge, because she has dated a few unpleasant-when-drunk men.  [Companion piece/prequel to Bodies make it perfect]

What do you want AO3 | Tumblr Tumblr promt: Karen accidentaly discovers Frank has a hair pulling kink. She sees an opportunity, she seizes it.  [Established relationship; warning: explicit sexual content]

Ejunkiet 

dilaudid AO3 This isn’t the first time Frank has shown up on her doorstep in the early hours of the morning, but this is the first time that he’d been extended an invitation. 

feel it still AO3 | Tumblr (Part 1, Part 2) w/ evil bunny wolf (evil_bunny_king)  Karen’s legs are unsteady as she makes her way to the bathroom to knock on the door, fingers curling against the wood as she hears the water stop, before Frank’s voice croaks through the door. “What is it?” She has to swallow twice before she can get the words out. “Someone knows you’re here.” [Post-Defenders; WIP]

(in our bedroom) after the war AO3 When Karen had received the invitation from WNEX station to speak on Trish Talk, the most popular radio talk show in the city, her first instinct had been to say no. – “With all due respect ma’am, that’s bullshit. Most people, see, wouldn’t be so easy to let the other things” – murder and brutality, bodies littering the floor of the diner and blood on her hands and face – "go. They don’t seek to understand them. They get one good look, and get the hell away.”

meet me in the woods AO3 * Frank doesn’t wait for them to break the lock – he kicks the door open and slams into the first body he makes contact with behind it, lashing out in a blur of kicks and punches. The intruder falls back, face bloody, and then Frank’s gone, and Karen is left alone, crouched beneath her bed like a five year old hiding from the monsters in her closet, except that she’s no longer a child, and now she has a gun. -- Frank turns up on her doorstep on a Tuesday night and stays until Friday. [Part 1 of the corvidae & whiskey series]

elizma_c*

Flight from the City AO3 | Tumblr What are you doing, Karen? she thinks. He might not even be here. Would he even want to see her? What if – The door beside her suddenly swings open. Of course he senses her right away, even as she’s sort of hidden behind the door. He actually puts a hand to his lower back, and she realizes he’s carrying. Of course. “Jesus Christ,” he mumbles, but there’s surprise in his tone. “Karen.” Even with the questionably overloaded vital signs her body is displaying, she gets the sickest sense of pleasure that she’s gotten the jump on Frank Castle.

What You Know AO3 | Tumblr “When reality feels like its slipping away, hold on to those things that you know are true. You have to focus on what you know.” What did Karen know? Karen knows that she likes to read on the subway. She likes wearing heels that click on the sidewalk. Karen hates exercising but is apparently not a fan of therapy, so she goes running on Saturday mornings. She keeps a .380 in her purse and a pot of dying roses in her window. She has a track record for falling in love with the wrong people. She is fine. She repeats the list in her head each morning when she wakes up, until her hands stop shaking and the knots in her stomach go away.

evil bunny wolf (evil_bunny_king) / devilbunnyking

author our own disasters AO3 | Tumblr Frank Castle’s flesh is a litany to disaster. – Karen and Frank meet again for the first time since that final showdown on the rooftop. It doesn’t go as planned. [Part 2 of the you make me feel so criminal series] 

feel it still AO3 | Tumblr (Part 1, Part 2) w/ Ejunkiet  Karen’s legs are unsteady as she makes her way to the bathroom to knock on the door, fingers curling against the wood as she hears the water stop, before Frank’s voice croaks through the door. "What is it?” She has to swallow twice before she can get the words out. “Someone knows you’re here.” [Post-Defenders; WIP]

Graves AO3 Frank Castle - had cared. He’d broken himself caring; he’d loved with a heart she’d only glimpsed beneath his darkness, broken and bleeding as it was. She refused to believe that that man could be gone. [Part 1 of the you make me feel so criminal series]

Pacific Swells AO3 | Tumblr It’s not morbid curiosity. She’d be easier to scare away, if it were – he could play the part, flog away another shred of his humanity to dangle before her and ask ‘is this what you wanted? This what you wanted to see?’  [WIP; part 3 of the you make me feel so criminal series]

Perihelion AO3 | Tumblr (Part 1) “I’ve had, I’ve had a hell of a week, but that, I think, might’ve been part of the worst of it.” She clears her throat, and then again, drawing her knees in. Her eyes shine a little in the lamplight. “Yeah. I was scared too. For you.” -- Frank visits Karen, after. [Post-Punisher s1]

Touch AO3 | Tumblr  “Why are you here?” he settles on, instead. Her hand moves to the marks on his neck, thumb grazing his adam’s apple. “Because I made a choice. And now I’m making another.” [Part 4 of the you make me feel so criminal series] 

The Twist AO3 | Tumblr Frank finds Karen trussed up in the back of a van in Queens.  [Kidnapping, protective!Frank]

glycerineclown* 

glutton for punishment AO3 | Tumblr If she wants it, it's not a punishment.  [Warning: explicit sexual content] 

Operation Spot AO3 | Tumblr (Part 1, Part 2) A stocky grey pit bull peeks out from the mouth of the first alley that Karen passes. It's Frank, but she doesn't know it yet. [Shapeshifter AU]

Ordinary Citizens AO3 | Tumblr Rawlins’ fist had really done a number on Frank, and he has to get some teeth pulled a few days later. Karen takes him home, after, for rest and mothering. He stays longer than he has to—long enough to figure a few things out.  [Warning: explicit sexual content]

idekman / hipsterfrankcastle

around the world my body will roam (my soul’s in new york) AO3 | Tumblr She gets two blankets, one for each of them, and sits out there with him until the sun rises. Frank moves into Karen’s apartment. She dreams. [Punisher speculation]

my girl is tall with hard long eyes AO3 | Tumblr  He returns the book the next day. She’s asleep, curled up on her sofa, the window shut. She looks so small like this, fragile and vulnerable and not at all like the electric force of nature she is in waking. 

this is all I ever was AO3 | Tumblr  'I always thought you liked tulips.' Karen takes the pot of roses from him, places it gingerly back on the windowsill. He listens to her fiddle with it, twist it this way and that – finding the best spot for it in the sun, he realises. 'Maybe. Before.' - prompt: kastle through matt's eyes  [Post-Punisher s1]

jazzonia 

come upstairs but not to talk AO3 Frank comes to her straight from the firefight.  [Warning: explicit sexual content; part 1 of the we’re always alright series]

don’t care about your intentions AO3 Karen’s world is upended when Matt reveals his identity to her. Frank helps her right it again.  [Warning: explicit sexual content; part 2 of the we’re always alright series]

LaMorenaReina 

Ascendancy AO3  Karen Page's relationship with control becomes all the more tenuous as she explores a singular and inconclusive friendship with Frank Castle, wages her own war against Wilson Fisk, and has to start answering some unwanted questions about her past that lead to new conclusions about her identity. 

Re-Entry AO3 Frank shows up again and causes trouble because he’s Frank. Karen goes along with it because, well, she’s Karen. They have adult conversations because, honestly, they should.  [Punisher speculation]  

PurpleLex / shipsabound

bloodsport AO3 | Tumblr (Part 1, Part 2) two-part tumblr prompt: "A baddie is threatening/hurting Karen in front of a tied up Frank. And he’s raging?” [Protective!Frank, h/c; warning: mature content, description of torture/violence]

during the dark and storming nights AO3 | Tumblr Frank POV retelling of “the space between dreams and reality”  The concrete columns echo again with the second gunshot and he stands there for a minute on shaky feet, disgust and satisfaction twisting and warring against each other within his gut. The satisfaction doesn’t last long, yanked from him harshly when he climbs back into his truck and hears the radio abuzz over a shooting at the tenement building on 47th. Two women sustain injuries — one Sophia Rossum, and one Karen Page. He forgets to breathe for a long minute. [Part 3 of the Dreams & Lasts series] 

fourteen weeks AO3 | Tumblr tumblr prompt: “something where Frank has a dog and because said dog has pretty much adopted Karen as his second owner, Karen often times takes care of the dog when he’s away/busier than usual. And it doesn’t take long for someone to start putting two and two together about who the dogs main owner is." 

leaving is my last option AO3 | Tumblr Kastle Week Prompt: Lasts Frank rakes his gaze over her entire form, like he’s trying to decipher her. She shifts. He has a way of making her feel like every inch of her soul is being seen, and it’s as much something she longs for as something she’s insecure about. “Sooner or later, you’re going to burn out,” he says, tone flat. “How are you going to take care of yourself then? Defend yourself?” A bitter smile curves her lips. “I could say the same thing about you.” [Part 2 of the Dreams & Lasts series] 

meet me in the woods AO3 | Tumblr tumblr prompt: "I would DIE if you wrote a couple of scenes where Karen army trains with Frank. I could TOTALLY see Frank being like, "You can’t get involved in the extra dangerous stuff unless you at least let me train you.” Imagine them running in the mornings??? Karen getting into crazy shape and the tension between them intensifying???“ 

shine a light through the distance AO3 | Tumblr “You sure about that?” He asks, incredulous, but she doesn’t give an inch. “You help me, you’ll only get blood on your hands.” “I already have blood on my hands.” She almost had his on hers half a year ago by force of a bullet. He put his blood on her hands just a month ago by force of a plea. “Doesn’t mean you need any more,” is all he says before opening the door. [Part 4 of the Dreams & Lasts series] 

the space between dreams and reality AO3 | Tumblr Kastle Week Prompt: Dreams He stands in her apartment, by the door, but it is closed this time, and no bullets are coming through her windows. Her gun is in her hand, though, gripped loose from where it hangs at her side. “Why?” She asks. It’s a whisper of a loaded question. He doesn’t respond, just stares at her, gaze too unreadable. Karen wakes with a frustrated sigh. [Part 1 of the Dreams & Lasts series]

untitled Tumblr  [Can you do a prompt where Micro yells at Karen and Frank gets the in his face. I literally be for protective!Frank 😂💕] [Punisher speculation]

PunkyNemo / thevampirecat

As days go by, the night’s on fire AO3 | Tumblr She’s lost him, she’s found him and she’s lost him again. And now he’s standing on her fire escape, holding out his hand and looking at her like she’s the only thing on Earth worth seeing.  [Canon-divergent AU; part 2 of the Ballads for a dead man series]

Be my saviour and I’ll be your downfall AO3 | Tumblr (Part 1) Once upon a time she derided herself for imagining they were a done deal on a collision course straight to her bedroom. But that’s all over now and he’s gone, hasn’t been back since he walked off her roof and disappeared into the night air. It’s not all bad though. She has friends, she has work and tonight she even has cause to celebrate. It is, after all, her birthday and there’s a chance the universe will be kind. It’s just a chance though. And not a very good one.  [Canon-divergent AU; warning: explicit sexual content; part 3 of the Ballads for a dead man series; WIP]

The bullet you never saw coming AO3 | FFN | Tumblr (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3) There are days that he wonders if he’s the worst man on Earth. And then there are the days that he doesn’t need to wonder. But, worst man or not, she’s here, sitting on his couch and crying like the world is ending. And he has no idea how to feel about that. Except he does. He really does. [Canon-divergent AU; warning: explicit sexual content]

Can you wait while the world circles the sun? AO3  It’s hard when you can’t take her out - when you’re The Punisher and the world can’t know she’s your girl. But he can make it up to her, make it right … even if he’s not really sure what it is that he’s wanting.  [Warning: implied sexual content]

Could you crawl out of your perfect skin and climb into mine? AO3 | Tumblr * It's just a hug, so why does it feel like it's so much more?  [Frank POV, The Hug]

Love me back to life AO3 | FFN | Tumblr (Part 1, Part 2) He can keep her safe. It’s the one thing he knows how to do, the only thing he can truly give her. So why does it feel like it’s not enough?

You’re a ghost town (and maybe I’m a ghost) AO3 | FFN | Tumblr Safe up in the mountains with Frank following a bloody showdown in Hell’s Kitchen, Karen wonders just how much more complicated things between them can get. She’s about to find out.  [Canon-divergent AU; part 1 of the Ballads for a dead man series; I cry about this series in the best way, it’s long and plotty and UST-y and so so great]

queensofthekastle / StellarRequiem & homesickblues 

For Whom There are No Words AO3 | Tumblr (Part 1) Originally inspired by the prompt “Frank protecting Karen after Fisk finds out she killed Wesley.” A dialogue-driven slow burn exploring their relationship through conversation, spaghetti dates, two incidents involving vodka, and a whole lot of back and forth between who Frank is, and what Frank does.  [Canon-divergent AU; protective!Frank, slow-burn]

Nowhere to Go but Everywhere AO3 * Karen has some emotional recovery to do, Frank is still working on "after," and all along the east-west interstate, someone has been abducting children and wiping all record of the disappearances. ** The roadtrip fic has arrived [Roadtrip AU; fake married, sharing a bed]

untitled Tumblr [based on the new trailer (which shook us to the core tbh)] [Punisher speculation]

untitled Tumblr [Kastle+forced to share a bed (best trope ever)]

untitled Tumblr [kastle prompt fill: “matt and frank having a conversation about karen”] [Canon-divergent AU]

untitled Tumblr [OOOH! What about holding their unconscious body WHILST sobbing into their shoulder/chest ] [Punisher speculation]

samssalvation / jonbernhthal 

one day Tumblr prompt: between the explosion and the elevator 

weak knees AO3 | Tumblr  prompt: karen tripping and falling into frank's arms

SecondFromTheRight 

All We Do Is Hide Away AO3  But when she opened the door to him that night with a “Frank”, her lip trembling as she stared at him – her eyes were already red from crying and she looked tired – he wondered how much that mattered. He knew what Karen Page looked like crying and breathing – or yelling – his name, he knew what she looked like with blood on her, but he didn’t know who Ben Urich was to her. He kind of hated himself for that. And for a man used to self-contempt, this dose noticeably burned.  [Post-Punisher s1]

The Sounds She Makes AO3 * Now, now that he’s had her, had this. Something good and something he feels part of it. Now that he’s remembered life and something he’s terrified could be love - he can go out with Karen on his lips, in his lungs, with her saying his name in his ear. He can go out swaying in this elevator with her, her forehead against his. The elevator scene goes a little differently (they have sex) [Warning: explicit sexual content]

watermelonp00fs 

shooting stars in a jar AO3 * Frank doesn’t visit Karen, after. Not really. But the flowers are there by her window — everyday, for weeks, months — until one day they aren’t. She’s stopped going to the river for a while now, too. Not that he blames her for it. Cut the threads loose, toss the baggage she’s carried all this time into the goddamn ocean — He’s alright with it, all of it. Then, one evening she goes home with a man he’s never laid eyes on, carefree laughs and cheeky smiles — and Frank should be, must be alright with this because God knows she deserves happiness that he cannot interfere with — Except he isn’t.

the world on its axis AO3  Inhale. Exhale. “I’m scared, Karen.” Rough. Guttural. He hated how weak he sounded. “I’m gonna forget her voice.” His shoulders sagged from the weight of his guilt. Frank Castle — the man who took a woman to bed and cried to that woman about his dead wife. What a joke. What a fucking joke. A low hum sounded in the back of Karen’s throat as she stroked the line of his back, gentle and understanding and oh he did not deserve her — “I know,” she murmured and kissed his shoulder. “I know.” Inhale. Exhale. [Part 2 of the like diamonds in the sky series]

Wynn / astreetcarnamedwynn

One Worth Knowing AO3 | FFN | Tumblr The message arrives in an innocuous envelope, a plain white one marked only with her name and the address of The Bulletin, the two scrawled on the front in thick black ink. Karen doesn’t even have to open it to know it’s from him, from Frank, though almost eight months have passed since she last saw him.  [UST; warning: adult content; part 1 of the One Worth series]

One Worth Trusting AO3 | Tumblr  Frank presses the first speed dial and, a couple seconds later, her phone rings in her purse. Karen doesn’t bother asking how he knew her number. She just stares at him instead, caught between irritation at his actions and understanding for the impulse behind them. And if that didn’t sum up her feelings for Frank Castle, the man a murderer but one she understood. The man in question watches her, his brow furrowed but his jaw set, Frank willing to throw down over this, his efforts to keep her safe.Sighing again, Karen points to the kitchenette behind him. “If you’re so willing to do things for me, why don’t you pour me a drink? I’m going to get changed.”His face softens, nearly into a smile. “Yes, ma’am.” A continuation of "One Worth Knowing." Frank accepts Karen's invitation to come by her apartment for a drink. All goes well until it doesn't, until truths are revealed and revelations made. [UST, kisses, & angst; part 2 of the One Worth series]

Yggdra / favrielle

Bluest Skies Of Mourning Light AO3 It’s Karen’s birthday. The Punisher is caught unaware by his own legacy.  [Fluff]

On Hallowed Ground I Stay AO3 He never says "I love you”, but whispers every word of it in all the spaces Karen Page leaves for him in her life.  [Fluff]

Paint Your Demons Red AO3 | Tumblr Frank Castle tries to keep Karen Page at arm’s length and out of danger. (Really, he does.) She has other ideas about what safety means. [Post-Defenders]

She Who Believeth In Me AO3 Her brightness touches everything he lays eyes on. And he can’t shake her no matter how hard he tries. [Part 1 of the all the devils series]

untitled Tumblr  [kastle prompt: after the explosion scene, frank takes karen back to his and micro’s hideout. possibly a shower scene (doesn’t have to be sexual) where frank is comforting karen because she took another life while looking out for frank as they were making their escape.] [Punisher speculation]

untitled Tumblr  [plllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllssssssssssss write a fic where Karen and Frank go back to his hideout to patch each other up after the explosion scenes 😙] [Punisher speculation]

Misc.

Been with the Devil in the Devil’s Resting Place AO3 by Amazing_E_ko  The development of Karen and Frank’s relationship from Matt’s perspective, as his own life goes slowly downhill.  [POV Matt, not exactly kind to him but in a fun, vindictive sort of way if you’re into that lol]

Heaven Sent the Saints Down (Hell Sent Them Up) AO3 | Tumblr (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4) by Ambrosia  But no, yes, the Punisher. In her apartment. Staring at her with an unfazed expression on his face. Even from the doorway, she can see the white skull painted on his chest-piece. And this is somehow so normal for her, at this stage of her life, that she honestly takes one look at Frank, at the bruises on his face, at all his gear spread around her apartment, and says, “Okay. It’s 11:07. I haven’t eaten yet. I’m going to order some dim sum from the corner and you are not going to get any of that gun oil on my bed.”

It is So Quite New a Thing AO3 by an_ardent_rain  He realizes, as he is about to order, that there is one other thing he has besides his grief and his anger and his never-ending war. That there is something that helps him remember, that reminds him who he used to be. He orders a second cup to go and writes “Page” in blocky letters on the side.  [WIP]

don’t fade away AO3 by consultingpathologist* As she unlatches the window to bring the flowers inside, she realizes the yellow is from a piece of paper wedged in between the stems.  [Episode tag]

When you drown, I'll drown AO3 by ebethjanna* His voice is gruff, "Not gonna point a loaded gun at you, Karen." (Two missing moments from 1x10.)

Better Natures AO3 by etirabys “Work with me here, Frank,” Karen snapped. “Make some sense here. Talk to me. We can’t figure out what our next move is until you explain why you’re so disgusted at the thought of my being attracted to you — an attraction which, by the way, I’ve never let interfere with our work or our friendship —“ “I’m not disgusted,” Frank said in a strained, calm voice. “You have ghastly taste, but I’m not disgusted. No. It’s just the feeling of having carried a torch for miles and miles in the dark and… having the sun come up.” [Zombie AU with a side of Fake Married feat. HellaBadass!Karen; warning: explicit sexual content of the dom/sub variety; this fic is everything to me READ IT]

loss like the sharp edges of a knife Tumblr (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5) by fandammit* [The stillness of after is suffocating.] [Frank POV, post-Punisher; one of my current favorite fics]

moth and flame AO3 | Tumblr by freedomatsea  Liquid courage and exhaustion lead Frank to reach out to Karen after months of keeping away from her. Set post-finale about 6-8 months. Frank’s POV.  [Warning: explicit sexual content]

The Fall AO3 by ghoulsngunz  “I need a favor.” A favor? Karen crossed her arms over her chest. She had to be dreaming. There was no way that after three months of silence the Punisher would be standing in her kitchen asking for a favor. “What kind of favor?” Frank rubbed his temples. “I need you to help me find my dog.” [WIP]

Elevator Songs AO3 | Tumblr by Inaccessible Rail (strangetales)  A series of drabbles or shorter works that I've posted on Tumblr about my two trauma buds in probable love.  [WIP]

But I Wish It Was True AO3 by Ideal_Flower* The first time it happened, he was hit with white hot shame. But there was no bullet, no gunshot, no shattering of golden hair and spray of brain and blood and guilt on the wall, on the side of his face. Just her mouth on him, his hand on her, his fingers tangled through the cornsilk strands at the nape of her neck.  [Warning: explicit sexual content]

United We Purge AO3 | Tumblr by Jenye "Just remember all the good the purge does.” – Evil runs Hell’s Kitchen, but one night out of the year that evil is legal.  [Purge AU]

Come For You AO3 by larkingstock* Pretty much what the tags say. (I'm so sorry. I wanted it, I wrote it, and if I can figure out the rest I'm probably going to write that too.) (Also so so sorry for the title.) [Sex pollen fic; warning: explicit sexual content, WIP; honestly I am enjoying this fic so fucking much]

You Carry My Heart On Your Sleeve AO3 by Morrigan2345  The first thought that comes to mind when her door opens and she’s standing in front of him in what could only be the tightest black dress he’s ever seen is that she looks good. Really good. The second thought is that he shouldn’t have thought that. The third thought is that he couldn’t give less of a shit. [Warning: explicit sexual content]

the root of the root and the bud of the bud AO3 by nagia* There's a new drug in town, a warehouse full of dead shitbags (and newly empty of a strange, tropical-looking flower), and Karen Page has the kind of connections that might help him figure out what this shit is.  [Sex pollen fic; warning: explicit sexual content]

ain’t nothing but a monster AO3 by nighimpossible “Is this okay?” she asks, the question just a murmur in the dark.  “You’re already close enough to hurt me,” Frank says finally, after chewing on the thought for a long moment. “So hurt me.” [Warning: mature content]

hail, holy queen AO3 by peppermintcas  He kisses her and it’s like setting a building on fire: he knows it’s a bad idea, intellectually, but everything in him is pushing him to do it.  [Warning: explicit sexual content]

Strays AO3 by Ruby_Wren* Frank finds out what happened to his dog. 

The End of the Line AO3 by ruebellab  They say there’s a ghost - that he’s a dead man, but Miss Karen’s seen enough to know one thing. Dead men don’t feel, they don’t hurt, they don’t care - so if there’s a man out there, she knows he ain’t a ghost, he’s broken maybe but he’s not dead. [Western AU; WIP]

Fall On Your Knees AO3 by saltandbyrne* She keeps the flowers in her window for three days.  [Warning: explicit sexual content]

windowsill AO3 by shuofthewind  Eight weeks, three days. She's going to punch him in his fucking nose. The fic that fixes the lack of Karen at the end of The Punisher. [Post-Punisher s1; UST]

Of Gods and Monsters AO3 | Tumblr by silbecoo Frank is the God of the Underworld, quietly ushering honorable souls to the Elysian Fields while ensuring the evil ones start their time in Tartarus as soon as possible. He doesn’t want or need anyone to care about, until one day the beautiful Daughter of Demeter needs him. He can’t ignore his fate, and neither can she.  [Yup it’s the Hades&Persephone AU you were waiting for; WIP]

A Hard Rain AO3 by smolhombre* When he starts over this time, Frank tries to mean it. An after; for people who don't believe in them. [Warning: explicit sexual content; WIP]

the floodgates need repair AO3 by stainofmylove* Karen struggles to put the pieces back together again. Post “I’m already dead,” basically. 

moving on AO3 by thecoolestfreak* “I’m going to break the truth over Fisk’s head, sure. But I need the backup to do it. Capable parties.” She said it as she’d rehearsed it in her head, and she winced at how unsympathetic it sounded out loud. “Y’need canon fodder, that it?” he said, and she almost spit out the wine she’d nervously poured in her mouth. “God, no! Frank, that’s not— I’m—" He laughed, a small chuckle, but a laugh, and if he were here she would punch him in the arm.“I’ll do it, Karen. Where and when do you need me?” post the punisher s1 & the defenders s1 - the gang fights fisk, but its basically a kastle fic

elevator AO3 by thefudge 1x10. The elevator scene, but with a much needed addition. 

but shrapnel is shrapnel AO3 by theworthofhollin  It starts like this: Karen gets a dog.  [WIP]

to arm your fears like soldiers and slay them AO3 | FFN | Tumblr by viansian  Karen had gotten over the whole “soulmates” hype when she was thirteen years old, and she didn’t plan on getting swept up in that shitstorm again anytime soon. aka the soulmate fic you knew was coming. [Soulmates AU]

Sentimentality AO3 by writesometimes* She stood in front of the windows and scanned the darkening New York skyline. The dark concrete, steel and glass of tall buildings blending with the inky indigo sky. There was no way she'd spot him if he was out there somewhere, but Karen knew. Frank was alive. 

Ain’t about what I like AO3 | Tumblr by zombieboyband Before the diner, after the gunfire. City nights, late drives, looking for coffee with Frank. Karen is too tired for easy questions. “Pardon, ma'am?” He sounds so goddamn polite it’s incredible. “The meat hooks. The part where you killed people and put them on meat hooks.” [Missing scene]

→OTHER  

On tumblr: kastlelibrary, kastlenetwork, kastlesource, queensofthekastle, thecrimescenejunkie

People with good Kastle tags: afigureofspeech, carry-the-sky, frankcastle, hipsterfrankcastle, likcoln, mazikeene, shipsabound, theworthofhollin

On AO3: the Frank Castle/Karen Page tag

Updated 12/19/17

[allenmendezsr]

Renew - Record Epcs

New Post has been published on https://autotraffixpro.app/allenmendezsr/renew-record-epcs/

Renew - Record Epcs

 Buy Now

    I did every diet fad there was and none of them worked. Intermittent fasting, the low carb diet, keto. All they did was cause me to gain even more weight and increase my depression further once I was done. Throughout my journey I was able to discover a 3 second addition to your daily routine. This is so powerful that thousands of people have seen dramatic results and quickly. We both couldn’t believe it, it was incredible.

I witnessed my energy return and skyrocket; I was like a new person. I got my ‘swagger’ back, the girl I fell madly in love with in our High School days was finally back. Over just 7 days I lost nearly 3lbs. I went into work and each day got more compliments from everyone. It was as if people could just see my transformation daily.

Everyone seems to think that there is a secret diet that will magically shred off the pounds and work like clockwork. That just isn’t the case, your body adapts to most fad diets very quickly. Did you know that you can even quit a diet and rebound gaining more weight then you had before you started? Scary isn’t it?

The key that no one talks about is a ruthless toxin that is wreaking havoc on your body day in and day out. It affects everything from your energy, mood, confidence to most importantly your ability to lose weight effectively. It causes massive weight gain and effects everyone as we speak, regardless of age and gender. The scary thing is, the older you get the worst it gets as it compounds with age.

Don’t worry I won’t be sending you a shopping list of ingredients to cook healthy meals, or asking you to do crazy intense workout routines, or asking you to get super expensive ‘shakes’ that do nothing more than a regular cheap protein shake. None of that stuff that 98% of people fail at and frankly have no desire to do.

I’m dead serious about this only taking you 3 seconds a day to do, and just once per day. I am not asking you to fast for 16 hours, or only eat 1 piece of chicken with broccoli 6 times per day either.

I’m also going to be uncovering the weight loss scams you’ve probably tried or heard of that literally do nothing at all. The ones that cause you to gain even more weight once you quit them. The worst part is they are endorsed by influencers, celebrity doctors and even health institutions.

An important side note, is that I’ve also tested this on both men and women and it works just the same on both! It also doesn’t matter what your age is, whether you are young or old. It is so powerful that some people need to dial it back a bit. Nothing I have encountered or anyone that has used this hack has ever stopped it from working, it’s that powerful. It’s completely safe as well and all natural. There is a lot of resistance I can imagine because the weight loss industry has probably lied to you not just daily, but multiple times daily. Advertising when you’re at work or even waiting for your oil change at the local car dealership.

I get it, I was there too for way too many years. I was such a sucker that I bought everything under the sun, you could play the fiddle and entice me into a store only to empty out my wallet on another pie in the sky supplement that did nothing but leave me feeling like I got taken yet again. I’d walk in and just empty my wallet on every little pill I could find, or the sales rep could convince me to buy, which was just about anything.

It’s time for you to make a dramatic change in your life for the better, and in your health specifically. You owe it to yourself, and your friends, family, and partner. I understand that even going into the gym can be very intimidating. Nobody wants to do that fabled walk up the stairs and to a machine while everyone is staring. Even worse is finding a machine that you don’t know how to use and abandoning it all together.

Hi there, my name is James Marshall and I used to be a physical therapist, helping everyone from kids with injuries to elderly.

It’s always been my favorite thing in life to help others. I also have a beautiful wife, Sarah and 2 children ages 8 and 12; Garret and William. They are my pride and joy.

A common theme I found is that when someone was injured whether it be from athletics or a tragic accident, they would put on weight almost immediately. You don’t realize how active you are just walking around daily even without exercise. I listened to them intently, as thousands of patients told me story after story of fad diets and scammy supplements they had tried, none of them showing much weight loss short or long term. They had gone into local supplement stores and purchased supplements online only to be let down time and time again. Irealized that trying to get people to exercise was so time consuming and 98% of people quit after a week in.

The first ingredient was Psyllium Husk. This isn’t just regular Psyllium Husk, but native to the island so it has special properties. Psyllium Husk comes from the seed of the plant Plantago ovato. It absorbs 100 times it’s weight in water and the best part is, it detoxifies all negative toxins your body is holding onto, including plastics, metals and micro particles caused by air pollution!

The second ingredient he used was Magnesium Oxide. Magnesium Oxide works as a cleansing agent for your body, it actually wipes toxins out quickly out of your body not allowing them to absorb into your bloodstream and settle in.

The final ingredient was Green Coffee Bean Extract. According to a study in Medical News Today it boasts high levels of chlorogenic acid, a polyphenol antioxidant that researchers say can promote weight loss by reducing the absorption of fat and glucose in the gut, and lowering insulin levels to improve metabolic function. All of these ingredients were not synthetic or made in a lab, they came from the Earth! They appeared to almost immediately get rid of the nasty effects of Obesogens.

Because of our initial and continued success over the past 2 years, I decided it was time to share this secret with more people.

I have decided to call it ReNew, because it has renewed our life and happiness and we want it to renew yours too!

Where has that gotten you so far? My point exactly. Most of these companies just want to keep selling you crap that does literally nothing other than pad their wallets as they come out with a new ‘product line’ ever so often which you try yet again and to your surprise does not work. Let’s face it, nobody has time to spend hours every week in the gym or prepping meals, yourother 2 options.

Make sure you take action now before the price goes up, remember that if you order the 3 or 6 bottle package the shipping is free! Don’t forget you also have a 60-day money back satisfaction guarantee. If you aren’t incredibly excited and seeing amazing results then let us know for a fullrefund. In order to get the slimmest body possible and make the most dramatic changes at thebest cost, make sure you select the 6-bottle package.

BASIC – 1 BOTTLE

buy 1 Renew supplement

$69.00

Free Shipping 60 Day Money Back Guarantee

BEST VALUE! – 6 BOTTLE

buy 6 Renew supplement

$294.00

Free Shipping 60 Day Money Back Guarantee

POPULAR! – 3 BOTTLE

buy 3 Renew supplement

$177.00

Free Shipping 60 Day Money Back Guarantee

I’m sure you have some more questions so let me help you address those. I have put together a list of some of the most common questions customers have had so that you can be put at ease.

I bet you are wondering what results you can expect with ReNew? Most importantly ReNew will help you get rid of unwanted body fat and keep it off for good. It will also help detox all of the nasty Obesogens out of your body, including metals, plastics, hormone disruption caused by pollution and more.

What bottle option is best? The 6-bottle option is superior, it will allow you to lose as much weight as possible within a 6-month period and transform your life completely. It’s also the most heavily discounted option along with free shipping included! Like I said earlier, it’s totally risk-free, you have nothing to lose because you’re covered by my 60-day money back guarantee. We are fully compliant and have a GMP certificate showing our safety and efficacy.

These are average sized capsules and all you have to do is take 2 a day, it’s a 3 second hack to losing a ton of weight finally at your doorstep! You can’t find ReNew in stores or on Amazon, it is exclusively sold from me, as I have a special deal with the people of Mauritius.

60-day, Guarantee.

100% Money Back

Copyright © 2021 Renew. All Rights Reserved.

[twdmusicboxmystery]

Daryl = Fire, Beth = Water

Morning Everybody! So with only a couple of days to go before the S8 Premiere (I'm totally staying cool over here.)

So the amazing @wdway has done it again. She came up with such an amazing insight this last week. In many ways, it's super-obvious and I don't know why no one has realized it before. But she's just a genius that way.

So we were talking about some of the S8 promo pics. They're the ones that have many of the characters in side profile and there are embers blowing around them.

I'm sure many people have tried to relate these to Beth both because we saw fire around her and Daryl in Still and because of Norman's famous analogy about her being Daryl's flame that burnt out.

I thought the same. Then @wdway said something really profound. She said, "I think Beth's symbol is actually more water than fire."

That makes so much sense! We've always equated Beth with fire because of Still. I think it was a fairly good assumption given…everything. But it was also kind of wrong.

Think of it this way. While both Beth and Daryl were working through emotional issues at the moonshine shack, and it WAS her idea to burn it down (another reason we equated her with the fire), the burning down of the shack was more about Daryl than it was about Beth. HE was the one who grew up in a place like that, not her. And they started the fire right after they talked about him staying who he is, not who he was. Getting away from his horrible past.

Since then, we've seen Daryl equated with fire a lot. And I think each time, it represents the same thing it represented in Still: him burning down his problems and leaving them behind so he can move forward. 

Examples of Why Daryl = Fire:

He blew up the saviors in 6x09 

He set the lake afire in Alexandria to get rid of the walker horde. Both of those were physical obstacles rather than emotional, but still. Daryl burnt them down.

We can even trace this to his childhood. As he told Carl in season 3 (just before finding Carol who was presumed dead, I might add) his mother died in a house fire in which she kinda burned herself down. She was consumed in it when Daryl was a small child.

Even the matches Sherry left him to escape the Sanctuary make more sense in light of this. Obviously tptb didn't want him to burn down the Sanctuary at that point in the story. They have other plans for it. But they still symbolically showed him using fire to move forward and work through his problems. (The imprisonment of the Sanctuary, in that case.)

Then there's the ashes. Ashes are what's left after the fire has burnt. Ashes are one of the most pure substances on earth because they've just been purified with fire. They're also the substance the phoenix rises from. Remember Daryl's, "we ain't ashes." That was before he lost Beth. Before he endured his trial-by-fire, as it were.

Now, understand I’m not saying that Beth won't use fire to…you know…escape places. I totally think she will. But thus far, we've seen Daryl equated with fire far more than her.

Let's talk examples of why Beth = water.

We saw water bottles around her in Still.

All the water/boat/Oceanside symbols we've equated with her. I don’t want to list them all. There’s been like a billion. Each time I've seen or pointed one out, I've simply thought it was a foreshadow of Oceanside. And I'm sure they all are. But it's deeper than that. Her SYMBOL is actually water, which is why Oceanside happens to be so fitting.

And it also works REALLY well with Beth and Daryl because they complement each other so well. Beth's water can douse his fire and make him more civil. (Like when he wanted to cover Len’s body with a tarp, for example.) Daryl's fire (him teaching her to survive and his determination to keep people alive, like Judith in S3) stokes her determination to survive.

It's all about balance. Beth is the water that balances Daryl. Without her, he could be consumed (*Consumed*) by his flames. We see him going off the rails without her. Such as when he decided to get revenge for Denise in 6b, which just led to more trouble and heartache. Glenn, Michonne and Rosita couldn't talk him out of that. Beth would have been able to, which is tragic in itself.

Norman has said that Daryl will go rogue in S8. We don't know what that means exactly, but it doesn't sound good. I think Daryl will be in the darkest place we've ever seen in him in S8, close to being consumed by his flames. Which will also mean that Carol's line to him in Consumed about how "everything now just consumes you," was a foreshadow for Daryl's future arc, after losing Beth.

So once @wdway and I started talking about this, we both totally geeked out and couldn't stop coming up with examples. I mean, once you realize this, the evidence just starts coming out of your ears. Check it out:

Christian symbolism has its roots in water. There's baptism, which is symbolic of death and resurrection by water. Several of Christ's miracles included water, such as turning water into wine (*coughs moonshine*), walking on the ocean, and calming the stormy sea.

With that last one, I can't help but think of this from S4:

In this scene, Hershel holds up a mug that says, "Java saves," which is also a (funny) Jesus reference.

@wdway also pointed out that after this, Hershel goes out into the woods to gather berries to make tea for those sick with the virus. Granted, he makes tea, not wine, but still. Berries and grapes are used to make wine. And Beth gathered grapes in Inmates. I've always wondered about the grapes because we really don't see them again. They're not a recurring symbol like strawberries for Beth, or pomegranates for Carol. We just saw them the one time. But grapes were used to make wine, so you can see how that might tie in. A couple episodes after gathering grapes, she and Daryl were drinking moonshine.

(And btw, the scene where Hershel gathers the buries includes a female walker with her leg caught in a bear trap. Just saying.)

We also talked about how this relates to the title of Still. Most people think Still is so named because of the moonshine still, and they're right. But it's more than that. There are three possible uses of the word "still." 

It can be a noun, as in, the moonshine still. 

It can mean, "continuing." As in, "we're still here." And even though neither Beth or Daryl say that in Still, it's a very heavy theme afterwards. Carol says it to Daryl. Beth says it to Carol (a variation) at Grady. Carol says a variation of it to Mary at Terminus. And Michonne has said it to Rick several times in S7. 

The final definition of still is the opposite of motion. In other words, calm, or peace. I know this doesn't sound like it has anything to with water, but we were talking about Christ calming the sea. ("Peace, be still.") And I sincerely believe part of the reason for that title is that Beth brought Daryl peace. In a lifetime of fire, she calmed his flames.

And, now that I'm thinking about it… This is kinda twisted, but Creepy Wolf Dude said, "be still," to his victims before killing them. It always jumped out at me because of the title of 4x12. Leave it to TWD to give a Christian reference to a murderous villain, but they're still using biblical references. So the wolves are using Christian dialogue that has to do with water. And Beth's symbol = water. See why I think Beth and the wolves are still a thing?

In the show, we see fire extinguishers around Beth in Still especially. Apparently we also see a lot of hydrants around Daryl. (Not something I've ever paid attention to, but if others have seen them, it's definitely a thing.) To see the water around Daryl suggests Beth is always with him.

Then there's the fire truck. I've always known the fire truck was a purposeful symbol. I mean, that's a very conscious choice for the writers. I always figured it was because it's red, and I've related the water in it to Oceanside before. But what do you know? It's more than that. Fire trucks are specifically called to put out fires, aren't they?

It's also interesting that the fire truck ties Maggie, Rosita, and especially EUGENE, who's now at the Sanctuary, to Beth's story. (Remember, it disappeared along with Beth after Coda.)

Let's see, what else? Oh, we talked about the miracles of the bread and fishes, which happened by the sea. Christ blessed the fish and fed the multitude with very little. Tara ate fish by the Ocean.

Some other examples of Bethyl = Fire and Water.

I especially love this in light of Daryl starting the lake on fire at Alexandria. It was fire and water working together to defeat walkers and save TF and their home.

@wdway even points to the trailer for S8. We see a lot of fire and explosions around Daryl in the trailer. And what does he do before starting those fires? Drinks water. Kinda like he needs a little bit of Beth/water protection before he blows shit up.

And this is interesting because of discussion I had after the trailer came out. I can't remember who it was with (probably someone in my FB group) but it was suggested that maybe he's not drinking water. It kind of looks like a flask, so they wondered if he was drinking moonshine.

Even back then, I didn't think that was likely. We saw both Beth and Daryl refuse alcohol from other people when they were apart. I think it's kind of a theme that they only drink together. 

So symbolically, I doubt he'd be drinking moonshine here. Plus, Daryl is really responsible about his drinking, as we saw in Still. ("Someone's gotta stand watch.") So I doubt he'd get drunk before getting on a motorcycle and having aim at stuff with a gun to start fires.

But it's just kind of interesting because obviously things are seeing Beth symbols in the trailer.

Another thing that's super interesting in light of this is Arsonist's Lullaby. I love that song. It's so haunting! And it's interesting because when it's played in 6b, we don't see much of Daryl. It focuses on Morgan, Michonne, and Rick. But we do also see Tara and Heath, which is also interesting.

Anyway, the song says things like, "All you have is your fire." And "Don't you ever tame your demons, but always keep them on a leash." It also talks about the flames of childhood. It personifies Daryl more than just about anyone. Beth helps him keep his demons on a leash. Without her, they kinda run wild.

I could probably go on for hours, but I won't. The last thing I want to mention is Them. Pivotal Beth episode, when the music box woke up, yeah?

Notice how that whole episode was all about TF not having water. We even saw a dry river bed, and Abraham drinking booze rather than water. No water = no Beth. Then, when the storm came (also felling trees, btw), the music box woke up.

@wdway asked me about Aaron. He also brought TF water. The thing is, he's a big proxy for Beth in 5b. He talks about there being "good people," he deals with Daryl's surliness, where others won't. He spends a lot of time one on one with Daryl in the woods. He's the friend Daryl needed after losing Beth. And he brings TF water.

Okay, I'm gonna stop now. I know this is very sprawling. I actually do have more to say, but I’m going to give one other thing we talked about its own post. This is long enough as it is.

As I said, me and @wdway kind went wild with it. We couldn’t help ourselves. Not sorry, tho. ;D

[wineanddinosaur]

Will the Low- and No-ABV Movements Survive Covid-19?

If it seems like everyone in your social media feed is drinking more right now, they probably are. According to IWSR data shared with VinePair, retail alcohol sales during Covid-19 have hit double-digit growth, mirroring “holiday-type” volume and value spending.

Of course, any current data should be examined with the caveat that on-premise sales have plummeted, and many are replacing those purchases with stay-at-home Quarantinis. There’s also stockpiling to consider, though IWSR figures signal that the bulk of this took place during a two-week period in March, and sales since then have remained strong.

But just as our interactions with the physical world are largely confined to the views from our windows, we should not overlook the subjectivity of social media feeds. Put simply: Not everyone is drinking more right now.

“If anything, I’ve seen this kind of outpouring of, ‘Here are all the ways that I’m taking care of myself,’ and lots of people doing yoga and meditation,” says Sam Thonis, co-owner of Getaway, an alcohol-free bar in Brooklyn. Opened in April 2019, the bar has become a brick-and-mortar signifier of the growing low- and no-alcohol movements.

Prior to Covid-19, these movements had started gaining significant traction, with coverage reaching national media. By the end of last year, publications such as The Washington Post and The New York Times had devoted significant column inches to the popularity of lower-ABV spritz cocktails and hard seltzers, and the growing interest in the “sober-curious” lifestyle. While it was harder to back the “trend” with sales data, low- and no-ABV drinks had by then entered the cultural lexicon.

But like everything else right now, the future of the low and no movements feels delicately poised. Convincing drinkers that it might be a good idea to lower their alcohol consumption is difficult enough at the best of times, let alone in the midst of a global pandemic. And looking forward, there’s the dark cloud of recession looming on the horizon, which is likely to impact consumer spending. That could be a particular challenge for the zero-proof category, whose products have been priced at retail similarly to the boozy libations they were designed to replace. To boot: The non-alcoholic botanical “spirit” Seedlip sells for around $30 for 700 milliliters, while a slightly larger bottle of Bombay Sapphire gin sells for $25. These issues raise the question: What does Covid-19 mean for the future of the nascent low- and no-ABV movements?

Drinking Habits In a Global Pandemic

For Thonis, there’s no question that the zero-proof scene was gaining traction prior to Covid-19. After Getaway opened, it received significant press. While skeptics could argue it seemed like a niche “New York” concept, multiple operators around the country reached out to Thonis and told him they wanted to emulate his model.

Sales, too, seemed to indicate that the city that never sleeps was willing to take the occasional night off from booze. “Before March, when everything changed, the two normal months of 2020 were our best months yet,” he says. “We were on a serious upswing.”

Sadly, those sales have now crashed to nothing. Unlike some New York cocktail bars, Getaway hasn’t pivoted to takeaway or to-go options. And when stay-at-home orders are finally relaxed, Thonis realizes his bar’s offerings might be deemed as a luxury by some. “[Non-alcoholic cocktails] are not human necessities, unlike food and arguably alcohol,” he says.

Lifestyle writer Ruby Warrington has noticed contrasting attitudes on her social media feeds. In 2018, the New-York-based British author wrote a book on alcohol abstinence titled “Sober Curious.” Some have even credited the work with popularizing the no-ABV movement. Warrington also hosts a podcast of the same name and interacts via social media with a community of people who choose not to drink.

Many of those interactions have included people speaking about how glad they are that they don’t drink right now and don’t need to navigate hangovers in the midst of a pandemic. But when she opens her Facebook feed, which has a lot of people from her “pre-sober-curious life” in the U.K., she notices some friends repeating the kind of statements that could double as a quarantine meme, such as “How early is too early to start drinking?” and “Drinking alone doesn’t count in a crisis.”

“It almost feels like there’s a lot of bravado, a ‘let’s drink our way through it’ sort of attitude,” she says. “With my sober-curious goggles on, it does seem like underneath there’s a lot of fear.”

Her evaluation is backed by psychological science. “It makes a lot of sense that people are drinking more during this time: They want instant relief from anxiety, boredom, depression, and just not wanting to feel their feelings — alcohol offers a solution to that,” says Lindsay Hayden, a New York-based licensed mental health counselor who specializes in addiction.

Hayden warns that without the structure and routine of normal life, those who are using only alcohol as a coping mechanism could soon be facing more serious issues. “Not everyone who is relying on alcohol will come out of the pandemic with an alcohol addiction, but it is definitely something people should be watching out for,” she says.

Drinking Habits During a Recession

While the “new normal” of quarantine life is unprecedented to all experiencing it, at least some of what comes after Covid-19 is not without parallel. By many accounts, the world economy is headed into a long and potentially deep recession. The IMF predicts the coronavirus crisis could knock as much as $9 trillion off global GDP over the next two years. If previous recessions are benchmarks, that doesn’t spell good news for the low- and no-ABV movements.

During the eight-month 2001 recession, whose economic impact lasted for several years, alcohol volume sales grew year-over-year, totaling a 4 percent increase between 2001 and 2004, according to IWSR’s chief operating officer, Brandy Rand.

While alcohol sales growth was somewhat flat during the Great Recession of December 2007 to June 2009, that was only because of declining beer sales. “[U]nemployment rate at the end of 2009 was 10 percent, yet there was still an upward consumption trend outside of beer,” Rand explains.

The purchasing habits from both of the most recent recessions indicate that when economic times are tough, consumers turn to the bottle. Amid the uncertainty, and with less cash in their pockets, they also favor higher-ABV beverages to leverage more bang for buck.

Lisa Laird Dunn, executive vice president of Laird & Company, predicts a similar trend this time around. Founded in 1780, her family runs the oldest licensed distillery in America. In its 200-plus-year history, Laird & Co. has survived more than 30 recessions, two world wars, and even Prohibition.

While known for its Applejack, the distillery’s portfolio contains a broad range of products, priced from high- end to value brands. Laird Dunn confirms that the company’s lower-priced value brands typically sell best during a recession and expects to see a repeat of this trend following Covid-19. “I think you’ll find that there will be more price shopping versus just brand shopping,” she says.

But national sales statistics and the experience of recession-defying distilleries paint just part of the picture.

In January 2013, the University of Buffalo published a study on alcohol use during the Great Recession. Polling more than 2 million Americans between 2006 and 2010, the study uncovered notable increases in heavy drinking (3.9 percent) and frequent binge drinking (7.1 percent), but also found a slight increase in abstention from alcohol (0.8 percent). Put more simply: Not everyone decided to drink more. And there’s more than just anecdotal references to prove the same thing is happening right now.

On Thursday, global research firm Wine Intelligence published its first Covid-19-related consumer analysis report. Based on data collected at the end of March and beginning of April, the report found that, on average, wine consumption has remained stable during lockdown. But once again, this trend only tells part of the story.

“We’re seeing an increase in frequency of wine consumption amongst more engaged wine drinkers,” says CEO Lulie Halstead. “So those who were already drinking wine at higher frequencies are increasing that frequency.”

On the flip side, younger drinkers who were just discovering wine are now drinking it much less frequently than before, she adds. While this finding is based on data collected in Australia, Halstead says early examinations of international data appear to show a similar trend in other markets.

Hope For the Low- and No-ABV Movements

During previous recessions, those who opted not to drink were limited to sodas, seltzers, and water. But this time around, the market is already awash with interesting alcohol alternatives. From no-ABV beers to zero-proof spirits, there are a number of non-alcoholic options that taste just like the real thing (or pretty darn close) without the alcohol and with fewer calories. If consumers can get past price concerns, the compelling flavors and low-calorie appeal of these products could help keep the low and no movements humming along.

As one notable example, Scottish brewery BrewDog has reported strong demand for its range of alcohol-free beers this year. Compared to the last four months of 2019, volume sales on its e-commerce platform have surged more than 350 percent between January and April of this year.

“Just last week, we had our strongest day of online sales ever with the launch of our newest NA beer: Ghost Walker,” says CEO Jason Block. Demand from wholesalers has been stronger still, with volume growth reaching quadruple digits during the first four months of 2020.

The thirst for no-ABV spirits appears to be similarly strong. Ritual Zero Proof, a non-alcoholic beverage brand that offers gin, tequila, and whiskey alternatives, sold its entire six-month inventory in just five weeks when it launched in September last year. Despite the current global pandemic, March 2020 sales were up 16 percent over February, and April sales are on track to double that.

“Spirit alternatives like Ritual are today what veggie burgers and almond milk were a few years back: New, easy to knock, and so broadly desired there are now sections in the grocery store dedicated to them,” says founding partner Marcus Sakey. “Almond milk did $5.3 billion in 2018.”

Support from internationally acclaimed bartenders has given these alternatives further credentials. At Bar Kumiko in Chicago, partner and director Julia Momose curated an extensive “Spiritfrees” cocktail menu. The bar is currently offering five of these drinks as part of a temporary to-go menu.

One of the most vocal supporters of low- and no-ABV cocktails has been Derek Brown, owner of Washington D.C.’s Columbia Room. In February, Brown authored a high-profile article on embracing “mindful drinking” and detailing his own complicated relationship with alcohol.

Brown believes zero-proof cocktails can be just as delicious, interesting, and thought-provoking as those with booze. While he’s also noticed an anecdotal increase in alcohol consumption, he doesn’t think that will harm the low and no movements. In fact, Brown believes our current situation might serve as a wake-up call for many. “A lot of people who went into this wondering whether they had a drinking problem will come out of it knowing the answer to that,” he says.

For those who do, there’s never been a broader range of alternatives and support to help change those habits.

The article Will the Low- and No-ABV Movements Survive Covid-19? appeared first on VinePair.

source https://vinepair.com/articles/coronavirus-impact-low-no-alcohol-movements/

[johnboothus]

Will the Low- and No-ABV Movements Survive Covid-19?

If it seems like everyone in your social media feed is drinking more right now, they probably are. According to IWSR data shared with VinePair, retail alcohol sales during Covid-19 have hit double-digit growth, mirroring “holiday-type” volume and value spending.

Of course, any current data should be examined with the caveat that on-premise sales have plummeted, and many are replacing those purchases with stay-at-home Quarantinis. There’s also stockpiling to consider, though IWSR figures signal that the bulk of this took place during a two-week period in March, and sales since then have remained strong.

But just as our interactions with the physical world are largely confined to the views from our windows, we should not overlook the subjectivity of social media feeds. Put simply: Not everyone is drinking more right now.

“If anything, I’ve seen this kind of outpouring of, ‘Here are all the ways that I’m taking care of myself,’ and lots of people doing yoga and meditation,” says Sam Thonis, co-owner of Getaway, an alcohol-free bar in Brooklyn. Opened in April 2019, the bar has become a brick-and-mortar signifier of the growing low- and no-alcohol movements.

Prior to Covid-19, these movements had started gaining significant traction, with coverage reaching national media. By the end of last year, publications such as The Washington Post and The New York Times had devoted significant column inches to the popularity of lower-ABV spritz cocktails and hard seltzers, and the growing interest in the “sober-curious” lifestyle. While it was harder to back the “trend” with sales data, low- and no-ABV drinks had by then entered the cultural lexicon.

But like everything else right now, the future of the low and no movements feels delicately poised. Convincing drinkers that it might be a good idea to lower their alcohol consumption is difficult enough at the best of times, let alone in the midst of a global pandemic. And looking forward, there’s the dark cloud of recession looming on the horizon, which is likely to impact consumer spending. That could be a particular challenge for the zero-proof category, whose products have been priced at retail similarly to the boozy libations they were designed to replace. To boot: The non-alcoholic botanical “spirit” Seedlip sells for around $30 for 700 milliliters, while a slightly larger bottle of Bombay Sapphire gin sells for $25. These issues raise the question: What does Covid-19 mean for the future of the nascent low- and no-ABV movements?

Drinking Habits In a Global Pandemic

For Thonis, there’s no question that the zero-proof scene was gaining traction prior to Covid-19. After Getaway opened, it received significant press. While skeptics could argue it seemed like a niche “New York” concept, multiple operators around the country reached out to Thonis and told him they wanted to emulate his model.

Sales, too, seemed to indicate that the city that never sleeps was willing to take the occasional night off from booze. “Before March, when everything changed, the two normal months of 2020 were our best months yet,” he says. “We were on a serious upswing.”

Sadly, those sales have now crashed to nothing. Unlike some New York cocktail bars, Getaway hasn’t pivoted to takeaway or to-go options. And when stay-at-home orders are finally relaxed, Thonis realizes his bar’s offerings might be deemed as a luxury by some. “[Non-alcoholic cocktails] are not human necessities, unlike food and arguably alcohol,” he says.

Lifestyle writer Ruby Warrington has noticed contrasting attitudes on her social media feeds. In 2018, the New-York-based British author wrote a book on alcohol abstinence titled “Sober Curious.” Some have even credited the work with popularizing the no-ABV movement. Warrington also hosts a podcast of the same name and interacts via social media with a community of people who choose not to drink.

Many of those interactions have included people speaking about how glad they are that they don’t drink right now and don’t need to navigate hangovers in the midst of a pandemic. But when she opens her Facebook feed, which has a lot of people from her “pre-sober-curious life” in the U.K., she notices some friends repeating the kind of statements that could double as a quarantine meme, such as “How early is too early to start drinking?” and “Drinking alone doesn’t count in a crisis.”

“It almost feels like there’s a lot of bravado, a ‘let’s drink our way through it’ sort of attitude,” she says. “With my sober-curious goggles on, it does seem like underneath there’s a lot of fear.”

Her evaluation is backed by psychological science. “It makes a lot of sense that people are drinking more during this time: They want instant relief from anxiety, boredom, depression, and just not wanting to feel their feelings — alcohol offers a solution to that,” says Lindsay Hayden, a New York-based licensed mental health counselor who specializes in addiction.

Hayden warns that without the structure and routine of normal life, those who are using only alcohol as a coping mechanism could soon be facing more serious issues. “Not everyone who is relying on alcohol will come out of the pandemic with an alcohol addiction, but it is definitely something people should be watching out for,” she says.

Drinking Habits During a Recession

While the “new normal” of quarantine life is unprecedented to all experiencing it, at least some of what comes after Covid-19 is not without parallel. By many accounts, the world economy is headed into a long and potentially deep recession. The IMF predicts the coronavirus crisis could knock as much as $9 trillion off global GDP over the next two years. If previous recessions are benchmarks, that doesn’t spell good news for the low- and no-ABV movements.

During the eight-month 2001 recession, whose economic impact lasted for several years, alcohol volume sales grew year-over-year, totaling a 4 percent increase between 2001 and 2004, according to IWSR’s chief operating officer, Brandy Rand.

While alcohol sales growth was somewhat flat during the Great Recession of December 2007 to June 2009, that was only because of declining beer sales. “[U]nemployment rate at the end of 2009 was 10 percent, yet there was still an upward consumption trend outside of beer,” Rand explains.

The purchasing habits from both of the most recent recessions indicate that when economic times are tough, consumers turn to the bottle. Amid the uncertainty, and with less cash in their pockets, they also favor higher-ABV beverages to leverage more bang for buck.

Lisa Laird Dunn, executive vice president of Laird & Company, predicts a similar trend this time around. Founded in 1780, her family runs the oldest licensed distillery in America. In its 200-plus-year history, Laird & Co. has survived more than 30 recessions, two world wars, and even Prohibition.

While known for its Applejack, the distillery’s portfolio contains a broad range of products, priced from high- end to value brands. Laird Dunn confirms that the company’s lower-priced value brands typically sell best during a recession and expects to see a repeat of this trend following Covid-19. “I think you’ll find that there will be more price shopping versus just brand shopping,” she says.

But national sales statistics and the experience of recession-defying distilleries paint just part of the picture.

In January 2013, the University of Buffalo published a study on alcohol use during the Great Recession. Polling more than 2 million Americans between 2006 and 2010, the study uncovered notable increases in heavy drinking (3.9 percent) and frequent binge drinking (7.1 percent), but also found a slight increase in abstention from alcohol (0.8 percent). Put more simply: Not everyone decided to drink more. And there’s more than just anecdotal references to prove the same thing is happening right now.

On Thursday, global research firm Wine Intelligence published its first Covid-19-related consumer analysis report. Based on data collected at the end of March and beginning of April, the report found that, on average, wine consumption has remained stable during lockdown. But once again, this trend only tells part of the story.

“We’re seeing an increase in frequency of wine consumption amongst more engaged wine drinkers,” says CEO Lulie Halstead. “So those who were already drinking wine at higher frequencies are increasing that frequency.”

On the flip side, younger drinkers who were just discovering wine are now drinking it much less frequently than before, she adds. While this finding is based on data collected in Australia, Halstead says early examinations of international data appear to show a similar trend in other markets.

Hope For the Low- and No-ABV Movements

During previous recessions, those who opted not to drink were limited to sodas, seltzers, and water. But this time around, the market is already awash with interesting alcohol alternatives. From no-ABV beers to zero-proof spirits, there are a number of non-alcoholic options that taste just like the real thing (or pretty darn close) without the alcohol and with fewer calories. If consumers can get past price concerns, the compelling flavors and low-calorie appeal of these products could help keep the low and no movements humming along.

As one notable example, Scottish brewery BrewDog has reported strong demand for its range of alcohol-free beers this year. Compared to the last four months of 2019, volume sales on its e-commerce platform have surged more than 350 percent between January and April of this year.

“Just last week, we had our strongest day of online sales ever with the launch of our newest NA beer: Ghost Walker,” says CEO Jason Block. Demand from wholesalers has been stronger still, with volume growth reaching quadruple digits during the first four months of 2020.

The thirst for no-ABV spirits appears to be similarly strong. Ritual Zero Proof, a non-alcoholic beverage brand that offers gin, tequila, and whiskey alternatives, sold its entire six-month inventory in just five weeks when it launched in September last year. Despite the current global pandemic, March 2020 sales were up 16 percent over February, and April sales are on track to double that.

“Spirit alternatives like Ritual are today what veggie burgers and almond milk were a few years back: New, easy to knock, and so broadly desired there are now sections in the grocery store dedicated to them,” says founding partner Marcus Sakey. “Almond milk did $5.3 billion in 2018.”

Support from internationally acclaimed bartenders has given these alternatives further credentials. At Bar Kumiko in Chicago, partner and director Julia Momose curated an extensive “Spiritfrees” cocktail menu. The bar is currently offering five of these drinks as part of a temporary to-go menu.

One of the most vocal supporters of the low- and no-ABV drinks has been Derek Brown, owner of Washington D.C.’s Columbia Room. In February, Brown authored a high-profile article on embracing “mindful drinking” and detailing his own complicated relationship with alcohol.

Brown believes zero-proof cocktails can be just as delicious, interesting, and thought-provoking as those with booze. While he’s also noticed an anecdotal increase in alcohol consumption, he doesn’t think that will harm the low and no movements. In fact, Brown believes our current situation might serve as a wake-up call for many. “A lot of people who went into this wondering whether they had a drinking problem will come out of it knowing the answer to that,” he says.

For those who do, there’s never been a broader range of alternatives and support to help change those habits.

The article Will the Low- and No-ABV Movements Survive Covid-19? appeared first on VinePair.

Via https://vinepair.com/articles/coronavirus-impact-low-no-alcohol-movements/

source https://vinology1.weebly.com/blog/will-the-low-and-no-abv-movements-survive-covid-19