#I think I will be able to chip off something for prep during the course of this. but its not gonna be much

[b4kuch1n]

review of every type of meat that’s ever been subjected to me

disclaimers: this will include offals when I have personal experiences with that. score is subjected to personal taste and accessibility price- and prep-wise. YMMV, etc., etc. "meat" here includes non-mammal non-avian animals, as long as it comes directly from the body (which means eggs and such are not included). I tried to find the closest english word for some of these that I only know as local ingredients, but the taxonomical orders at least should be correct.

pork: 9/10. classic. a bit finicky to prep and cook, which is why it doesn't get full mark, but re-heats nicely. very versatile, though on the heavy side as is the case with most bigger animals. the amount of fat and gelatin that comes with a belly cut makes it ideal for new year aspic, which very few other types of meat can be used for. pig offals are of acceptable textures most of the times, though they've overall softened as time goes on, which may lead to one point docked as I don't like that texture.

chicken: 8/10. also very versatile and takes on spices very well, but experiences may vary much more due to the large difference in texture and taste between dark and light meat on a chicken. the big reason why I mark chicken one point lower than pork is that I find reheated chicken much less pleasant than reheated pork. phantom extra point for show of skill with eating bone-in chicken with chopsticks. remove phantom extra point for overrepresentation in every offering meal. offals are inoffensive, but overly soft for my taste. blood however is more tolerable than pig blood.

beef: 8/10. I love beef. beef is great to eat and great to cook, especially viet beef, since you're either sautéing it on high or stewing it until it falls apart anyway. but not only is beef expensive, quality also varies greatly with different price points. beef fat is also very hard to deal with and it makes me mad to throw away a whole puck of fat. as a casual source of protein it falls firmly into the "more troubles than it's worth" category. the one thing keeping its score in the high range is phở and beef jerky.

duck: 9/10. far superior to chicken in my sincere opinion, but a chore to eat in the summer. in no way an every day meal, but this only secure its place as a treat, which gets it graded on the treat ladder, and it scores high there. the only thing keeping it from perfection is the heavier musk that limits its versatility compared to its land-bound counterpart.

muscovy duck: 7/10. taste-wise deeper than duck, but texture-wise much chewier, which makes eating it even more of a task. cooking options have been pretty much limited to roast and poach. it being bigger than a duck makes prepping and portioning it just slightly off as well, so most often you go out to eat it, which docks point for convenience.

squab: 6/10. the problem here is maybe lack of dedication to the craft. or maybe it's that it's very little, not very exciting meat for too much effort. putting a tentative question mark here for this score because I believe there is a squab experience out there that doesn't feel gimmicky but will blow the doors wide open to new horizons for me. I see potential in this, and I'm not yet sick of disappointment.

silk worm: 8/10. the reason why it's not getting a higher score is because there's one single dish I like with it as an ingredient, which is roasted dried silk worm with fish sauce, but the reason why the score's still an eight is because that dish slaps mad shit. it tentatively falls on the treat scale because it's not very easy to acquire, but once you get a bag of it you're pretty much set for several months, so I would still consider it casual-meal-worthy. may be an acquired taste, but I fully recommend acquiring that taste.

snail: 5/10. abhorrent texture, mild taste. better as ingredients for more complex dishes than as a standalone protein. my mom likes it though so it gets passing grade.

oyster: 3/10. worse texture than snail, even worse taste. doesn't get better when you season it, only makes the seasoning itself worse. not getting a zero only because it's good for blood and I'm open to a chance of redemption down the road.

shrimp/crab: 6/10. get the same mark because I eat them at the same frequency and the amount of paperwork required to eat them is equally excessive. take on spices fairly well, but it's not enough. if I could hold a crab like a hamburger and take a big bite this score would change. saved from the mid grade by their seasoning quality for delectable summer broths.

eel: 4/10. the only good way I've found to eat eel is to deep fry it until it denatures and turns into basically seaweed chips. this is good for sour soup rice noodle, but for that same palate a number of different fishes do the job better with more personality. it's okay with a heap of sauce japanese style, but the price discourages exploration.

tuna: 7/10, and mostly for canned tuna salad. eaten raw I find it mid and unexciting. a nice tuna salad sandwich is fun and childlike in its appreciation of the simple things though, so I wholely respect it.

salmon: 9/10. about as versatile as a seafood can get, and is fun to experience in any form. only one point docked for price and lack of excitement - I also, like with squab and oyster, await a life-changing salmon experience that makes this protein perfect once and for all.

clam worm: 8/10. like with silk worm, I only find it edible in one single form, which is minced clam worm patty fried up, but it excels at that one single thing. also stays in the high grade for fun factor of being a seasonal treat.

frog: 6/10. I really like frog legs. it has the tenderness of white fish with the ease of access of a chicken wing, and the taste is delicate in a delightful way. but I really dislike most of the rest of the frog to put in my mouth. this makes it kinda wasteful as a meat option. overall just kinda better enjoyed alive than cooked for like a third of its body.

dog/cat: 3/10. grouped up once again because they're equally unpleasant texture-wise and limited in prep options. I find meat from mammals of this size downward soft in a really off, is-it-going-bad-or-is-it-just-like-this way. the musk borders on off-putting, which is why prep options are limited to heavy seasoning and stew or roast. overall just way too little bangs for their bucks.

rabbit: 5/10. texturally worse than dog and cat, but the musk is much lighter and takes on seasoning much better. not really something you can find casually in the wet market, so exploration of the possibilities here isn't of convenience. this score may be subjected to change in the future.

deer: 6/10. interesting taste, but tough texture and a bit hard to figure out how to season. very hard to get one's hand on in the city, and honestly from my exposure to it I wouldn't go out of my way to acquire a cut. firmly in the "sure, if I come across it" category.

water buffalo: 6/10. beef but chewier. makes for good drinking food, but I barely drink, so mostly not my thing. also limited in ways to prep - most commonly sautéd with garlic or made into jerky. I feel like there's a depth to this protein I cannot access, which makes me mad, but also earns it respect.

field mouse: 4/10. texturally even worse than rabbit, taste-wise extremely inoffensive. verges on the low end because it just raises the question of why. why is this a local specialty. it's mouse, dude. you can not be gentrifying that. they failed to make it a big deal btw so I'm correct on this one.

lobster: 6/10. gets this score for lobster freaks who spent decades studying how to make this big shrimp taste better and furiously honed their craft with cheese and butter and garlic. 80% of lobster experiences happen at the hands of those people, so the median score averages out at pretty ok. I am, however, lactose intolerant, and thus unwelcomed by these lobster zealots. this, combined with lobster being a luxury food, lowers the score to slightly above passing grade.

snake: 5/10. literally the only impression it left me with was that it was snake meat ooh how rare and cool. texturally more pleasant than eel and more versatile, but that ends up landing it squarely in the “utterly unremarkable” zone. at least now I’m pretty confident I would bite a chunk off a snake if I’m ever lost in a jungle with no way out. passing grade for the worth of information.

horse: 7/10. has the taste depth of deer, but with the texture of beef when simmered for a long time. literally had this first time today so my experience with it is extremely limited, but I can't really imagine it being easy to chew if roasted. two outstanding features are that the fat is really nice to eat even in larger pieces, and the blood cooks into a texturally acceptable jelly, which is not the case with any other animal blood for me. score may be up to change in the future as well.

mantis shrimp: 8/10. lobster wishes it has the playful zeal and easy-going nature of mantis shrimp. the amount of paperwork required to enjoy mantis shrimp is half of shrimp's or crab's, and texture-wise it's just better. literally crack this one in half like a flip phone and put some salt and lime on it, that's a treat. so far the gold standard for shelled seafood. only gets an eight because I don't really think about eating it every day, but I have hope this can be turned around in a shocking and life-changing event as well.

anchovy: this one doesn't get a score due to its ritualistic importance. really is included here because I ritually cleaned and cooked way too many of these so a job I was gunning for could go through successfully. it worked btw. still don't know if I recommend it

[mariacallous]

So, today.

The new staff event I was asked to coordinate happened at 3pm. My supervisor had scheduled a meeting or whatever to prep for it at 10:30 this morning.

It's 10:45 before they tell me the meeting they're in is running over and that they'll ping me when they're available/done.

I don't hear anything from them for 2 hours, and it's when they walk by the office where I'm working on something with a coworker that they pop their head in and apologize and then say they'll try to find time before the event.

Meanwhile, they had said yesterday they wouldn't be able to attend a meeting I had asked to be rescheduled because of this event, and then like not too long before the new start time the overall team director has a conflict and can't make it. So I got it canceled and we'll meet in the new year, with apologies to the late notice to the attendees.

I'm also sending reminders for the event to those people invited, and I noticed that there's a lot of meeting forwarding notices and whatnot, and I'm like "...uh...okay..." but don't really think much about it or care. (I had brought chips and salsa and spinach dip and sodas and so forth yesterday for this, plus napkins, cups, and plates and utensils. My supervisor gave me a $20 (which I wasn't expecting anything anyway so that was pretty nice) since this is the first event for new staff both since our last new staff welcome and since the spending freeze which means no funds for refreshments for events basically, among other things, and I didn't want to have some kind of half-ass thing where people show up but there's nothing to eat or do besides talk).

Anyway, I find out a short while later that apparently the overall team director, seeing the "small number of confirmed attendees" had invited not only new staff external to our division but also people who had been around longer than the cutoff identified. Hence all the meeting forwarding notices and new confirmations.

Okay, fine. I also want to point out that part of my ask had been to get a list of new staff since January, with their start dates, identify the cutoff, get them invited etc. and also provide the list for division staff to review and update. I heard nothing back but people sure made a fucking mess of that excel doc I was told to make a onedrive/shared document. Anyway, whatever.

I'm helping another coworker double-check data and other information since we're in one of the busiest parts of the year with lots of project and other updates and work being done, and we had to spend some time unfucking the shared document version of a report this coworker puts together and was, again, told to make available to share with division staff to provide updates directly. Lots of them didn't do it, and had to be reminded to mark off they had done it, so tracking and checking has been a huge pain. That ate up a good amount of time because this coworker had to keep stopping to handle other updates and emails (which I completely understood and helped with where I could).

A meeting happens and for a while I'm the only person from our team so I just say to get started. The overall team director arrives late, and then asks questions and brings things up that could/should have been discussed sooner but end up being worked out.

There was another meeting that was supposed to happen today that I flagged for the overall team director and my supervisor, in that "hey, is this meeting still happening and do we have an agenda for it?" way. 15 minutes before the start time the overall team director sends a teams message to the meeting attendees asking if there's an agenda for the day. And pushed the meeting later. And then it took forever before it was finally cancelled.

During this, another coworker's husband had been working on cornhole boards for the office and he brought them by. I checked them out and complimented them and whatnot (and of course they're by my desk). Of course the overall team director wants a picture of them with everyone in them (one coworker quietly ducked away before this) and I was at my desk when they said "Oh, Sean, come on, get in the picture!" and kept pushing so I had to get short. They're response was "Okay, then you take the picture" which I said I had no problem doing. My supervisor either didn't hear or decided to also try to push and get me in the picture and once again I had to get rather short and definitive. I took the picture and hoped that would be the end of it. Nope. They decided to break in the boards and have a quick round. So I have to wait for a lull to get out of my cubicle and go elsewhere, like the restroom or wherever, and then have to dodge and do the same coming back.

It comes time to finally prep for the event. I stop by my supervisor's office to get the items and then we head down. The overall team director was going to join us to help and bring their stuff down as well. We got the room set up and I had to be the one to log in to the computer and get that figured out since they were blindly turning screens on and trying to make things happen. The overall team director brought *a* bag/bunch of grapes and *a* bunch of clementines, and that's it. We also used leftover stuff from our office holiday event yesterday. During the setup and other stuff they started talking about where we all were during the pandemic? and other things which was awkward.

Oh, and they decided they wanted people to do some kind of activity - "what 3 items would you bring on a desert island?" and then have people answer it etc.

People start showing up, I'm just trying to lay low and not draw attention to myself but I do end up chatting with a few people and they were all very nice and eager. People are kinda-sorta participating in the desert island thing but not really. People mingle, introduce themselves to each other, socialize etc. It's going okay. We end up with well over 20 people. Finally the overall team director has everyone go around the room and have people introduce themselves and some people also do the activity. There was talk of a picture being taken with the group but it didn't happen. Other people had other staff events to get to. There was one that one division verbally invited me and others to, happening like right after ours, and I noticed it was on the calendar of both my supervisor and the overall team director. Huh okay. I wasn't planning on going anyway because I had follow-ups and other stuff to do. The event peters out and we start cleaning up the room. The overall team director is just so enthused and amazed at how great it was and how everything came together. I'm just tired and want to be done.

I go back up to check with the other coworker on the data stuff, and they had ended up staying later because of delays in responses and so we're doing other checks and updates. I go back to my desk to get some things looked at and my supervisor comes over and goes "hey, I'm going over to the other division's thing, do you want to come check it out?" I say no thank you and then both of them depart. I say goodbye to the other coworker as they leave, wrap up my stuff, and then leave, and as I leave I can hear my supervisor and the team director chatting and debriefing and decide I don't want to attract any notice.

I end up getting on the wrong subway train but manage to ride it a good amount of the way before I switch to the correct one. And I made it home with various leftover items so that wasn't too bad.

[twomoonstwosuns]

right the wrongs.

back to you [series masterlist]

previous part  ·  next part 

pairing: professor!poe dameron x reader

warnings: swearing, angst/pining, age gap (reader over 18)

word count: 2.9k

a/n: i wanted to incorporate a little Poe POV, so hopefully this turned out ok! feedback is welcome and very much appreciated (thank you to all who have given me feedback so far, it truly makes me happy to know you’re enjoying this story).

i get to go to work thursday-saturday to prep a store for re-opening, so if you don’t see an update in my normal 3-4 days after this update, that’s why! 

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Poe sat at the desk in his office, twirling the pen in his hand as he rocked back in his chair. His office door was locked, any knocks by students and staff met by complete silence. There was work to be done, papers to grade, lesson plans to arrange, and an interview to prepare for. The hope was that he’d be able to get some work done, but it wasn’t effective. He had tried working at home and that didn’t work either.  

All he could see when he looked around his apartment was the fight you two had.

Poe was a little surprised to see you in class. He wouldn’t have blamed you for skipping; he didn’t feel like going to class that day either. It took every ounce of strength he had not to look at you during class. He naturally glanced around the room as he taught to make sure his students were paying attention, so he did have to look in your direction a few times. He was glad to see that you were avoiding looking at him. Poe didn’t think he’d be able to bear seeing the anguish on your face. It probably matched his, though he had to do a better job of hiding it.

Truth was, he was miserable being in a fight with you.

This was one of the cons of being in a relationship with you that he dreaded. Besides the fact that it was veryagainst the rules, if there wasany animosity between you, it couldn’t exist in public. Couples fought, it was natural, but you had to fake it. And it was much easier said than done.

Poe knew you didn’t mean what you said, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt any less. He wasn’t proud about his behavior either; of the comments he made towards you out of jealousy and frustration. You had been honest about your ex and he really appreciated that, yet he couldn’t help but get jealous. Was it the fact that you could be seen in public with him and have it not be a big deal or the idea that another guy could think of you the way he did that made him jealous? Poe didn’t know.

The only thing he did know was how quickly the evening had turned into a disaster. He had been excited to see you. He should’ve kept his jealous feelings to himself and let you show him the surprise you had underneath your dress. If Poe hadn’t said anything, you wouldn’t have said anything and neither one of you would be miserable. But the fact was, words weresaid and there was no way to take them back. He was stubborn; he wanted to see you so badly, but he also wanted you to be the first one to apologize.

There was something to be said that even though he was upset with you and had been hurt by you, all he wanted to do was see you, make up with you, and hold you.

He missed you. Plain and simple.

》 》 》

“Hey, it’s Jannah, leave a message after the beep!”

“You’ve reached Rose Tico. I can’t come to the phone right now but if you leave your name and number, I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Thanks!”

“Damn it,” you whispered, tossing your phone onto the counter. You’d never felt more alone than you did at that very moment. Karé was out of town for the weekend, you were barely speaking to Jessika, and neither of your best friends from high school was answering their phones.

You really needed someone to talk to.

It had been two days since you left Poe’s apartment and you didn’t know whether or not you’d get to go back. You almost didn’t go to class because you felt too cowardly to face him. But you did go and you could barely focus. You kept your head down the entire time, only looking up if you had to take note of something. At the same time, all you wanted to do was go up and hug him and not let go. You felt ashamed, hurt by the things you both said and even more hurt when he seemed to ditch his office hours after class. You could only assume it was because he wanted to avoid you.

You couldn’t stop thinking about what you said, how wrong it was for you to say.  Of course you didn’t mean it; you could never mean it. Except you did say it and now there was nothing you could do now but apologize.

But you couldn’t bear the thought of Poe looking at you with disappointment again.

That image of Poe was stuck in your brain, taking away your sleep and your sanity. A dull throb beat against your forehead from the crying and lack of sleep.

So you tried to distract yourself with baking.

The smell of chocolate chip cookies filled the kitchen. You’d been at this for hours, making batch after batch. There was something so satisfying about mixing ingredients together, pent up frustration coming out with each twist of your kitchen utensils. When you talked to Poe, whenever that might be, you planned to bring a batch as part of your apology, or to use as an icebreaker for what you knew would be a very tense and uncomfortable conversation.

A knock on your door brought you out of your reeling thoughts. Part of you wished it was Poe, but deep in your mind you knew he wouldn’t risk coming into an apartment building full of students. You opened the door and saw the last person you’d expect on the other side.

“Ben! Wh—what are you doing here?”

Ben, all tall and broad, leaned against the doorframe and smiled down at you. “I stopped by to see my mom and thought I’d take a chance and see if you were out of class.”

“How’d you know where I live?”

“I kind of asked your mom.”

You shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. Ben was nice. Ben was a friend. However, this was a little weird. His eyes wandered around behind you.

“Um, I’d invite you in but my roommate isn’t feeling well and she’s sleeping so I don’t want to disturb her.” It wasn’t a complete lie. Jessika had skipped her classes and stayed home with the beginnings of a migraine. With Ben showing up and saying these things, you weren’t comfortable letting him into your home.

“Would you want to go get coffee then?”

The idea did sound enticing. It would provide a distraction from Poe, if only temporary. And with all of your friends gone or not available, you could use a friend right about now.

“Sure, but I’m in the middle of baking right now. Could I meet you somewhere in like an hour?”

“If you don’t mind driving, there’s a coffee and tea bar about thirty minutes away that’s supposedly really good. My mom goes there all the time, I guess.”

You nodded. “Sounds good, text me the address.”

You bid him goodbye and shut the door, walking back into the kitchen and taking the cookies out of the oven just as the timer went off. You turned the oven off and leaned forward against the counter.

“Everything ok?”

Jessika emerged from her bedroom, hair still disheveled from lying in bed.

“Everything’s fine,” you answered, your tone colder than you intended. “Sorry if I woke you up.”

If Jessika did notice your attitude towards her, she didn’t mention it, instead shaking her head and standing directly across from you. She glanced behind you at the cookies. “You usually only bake when it’s a holiday or you’re trying to distract yourself.”

There was no answer from you, but it wasn’t a silence that told her to back off.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Poe and I had a fight.”

You blurted it out before you even processed the thought, the need to talk about it becoming so overwhelming. But you weren’t going into all of the details, the trust between you and your roommate still very fragile.

“We fought about my ex and then I said something terrible.” You took a deep breath, the exhale shaking a little more than you anticipated. “I’m a terrible person.”

“You’re not a terrible person,” Jessika immediately interjected, nearly cutting you off. “I don’t know what you said and you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but people say things they don’t mean in the heat of the moment. That doesn’t mean they’re terrible people. We’re human and we make mistakes.”

Glancing up at Jessika, you noticed her looking back at you, the first significant eye contact you’d made with her in weeks. The double meaning didn’t go unnoticed by you and you gave her a half smile.

“Thank you,” you said softly, earning a small smile back from Jessika. “I picked you up some ginger ale and crackers when I was at the store. And help yourself to cookies.”

Jessika gave you a grateful smile before grabbing a glass of water and retreating back to her room.

It was dim, but a little bright light was peaking into your dark cloud. Maybe there was some hope for the both of you.

》 》 》

The café that Ben found was a family-owned, hole in the wall place with a cozy atmosphere. You always imagined these kinds of café’s in small towns across the different countries of Europe, which may have been why Ben had been drawn to it.

It was the kind of place you’d wish you could take Poe to.

Ben bought a cup of tea for you. You teased how much space he took up as he sat down across from you. Ben had always towered over you, even when you first met him in middle school. It wasn’t until high school when you became friends and became comfortable enough to make light-hearted fun of him for it.

You picked up where you left off at the restaurant, having Ben elaborate more on his travels since you had gotten through all of the reminiscing and catching up. As hard as you tried to stay engaged in the conversation, it got increasingly harder. You felt bad, enjoying yourself while you were supposed to be feeling guilty about the things you said. You kept glancing at your phone, having sent a text before you sat down telling Poe you missed him and wanting to know if you could talk.

You started to regret leaving your apartment. It was so much easier to wallow in self-pity when you were curled up in a blanket in the comfort of your own home.

“Earth to Y/N!” Ben snapped his fingers in front of your face and snapped you out of your thoughts.

“Sorry.”

“Everything ok?”

“Yeah.” Ben tilted his head in concern, the look on his face saying he didn’t believe you one bit. “Really, everything’s fine. I’m just tired. And a little stressed.”

“Do you want to get dinner tonight? Talk about it?”

Shaking your head, you gave him a sympathetic half smile. “I’m sorry, I can’t.”

“That’s ok, maybe another time,” Ben said. He eyed you cautiously. “Do you…ever think about what went wrong between us?”

You were waiting for this topic to come up. Truth be told, though you anticipated this conversation being a little on the uncomfortable side, you were happy it was brought up between the two of you and not when you were at dinner with your families. Your tongue pressed against the back your teeth.

“I don’t think anything went really wrong,” you answered after careful consideration, your fingers drumming against the side of your cup. “We didn’t fight, there wasn’t cheating…we were kids with our whole future ahead of us. We’d only been dating four months, whatever ‘dating’ meant as a couple of teenagers. And the marriage thing…”

“Yeah, not my greatest moment.”

You gave a light laugh, glad that there were no hard feelings between the two of you over your breakup. Ben suddenly placed his hand over the one that was wrapped around your cup of tea. You felt your whole body freeze.

“I want to try again,” he said softly, holding your gaze. “Us.”

You gulped as your smile fell. “Ben…”

“I’ve been thinking about it since I got back.” The pad of this thumb gently ran over the back of your hand. “We were good together.”

You pulled your hand back quickly. This was the last thing you needed to hear, your mentality already delicate between all the fights you had in your life right now.  

“Ben, I have a boyfriend.”

Ben sat back in his seat, studying you carefully.

“You didn’t say that at dinner,” he finally said after a few seconds.

“It’s still new. I didn’t want to share it quite yet.”

“You haven’t posted it on social media.”

“Stalking my social media now?” What was meant to be said in a joking manner instead came out irritated. “I’m not obligated to post my relationship status online.”

“No pictures either.” You knew Ben was testing you and you felt exasperation bubbling inside you at having to defend every statement you made.

“He’s a private person.”

“He a student?”

“No, he’s graduated already.” You crossed your arms defensively, leaning back in your chair. “Why the interrogation?”

“I’m starting to think this boyfriend doesn’t exist.”

“Well, he does.”

“What’s his name?” You kept your mouth shut. He could coax this information out of you, but you weren’t giving him anything else. “You’re not going to tell me his name?”

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

“Because that’s my business.”

“He doesn’t exist.”

“Yes he does.”

“Then why won’t you tell me his name?”

“Because it’s my business, Ben!” You repeated, voice growing louder. A couple of other patrons turned to look at the sudden outburst. “You don’t need to know everything about my life. We are completely different people now.”

“Why’d you agree to this coffee date then?”

“I thought I was just getting coffee with a friend. Usually when two people are on a date, they both know it.” You stood up, quickly putting your coat on. “I think it’s best if you stop texting me.”

“Why? You’re boyfriend going to get jealous?” Ben was irritated. You were irritated. And you were done.

“He doesn’t control who I talk to,” you explained. “It’s because I’ve told you I have a boyfriend that I want to keep private and you don’t respect that.”

You stepped away from the table, but decided to turn back with one last thing to say. Ben had been watching you.

“You can believe he’s real or not, I don’t really care. But even if he wasn’t, the answer would still be no.”

With that, you walked out the door, the care you were taking to not slip on the slippery sidewalks preventing you from storming to your car like you wanted. As your car warmed up, you looked at the previous message you sent to Poe an hour earlier, telling him you missed him and asking if you could talk. It had been delivered, but not read. You texted him again, telling him you were coming over before tossing the phone into your purse and pulling out of the parking lot.

The wintry roads made you drive slowly, which gave you plenty of time to think of what you were going to say when you got to Poe’s. He had been right. There was no way he could’ve known, but he was right. And you were angry that he was right.

Had you led Ben on? You went over the conversations you had with him, trying to pinpoint where you might’ve been a little too flirty or accidentally touched him a little too friendly. And meeting up for coffee – you were practically on a date with your ex while you were fighting with your boyfriend.

You felt guilty, even though you were pretty sure you didn’t have to.

You were going to tell Poe everything. Honesty didn’t get you very far the last time you decided to tell the truth, but you didn’t know how much more you could keep bottled up. As messed up as it was, even if you got in another fight with him, at least you were in the same room as him.

Being upset was exhausting and distracting. You barely registered the music coming from the radio. You were only aware of other cars on the road when their lights blinded you as they drove in the opposite direction as you. You were consumed by your thoughts, consumed by guilt, and consumed by heartache.

It wasn’t until you slammed on the brakes and your car started spinning out of control that you realized how distracted you truly were.  

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[gingerwritess]

Tbt to that one Hozier song that reminds me of soft Loki and his darling during a rainy afternoon ('Like Real People Do')

have some pregnant reader (with frigg heh) cause i don’t contain my brain to a timeline pshh no i am so sorry

i’m trying to finish frigg’s birth cause that’s LONG overdue and i told myself i can’t write anything for asgardian royalty/the twins until that’s done!! so enjoy this prep work

—   —   —   —

Green grass shouldn’t look so sad.

Drip.

Drip. 

Drip.

You can’t bring yourself to move. 

The drops, fat and heavy, plink onto your shoulder, run down your arm, and finish their journey to the ground under your watchful gaze.

One earbud plays softly in your ear, the other left empty to let the downpour mix with the melody.

You know shouldn’t be out here; it’s too cold, you’ll become sick, but it’s so beautiful. So dark, so rainy and gloomy and yes, you’re making yourself sad, but it’s a beautiful, wonderful sadness that twists your heart in the best way.

What did you bury, before those hands pulled me from the earth?

One of your hands floats to your baby bump, and you lean against the porch post, blinking tears out of your eyes.

This song always gets to you.

And right now, with the flood of hormones streaming through you, the pouring rain, and this newfound craving for tearful release, you’ve crafted the perfect escape.

You let yourself cry.

You want to, and you don’t know why; the baby hurts and makes you consistently cold, but that still doesn’t seem like that’s the answer.

The porch is lonely, out here in the dark grey clouds, wood stained with raindrops and wet footprints.

In some sad way, I already know.

You want to hold this baby, now. Her in one arm, Elliot tight in the other.

The front door opens with its usual annoying creak, slow and cautious, breaking you out of your teary-eyed daydream.

“There you are.”

Loki.

“Leave me alone,” you whisper, not wanting him to see you crying—again. “I’m…I’m rather morose, at the moment.”

Loki knows better than to find this amusing.

“Don’t let me interrupt,” he replies softly, but you feel his gaze on the back of your head and know he’s still there, leaning against the doorway.

Fine, you decide. He can watch.

You try to think yourself back to tears, wishing all these bottled up emotions would just get on with it and leave, streak your face with tearstains and tell you what you’re doing wrong.

The last few chords of the song echo through your head, and you quickly start the song over.

For the seventh time.

I had a thought, dear, however scary, about that night, the bugs and the dirt. Why were you digging?

Loki’s slow breaths mix with the raindrops.

“I’m a bad wife.”

You still don’t turn around, but Loki is by your side in an instant.

“No.”

“I’m a bad mother,” you try again, gazing out over the glistening grass blades.

Loki sighs. “No.”

Another tear races down your cheek.

“I’m doing something wrong,” you whisper, eyes filled to the brim. “Like always. I just know it.”

This time, Loki catches you starting the song over for the eighth time.

“You’re making yourself feel this way,” he reminds you. “Enough of that song. You know it makes you cry.”

“But I want to cry.”

Your husband lays his hand on the wooden railing you’re leaning against, his palm up and waiting for yours.

“May I offer you my shoulder instead?”

You just sit there, staring at his hand, heart flipping over in your chest. A good chunk of the song finishes again before you move, and you only do when a new flood of heavy sobs overtakes you, flinging yourself into his arms to bury your face in his chest.

His arms wrap around you without a second to spare, holding you tight against him as you clutch at him.

“Let it out,” he murmurs, hands stroking down your back. “It’s alright. Let it out.”

The two of you stay right there, swaying gently in the cold air on the porch. Compared to the rainy weather, Loki’s warm in your embrace—he may be doing that on purpose, seeing how cold you are out here, but either way, it’s ridiculously comforting.

You take a shuddering breath, tucking your face further against him. “Where’s Elliot?”

“He’s inside, reading,” Loki answers, still slowly swaying back and forth. “Don’t worry.”

You almost have the strength to look at him, but hearing that, you break down in tears again and hide your face back in his shirt.

“Sorry.” Your voice muffled, you tuck your arms tighter under his.

Loki carefully reaches up to take the earbud out of your ear. “Don’t listen to it anymore, darling, you’ll just make yourself worse.”

Unsurprisingly, you shake your head and grab the earbud back, putting it right back in and starting the song over.

He almost rolls his eyes.

This isn’t the first time you’ve made yourself cry, but normally you do just to have a reason to be held. Loki always assures you that you don’t need an excuse, you can come hug him anytime, but he has a hunch you feel guilty.

“Do you want to go back inside?” He gently asks, his thumb stroking over the back of your neck. “We can, ah…cuddle. On the couch, or in bed, where it’s warm.”

A crack of thunder makes you start, grip tightening in his shirt.

“And dry,” Loki adds.

But you shake your head, intent on staying in the rain for as long as possible.

So you stay, huddled in each other’s arms as raindrops splash up against your bare ankles, and Loki takes the other earbud and puts it in his ear.

Might as well, if you’re so intent on listening to this song.

For the first few chords, you both just listen.

I will not ask you where you came from

I will not ask you, neither should you.

Loki lowers his head to your shoulder, ghosting his lips over the curve of your neck as his arm drops to your waist.

“Honey, just put your sweet lips on my lips,” he sings in nothing more than a whisper, breath tickling your skin. He takes your hand in his, the other tight around your waist, and nudges your hip with his to start moving. “We should just kiss, like real people do.”

You let him move you, coaxing your feet to move as he guides you back and forth, face buried in the crook of your neck while he hums.

“I knew that look, dear, eyes always seeking…was there in someone that dug long ago.”

His slightly-muffled voice wraps around you just as secure as his arms and you give a quiet, teary laugh when he slowly spins you.

“There you are,” he smiles, pulling you close again and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Mm…I will not ask you where you came from, I will not ask you and neither would you…”

“Neighbours,” you mumble, hiding your face in his neck again. “Neighbours can see us, Loki.”

“Don’t care,” he hums, lifting you gently down the porch steps. “Honey, just put your sweet lips on my lips…we should just kiss, like real people do.”

Twirling in the damp grass, Loki kisses you, still humming quietly as the rain soaks through your thin jacket and catches on his eyelashes.

“Mm. Sweet,” he whispers when he pulls away, giving you another soft peck on the lips. “We should kiss again. What do you think?”

He’s an idiot, getting the both of you soaked in the rain and getting your bare feet all muddy, smiling and singing and dancing in the grass without a care in the world. An idiot, an adorable, perfect idiot.

“Yes, please,” you whisper, winding your arms around his neck to pull him in. “Really hard, please.”

He obliges, of course, letting go of your hand to cradle the back of your head and tug you closer by the waist, lips moving against yours and smearing your tears onto his cheeks with the raindrops.

“Better?”

He’s breathless when he pulls back, resting his forehead on yours and gazing at you expectantly.

“If I say no,” you mumble, gaze cast to your hands where they play with the top buttons of his wet shirt, “will you kiss me again?”

He just kisses you, quick and firm and out of the blue, nipping once at your lip like he just can’t help himself.

“If you say anything, darling, I will kiss you again.”

So Loki does just that, pulls back to brush away your tears, then kisses you again and kisses you and kisses you and kisses you until you’re bent backwards and laughing, unable to breathe without the help of his lips and he keeps nibbling his way down your neck until he’s dropped to one knee before you, lips pressed to your rounded belly.

“Any better that time?” He grins up at you, hands warm against your wet skin.

“Getting there,” you giggle, rubbing the tears from your eyes. “Couple more times should do the trick.”

“Good gods, woman.” He presses his lips firmly to your belly again. “Your mother is insatiable, little one. What ever shall we do with her?”

You give a broken laugh, the last of your tears disguising themselves as raindrops on your cheeks. “Well,” you sniff with another laugh, “you could kiss me again. And I wouldn’t say no to a really tight hug.”

He taps a finger on your baby bump. “Excellent plan. Now, to business.”

Pulling himself to his feet, he takes your face in his hands, palms warm against your wet skin. He breathes heavily, eyes boring into your own, just staring and staring and staring, brushing his thumb along your cheek.

“What’s wrong?” You ask quietly, unable to look away from the ocean in his eyes.

“You’re making me emotional.” He shakes his head. “Damn this song.”

“Damn this rain,” you giggle, knowing he won’t last much longer with the way he’s gazing into your eyes.

“Damn this baby, making you emotional so you can just pass it all along to me.”

“Damn you, Loki.”

Raindrops glisten on his eyelashes and roll down his lips; you gently pull his hands off your face and lay your own on either side of his.

“Damn you for the perfect little kiddo in there reading, and damn you for this little monster on the way.”

Nodding down towards your belly, you brush your thumb across his lips before tugging him in for another soft kiss.

“I want to cry all the time, make out with you for hours, and eat a truckload of tortilla chips.”

Loki, tousled hair dripping rainwater down his forehead and neck, just smiles. “I might be able to arrange…most of that.”

Ignoring the fact that you’re standing barefoot in a muddy grass in the midst of a rainstorm for a moment longer, you wrap your arms around his waist and hold onto him tight.

A long, quiet, content moment passes when Loki holds you even tighter, wet and cold but ever so warm between the two of you.

And a few more minutes pass.

A car drives by, kicking up a small wave of rainwater from the gutter.

“Darling…”

“Uh-uh.” You squeeze him tighter.

“I’m guessing…this is the really tight hug you wanted?”

You nod, still not letting go.

“How about we go inside,” Loki offers, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Before Elliot gets worried and you catch a cold.”

You are a bit cold, now that you think about it. Soaked to the bone, actually.

“Fine,” you mutter and let him go. “But—”

“But nothing.” Loki grins and sweeps you into his arms, carrying you back to the house and through the door, straight to the bathroom. “You shower, warm up, and get into something more comfortable. I’m going to check on Elliot, and I expect you out on the couch when you are done.”

Your heart warms as he sets you on your feet. He hardly ever directly orders things of you, but like this, that gentle threat darkening his eye, it’s…it’s…

It’s something, that’s for sure.

“You’re a bit bossy today.” You grin and turn on the shower to warm.

“I am simply trying to appease your every need,” he replies. “What’s the saying you all use…happy wife, happy life?”

You laugh, starting to peel away your layers of soaked clothing. “Yeah, that’s the one.”

“Ignoring the implied ideas of marriage as a prison,” Loki hums, watching your every move, “it’s quite true. The happier you are, the happier I am. What a lovely cycle to be stuck in.”

You peek your head out of the shower, just to smile at him.

God, he looks so calm. Yes, he’s soaked through with rainwater and his bare feet are a little muddy, but leaning against the bathroom doorway, gazing happily at you and ranting about love…

“Get over here, Loki.”

His eyebrows shoot up, but he does as you say.

“We’re real people, right?” Hooking your fingers in his collar, you tug him as close as you can—without just pulling him into the shower with you altogether, as tempting as that may be.

“Mm, it’s debatable.” His cheeks flush, and he gives you a boyish grin. “Why do you ask, love?”

“I think I’m done letting that song make me sad,” you giggle, nudging his nose with yours. “I think it’s actually good advice.”

“What, that we should kiss?”

You just nod, already locking your sweet lips with his.

“Y’know, like real people do.”

―   ―   ―   ―

fuel the writer?

feel free to send me ideas!!

~ masterlist link in my bio ~

taglists will now be done through reblogs right after it’s posted!

[sarasmallmanwrites]

A-Level Playing Field

Nobody wanted my opinion on this, but it’s hard growing up poor. 

1988. It’s that damp kind of evening outside, clouded by condensation on the single glazed windows, and the smoke from my Nan’s Benson and Hedges. We’ve just had tea – this is North, of course – and everything is accompanied by slices of springy bread heavily lacquered in ‘soft spread’. The gold foiled butter is, usually, saved for my grandad, who works at a fibreglass factory. It’s a very long way away (actually 3.7 miles) and he leaves on his bike every evening with three rounds of tinned ham sandwiches in his bag. Tonight, my mum is out until half nine, working in the care home in the next town, picking me up at ten-ish, depending on how fast she walks. My mum is 27. Five years out of a loveless marriage, living in a council house, she has no qualifications but is working for her City and Guilds and her English ‘O-Level’, GCSEs haven’t hit our vocabulary yet, and won’t until my second cousin Mark does his two years later.

Tonight is Thursday. Nan goes out on a Thursday, which means she will leave the house at half seven in a haze of Vitapoint, Elnett and Lily of the Valley, to play Bingo at the local club. I am being looked after by Alan, my mum’s younger brother, living at home, working in the Mill that overlooks the town below like a stern Victorian overseer. He’s always grumpy, stuck in a town that has no opportunities, and no visible exit. The eighties have been cruel to young, working-class men. The vehement cry of ‘get the fuck out’ hasn’t reached our town but will do in eight years time, on a wave of Britpop, New Labour, cigarettes, and alcohol.

My uncle looks to the television for nightly escape. Thursday is Blackadder, it’s Not The Nine O’Clock News, it’s Comic Strip, it’s A Bit of Fry and Laurie, it’s Red Dwarf, it’s shipwrecked and comatose, and me engrossed on the couch, not sipping mango juice, but milky tea (the North!), as my uncle laughs his head off in between cigarettes. My mum returns, smelling like TCP and the outside, with salty, vinegary chips, and we eat them as we walk the newly tarmacked paths under the orange street lights. I ask her what a goldfish shoal is. She tells me to shush.

I decided that weekend that I wanted to be funny. I mean I could make people laugh when I did my Cilla Black impression, so surely that was a start, and thank to Carry On films I was brilliant at ‘Infamy, Infamy!’, I knew this because my grandad (the cleverest man I knew) had told me so. Even though I was only in Junior One, I knew that you had to be taught how to be funny, that there was definitely some kind of class that you would have to take to learn it, because I had never really been a natural at anything; apart from whistling, which I did with gusto in shrill, high- pitched tones wherever I could.

I read a lot, especially the paper – particularly the Daily Mirror, which probably explains why I am always heavily weighted to the left, and not just because of my ineptitude in heels – and found out that Hugh Laurie, who is obviously the funniest man I have ever encountered, went to Cambridge and was in something called ‘The Footlights’. Then was it, I decided. I was going to go to Cambridge and join ‘The Footlights’ and be funny like Victoria Wood and Dawn French. I imagine ‘The Footlights’ to be a rag-tag theatrical group living on their wits, humour, and more importantly, Pot Noodles. I tell my Grandad that I want to go to Cambridge. He tells me not to be daft.

Now, when I think about it, wanting to go to Cambridge was not a preposterous idea for any child at the age of seven; you are at the start of your education journey. There is plenty of time to get better at things, to practice, to be coached, to improve yourself; but for a working-class girl, who would eventually be the first member of her family to go to university, I might as well have said that I wanted to fly to Mars on fairy wings. But, children who attend private schools are told from the age of four that Oxford or Cambridge are the end goals for their education, with any of the higher-performing Russell Group universities being something that they could settle for, at a push. I didn’t even know what a Russell Group University was until about three years ago, and why would I? For me, in my small artsy primary school with forty children across four year groups, a dismissive attitude towards formal English education, and a liberal fancy for devoting the whole of the summer term to the end of year show, this was not something that was even thought about. Oxford and Cambridge were places printed on the back of books, they weren’t places that you went to university. In fact, most of my primary school teachers hadn’t even been to university but received their qualifications at the local teacher training college; the only exception is a brown jumpered gentleman with a penchant for using cupboards as a disciplinary technique. 

We’ll skip forward a few years later, and high school is a vigorous mixing bowl of talents, it takes until at least year nine before anyone even notices who I am amongst the squall of kids churning about in KS3. Dinner is pink sausage meat wrapped in a translucent puff pastry duvet, a treat even on the hottest days when the fat sticks to your lips; and the terms pass in a haze of cheap cider (the kind that tastes like sick), the floral pout of Cherry Lypsyl, and Chris Evans on the Radio One Breakfast Show; who is hastily snoozed every morning before I smell the lukewarm coffee my mum has left by my bed before she goes to work.  At this point my mum is a newly qualified nurse at the hospice two towns over, her fingers raw from hand sanitiser, but with rolls of antiseptic scented micropore tape that I use for a cacophony of projects. She is on nights right now, spooning gravelly granules of instant coffee into a mug, blurry from sleep, I am cobbling together a mask out of old Cornflake packets, stuck together with nursing supplies and painted with nail varnish that went past its best around the same time as the Thompson Twins. It is 1995, and the country feels like it is on the cusp of something.  I don’t know what, but I’m looking forward to the Year 2000 because I will be fully grown. Well, nineteen.

But what about Oxbridge? Well, for starters, if you attend a state school you have to be so immediately impressive to your teachers that they discuss you in the staffroom. It’s not enough to be good at one particular thing, you have to excel across the board. You have to be so amazingly shiny, that even the most jaded teacher in the school cannot fail to be dazzled by your brightness. For state school kids, Oxbridge is not something that they suggest to the average 10 A*-C kids, it’s not something that they even dangle in front of 10 A*-B kids who are pretty good. At state school, you have to be exceptional for your teachers to even consider you as a candidate, and then you have to achieve enough A*s in your GCSEs that you might as well open a Planetarium. Even then, all they can really do is say ‘I think you could go to Oxford or Cambridge, you know’, or flag you up to the local authority careers service as ‘potential Oxbridge’. There is no Oxford Fast Track programme in state schools, even for exceptional kids.

In a recent social media fracas, one lady proclaimed that if you gave kids a level playing field then poor kids would always triumph because they were more resilient - all those Crispy Pancakes, surely? But for children from a working-class background, we’re not even on the playing field yet; we have to borrow trainers with non-marking soles, scrape around for a quid for the bus. By the time we get to the playing field, we have already been running around for half the day trying to get there, we miss the warm-up because we were late and, honestly, by this point, we’re just knackered because we’ve had to work so much harder just to get there in the first place.

The warm-up is a given to those whose parents have been able to pay for their education – they even get complimentary orange slices for afterwards, just for extra pep and vigour. There are Oxbridge prep classes, extracurricular activities slanted towards the Oxbridge admissions interviews, and chances to take unpaid internships during the summer using family connections. It’s not just that though... it’s little things like knowing it’s pronounced ‘Barkshire’, not Berkshire, it’s when you use a napkin, it’s spending a week skiing at Courchevel. It’s olives. 

In 1998, I don’t know any of these things and, even if I did, my accent with its flat vowels and its Lancashire intonation would give me away in a heartbeat, because I sound like I’ve fallen off a pit pony on my way back t’mill. Things change quickly though. My mum has a baby. A screaming, mewling little boy born during The Simpsons on a Friday evening in October. Now there is absolutely no money for luxuries, and when our TV gets nicked, we end up using the small portable from upstairs. My Nan lends me money here and there to get to college, but it only covers the bus fare, and the small endowment that I receive  - supposedly to cover driving lessons - gets swallowed up with everyday things that seventeen-year olds shouldn’t have to pay for. I’m working for 4 hours a week in Woolies too, £3.10 p/h to stand around the toy department in a slippery polyester blouse the colour of synthetic mint ice cream, before skulking off to the bookshop to spend that money on things for college.  Nothing fancy but, by this point, I am well on my way to being a ‘Funny Girl’, studying a raft of ‘arty-farty’ A-Levels and English thrown in for good measure. The Cambridge Footlights hardly crosses my mind anymore, because Oxford and Cambridge are reserved for the kids doing the hard sciences, maths, law, politics, things that you need a calculator for. You don’t get into Oxford with A-Levels in Theatre Studies, Media, and Performing Arts, despite what they tell you about diversity.

Oxford or Cambridge do not offer a typical British university experience, and how can teachers who have never passed through the rigorous and exhausting Oxbridge admissions procedure be expected to offer any kind of advantage to their gifted and talented students? If you are a working-class parent relying on underfunded, underpaid and overworked FE lecturers to help coach your child through this, then you are immediately on the backfoot compared to a child whose parents can afford private tutors, admissions booklets, and interview coaches. This is no reflection on sixth form teachers in FE establishments across the country, who do all they can to nurture the kids with Oxbridge potential, but when some classes haven’t received new textbooks for two years, where students are encouraged to photocopy their own materials to save costs, you can see where the class difference begins to draw attention to itself without the need for neon yellow highlighters.

My UCAS book arrived in September; an impressive, thinly papered tome with a glossy black and white cover, University Colleges and Admission Services stamped across it in orange. It smells like a cross between the Argos catalogue and a phone book, which I feel is rather apt given that it contains the codes of institutions and courses that will break me out of this godforsaken town: a cypher that I etch out on the application form in black biro.

London

Southampton

Buckinghamshire

Preston

Liverpool

Manchester.

I don’t want to go to any of the bottom three, of course, far too close to where I came from to be relevant.  My second cousin Mark’s stint at Sheffield Hallam seemed to be an excuse for his mum to visit his ‘digs’ once a month with catering sized tins of Nescafe, and I would be lying if I said I wasn’t quite looking forward to edging the lid off with a knife and stabbing through that ridged foil. My mum writes a cheque out in her secondary modern handwriting, crossing her fingers that they won’t cash it until after payday.

The discrepancies between low-income working-class families and those with a better income also show here too - this can be something as simple as slow internet connection, not having a working laptop and doing work on smartphones, access to transport, costs for travel to visit universities. Things like this are not included when factoring in costs for students from low income. How can you visit all the different university campuses, with all the travel costs and maybe even overnight accommodation, when your parents can barely afford to keep the lights on? There was only one institution that I wanted to go to. London Institute, a glamourous collection of art colleges that included the London College of Fashion, Central St Martins, and, more importantly for me, The London College of Printing.  The competition was fierce, but I was shortlisted for an interview in the capital with a former editor of the Daily Mirror. My house was showered in happy expletives that day. Even in 1999, tickets from Wigan to London were over £50 for a pre-booked return. My mum cashed in all of her Clubcard points for the ticket. But, just for me, because she hadn’t bought enough milk to cover the cost of two tickets. However, I must have impressed Tony Delano in that office in Clerkenwell, because he gave me an amazingly lowball offer meaning that my A-level results became a terribly graded self-fulfilling prophecy.

Oxford is different from usual universities in that there are colleges, thirty-nine in total. You might have seen them on University Challenge – Balliol, Trinity, Emmanuel, Brasenose – or from reading the Wikipedia pages of any of our last three Prime Ministers, including the incumbent Boris Johnson, who graduated with a 2:1 in 1987. That’s the other thing – you don’t study something at Oxford, you read it – you don’t start your studies, you matriculate, for which you need a robe. Now, I have been told by helpful and obstinate alumni via social media that Matriculation Robes are £25, ex-hire. However, I have also been told by a current Oxford student that the robe cost is £50 minimum, and no-one would dare wear a secondhand robe as ‘everyone would know’. It’s immediately singling yourself out as a Weasley in a room filled with Malfoys.

The accommodation costs are comparable to London prices; however, this does not cover the Christmas break, which means everything needs to be packed up and stored. Not only do you pay for the storage, but you pay for the boxes too. Much to my disappointment, no-one nips out for a Pot Noodle either, students are expected to dine ‘in hall’ (again, more cost!) where you can choose between an informal and a formal sitting – where your gown is required. I imagine for a working-class kid attending Oxford or Cambridge is very much like cosplaying on a Harry Potter set, but without the magic of a bottomless purse. There are balls too at the end of each term, formal affairs with ticket prices over £50. Again, said the former alumni, you don’t have to go! It’s not obligatory!

But let me tell you a harsh reality. Nothing ostracises a poor kid more than not being able to join in because they can’t afford it. Nothing. And we might have great friends who would all chip in and pay for our ticket, or lend us the money, but there is something very working-class about not wanting people to know that we can’t afford it. Surely we should not be asking these young adults who have studied and worked against all odds, to have a second class university experience because they know their parents won’t be able to help. You can’t even get a job to supplement your income either; the majority of colleges stipulate this, and as someone who had to work two term-time jobs at a much less prestigious university to live (even with the glorious student overdrafts of pre-austerity Britain), this really hit home at how much I would have struggled financially if I had gone to either of these institutions.

Recently my daughter applied for university. We get in the car and visit a university each week, driving miles up and down and across the country. We fight over choices and analyse each course based on employability, and whether or not she would like it. The process is completed in clicks and feels much more clinical than twenty years earlier, but rather than heading into unchartered waters, I have a map. It might be old and tattered, but I have a much better idea of where we are going now. My daughter believes that the meritocracy is a lie, and she tells me this in sharp, pointed tones as we receive her A-level results on a rainy Thursday morning. She goes to University in September and spends the autumn sending me videos of the Minster, or tutorials on how to swear in Japanese. She is only the second person in our family to continue on to higher education. I don’t just mean in her generation. I mean in total. We are the exception, not the rule.

One of the first questions someone at Oxford was asked by a fellow student last year was ‘private or state’, she replied ‘private’ and was met with a smile. There was no need to ask who the state school entrant was, as she queried the partridge and asparagus served for dinner – ‘this chicken is tough. Is that grass?’- and arrived for the formal sitting with her gown covering a denim skirt and shimmery top underneath. Private school teaches these things, no desperate faux pas for Isobel or Jeremy, whereas state schools do not have the resources or the knowledge to run classes on etiquette for the small number of their students that make it through the intense application procedures. This is not saying that low-income children should be discouraged – not at all – instead, it is saying that there is something inherently wrong with the system. At private school, you are disappointed if you don’t get into Oxbridge, whereas the state school child who gets in is an extraordinary anomaly talked about for years in hushed tones of reverence by the faculty.

And this is the issue with saying that children are on a level playing field, that everyone is measured on their own merit; because it is not true. For children on very low incomes, the odds are unfairly stacked against them, and the issues such as 2020’s disastrous A-Level results just add more bricks to an already near-insurmountable wall.

[alison-anonymous]

flawsome bandits pt. 11 ♡ sonic

Flawsome Tessering

Part 11, coming at you! This part doesn’t have too much Sonic x Y/n, but don’t worry my darlings, I am saving that for the next chapter ;) This one includes some mother-daughter relationships and tons of foreshadowing. Enjoy!

Warnings - slight angst, robotnik x stone mentions

♡♡♡

“Why so down, Sonic?” A man with a head as smooth as an eggshell asked his pet boulder as it sat next to him in his poorly repaired drone. The boulder had tiny little dents in its craters that were obviously created by Robotnik to form a dopey grin and two misshapen eye sockets. The man chortled to himself as he tapped the cracked glass where an electric blue quill sat, charging up his entire machine. “Aww, are you sad because I’m coming back home?”

Robotnik stared intently at the little boulder, watching as it practically began to sweat under his intense gaze. He finally sat back up and let out yet another loud chuckle, filling the silent air around him for miles. “Sorry to disappoint, bud, but you and your little girlfriend are going to be toast as soon as I wrap my hands around your puny little necks~” He sang out the last part, his time spent in isolation taking an immense toll on his sanity. His tethered and gloved hands expertly found their way across his very dented control panel, clicking on a bunch of buttons that ended up making the drone begin to whirr. The air surrounding him that reeked of fungus began to churn at the new winds. 

“Come on, baby,” Robotnik grumbled, pushing his prized invention to the limit as it began to levitate its misshapen and damaged body a couple feet off the ground. The engines worked in tandem with one another, struggling to compensate for the extreme damage that had been inflicted upon them. Even Robotnik’s expert repair jobs using the emergency kits Stone had made him place in every one of his drones wasn’t enough to make up for it all. 

He guessed Stone was right for once. Shocker.

The erratic energy being extracted from Sonic’s quill mingled with the artificial power he was able to save. As the drone began to sputter, he quickly grabbed onto the throttle in an attempt to steady the drone, even his hideously long mustache hairs twitching with anticipation. He had to do it. He had to make this work. He couldn’t stand another second trapped here with Mushroom Bertha, Mushroom Kick-Sonic’s-Ass, Mushroom Carl, and Mushroom I-Want-A-Hedgehog-Skin-Rug or IWAHS for short. After a couple of minutes spent in agonizing suspense, a little glimmer began to form in the air before him. A malicious grin made its way across his lips as he realized that his plan was working.

The energy coming from his drone was enough to cause a small rip in the universe, mostly due to Sonic’s alienated DNA and ability to tesser between universes. The tear grew a decent size wider, its edges glowing an abnormal white and a very faint image of what he presumed to be Green Hills glimmered within it. It was right there. He was going to make it! It was barely big enough for him to pass through, but it was all he needed. With a surge of energy and Robotnik practically gritting his teeth until they chipped, the drone shot through the portal in a flash of blinding light, crash landing onto a very mossy green ground. The impact made Robotnik slam his face against the throttle, but luckily his gigantic mustache hairs cushioned the blow. The drone slowly began to let off steam, already having used all of its juices to float for less than thirty minutes. A steady blow of steam began to shoot up into the air from one of the drones' important capsules, and Robotnik was quick to regain consciousness, standing up and practically falling back down into his seat from the excitement. He looked around the area, hoping taking over his entire internal chemistry as he looked at his surroundings. The hope died almost instantly as he came to a horrific conclusion.

This… this wasn’t Green Hills! 

What the actual fuck?!

There were oddly misshapen trees and abnormal creatures waddling around the perimeter and LOOP-DE-LOOPS?! The anger got the better of him as he picked up the boulder sitting next to him and screamed at the top of his lungs.

“God damnit, Sonic! This is all your fault!” And the tiny boulder was sent flying out of the drone to land against the grass, where it rolled down a hill.

It was safe from the evil man’s clutches at last.

Robotnik let out another frustrated groan and slammed his fists down onto the dash, causing even more smoke to secrete from vital components of the drone. But he didn’t care right now. He had been working on building up all of that power for months. To have it all lost getting him somewhere that wasn’t even where he needed to be - where those goddamn hedgehogs were! And now he was stuck in this crazy backwards land with nothing to defend himself with. At least back with the mushrooms the only predator was sleep deprivation.

And of course, that was self inflicted.

“Oh thank god.” A sudden voice broke through his frustrations. Robotnik’s head snapped up so quickly he was sure he heard his neck crack. He was expecting the worst: three headed bear, snake crossed with a lizard, horse sized horsefly, something deadly and positively hideous. So when he saw a little black and red hedgehog staring at him intently with ruby irises and what looked to be a gun and a little bag situated around his hips, he was very, VERY surprised.

“Well, who the fuck are you supposed to be?” Robotnik couldn’t help but blurt. The hedgehog looked incredibly relieved as he came closer to the drone, showing his gloved hands in a means of presenting no harm.

“My name is Shadow. I was created by your assistant, Agent Stone.” Robotnik’s heart stopped at the sound of his name. “He sent me through the different universes to find you. It’s taken forever, but I finally did it. I have more rings left to get us back to the planet where Hedgehog Sonic and Hedgehog Y/n reside.” 

Robotnik was floored, to say the least. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Agent Stone, the little guy who made delicious lattes and who knew him better than anyone else, MADE a hedgehog and sent him to help Robotnik defeat the two once and for all? 

He owed him a thank you. Or maybe more than that, if you catch my drift ;)

“W-Well then, I suppose it’s nice to have you on board, Mr. Shadow. Unfortunately, my drone was a bit destroyed during the movement here, so unless you have a giant bag of tools next to your gun there, I-”

“Don’t worry, Sir, I’ve got it handled,” Shadow interrupted him, turning around to point into a throng of bushy trees. “I met an Echidna along the way who might be of use to us. Perhaps we could brainwash him into assisting us.” 

Damn. Agent Stone really did a number on this guy. Robotnik liked it. 

♡♡♡

A few hours later and a lot of impressive manipulation, Shadow and Robotnik had recruited yet another member onto their team: Knuckles the Echidna. He was a very burly red thing with intimidating eyes and an unfortunate lack of brains. But, he had resources and his muscle could even out Robotnik’s brains and Shadow’s apparent fiery temper. They were able to convince him that Y/n and Sonic were two beings from a far away planet that were power hungry and had a plot to destroy the entire universe, including this planet. Of course, Knuckles was petrified and said that they must be stopped immediately. The guy was also pretty handy with supplying the needed instruments to fix up Robotnik’s drone. 

Of course, it wasn’t the best job, but it would have to do for now. After Robotnik had done his little patch job, the trio were beginning to prep for their return to earth.

“I assume that you are very excited to defeat the two hedgehogs, Doctor,” Shadow spoke with authority. “But I think it would be better to hide out in a secluded spot for a little while in order for us to build up our resources. We wouldn’t want to go straight into battle without being prepared.” 

Even though Robotnik was really looking forward to crushing Bonnie and Clyde, he had to admit that Shadow had a point. He nodded slowly. “We’ll hide out in the woods in order to gather resources and start the formation of Metal Sonic. Agreed? Agreed.” Even though he wasn’t looking for a confirmation, the two nodded despite. Everything was going according to plan. Robotnik had gathered two allies and had already begun his plan to form a metal-based version of Sonic. For two reasons, really. The first was to use Sonic’s greatest power and turn it into his weakness, and the second was to try and trick Y/n into not being able to fight the one that she loves. They were going to destroy the two hedgehogs once and for good, donating their bodies to Robotnik’s favorite charity: science.

But what these little twerps didn’t know was that a certain fox had been spying on the three of them ever since Robotnik had crash landed a couple feet away from his lab. It was finely secluded within the weeping willow trees, so he hadn’t been able to see it. But his security measures sure saw the mustache guy.

The little fox’s stomach began to fill with dread as he thought about all of this. These guys were obviously up to no good. Anyone who loved the color combo red and black was obviously up to no good. Especially someone who grew their mustache past five inches. 

On each side.

Those two hedgehogs they had been mentioning… What were their names? Bonnie and Clyde? Funny named for hedgehogs, but he guessed that their world was different than his. He began to rummage through the different gizmos and gadgets he had spent ages on until he finally gathered all of the materials he needed. His little gloved fingers found their way to his energy-tracker as he calibrated it to their energy sources. Funny, he thought. One of them was stronger than the other. 

He narrowed his eyes in determination, steadying himself as he thought of the realm they lived in and tossed one of his golden rings. The second the portal opened, he jumped through, landing on what appeared to be a cliff looking over a small town. Relief filled his orangish-yellow chest as he looked across. He hoped he knew what he was doing. 

Extending his two tails, he leapt off the cliff.

♡♡♡

“M-Mom?” Maddie stirred in her sleep. 

“Mommy?” 

The young mother’s eyes slowly opened to be greeted with the sight of her daughter who had tears streaming down her cheeks. The sight of her daughter in distress kicked all of the sleep out of her as she instantly shot up in bed and immediately started wiping away the tears. Most of them got brushed into the fur around her eyes, but she didn’t care.

“N/n, baby, what’s wrong?” She asked softly, trying her best not to wake up her husband who still lay sound asleep behind her. Y/n only continued to cry harder, her e/c eyes glowing in the dark.

“I-I’m sorry, Mommy. I-I didn’t w-want to see i-it, I-” Maddie gently shushed her, standing on her feet and expertly lifting up the frail hedgehog onto her hip, holding her like she was a toddler. 

“Y/n, honey, you’re not making any sense.” She glanced over at the clock and realized it was barely five in the morning. What on earth was she doing up this late? Y/n was in such hysterics that all she was able to do was plant her face into Maddie’s shoulder and continue to cry, her chest feeling like a million daggers were being dug into it. Maddie’s heart was ripping at the seams for her daughter, as the last time she had seen her this upset was when Sonic had died. She quickly and quietly took the weeping hedgehog out of her room, making sure not to make a sound as she closed the door to leave her sleeping husband alone, and continued through the darkened halls until they made it to the main bathroom. She closed the door behind them and set the hedgehog onto the counter, grabbing a wad of tissues and quickly dabbing her eyes while Y/n wrapped her arms around her trembling torso.

“I-I’m s-sorry-” She hiccuped, choking on the mucus being created from her tears. Maddie’s gaze softened.

“Sweetie, what on earth could you have to be sorry for?” To her surprise, Y/n’s eyes only filled with guilt and self-disgust as she looked down at the floor. 

“...what happened?” Maddie gently cupped her daughter’s furry face in her hands and stared into her liquid e/c eyes. The deeper she looked into them, the more she was able to picture Y/n before she had turned into a hedgehog, back when she was a human. The little hedgehog exhaled a shaky breath and wrung her hands together.

“I… I woke up to singing. And I followed it outside, and there was this… thing out there. It was calling to me, and when I touched it, this is going to sound insane, but it showed me pictures of the future. I-I saw Robotnik, and I saw me and Sonic with two other people and then… the last one… M-Mommy, it looked like someone was trying to k-kill me-” Maddie’s heart stopped in her chest, her eyes widening in horror. Fresh tears began to spill down Y/n’s cheeks even faster. “I-I don’t want to die!”

Maddie quickly enveloped her in a tight hug, pressing her daughter’s head into her chest and stroking her quills gently. “Shh, it’s okay, baby. You’re not going to die.”

“H-how do you k-know that? M-my powers are growing a-and I don’t know how to s-stop it, I don’t want to kn-know how we’re going to d-die, I-” 

Maddie hushed her, continuing to stroke her quills. They sat like this for quite some time, with Maddie consoling her hysterical daughter until her sobs finally died down and were replaced with melancholic sniffles. Maddie’s heart continued to pound, however, fear and confusion coursing through her veins. She was trying with all her might to wrap her brain around the matter, but she was the one who had had the worst time figuring out how Sonic and Y/n’s powers worked in tandem with one another. Even Tom relatively understood better than she could. She knew that Y/n had vocal telekinesis, but seeing the future? Little wisp-like creatures? It didn’t seem like those had ever been mentioned or used before. 

What was going on? Was her daughter truly in danger?

Her grip around her tightened. Y/n exhaled softly and it was then that Maddie realized she had fallen asleep. A small smile crossed her lips as she picked her daughter back up and began to make her way back into the living room. She could have just taken her to her bedroom, but in all honesty, she felt safer leaving her with Sonic than by herself. As she walked through the darkened hallways, she tried to silence the red alarms blaring endlessly throughout her mind. 

Something was wrong.

She could feel it. She didn’t even need magical powers to feel it. Her breath hitched in her throat as she made her way down the stairs, making sure not to trip as she entered the living room. Sonic still lay sound asleep on the couch, not having moved an inch since Y/n had woken up. Maddie gently set her daughter down on the couch, resting her head on Sonic’s chest and covering the two with a fleece blanket. Her fingers softly traced Y/n’s jawline as she slowly stood back up, a small, yet sad, smile staying on her lips.

“Don’t worry, sweetie,” she whispered into the silence. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

♡ a.a.

[gold-from-straw]

Zero Degrees 3

Read from the beginning on AO3 if you prefer - this chapter has mentions of physical abuse and corporal punishment (poor Priyanka...)

Erika didn't get a chance to talk to Frio the next morning on the bus. The first thing she saw when she got on was Priyanka and Akeyo on the back seat, heads bent close, Akeyo rubbing Priyanka’s back. Instantly she forgot everything she’d planned to say to her crush and pushed past some year sevens to get to them. “Hey. You OK?”

Priyanka looked up at her, big brown eyes welling up with tears. “Dad went through my phone last night.”

Her heart sank and she sat down with a thump. “What did he find?”

She sniffed and Akeyo started rubbing her back more vigorously, like she could rub the fear and tension away. “James texted to tell me I looked beautiful yesterday. He… Dad was so mad.”

“God!” Akeyo said viciously. “I know he’s your dad, but… ugh! He’s such a jackass!” Her rubbing got so vigorous that Priyanka winced, and Erika squeezed Akeyo’s wrist. “Oh. Sorry.”

“What did he do?” Erika asked, draping her arm over Priyanka’s shoulders as well so it overlapped Akeyo’s.

She took a deep breath. “He just shouted. It’s OK, he didn’t… He said I’m too young to have a boyfriend.”

“That's stupid! There’s loads of girls in our class who’ve had boyfriends since prep school!”

“I know,” she grimaced. “I didn’t think it was a good idea to tell him that, though.”

“Yeah, I guess not.”

“He asked if I was sleeping with him,” she said quietly, picking at a thread on her skirt. “He wouldn’t listen when I said I wasn’t, just… he called me a whore.”

Erika sighed and rested her forehead against Priyanka’s shoulder. “Oh, Pri.”

“Asshole,” muttered Akeyo under her breath, but she tugged Priyanka closer. The three of them sat quietly together until the bus rolled into school.

Erika didn't see Frio at all during lessons that morning, and at break time she had to run an errand for Mr Henderson. She was beginning to think she wouldn't see him all day when she sat down for lunch with Akeyo, smiling at Priyanka all snuggled under James' arm.

"Um. Hi..."

Her head whipped up, and there he was, standing there, shuffling his feet and holding his plate of macaroni cheese. "Hi," she breathed.

"May I please sit with you?"

Akeyo nodded, her mouth full of salad, and shifted along the bench, pulling Erika when she forgot she had to move up too.

"Thank you again for yesterday," Frio said softly, glancing up at Erika quickly and away again at his food.

"That's OK. I hope your dad wasn't too annoyed about the cupcake thing."

He shook his head. "He wasn't annoyed at all!"

"Oh. He sounded mad, like he didn't want you to come over or something."

He shook his head again, braids flicking into his face. "It's not that. We just... we don't find it easy to make friends, I guess he was surprised anyone was asking."

"Aww," Akeyo said, leaning over with a smirk. "We’ll be your friends, Frio."

A flush rose up his cheeks, pushing away the silvery grey tint to his skin and turning him a warm brown. "Thanks."

"See?" Akeyo grinned. "Making friends is easy! So whatcha doing this weekend?”

Frio stared. “It is still only Wednesday!”

“Yeah, meaning we’re half way through the hellscape that is the school week.”

“I like school,” he said softly.

“I do too,” said Priyanka. “Ignore her, she’s just dramatic.”

Akeyo gasped and clutched her chest. “I am not!”

Erika shoved her friend. “So where do you usually sit at lunch, Frio? I don’t see you in the hall most days.”

James nodded and raised an eyebrow. “And she would know, huh.”

Akeyo and Priyanka both nodded, the traitors. Erika kicked them under the table.

“I usually take my food outside,” he said. “I… um… there are these birds in the field, if you put out crumbs they come really close.” He blushed again and Erika fought the urge to clutch at him and go ‘awwwww’.

“Oh, the colourful ones?” said Priyanka. “Yeah, they’re cute, aren’t they. Superb starlings, I think they’re called. Do you like animals then?”

He nodded. “I never got the chance to get close to animals where I used to live.”

“Where was that, the States?”

“North,” he replied, and Erika narrowed her eyes at him.

“North of what, man, like the North Pole?” James laughed.

“Haha, yes. I lived at the North Pole.”

“You’re funny,” James grinned, stealing one of Priyanka’s chips. “Are you Santa Claus?”

“No, that’s his dad, stupid,” Akeyo said. “I always knew Santa was black.”

“Wasn’t he Turkish?” Priyanka asked.

“Who, Frio’s dad?”

“No, idiot, St Nicholas, the original Santa Claus.”

Akeyo patted her hand and looked concerned. “Priyanka, honey… Santa isn’t real...”

Priyanka leaned over and smacked the cackling girl. “Don’t say that, his son’s sitting right there. You’ll give him a complex.”

***

Frio had never sat with the same person more than a couple of days in a row. He’d always seemed to blend into the background. Even Erika hadn’t wanted to sit with him too often in case she started to annoy him.

She’d thought he kept to himself because he didn’t like people much. But now he’d introduced himself to her group, she considered that tacit permission to include him in everything they did. And the way his eyes lit up when they found him at break time and sat at his bench without asking, or when Erika paired up with him in a physics experiment, made her wish she’d been brave enough to make friends with him earlier.

When he’d first arrived in the middle of year nine, people had flocked around him, but he’d been so quiet they got bored after a while. Better late than never, she thought, as he listened wide eyed and smiling to one of Akeyo’s stories about her three older sisters.

When Friday came around, James hugged Priyanka tightly in the bus queue. “You sure you don’t want me to send you a bitter breakup text to get your dad off your back?”

She shook her head firmly. “No. I’m fifteen, we’re not doing anything wrong. I’m just going to be brave.”

James frowned and looked at Erika over Priyanka’s shoulder. “OK. But if he gets mad—“

“I know,” she smiled and pulled back. “I’ll get out of there and go to Akeyo’s.”

They all nodded. “And if Akeyo hasn’t got space, ring me from her house and my mum will pick you up,” added Erika. "You’ll be able to stay as long as you like, I know it. Mum likes having guests.”

Priyanka huffed a laugh, then hugged James one last time and boarded the bus with the others. Erika sat with Frio across the aisle from her and Akeyo, and they slipped the windows shut with a screech as the bus pulled out, kicking up a storm of fine red dust.

"Do you think Priyanka is in danger?" Frio asked quietly as they clattered along the highway.

Erika checked to see that her friends weren't paying attention before leaning closer to him. "Her dad can be a bit… he loses his temper sometimes."

"With her, though?" he frowned.

"Well, yeah. Everyone gets smacked once or twice, but--"

"You get smacked? But why?"

She squinted at him. “Yeah... you know, when you're a little kid and you do something naughty, that's your punishment… has your dad never spanked you guys?"

"Of course not!" He looked absolutely horrified, and Erika's eyebrows shot up.

"Wow, OK. Well, maybe that's a cultural thing, because my mum used to smack my backside with a slipper when I was cheeky. Ask anyone, we were all smacked as children. Didn't do us any harm or anything--”

"But that is harm - hurting is harm!"

"You know what I mean - it only hurts for a moment, and we learned not to be cheeky, and we grew up to be polite human beings. My point is that this was all when we were little children. Priyanka's dad still does it now. Sometimes he hits her for the tiniest little things, sometimes he hits her really hard and she's just… are you OK?"

Frio looked like he was about to cry, his huge eyes fixed on Priyanka. His hands were clenching and unclenching and to Erika's horror his breathing was starting to speed up and become shallow. "Frio - Frio! Calm down, it's OK."

“But... but how can he? Her own father? What… what if he hurts her again? What can she do?"

"That's what we've been sorting out," she said, stroking his shoulder and rubbing on his wrist at the same time, trying to get him to relax his hands. "If she needs to, Akeyo only lives across the road from her. She can run over there and then phone me - Akeyo doesn't have much space in the house. Look, Frio, it's OK, really. This sort of thing has happened before, it always blows over. Priyanka's dad's been away most of this week, we're only worrying because he's coming back tonight. But James has been deliberately not texting her, so hopefully there won't be a reason for Mr Sharma to get angry."

Frio took a long breath and let it out slowly, shakily between pursed lips, staring out of the window. Erika kept rubbing his arm and wishing she knew the right thing to say, rather than blundering into things as always. "Are you OK now?"

He nodded. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to worry you. Just… are you sure she'll be safe?"

"Yeah," she said. "I'm sure she'll be fine."

Thank you so much to @red--thedragon, @the-lokes and @fullmetalcarer for interacting last week!!

[bhandarimarblekishangarh]

Exclusive Granite Counter-top

I have been getting more and more questions about our counter-tops in our new kitchen. I am going to be sharing my honest 100% opinion on my Granite Counter-tops and my Granite block counters. Why I have both and how they are doing 7 months into living with them. This of course is my counter-top review and does not mean everyone will be happy with my choices. I do believe they are each timeless classic looks for that French Farmhouse kitchen style that I designed.

I wanted a casual feel to our kitchen but also wanted something that never felt outdated. Considering I change my mind every ten seconds I needed to select a kitchen that I wouldn’t get bored with and since we are tapped out on moolah, I needed to make sure they were finishes that would last too. This post contains some affiliate links for your convenience.

Well, Granite is a scary word to most people! I remember a year ago when we were planning for our kitchen how many people tried talking me out of Granite. I did my own research about it, talked with my kitchen designer about it, and tried finding the best match of quartz (since that was the durable material) or granite (a little more durable than Granite but still natural) that I could. I even considered soapstone since I absolutely love it as well, but ultimately decided I would get less sick of light counters than I would dark counters so I swayed back to the Granite. I also considered Granite which I fell in love with too, but it felt “fancier” to me and Granite just felt more timeless, subtle, and paired well with the Farmhouse vibe of my kitchen.

Pro’s to Granite:

So, let’s talk a little about the pros to Granite that I have personally found with having them in our home. The look! I mean this alone sells me every morning when I wake up. I love the veining, the timelessness, and the pureness of Granite. There is nothing quite like that true deep veining, color, and simplicity. The color is a true white and a true cool Black. I wanted that contrast with my greige color cabinets, that I felt quartz was just not going to provide. The more I looked at quartz the more I kept falling more in love with Granite. Not to mention real stone is trending again!

So, yes the look is what sells me every day! So, what else??? The coolness to touch is also something I appreciate about the Granite. The price was also way better than quartz. Quartz being on high demand is now more expensive that real stone. How can that be? I thought that was nuts when I first heard about it, but it totally makes sense. I’m not quite sure the percentage of kitchen renovations that prefer quartz over real stone or other material, but I am sure it’s quite a bit. So, knowing I was getting a more luxurious product for cheaper was another selling factor for me.

Pro’s to Granite Block

Well, with the Granite being a cool and more luxurious product, I wanted something not only to balance my bank account but also my fancy meets casual kitchen. The room needed something that would warm up the space and having the warm wood Granite block feel would definitely create that balance. Our island is 9′ long so the counter was going to be a big chunk of money too. We looked at a few options but I kept coming back to images of kitchens with Granite block counters. We chose white oak so it has less “yellow or red” in it and would mesh well with our flooring.

One of the questions I get all the time is how durable is my Granite block. Well, we had ours sealed through the counter-top company for long lasting wear and tear. It makes it super durable where I can clean it with just about anything and do just about anything on it. I needed that balance because Granite was not a durable surface so it was important to have a surface space in the kitchen that was. Having an island where the kids eat meals, snacks, and do homework on without flinching was important. I love the look of the wood for that Farmhouse feel and it also acts as a large table for us too.

Cons to Granite:

Well, as you all heard and I’ve been told Granite is not durable. Guess what…it’s not! But there are ways to make it work.

#1. Seal your counter-tops with what your counter supplier suggests (I sealed mine twice already and plan to seal them once more this year- so ex’s a year is good). This is the one I use!

#2 Have a mix of counters so prepping and food items that ruin Granite can be avoided. That means no wine on my Granite and no lemon! The two products I am always most concerned about. We have a few lemon marks already but fortunately as time goes on, they seep into the Granite a bit. The soda my son spilled last month, not much I can do about them cup rings (I lost my mind a bit that night).

#3 Clean with Granite and stone countertop cleaner ONLY! Here’s the one I use!

#4 Make sure never to use the sponge you use to clean dishes on the counters. There could be left over acidic juices and we’ve learned this the hard way too.

#5 Avoid moving items around on counter or placing anything abrasive that can scratch. We have one good scratch also from my son- clearly the rule “stay off the Granite” gets broken here and there.

#6 Be careful with edges of counter. We have had some slight chipping from taking items out of sink and placing into dishwasher.

So, yes this is a lot of upkeep…probably annoying for most people, but if you are a Granite lover like myself having those scratches and marks on your counter still make it worth it. Remember Granite has been around since forever embracing the imperfections is what makes for a timeless look. I do agree though this is not for everyone. You totally have to babysit it, and let go of every ding and stain. I will say I would never have an entire kitchen with Granite.

The Granite works because I have the two materials (Granite and Granite block) to help with less wear and tear on the Granite. I have become that crazy lady to put up signs during a party like no wine or keep off the Granite. Some stains do fade over time and if they aren’t in a ring form you may not ever really notice. I also have the honed Granite which helps best with etching where polished Granite etching is more noticeable. I believe it taking care of the products in your home and this just means you have to take extra care.

Cons with Granite Block:

There really is not that much cons when it comes to the Granite block unless you just don’t love the look of it. We have some splintering and if you choose not to use a cutting board to cut something you can get dents and scratches. Other than that, I have nothing bad to say about it. I love the warmth and the casual feel it brings, but if you do want a fancier or glamorous feel to your kitchen Granite block may not be first choice.

I hope this was very helpful for those of you that are considering one or both of these materials for your kitchen. I wouldn’t have it any other way. Only last bit of helpful tip I would say is if you consider doing a Granite back splash as I’ve done behind our range, keep in mind the color darkens when it’s vertical. That has been one little issue that I’ve had with my Granite because it does look a little bluer gray than I had wanted-so keep that in mind!

Nicole says

August 21, 2019 at 8:09 am

Ah, I didn’t know Granite was that fragile. I was thinking about it as we plan to Reno out kitchen in the next two years but my husband loves to cook and he’s like a bull in a china shop so we definitely need something more durable. I swear the guy is like the Swedish Chef when he cooks and whatever is on the stove is all over the stove, back splash, counters, floor. I drove me crazy when we first met but he likes to cook and I’m okay with that!

Answer from us

Nicole I can totally relate! My husband is totally accident prone and he makes me very nervous around the Granite. We have been able to manage but every stain and mark I have to remember it’s part of the process of being a Granite owner.

Lilah says

August 21, 2019 at 8:48 am

I believe this is the first really honest review I have seen

about Granite. I am single without any children and really wanted Granite

when I purchased a 50-year-old house with laminate counter tops. I kept reading reviews and, in the end, I decided against it and chose quartz. I have never regretted that decision and if someone is not prepared to do the maintenance there are some excellent quartz counters out there that will give you the Granite looks. I will say cost probably depends on what area of the country you reside as I found quartz definitely cheaper than the Granite in my Place.

Thank you for letting people know how a real family lives with Granite. I do think in time you will not even notice those stains and you will still love your Granite. However, you are correct that it isn’t for everyone.

Jayne Finkbohner says

August 21, 2019 at 10:36 am

Love your honesty. Like you I love the life in natural stone. We are building our retirement home and after much studying and research I’m going with granite for our back counter-tops and black honed granite for our island.

Your Granite counter-tops are gorgeous and timeless. This is how I feel about the white ice granite we have choose, it is timeless!

Carol Higgins says

August 21, 2019 at 12:23 pm

I have a question about the Granite? I had it in the past but found when food was spilled and allowed to dry on it (didn’t wipe the spill immediately), then I couldn’t get it up without using the scratchy side of the sponge and then that left scratch marks in the wood. Have you experienced this or does your sealing of the Granite take care of that?

admin says

August 24, 2019 at 9:20 pm

Hi Carol, I have not experienced this, but ours was sealed by the manufacturer so I do think there is a difference in the finish. I love an unfinished Granite counter, but I wanted a surface that would be durable for every day.

Joanna says

August 21, 2019 at 1:39 pm

I renovated my kitchen eight years ago. Like you, I wanted a timeless look. Kitchens are a huge expense, so you don’t want to be doing it often unless your bank account allows. Mine does not! 😢 I did think about Granite (love it in other’s kitchens) but being a perfectionist, I knew the inevitable staining, scoring and chipping would bother me, so I went with a light granite. I love it! My hubby topcoats it once a year. I can sit anything on it including hot pots. I don’t have to worry about guests setting down wet glasses or dropping salsa on it. Anything precious is not safe around my husband, no coasters for him. Lol Plus, cupboards are a soft white and I thought the stark white of Granite would not compliment the warm white of the wood. It was just the right choice for me.

I’m thinking of Granite for my bathrooms but will toothpaste, shampoos or hot curling irons mar it?

Carol Landry-Fiske says

August 24, 2019 at 10:51 am

Love your kitchen! I am a Granite lover myself and redid our bathroom so it looks like a bathroom in a hotel we stayed at in London. The maintenance is definitely worth it. I never thought of adding the Granite to the kitchen but will do so now.

Kathi Richards says

August 25, 2019 at 8:48 am

I also went round & round on my counter tops when I built my home & now when I’m building again. I opted for quartz last time (& this time too) even the it costs more. I have found it to be SOOO durable & maintenance free (meaning no sealing several times a year). I was after as maintenance free of a home as I could get! However, in my new home I’m going for cultured Granite (more cost effective) in the bathrooms & my maintenance free quartz in the kitchen. Not everyone would put two different kinds of counter tops in their house, but I am & I’m OK with it & that’s all that matters!! Thanks for this article, it gave me some things to think about before I’m to the point of no return in my new house.

Hi! I’m Deb.

Welcome!

I love a well-designed home and I believe you can create this on every type of budget.

Add by expert and export team of Bhandari Marble World

[melexies]

i met you during quarantine

April 4, 2020

We started talking on tik tok and getting close. There were already a few red flags to you, but I never thought that I would get close to you romantically. You had untreated childhood trauma and you kept telling me how much you hurt people. I didn’t believe that you would hurt me so I stayed around to prove you wrong. It felt like I had something to do. I felt I was able to make someone realize their worth. Out of all the people that have come to me and said the same thing, why were you different?

It was a simple conversation, enjoying the discord chat. I wasn’t having a good night and decided to leave early. I was developing an eating disorder and it was getting to me. You messaged me on Instagram, asking if I was okay. I told you I wasn’t feeling well and felt kind of tired. It was now around 8pm sometime in April. I wanted to kiss you and I told you. Don’t ask me why. I don’t know why I wanted to kiss you. I don’t know why I told you. I felt comfortable and safe. I felt like someone did care. You told me you wanted to kiss me, as well. I felt the tension as I leaned against my kitchen countertop and the smell of chocolate chip cookies flooded my nose.

Fast forward to April 10th, a not-so-pretty conversation appeared. We had already been flirting for a couple of days and things were kind of uncertain. We had a call and you told me the same thing. “I’m just going to hurt you. All I do is hurt people.” I didn’t realize I had feelings for you. I wasn’t hurt by the fact you told me you were a bad person. I was hurt because you told me you were in love with your best friend. I didn’t understand why I felt my words swell up in my throat, why my heart became heavy, and why I wanted to cry. Of course, I got quiet and you thought I was hurt by what you said. I told you I wasn’t hurt and that I understood. You told me you liked me, but you were still in love with her. That night, I came to a realization.

The first realization was that I did have feelings for you. The second realization was why people liked me. I have always been quite nice to people and always gave them the care they wanted. After about a week, they told me that they liked me. A few days later, they would turn around and tell me “You’re such a nice person, I don’t want to hurt you.” It turns out those people never got the love they needed in their life. I was being used and taken advantage of a lot. A few days to a couple weeks later, they find someone and toss me to the side because they found someone new. It became so natural to me that I thought that you were going to do the same to me.

The next day, April 11th, after I have suppressed my feelings for you, you messaged me that next morning. You asked me how I was feeling. I told you I was numb, but it was normal. My chest pain was pretty bad that morning, too. I wanted to let you in, let you use me, and never talk to you again because you got the love you were craving for. I thought you were going to be like the others. In all honesty, I was scared and tired. I hadn’t been in a relationship in over a year after getting out of one that was toxic. I didn’t want it to be the same thing. The chance of us being together seemed nonexistent to me at that point. If we were to be together, I thought it would last maybe a week, or two weeks. I was trying to prep myself for any self-satisfying use. You told me you were sorry, and I kept forgiving you. I did forgive you. I wasn’t going to forget what you said to me, though.

You told me you were scared of being in a relationship for the same thing. “I hurt people.” You said it so much that it seemed like empty words to try and push me away. I didn’t budge, despite all of it. I didn’t believe you. I wish I did believe you. You said you wanted to be with me, but I told you to really think about it. I told you I wasn’t going to date someone that loves another. I wasn’t going to put myself through that again. I left you alone for some of the day to let you really think on it. That night, you came to me and said you wanted to try a relationship with me. I agreed to it, and that’s how our story being.

We made it official on April 12th, 8 days after we started talking. I have have known it was too soon. I should have gotten to know you as a person. I should have decided much later if we were stable enough for a relationship. Memories and fears from my previous relationship were my biggest concerns at the time. I was afraid that you were going to cheat on me, talk to an ex, or lie to me about the little things. The only way I was going to get over that was to be in a relationship and work on it. You can say I should have gotten over it during my single stage, but it’s impossible when you only trusted friends and family, not love interests.

I was able to move on from her abuse after talking about it so much. I got it all off my chest and I was able to trust you. Of course, I had concerns about your best friend that you “were still in love with.” I expressed those concerns and you told me not to worry. I eventually started to trust you a little more and believe you weren’t in love with her.

Your ex had messaged you. You told me you were going to sleep, but you didn’t. You and her were talking. She was bittersweet about us being together, having a clear intention of wanting to become a possible thing again. I wasn’t happy about it and I went to ask for advice. I was told to just talk to you about it, even if an argument were to erupt. So I messaged you and told you how I felt.

I asked you kindly to remove her since I have never been comfortable with someone talking to an ex. You told me no. I was hurt because (1) I asked you kindly and (2) i felt you were going to do something behind my back. An argument arose. During this moment, I subconsciously started putting my walls up. I started to slowly take a step back from you to block you out and to make things less painful. The sad thing is, I didn’t know I did it until I went back on memories.

You did remove her after I tried to make you see from my point of view. I’m still unsure to this day if you understood where I was coming from or not. I felt you just accepted it and blocked her just to stop the argument. I was unhappy for the rest of the day. Even though it was an ex that you didn’t have feelings for anymore, I still felt like I had some kind of competition. I also felt like I had competition with your best friend. Even though we aren’t together anymore and we don’t talk, I still feel like I wasn’t enough.

Despite it all, we worked through it and were on good terms again. We made it to a month together and I was happy. I felt that this was going to work out and it was going to go well. I hadn’t seen a clear future with anyone except you. I was excited. I started to eat again, but I started drinking alcohol. I started to turn to it.

On May 14th, we decided to break up. I was devastated, but, with how things were going, it made me realize we were probably not going to make it. My heart was shattered. I was scared to get close to you again. The pain of a break up was a pain I could never handle easily. I didn’t want to talk to you just so I could get over you faster. I wanted to move on immediately and not feel the pain. I drank that night. I had a little too much to drink. I didn’t contact you, but someone else did and told you what was happening.

You contacted me the next morning and asked me if I was okay. You didn’t do anything else except apologize. I didn’t realize it then, but I realize it now. You didn’t do anything to help. All you did was ask if I was okay, but nothing else. We got back together five days later because everything was going well between us.

I came to another realization and it needed to be talked about. I realized that anytime I would call you, you either declined my call or never pick up. Also, how you aren’t there for me anymore. I was already feeling like we were growing distant. I talked with you about it for a little bit that night. You said we could talk about it in the morning. I was waiting the whole day for us to talk about it because I felt it was important.

It was around 6pm and you said that someone was in the room and you couldn’t talk. I was waiting the whole day to have a talk with you about something important. I was irritated as hell. I felt like the talk was necessary and would have probably benefited our relationship. You didn’t feel the same way. You thought it was childish and that I just needed someone to rant to. I thought I was doing something right by thinking we needed to talk about something that would possibly save the relationship. I was wrong. I was put down again just like my exes did.

You opened up to me at the last minute about something that could have been sorted out, but you took the easy way out and wanted to break up. You didn’t tell me how you felt. You didn’t bother to help me when I have tried to help you as best as I can. Even if I wasn’t physically there, I pushed you to open up to me. I pushed you to try and get some help. I stayed up with you some nights to listen to you vent and I was there for you. All you told me was “It’s going to be okay” “I’m here for you.” There wasn’t anything else except “I don’t know how to help.”

If anything, you pushed me away and we still have unsolved things to talk about that’s just going to be suppressed and left unsaid. You said you weren’t like the others, but it turns out you ended up like them. You ran away from problems and put me down.

Thanks for proving to me that being in love is going to be a curse for me instead of something that makes me happy.

[bylillian]

So you think you’re in a pandemic? You are. And as someone who grew up learning how to plan for things like  this, the Cool Mom Eats team asked me to put together a helpful guide to keeping the family fed (and possibly entertained) during a potential quarantine.

So let’s jump right in.

To panic-shop or not panic-shop. That is the question.

You don’t need to fill your entire garage with toilet paper, although I truly commend you on preparation, should you be on an extreme high-fiber diet.

There are some items you should keep stocked though — but not just for times of home quarantine. As a recovering prepper, I found my “apocalypse pantry” a life saver after a tumultuous divorce, for example. And hey, who doesn’t want bragging rights at being able to fashion an Apple Brown Betty or chocolate chip cookie bars while the world freaks out? Just me?

(It’s just me, isn’t it.)

In seriousness though, I want to focus on the items you really need. But first, let’s get the pantry you already have, organized and ready for stocking.

While this is not a comprehensive list of absolutely everything you’ll need in your pantry/kitchen to feed your family, I assure you it’s a very workable list for you to get started. And if this all blows over faster than we thought, hey, you just saved yourself trips to the market in April and May.

Related: Beyond toilet paper: A helpful list of unexpected items to stock up on in case of a quarantine

Pantry prep: Start with a thorough purge

Before you load up the minivan with instant soup mix, there are a few things you’ll want to do first.

– First, know that this is not about Pinterest. If you are stacking items on top of each other, or making the use of every crevice of a small pantry, do it! Your food does not have to be arranged by color to make a beautiful ombre rainbow.

You are feeding your family, not entering a Instagram competition.

–Clean your shelves. If it’s been a while, can’t hurt to take everything out, give those shelves a good wipe down, and start fresh.

–Search for expired jars of food. Botulism can be a real problem here, and that twist-off can of pickled beets from 2016 isn’t sparking joy. Toss. (Of course keep in mind expiration and use-by dates aren’t always 100% accurate. As for those almost-expired pickles or that box of healthy cereal you hopped your kids would eat but they never did…that’s up to you. First, read this helpful article on food and expiration dates from Consumer Reports.

I’m not a gambler, so my instinct is generally to toss, but CR reminds us that “Nonperishable items like grains and dried and canned goods can still be used well past their label dates.”

–Organize items with the oldest in front. New items go behind existing food. Rotation is the key to a successful apocalypse pantry! Note: I’m currently living in a small apartment and by following the precepts below and being diligent with keeping track of and using my storage, have a four-month supply for me and my teenage son and our pets. It’s doable, it just requires a little forethought and organization

And hey, face those labels out. Not for Pinterest — for you.

– Group food in a sensical way. If you’re used to just shoving the microwave popcorn in front of the soup cans, in front of the flour container, maybe reconsider that. Grouping your foods by category (baking, breakfast, snacks, and so on) makes it easier to know whaat you have and what you need.

Now let’s go shopping!

Related: How to organize spices: 6 easy ideas that let you find what you need, when you need it.

The staples you want to stock

Here are my recos:

–Rice, dried beans, cereals, sugar, all-purpose flour and pasta last forever and are top of my list. Cereals are not just breakfast food. Same goes for dried oats and/or grits. Pasta is the real workhorse here, because of one simple reason: calories. If you need to stretch pantry items for multiple meals, you want foods that can get you to your calorie requirements with as little volume as possible, and here pasta is the waist-thickener you want. If you end up with sick people in your house, they’ll need calories to fight their way back to health.

–Biscuit/pancake mix is terrific for all meals, and don’t believe the old wive’s tale of it turning deadly after expiration, unless you have a highly rare mold allergy. Just keep it tightly sealed.

–As far as protein, it’s good to have frozen meats, poultry, fish… more on that below.

– I’d also grab those big jars of peanut butter if you can have nut butters in your home. (I’ll leave it between your family members to come down on the chunky/creamy side.) Protein sources are needed, and not everyone can tolerate (or want) beans, beans, the magical fruit multiple meals a week.

A good selection of protein-packed snacks

– More protein ideas: Don’t overlook options like canned tuna, sardines, jerky, and if all else fails, protein powder.

–As for canned fruits and veggies, 20 cans each of canned fruits and vegetables are a great starting point for your apocalypse pantry. They can liven up meals in a big way.  Fruit and veggie juices are also great additions, and coconut milk will make that 40-pound bag of rice way more enticing, come mealtime.

–Dried milk comes in handy, for cereal eaters and coffee drinkers alike. Also, get a couple of bulk containers of powdered drink mix like lemonade or fruit punch. The kids can get bored of plain water pretty fast.

–Jarred sauce isn’t a bad idea; get a variety of flavors. If you’re coming down with something and have people depending on you for meals who can’t cook themselves, you don’t want to spend all day at the stove stirring homemade sauce. While you’re at it, check your spice rack and make sure you have all the dried herbs you need to make that sauce more like homemade. (More below)

These are nerve-wracking times demanding thoughtful caution, but that doesn’t mean we have to eat like animals.

Stocking the freezer

Let’s turn some attention to the freezer.

I know we don’t all have massive storage in the kitchen; for what it’s worth, I have a small, apartment-sized fridge and have managed to stock 20 days worth of meat and veggies for myself and my son.

–Fresh berries and veggies like peas can be broken into smaller freezer bags and laid flat to freeze, and they stack wonderfully.

–If you’re a meat eater, load up on things that freeze well like chicken thighs and hearty cuts of beef and pork. Buy in bulk and break into portions to go in freezer bags. Plus, it’s easier to store and stack.

–Lord, be a ghost pepper on that raw chicken! I advise you season your raw meat with a marinade now and save time later. Plus, spices like jerk seasoning and other pepper-based spices are a preservative and inhibit microbial growth! You season your food not to replace proper cooking methodology, but also to enhance the flavor.

(And for the love of your gut, chicken sushi is not a thing, and y’all need to stop it.)

Don’t forget pets!

Should we face weeks or a full month of disruption in stores (remember, I’m an apocalypse planner), you don’t want your pets to suffer. How much do they eat in a day?

Multiply that by 30, and that’s what you need to have on hand. Don’t forget treats, supplements, litter, whatever else they need on a monthly basis.

Next-level pantry prep

These are the things that will make pantry food suck less, so take good notes.

–Stock up on dried spices. Garlic salt is everyone’s friend. Ditto to curry powder, ginger, cinnamon. Tarragon will liven up thawed chicken.

–Coconut milk with rice is another way to perk up bored taste buds.

–Bouillon for soup or as seasoning is always a great idea, and don’t overlook options like mushroom and onion bouillon as an alternative to chicken or beef.

–Items that will enable you to impress your family (or at least keep things interesting) include a variety of cooking oils, shortening for pie crusts, baking items for treats.

-Don’t forget fancy snack ingredients like chocolate chips, shredded coconut, condensed milk, graham crackers and the like.

When the kids are bored on day ten of self-quarantine, making a fresh batch of oatmeal-raisin cookies will eat up a lot of their time, and then while they’re recovering from sugar shock, you can grab the leftovers for yourself.

–Fresh herbs are a huge boon. Liz wrote about that here, including tips for apartment-dweller who may want to start a windowsill herb garden.

–Are you a coffee drinker? Do you like cream in it? You may have to resort to powdered creamer in a pinch, so be sure you have that on hand. Same for tea.

–As for water, please! There’s no need to hoard bottled water. Plus we all should be taking steps to reduce our single-use plastic. If that’s not top-of-mind right now, think about it economically — for the price you’d pay for a month’s worth of bottled water, you could easily buy a 2-gallon water filtration pitcher ($45 from our affiliate Amazon) for your fridge or a faucet-mounted filter.

We don’t have to hasten environmental collapse while coronavirus is going on, after all.

In summary:

Don’t Panic Rotation Spices and Seasonings Teach the kids to play gin rummy

We’ll get through this, and we’ll do it without resorting to MREs and Red Dawn-level terror.

Also, wash your hands!

Laura Stone, a descendant of pioneer polygamists from the early days of the Mormon Church, keeps busy as a Master Gardener, author coach and novelist. While the majority of her family still lives in Utah, she resides in her home state of Texas because it’s where the good tamales are.

[calliecat93]

So to recap briefly, the heroes made it Atlas! But they are now going to jail! Is that the fastest that everything has gone wrong in a volume? Anyways! We’re now going from the grimy city of Mantle, to the so-called utopia in the sky. What will happen now? Will our heroes become jailbirds and we get the RWBY rendition of Jailhouse Rock? Or will ironwood be able to bail them out… although if he does, I still would love a RWBY version of Jailhouse Rock. Someone tell Jeff Williams to get on that! But I guess we better answer the question, so to the review!

Overview

Atlas personnel are airlifting RWBYJNRQO to Atlas along with some random guy. As Nora tries to chew her way out like I do when I can’t get a bag of chips open, Jaune complains about how easily they got taken down with Weiss confirming that the Ace-Ops are Ironwood’s specialized forces. This catches random guy’s, who the credits reveal is named Forest, attention. He’s surprised since, in his own words, they are Ironwoods personal attack dogs so them going after anyone is kind of a big deal. He himself got arrested for protesting about the mistreatment of Mantle… well okay, it was because he threw a brick at a ship, but same deal! But from him, we learn of a woman named Robyn Hill and the Happy Huntresses, who are graduates of Atlas who stayed in Mantle to defend the people and try to make those people’s lives better. Robyn’s fighting for a seat on the council to end Ironwood’s ‘tyranny’. Weiss questions that last bit as dramatic, with Forest calling her out for living a cushiony life due to being a Schnee. To which Weiss can only reply that she isn’t anymore.

Things take a turn, however, as the gang isn’t taken to jail. Instead, they are taken to Atlas Academy. As they’re taken inside, Ruby isn’t sure what to do but says that they should be careful with that they say and Blake says that they’ll all follow her lead. Everyone is led to Ironwood and, to the surprise of Weiss, Winter. Oh, and Penny’s there too! Yay!!!  Winter has the guards free them, or she will start hurting them. Ironwood apologizes as he leads everyone into his office, having assumed that the ship was stolen… and Ruby confirms that’s the case. Winter gets angry due to how dangerous and irresponsible that was… but she’s stopped when Weiss hugs her. Weiss explains that they had to, to which Winter calms down and hugs back. Aww~ That being said, she’s not happy that Qrow allowed it, which leads us to the topic at hand. Qrow says that they have confidential intel to give… but to his and everyone’s surprise, both Penny and Winter are fully aware of the Relics and Maidens. Yep, Ironwood told them as well as Ace-Ops, but he does have a reason.

He explains that when Oz died, he had to formulate his own plans in order to ensure Atlas’ safety against Salem. Ace-Ops gave him the Relic of Knowledge after the arrest, with the Staff of Creation safely sealed in the Vault and the Winter Maiden is in stable condition. But now we get to the topic of Atlas’ current image due to the Embargo, the troop recall, the closed-off borders, and as the teens point out, the discourse and poor treatment of Mantle. This makes Ironwood look… well, bad, and he knows it. But again, he explains the reason why. Remember Amity Colosseum? The location for the Vytal Festival? Well, the plan is to turn it into essentially a satellite and with its launch, they can re-establish global communications and as such, even if another CCT were to fall then they can avoid that issue again. Which… is a good thing! It is a huge handicap for everyone across Remnant that locks them from the rest of the world, and fixing that is a very good idea. The problem? Well…

The second part of the plan is to go public about Salem. Let me repeat: the plan is to GO PUBLIC about SALEM. You see the problem with that, right?! Well, this is why Ironwood has his troops on high alert. He knows that this will cause mass panic and thus mass Grimm attacks. So he has all of his forces on standby to be ready when all Hell breaks loose. After everything is secure, then he’ll go global with the reveal. Essentially, Ironwood thinks that keeping the fight secret is now outdated, especially after the Fall, and as the title suggests, it’s time for a new approach. With Ozpin not there to guide them, Ironwood is doing what he feels is best despite knowing how many lives that Oz spent keeping the secret.  It’s at this point, however, that they reveal that Oscar is the new Ozpin. He’s happy to hear this and begins to express this to Oz… until Oscar breaks it to him that Oz is currently gone. Which naturally gets Ironwood to question how that is.

Before Oscar can say anything, Ruby steps in and answers the question… by saying that after the train crash, he was just gone. Nothing about Jinn. Nothing about Salem and Oz’s history. Nothing about Salem’s immortality. Oz was just gone, and they don’t know the reason why. When pushed about what Oz said about the Relics, she says what Oz originally told them; that the questions had all been used up, which she fully well knows is not the case. Ironwood seems to accept this and assures Oscar that he’s safe in Atlas. He then gives Ruby back the Relic of Knowledge as a sign of trust before offering the resources of the Atlas Military to help get the gang upgraded and ready for the fight ahead.

Everyone is free to go, and they briefly encounter the Ace-Ops. Clover apologizes for what happened earlier and that he and the others are looking forward to fighting alongside them. We also get to see and hear the other four and the credits reveal their names as Elm Ederne, Marrow Amin, Harriet Bree, and Vine Zeki. Harriet seems to be clearly based on The Hare from Tortoise and the Hare and Marrow could be one of many things since Aesop had a lot of wolf-inspired stories. But due to his brief fib about not looking forward to working with the team, I’ll say The Boy Who Cried Wolf. Not 100% sure about Elm and Vine, though there is a fable called The Elm and the Vine so that could be the inspiration, but we’ll see when we learn more about them. As Penny goes to give the gang a tour, despite their exhaustion and just wanting to go to bed… and not being pleased that they have to stay in dorms like the Beacon days, Ironwood stops Qrow. Why? Just to tell him that he is genuinely happy to see him again. He even hugs him! Aww~ Hopefully, THAT won’t lead to anything horrible later!

Speaking of horrible, remember in V6 when Tyrian revealed that he and Watts were being sent to Atlas? Weeeeellllll… 

We cut to Watts, a suitcase with who knows what in hand, walking through Mantle during a rainy evening. He and Tyrian are using mobile communications since being in one location makes it easier for them to be found out. He seems to have full control over the security tech of Mantle since unlike Atlas, the coding is never updated and we learn that he helped write said coding. He demonstrates this by knocking out the cameras and we end with Tyrian (with his fancy V4 coat back!) exiting a building. He walks away, a pool of blood spilling out from the cracks, and the cameras fail to see the man who caused it. A dark sign of what’s to come…

Review

HO BOY, do we have a LOOOT to talk about. So, we’re not gonna waste any time. Let's talk about Ironwood and his current plan.

Let's weigh both sides here. On the one hand, Ironwood’s plan… makes sense. At least logically. The plan to use Amity Colosseum to reestablish global communications is a sound one, and is something that should be done. Doing so could also help clean up Atlas’ tarnished image after all the recent decisions and after being painted as the bad guys at the Fall of Beacon. His plan about going public also does have a legitimately good point. What has keeping the fight secret solved? All they’ve ever been able to do is push Salem back, never stop her. The people deserve to know what’s actually happening, especially after the Fall where many got killed because of it. Ironwood is keeping it secluded to Atlas first and needs his forces ready for the fallout as well as all the ammo and safety precautions needed. It explains the Embargo. It explains the police state. It explains the closed borders. You can look at all of Ironwood’s actions, and it makes sense when you look at his plan. Chaos is going to break out, and he has to be ready for it.

But, of course, we have the other hand. For one, he’s depriving other kingdoms of safety and resources due to his actions, making it harder for them to protect themselves. And even then, Mantle is being treated like garbage, even though Ironwood should also be keeping them safe instead of acting like a dictator. Even if he accepts that as a necessary evil, there are better ways to help Mantle without making them terrified or feel like lower class. We saw last chapter that even children are fighting back against the drones and hanging up political posters. Children. That… is not a state that any city should be in. As Qrow said, they don't need the whole military for the Amity Colosseum, and there are better ways to prep troops without causing panic. Ironwood did this at the Fall when the Vale Council gave him control, and he had a huge army set out. The result? Well… I don’t think I need to recap that. He is doing the exact same as before, but without anyone there either capable or willing to talk back against him.

But now we get to the public plan. This is a horrible plan. As they said in V3, this breaks pretty much everything that the world ever knew and is going to cause mass panic. IDC if the army is ready for it, they are severely underestimating the results of this decision. Ones that are going to cost the kingdom. Badly. Like… brink of destruction levels of badly. Plus again, Ironwood is doing exactly what he did the last time. He’s opening the floor up for the exact same results. Even if they updated their coding, Watts will likely find a way through it. Look at how easily he did it in V3 with the virus he supplied Cinder. The same thing is bound to happen again, only this time I highly doubt that they’re going to get things under control until… well, there’s nothing left to take back.

This is insanely risky. Too risky. Now, could there be a way to break the news to the world without the same risks? I don’t know. But I do know that this is the wrong way to do it. It has too much room for error and doesn’t take into account any of the things that went wrong so badly last time. Then again, with Ironwood’s paranoia, who knows what else is going on that he just hasn’t said yet? Trust seems to be the theme of this volume, and Ironwood seem willing to give the gang his. But… IDK. Something feels off. There are some theories going around about him using the hug to bug Qrow, or bugging the Relic. IDK if I belive that, but I’m not ruling it out either. Maybe he does trust them, but the ‘what-ifs’ are too much in his mind and he can’t help himself. After all, as he said in V4, Oz didn’t listen to him. What’s going to stop anyone else from doing the same?

This is why I don’t blame Ruby for lying. Anyone can tell that Ironwood is on edge. How dangerous and reckless his current plans are. Ruby’s in no real position to argue, nor does she likely have an argument. So the best thing to do, until she can think of something better, is to go along with it and try to help the people. Yes, she is lying as Ozpin did. Some have argued how she didn’t technically lie since the train crash did happen and she did tell Ironwood what Ozpin told them, just as he asked. But it’s STILL not being truthful. She’s telling half-truths. She’s giving answers that she knows are false. Now I will say that this isn’t exactly like with Oz. Ruby is only lying to Ironwood and has a valid reason to do so, along with having very little time to think of much else. As she said before going in, they had to be careful with what they said, and she was. Oz lied and it wasn’t without reason, but he did so even without reason and to the people risking their lives for his quest that he didn’t explain the full extent of. Plus unlike Ruby, Oz had years to master the facade. Ruby had to make a split-second choice, and she was clearly uncertain about it in her body movement and in Lindsay’s performance. There is a big difference in this instance and in Ozpin’s instances.

But it’s a slippery slope, isn’t it?

No matter how much you justify it, it’s still lying. It’s doing the same thing that they called Oz out for in V6. I’m not calling Ruby a hypocrite though. Why? Because them doing this? This is a good thing. This is what I wanted to happen. Ruby is now the leader. She has to make difficult choices and face the consequences due to said choices. Previously, she only lead Team RWBY and she didn’t have to make many hard choices then. With Team RNJR, it was more or less the same except not as much since it wasn’t her team technically and when Qrow and Oz came into the picture, she didn’t have to make choices at all. She did as she was told because those who supposedly knew what they were doing were there, But then they were either gone or incapable of doing the job, so she stepped up and despite the setbacks, got them to Atlas with minimal consequence. I mean we just saw here that Ironwood let them free, so that solves that issue.

That’s not going to be so easy now. These choices are going to cause problems. Maybe Ironwood will find out on his own or if he did infact bug them. Maybe Ruby or someone else like Oscar will tell him the truth and he takes it badly. Maybe Ruby says nothing, and it leads to a disaster that she could have prevented if she had spoken up. No matter what route the show goes down, Ruby is about to get another harsh reality lesson, and that is how difficult leadership can be. This isn’t like at Beacon where if she messed up, they could solve it easily. No, this time she’s part of something much more complicated. She has to make the choices that Oz has had to make for centuries. I think that this will help her see where Oz is coming from and allow them to reconcile, but also allow Ruby to see where Oz went wrong and better herself. She’s not just going to understand Oz, but she’s going to become better than Oz. But that’s going to come with a lot of hardship, and it is something that she will have to deal with. Not just with herself, but chances are, with her team as well…

Okay, that’s enough on harsh and complicated topics. This is our general set-up episode, and it does a very good job! We have the plan for the arc established, setting up Amity Colosseum for launch and in the meantime doing work around Atlas and Mantle with Ace-Ops. We get to see Atlas Academy, and it looks gorgeous. We get to properly see Winter again, and Weiss hugging her just melted my heart. Makes me worry about later considering Winter’s loyalty to Ironwood and Weiss clearly not liking what’s happening, but still, I’ll take the happy for now. Penny was a delight, especially with the tour, which excellent animation there! Man, it’s just a joy to have her back~! Forest was fun and we learn about Robyn Hill and her group from him, which will likely come into play later. Especially since we can confirm that she’s going up against Jaques for council. That’s… gonna be interesting, to put it lightly.

This was Kiersi Buckhart’s first episode as a writer, and she nailed it! The exposition wasn’t boring and the characters felt very strong here, Ironwood especially. You know that he’s making bad choices, but the writing makes you understand why and that and Jason Rose’s’ performance as Ironwood was genuine with his views. I could understand all of these decisions, even if I don’t agree, and that’s what makes for good and compelling drama. It was strong in the character department and the pacing, os good job Kiersi! Connor Pickens directed the episode, and it looks excellent! Especially for all the camera angles as Watts walks through Mantle. Like when he steps into a puddle with the reflection of Ironwood on screen? Excellence!. Great job Connor~!

Speaking of that scene though… yeah, that was dark. No idea who Tyrian killed, maybe some kind of informant or something that's no longer needed. But man, what a grim (no pun intended) scene to end on. But it establishes the threat very well. Tyrian we all know is not a force to be taken lightly. But neither is Watts. He did his job in Mistral perfectly, and that only failed because of Cinder taking control and keeping Watts out of it after the new plan was made. But he’s the one in charge now and he is in his wheelhouse now. He has control over Mantle’s security, and if he could break Atlas’ before, he can probably do it again. And remember the Election Map that he had in the opening. IDK what the plan is, but with Watts heading it, it's gonna be bad. Add that with Tyrian, and we indeed have a lethal combination. Will our heroes be able to stop it? Only time will tell…

Chapter Three Predictions

It’s all but guaranteed that this is when we’ll get the new outfits, the haircuts, ad the new gear. It’ll probably be a bit of a lighter episode and maybe allow some nice character stuff and maybe even see the Ace-Ops more or see more around the Academy. But I do think that Ruby may have a bit of conflict as a follow-up to here. Remember the line in the trailer about her being uncertain about if the best thing is right? Well… IDK who she was talking to. Could be Oscar. Could be her team. Could be Qrow. IDK, but I imagine that it may very well bein this episode. Either someone confronts her (which judging by his expressions might be Oscar) or someone sees that something is wrong and get her to talk. Maybe it’s even part of some talk where Ruby expresses her uncertainty but tries to get spirits lifted and ignore her own conflicts as she normally does. Either scenario is possible.

Still, I imagine that it will be a lighter episode with some fun hijinks and maybe some emotional like Blake getting her haircut… or hilarious if they play up Jaune’s horrible haircut. Maybe we could get a bit of a glimpse into stuff with Robyn and the election or we see the Schnees again or something else. I think that it might end with the scenes in the trailer of the girls jumping out of the plane, ready for a mission, and it will lead to the scenes of everyone fighting in the mines that’ll cross into Chapter 4. Either way, as I said, we’re at least guaranteed the upgrades next volume and those are gonna be fun~! I can’t wait~!!!

Episode Stats

Favorite Character: Ruby Rose  Favorite Scene: Penny’s Tour Least Favorite Scene: The airlift to Atlas, the lighting looked kinda off to me… Forest was a delight though. Favorite Voice Actor: Jason Rose (James Ironwood) Favorite Animation: Final scene in Mantle. The camera angle when Watts is walking through Mantle in the rain were amazingly done, especially with Ironwood's reflection in the puddle. Final Ranking: 9/10

Final Thoughts

This chapter was fantastic! It’s a setup episode done very well. We learn all that we need to know for now, and it works with strong character personalities. It was funny, it was heartwarming, but most of all it was intense. THere’s a lot of good, compelling drama here and sets up so much for later on with Ruby, Ironwood, the villains, and the plans for Atlas. There’s a lot that’s coming, and if it’s already this intense then I can’t imagine how the remaining 11 chapters are gonna be. But I’m ready for it… I hope… still, great chapter!

[brittney-red]

This is what I wrote for Katie’s 400 Followers Challenge! @controloffandoms

Hope you enjoy! 

There were many things in Dean Winchester’s life that he regrets. Going all the way back to his childhood, which was not the best time in his life. He wasn’t able to protect his mom from the fire that destroyed their home, he wasn’t able to save his father from his drinking problem years later, he hurt his little brother Sam when he disappeared for a year after their dad died so he could ‘find himself’, and he took years to finally tell his best friend how he really felt about him. Honestly, the list could go on and on, but the one thing he really regrets most in his life? Walking past that damn SPCA with his bleeding heart of a boyfriend.

Read it on AO3?

It was an accident really, Dean was so engrossed in his delicious peanut butter chocolate chip ice-cream cone that he didn’t realize where they were until it was too late. He had incidentally lead them straight into the dreaded corner of 1st and Maple. It was avoided like the plague by parents of with children of any age and adults that had a heart for small abandoned animals, but didn’t have the means of adopting anymore pets. When he finally looked up from his treat and he started to stutter in protest of the direction they were heading he couldn’t stop his boyfriend. Cas had already seen the puppy eyes of a big eared, brown eyed Bassett hound in the window and his boyfriend was long gone. So much so that he dropped his raspberry cheesecake ice-cream cone to push his face up to the window with a loud ‘squeee!’. Dean cursed under his breath as he watched his lover start fussing over the hound behind the glass. All it takes is a puppy to get a 30 year old grown ass man to act like a 5 year old again.

“We need to save this puppy Dean! Look at it’s sad wittle face!” Cas said bubbling with excitement, bright blue eyes still very much attached to the brown eyes of the little hound in the shelter. Who, by the way, was so not helping Dean’s case. As soon as the pup saw Cas, it hopped up on it’s little stubby legs and bounded over to the window to say hello, pink tongue lolling out of the side of it’s mouth. The hound let out a weak little bark and Dean swears he saw hearts pop out of his boyfriend’s eyes. He knew he was in some deep trouble now.

“I’m sorry love but we can’t get a puppy right now.” The sandy haired man murmured softly, wrapping one arm around his boyfriend’s shoulders, trying to coax his boyfriend away from the puppy and the shelter while still eating his cone. It was proving to be a majorly difficult task.

Sad blue eyes met green, a pretty pink pout on his face. “Well, why ever not?”

Dean chuckled fondly at the affronted tone of his lover. “You know why babe,” he explained, finishing his cone and wiping his sticky hand on the front of his flannel, the other shifting from the shorter mans shoulder down to his waist so he could start moving him in the direction of home easier. “We live in an apartment complex that doesn’t allow pets.”

“Well then, we’ll just need to move.”

Dean rolled his eyes and placed a gentle kiss to his temple. “Alright sweetheart, whatever you say.”  

***

About a week went by and honestly Dean had forgotten all about the puppy incident. They walked away from the shelter without adopting an animal much to the blue eyed man’s chagrin, but Cas didn’t seem too upset about it. Which is why when Dean comes home from a long day working at his uncle Bobby’s auto body shop to his boyfriend sitting crossed legged on the couch, laptop in front of him looking for houses in the area, he’s a bit confused.  

“Cas, why are you looking at houses? I thought we were going to give ourselves at least another year, save up some more money yeah?” Dean questioned as he toed off his work boots by the door and walked into the kitchen to get a them a couple of beers.

“Well, you said that our complex doesn’t allow pets.” The raven haired man countered from his place on the couch, eyes glued to the houses he’s scrolling past on the screen. Two beers in hand, Dean wandered into the living room, set the open beer bottles on the coffee table, and plopped down on the couch next to his boyfriend.

“Wait, is this about that puppy we saw last week?”

The only answer he got was a ‘what do you think’ look. Dean raised his hands in a pacifying manner and chuckled. “Well, make sure you find a house with a fenced in yard and a garage for Baby.”

Dean honestly thought his boyfriend would drop the whole thing, forget about the house hunting and that damn puppy given some time. They’ve got a nice little apartment in their hometown, great jobs that afford them to have nice week long vacations and special anniversary dinners, a wonderful group of friends that are more family than anything, and their love for one another could move mountains. They don’t need the worry of a puppy right now.

“Babe, we don’t need the worry of a puppy right now!” Dean was getting close to his wits end. The puppy conversation didn’t go away like he thought. In fact, he’d accidentally made it worse. That off hand comment he made about a yard and garage had his boyfriend actively looking for the perfect house, for them and the nonexistent puppy they have.

He started to notice PetSmart bags being hidden in the back corner of their closet, full of random toys, bowls, a bright blue collar with matching leash, and treats, bookmarks about how to train a puppy, how to puppy proof your house, puppy blogs, and a Pinterest board! Dean didn’t even know what Pinterest was!

“The puppy wouldn’t be a worry Dean. I know Charlie or Sam and Jess would be happy to watch it when we’re gone for a long period of time, and I work from home so I can take care of it everyday!”

“I really just think we’re not ready for one yet!”

“Why wouldn’t we be? We’ve been best friends for 10 years, officially together for 3. We’ve been through so much together, I think we can handle a small puppy.”

“I know that Cas, I still just don’t know about this.”

“Well why the hell not Dean?!”

And that’s the million dollar question. He doesn’t exactly know why. Maybe it’s because growing up they moved around a lot and it wasn’t a conducive environment to have a pet so he never thought about getting one, maybe it’s because he had to take care of Sammy for most of his life and he didn’t want to have the responsibility of having to take care of another life again, or maybe he wasn’t ready to share his life with Cas with someone else. The last one is really silly, but he loves the way their life is now and he’s a creature of habit. Come home, drink some beers and eat some take out on the couch while they watch TV, have sex until one or both of them are too tired to move. Perfect life! Adopting a puppy was almost like having a baby and honestly? It kind of scared him.

“Can we talk about this another time Cas? I really just want to drink a beer and catch up on Game of Thrones.”

The only answer he got was a sharp glare and an angry huff before his boyfriend stomped off to their bedroom.

Fuck, he was in the doghouse now. How ironic.

***

“Hello Dean.” Usually, the deep, gravely voice of his lover saying his name like that would get him so hard so fast he’d get dizzy, but not right now. Right now, it’s the last thing he wanted to hear. He wasn’t supposed to be home yet, something about a meeting with his editor for his new book. Dean was sure he double checked the calendar before he left this morning. Shit.

“Heh, hiya Cas.” Dean gave a little guilty half wave and started to shift from foot to foot, green eyes looking everywhere but the steel gaze of his boyfriend. He’d been planning this surprise for about a month now, ever since they had their last major fight. It had ended with him sleeping alone in their memory foam king size for a week while Cas went and stayed with his brother Gabe on the other side of town.

It was a silly fight, over that damn puppy again. Of course.

They’d moved into a perfect little fixer upper only a couple of months ago and Dean was still working on getting settled. The whole process was a whirlwind, it went by so quickly, financed and signed in a matter of weeks, but they were ecstatic about the house so they didn’t care. It has a two car garage with ample storage for all things mechanical with room to fit Baby and Cas’ Pimpmoblie (as Dean likes to call it) and a half an acre of fenced in back yard, the two things Dean specifically said their house needed. Sure, the kitchen needed some updating, the dingy carpet needed to be replaced, and the bathrooms needed a little TLC but the master bedroom was huge with a walk-in closet and a master bath with a jacuzzi tub (that alone had Dean sold with a lot of innuendos and wiggly eyebrows happening when they first looked at the house) and they still had two extra bedrooms and two and a half bathrooms. Overall, it was an amazing experience and they couldn’t be happier.

Until last month that is. When Castiel started bringing up the little hound from the shelter again. What started as a silly little argument turned into an all out, full blown fight. Over a dog! Dean didn’t think they were ready to bring home a puppy yet still, they literally just moved into their first house together, but Cas was adamant that the house needed something else. Especially since he was home alone most of the day, which made Dean feel terrible. He didn’t say that though, of course, which is why Cas left to stay with Gabe for a week while Dean was left to stew in his misery.

During that week he was able to work past his issues with a puppy and come up with a plan. With the help of Sam, Jess, Charlie and a little push from Gabe he was able to adopt that little brown eyed hound from the shelter, prep the house, get the pup signed up for training classes, and work on crate and potty training. He wanted to show his lover that he thought about this and didn’t just go out on a whim to make him happy.  

“Did you really think you could sneak past me? I've been waiting for you to get home for hours." Cas hissed his tan arms crossed across his chest, blue eyes blazing with fury.

“Actually I was hoping to surprise you.” Dean said softly before he opened their front door and gave a small whistle. Within seconds a happy little hound puppy came bounding up their front steps, stepping on it’s too long ears and tripping over the threshold with a small oomph. The green eyed man bent down with a chuckle to pick up the wiggly pup and was rewarded with puppy breath and wet puppy kisses.

Castiel let out a small gasp, the fur ball was wearing the blue collar he’d bought months ago. “Dean? Is that the collar I bought? Is he really ours?” He whispered unbelievingly as all the pent up anger he felt slowly disappear with just one look at his best friend holding the sweet little puppy.

Dean answered with a nod, gesturing with his head for his lover to come closer. The dark haired man stepped forward quickly, his eyes filling with love as he reached out and touched the velvety softness of the puppies head.

“Hi little one, aren’t you just the cutest thing ever?”

“I thought I was the cutest thing ever?” Dean quipped uncertainly, he was answered only with some eye rolling and a small huff.

“Dean? Do you have the little monster? He took off when you whistled,” Sam said while running into the house a little out of breath, arms full of toys, treats, food and water bowls, all the things that Cas hid in their closet plus some. He paused, taking in the scene in front of him. “Oops, sorry to interrupt! I’m just gonna lay these things here and I’ll be on my way.” With a nervous chuckle he emptied his arms on the floor by the door and gave Dean the ‘you better call me later or I will kill you’ look before swiftly turning around and all but ran out the door.

“Thanks a lot Sammy!” Dean yelled to his retreating brother’s back, he really owes him a lot. This wouldn’t have been possible without his support and his pet friendly apartment. “I’m sorry I’ve been acting really shady lately, I never meant to make you worry.” he whispered cautiously, stepping closer to Cas to let him take the 10 pounds of fluff from his arms carefully. Dean couldn’t help the small affectionate smile that spread across his face at the sight of his longtime boyfriend cuddling and cooing to the puppy.

With a huff Castiel stalked off towards the couch, but was still cooing softly to the bundle of joy carefully cradled in his arms. “Shady is an understatement.” He murmured without looking up, his blue eyes gazing lovingly at the brown and white doggy.

Dean treaded carefully over to the couch, sitting delicately on the arm as to not piss off his lover more by getting too close. “I just really wanted to do something special for you.”

Finally, blue locked with pleading green and Dean could see the cold melting from his boyfriend’s eyes. The sandy haired man scooted off the arm of the couch then, feeling more comfortable now that his lover was thawing. He moved close enough to be able to wrap a strong arm around his lithe waist, pulling the shorter man in close to his body.

“Thank you Dean.” Castiel said fondly, accepting the embrace fully. He leaned up to place a swift kiss to the underside of Dean’s stubbly jaw before picking up the puppy to look deep into it’s eyes. Cas got a lick to the nose in response, with a giggle he laid the puppy down in his lap so he could get comfortable in Dean’s arms.  

“What are you gonna name him sweetheart?” Dean asked bemused, reaching out a hand to scratch behind the puppy’s ear.

“I think I’ll name him Jack.” With a happy little bark, it was settled.

Sure, their life would change drastically with a new house and a puppy, but the ring that’s hidden in the safe at Bobby’s shop says that Dean’s in it for the long haul and he wouldn’t change a thing.

@controloffandoms hope you enjoyed it! :)

[lafuerte01-blog]

It Is Only Impossible if you Don’t Try

IM Cozumel 2019 Race Recap

The hardest part of any story is trying to figure out where to begin. And in this case, do I start where my training began in April 2019 or do we start with race week? Or do you call this story, “A Tale of Two Kilgore’s” because (spoiler alert here) – one Kilgore trained her ass off and woke up at zero dark thirty multiple times throughout her 6 month training and had upwards of 6 hour long brick workouts while the other Kilgore just winged it and finished only an hour and a few minutes after the other.  Thinking back, who was the crazier person?  The one that invested time, lost sleep and spent a lot of money training, or the one that did next to nothing and still earned the coveted Ironman title? But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Let’s start with race week. Met up with my coach a few days before heading out of town for the race.  The good news was there was nothing magical that I needed to know.  I already knew it.  I had practiced it weeks and months on end.  I just needed to execute it.  The downside was I was so amped up and just wanted to RACE.  My mind was ready.  My body was ready.  Unfortunately, it was Monday and I still have 6 days to wait.  So I rested.  Or not really “rested” but went from 1.5 hour swims to 45 minute swim workouts.  And reduced my wattage on bike workouts and didn’t run full sprints at the track.  So I had 3 workouts to keep me busy, Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday leading up to my departure to Mexico on Thursday afternoon.

I was never nervous about the race.  I was more nervous about whether or not all my shit would get to Cozumel.  If my bikes would make it unscathed.  If I would forget anything.  Never doing a race of this magnitude, wasn’t sure what I’d need for special needs bike and special needs run.  I prepped a collective 10 hours just packing for the race. And still had to pack for the vacation that followed!  In thinking back, if I could just have someone pack for me, that would have reduced my stress levels 1,000%.  

(Above: all of my OCD packing in action)

I realized during this time there was also no way that 2 bikes and 4 pieces of luggage along with 4 humans would be able to be transported in our Camaro or Altima. People talk about “marathon brain” in terms of forgetfulness during the peak of workouts.  Imagine if I woke up the day we flew out and realized we didn’t have the right cars.  Thankful that my brain was always in overdrive that last week so that I was able to connect with two amazing friends, Kevin and Jonny, to transport us and our luggage in their Texas sized trucks to and from the airport.

(Above: Thank goodness for friends with trucks!)

I learned the night before that my tri-sister Julianne made a sign to send Joe and I off on our trip.  I appreciated her time in making something so badass!

The Flight Out (3 days before the race)

I don’t know how I stumbled upon it but in researching the prior host hotels/resorts and trying to figure out the math for the best flights into either Cozumel or Cancun, I found an American Airlines Vacation package that got us the best flights, direct from DFW to Cozumel with our host resort included. SCORE!  Other options included flying to Cancun and schlepping our things on a ferry to Cozumel. More logistics made for a more stressed out Bethany so obviously the direct option was so worthwhile.  While waiting for the plane, our gate was taken over by families and participants of the race.  Joe joked this would be the fittest flight out that day.  We met up with a couple who were being Sherpas for their friend. We also met up with a lady from California (Lilian) who was hoping to PR this race and get a sub 12:00 (she did! 11:50 was her finish time).  She was with her two young ones and we were happy all our kids were appeased by electronics as it had already been a long day.  

On the plane, Joe ended up switching seats with a family that was separated so the son could sit with his mom.  Let’s face it, he needed all the good karma he could get!  In doing so, he sat next to an IronFamily – Keith and his wife. Apparently Keith got his canisters confiscated at the airport and wasn’t sure where to buy them.  Being the super anal-retentive person I am, I researched and followed every blog and Facebook group related to IM Cozumel and told Joe off-hand during a conversation that if they run out of air canisters at IM Village, we can go to the local tri store called Cabrillas.  Joe relayed that info and Keith was super appreciative.  It’s like they became best buddies that day. And they were buddies the entire weekend to follow- as not only did Joe sit next to him by sheer luck, but Keith and his family happened to be at the same resort.  In the same villa.  Exactly two floors directly below us.  It’s truly a small world.  After arriving in Mexico, we were in a bit of a panic as I found one bike but not the other.  We literally were the last family out of customs because of this one bike bag being separated from the pack.  And it’s not like customs is fast in any way and on top of that we’re on island time so we waited patiently.  

(This is what Cozumel airport looks like when you’re the last one in customs)

On top of it we randomly had to have our bags gone through because that’s what must happen when you’re tired.  So when we exited to get to our shuttle that had been waiting now for an hour and ten minutes, we got accosted by a tour group that posed as a front for our van service.  After realizing they were selling us a tour package, I kindly said no and headed out to our van, curious if it would even be there.  It was.  And after hauling everything into the back we loaded in the van and took in the 25 minute drive through downtown to the resort.  The downtown area was decked out for the race with welcome signs. The island was crazy busy with taxis and scooters everywhere.  I was thankful when we finally arrived at the resort which was away from the hustle and bustle for some authentic, local food and rest.  The family got to experience my favorite cochinta pibil and salbutes yucatecos for dinner.  We had seconds of each.  Dolores was the best waitress by far the entire time at the resort.  We filled our bellies and went to bed.

Friday morning, two days before the race

After waking up, Joe and I assembled our bikes.  It was then that I realized I left a second flat kit back at the house.  If not already familiar, the Kilgore’s have notoriously bad luck at races with flats and spokes but I figured the extra flats I packed would just have to go into my special needs bag and hope I didn’t need a second or third tube before picking up the special needs bag at mile 60 on the route.  

We went to IM village that afternoon to pick up our race packets, find our name on the IM wall, take obligatory photos with the Ironman sign, and look about the IM store to buy all the things.  But since this was an IM branded race co-sponsored with Adeportes, the items weren’t as plentiful as many IM 70.3 races.  And most of it was already picked over.  But maybe that was a good thing because we got out cheaper than if all the things were there.  We obtained our IM wristband, our timing chip, our race bags, all inside a nice IM Cozumel branded backpack along with a nice race belt.  Because Joe is notoriously known for meeting up with random people he doesn’t know, we ran into my FTC teammate Julie Adams and her IronFamily and spoke with them for a while.  He had worn his FTC shirt to go to IM Village in hopes to run into someone; it worked.  

(Above: Awesome name placement)

While at IM village, my brother Brian arrived so the kids and I walked to meet him.  After a brief hello it was about that time that Joe and I had to go to the mandatory athlete briefing.  As we waited in the hot sun, we passed it off as “acclimating to the heat” and saw our IronFamily man Keith there.  Because it was so hot and Brian just landed, we had him take the kids so they didn’t have to be bored out of their minds.  After waiting a half hour or so after the scheduled start for briefing (again, island time) we got into the cool AC building, sat up front, and had a truly enjoyable time meeting our two emcees and announcers for the race. They made a lot of jokes which made for a lighter mood and helped us all feel special for what we were about to embark upon.

SATURDAY (the day before the race!)

I was thankful I spent the 10 hours packing my essentials in advance and took meticulous notes of the contents within (see picture below) because when we picked up our race packets, I essentially just had to place my Ziplock bags into their respective bike, run and special needs bags.   Joe and I got up early to ride our bikes to and from the official swim practice site.   Our bikes were tuned up before the race by Velofix but of course the derailleur was jostled during the flight so my bike had difficulty getting into my middle gears of my big chain.  So I knew after our swim practice I’d need to get in touch with bike tech at the resort. I was excited for the swim and wanted to be able to feel the current that would carry us toward the finish. Unfortunately, my new goggles that I had only swam in 5 times decided to leak during my practice swim.  And there wasn’t a kayak or lily pad for me to rest on to fix them.  These are the moments you need to know how to handle during the choppy start of a swim start anyway.  I pulled off to the side, flutter kicked vertically and tried to adjust my goggles. Still no dice.  After doing a lap with my left goggle trickling in sea water, I decided to get out and reset.  I did a second quick circle swim and things seemed to be ok.  I never got to catch the current and was a bit unnerved that my swim practice wasn’t as great as I expected.  But I got the experience of dealing with unfortunate circumstances and kept my cool.  And it’s an understated important skill not to over exert yourself during a stressful start of a swim before a long race day.

After getting back to the resort, I was thankful to have an onsite mechanic help with my bike and I was relieved to not have to worry about it as again, team Kilgore usually has issues on race day with their bikes.  We still had to transport our bikes and based on our bib number, we were the final group of the day (3:30-5p).  So in the meantime we headed into town to shop at some local stores and shop for souvenirs.  When we got back to the resort, the family headed to the beach while Joe and I lugged our bikes to drop off at bike check-in.   We were the only ones on the bus that picked us up at the resort.  We had time to rack the bikes, get a lay of the swim out portion of the race, our changing tents, and familiarize ourselves with our rack location and bike out.  Joe and I both lucked out that our bikes were racked in the same group; mine was at the front of the rack coming out of the changing tent – Joe’s was at the very end of the rack.  We had a long way to bike out but it didn’t matter – we would just walk our bikes and calm our heart rates to prepare for the long ride ahead of us tomorrow.  

There was a bit of an issue getting the free bus ride back from mandatory bike check in. We waited 30 minutes before even being told there were no more shuttles running to the resorts.   Apparently the bus we rode in on was the last one running but none of the other 10 people waiting with us was told that information.  We met a guy from Cincinnati who graduated from Indian Hill High School- he was there with his wife and they were also doing their first IM race. Also saw Lilian there whom we met at DFW from California doing her 3rd IM.  So after a few of us argued a bit with the IM volunteers about the free shuttle service fiasco, the group won out and we were able to get a bus to take us back to the resort.  It was a minor blip I thought but to be stranded several miles away with no money to go back was a bit unnerving.  Definitely not something I wanted a day before the race.

When we finally returned, we headed out to the beach so I could test out my backup pair of goggles in the ocean.  After doing a few laps in front of the resort and snorkeling with the family, we got showered and met up with my friend Gloria for dinner.  

Side note: you never know what random acquaintance you have from your past may mean to you many years later.  In 1998 I went on a study abroad trip to Merida, Mexico and met up with Gloria Martinez. She was a dance instructor and as part of my cultural studies for 3 months, I learned traditional dances (baile folklorico) and became close friends with her.  We stayed in contact, sent each other many letters and mixed tapes, and here we were face to face again after 21 years.  It was just amazing.  And she would be a MAJOR help and inspiration halfway through the run. I needed her more than I knew. But I’m getting ahead of myself again…..

During dinner Gloria met my family and I got to practice my Spanish while she practiced her English. She gave me a present, a local liquor Xtabentun from the Mayans.  I had remembered having this while in Mexico before and it has a unique taste – liquorish and honey.  In looking at the bottle we have now at home, apparently Joe really likes it – it’s almost gone!  I had my traditional meal before any race, pizza, but wasn’t super hungry.  I realized around 9p I needed to get ready to bed and try to sleep.  It’s common not to sleep too well before a race.  I think I got a solid 5 hours in.  

Race morning

I woke up at 4:20a, 5 minutes before my alarm.  I was ready. Graduation day was here! We asked the front desk the night before when the shuttles would start running; he said 5:30a.  I thought that was late knowing our first transition (T1) opened at 5:15a. Not only that, we had to get to T1 to drop off our special needs bags, set up our shoes and attach our helmets to the bike and check tires for air. And after that had to catch a bus 2.4 miles upward to the swim start.   But again, I trusted the information given.  So after waking and getting dressed and having breakfast, we get to the bus line early only to find out that there’s a big group there already and the race organizers reduced the busses at our resort from 3 to 2.  And the last bus that was coming was the one headed our way – and we were all hoping we’d get on.  Some people were angry and hailed cabs. Others just waited (like us) and hoped to get on.  It was a full bus but we were able to get on and upon arrival we frantically tossed our special needs bags to volunteers, got our bikes set up with nutrition and water bottles situated.  We didn’t top off our tires; we didn’t have time.  We just hoped and prayed they’d be ok.  We walked hurriedly back to the entrance and waited in a ginormous line to catch the busses to take us to swim start.  Met up with Julie from FTC somehow in all the chaos. Again, another issue as we got toward the front, the busses behind us were opening their doors to people waiting behind us so that by the time the busses rolled up, they were full.  Participants were angry and the race volunteers were quick to act.  We squeezed into a bus already full and took a seat at the very back.  I just took deep breaths.  Again, logistics are not fun for me and is super stressful when things get out of whack. Minor inconveniences really but seriously nerve-racking before a long day’s event. I ate another sandwich while taking the bus to the swim start.  Things were going to be ok.  It was then that I realized I had left my UCan back at the hotel.  So I was a few hundred calories under what I had hoped but I also packed a backup sandwich and gel in T1.  And I had been drinking extra water with electrolytes that morning.  I told myself it was going to be ok.

Swim start

Once through the porta pottie line (after realizing they had one for males and females!), Julie and I got on our swim skins, put on Glide and eco-friendly sunscreen (to protect the coral) and tossed our final bag of the day, our morning clothes bag, to the volunteers and headed to our swim start corral.  This being a self-seeded start, Joe and I had strategically decided to put ourselves in the 1:20-1:30 grouping. Julie went ahead as she’s a faster swimmer; we wished her luck! Next time I saw her was on the run – more on that later.

I knew I could swim the 2.4 mile distance in one hour and 30 minutes but also knew the current would be helpful.  We heard the gun go off for the pros and started snaking around our corral toward the front of the pier.  There were drones flying overhead.  We waved. We caught up with the guy from Cincinnati and his wife.  We congratulated them.  Loud music pumping and blaring songs like, “We Will Rock You” by Queen and “Eye of the Tiger.” The pier started to become visible.  I saw people tossing small bean bag sized pouches filled with water.  People were drinking water and putting water on their heads to cool down.  It was 7:40a ish and already warm.  Temps were expected to be a real feel of 90 degrees with little cloud cover.

We were a huddled group of people and the sun was blazing.  I caught sight of the ocean.  It was wavy. Choppy.  NOT like anything we had seen the previous days while on the island. This was going to be fun.  I kept calm.  We were in line with a lady who knew this was our first and saw our watches and told us they only last 14ish hours.  Lovely.  Again, nothing I can do.  I kept fidgeting with my goggles- putting them on and off.  Joe told me to keep them off because they would fog up otherwise. And that’s when I realized I forgot to wipe my goggles with the anti-fog cloth.  Before I knew it, our group was “walking the plank” to the end of the dock.  I placed my goggles on and just like that, I was in the water.  I hit the bottom upon jumping in, not realizing it was shallow, so I bounced up and after 8 seconds, realized I had already pressed start on my watch.  “It’s go time,” I thought.

The swim with all the people and all the waves could have been worse.  I was thankful the swim out to the first of two turns was short.  I saw a ton of marine life.  There was a sign underwater – I couldn’t stop to read it but later learned it said “If you can think it, you can achieve it.”  There were tons of scuba divers watching from the ocean floor. I would have loved to see what that swim looked like from above.  I never got kicked or punched like others on the swim.  I had people swim up on me but they swam around.  I did the same when I came up on others.  I kept with a pack.  I rarely sighted- when I did, there was a huge wave in my face.  I think I only took in one gulp of sea water. At one point I started smiling because I thought my husband was next to me.  It took me a while before I noticed it wasn’t him.   I swam with a pack of people and kept my pace consistent.  I noticed a buoy on my right and thought they were to be on the left so I cut across and in doing so, I caught a nice current.  But after a while I lost people. I saw a kayak.  I was off on my own and in looking the rest of the group was on the left.  So I swam fast to get back with the group.  I couldn’t see ahead with the waves but didn’t want to be so far out on the right, despite the awesome current, to not know where I was.  I kept up with the pack and found some people to draft off of.  I caught sight of a yellow buoy.  It didn’t make sense as most of them were orange other than to distinguish that being the half-way point maybe? I never checked my time or distance on the watch while swimming – I just kept swimming.  My goggles were pretty fogged up by this point.  I got off track again toward the back half of the swim and instead of making a tight turn at the red and final buoy, I instead made a long wide turn to the finish. It’s ok.  I was finishing up and was able to climb the steps up and stop the watch.  HOLY SHIT! I just had a PR swim: 1:23:51.

I took my coach’s advice coming out of the swim, no running – just walk to the changing tent to calm the heart rate down.  I stood for about 15 seconds under a shower to rinse off before going into the women’s changing tent.  My goal was to be in and out of the transition tent in 10 minutes.  I had played and replayed in my head the things to do while in T1.  I ended up doing a full change out from my tri suit and swim skin to bra, bike shorts and a bike top. I had a shower pill towel and a sturdy hand towel to help wipe away any remaining salt.  Salt = chafe and I took a squirt bottle (tip courtesy of Jessica Marchi) full of water and sprayed between cracks and bits.  Once done, I lightly toweled off an put on my bike shorts with Hoo Ha Ride Glide.  I got volunteers to put sunscreen on my body.  Slipped on my HR monitor.  Ate my backup sandwich and drank my water. I just burned about 600 calories on the swim and needed to top off before setting off to ride.  I put on my socks and headed out to my bike.  Got my helmet, clipped it on, got my shoes on and walked the long walk to bike out.  I checked Joe’s bike rack; his bike was still there.  I got nervous.  He’s a better swimmer; assumed he got caught up in the changing tent.  I figured he’d be right behind me in no time on the bike.  Total transition time: 17:02

At the mount line, I was keeping heart rate calm and take it easy.  Even a veteran said everyone goes out fast on the first loop. I had written in permanent market on my leg my metrics for the race: 130-140 power, 78-82 cadence, 135 heart rate. I rode out and set off for a comfortable ride.

The Bike

What I was told to do by my coach was to stop every 20 miles and to pee at mile 40 and 80.  There were approximately 5 rest stops around the island for the 38ish mile loop.  For some strange reason, on my first loop, I decided to hit every single stop and pee at mile 20.  I don’t know why I did this but I realized my error after the first lap when I saw Joe. It didn’t make sense that I was coming up on him around mile 46 when his bike was on the rack when I biked out.  It took a nanosecond for me to realize my error. In hindsight, that extra 2 minutes per stop was ok; I wanted to take it easy.  My HR was averaging 154 and wasn’t budging despite the easy effort.  I attributed it to the heat. I also noticed on the first loop my power didn’t seem to be accurate.  The day before I noticed this as well and texted the coach; asked if that happened what metric to follow – cadence or HR.  Because the course is flat, he suggested both.  I kept true to my cadence and only pushed it when I had to make a legal pass or had to back off when someone overtook me.  Second loop was faster, I know I pushed it but I felt ok.  I ended up grabbing water every 20 miles to top off my bottles and spray myself down (my cooling sleeves, my core, my head).  I saw my brother and kids on the second loop of the bike course; got a shout out from someone there who saw my Hotter than Hell jersey and said, “GO TEXAS!”  The back half of the island was beautiful.  The extra elevation gain was there along with the wind.  Thankful I didn’t have to deal with a lot of wind that day and I knew how to climb hills now so I didn’t let the back half deter me. I got to my special needs bag around mile 60 and reset my fuel. Checked my tires, they were ok so I rode on without the extra canisters or tubes placed within.

The final lap is soul sucking.  You know what to expect which is a blessing and a curse.  The ride through the city was uplifting; you just have to mentally will yourself to the next aide station and hope for some crazy fans out there to support you.  Saw my brother and kids again; got the boost I needed but then had the east side of the island with the hill and unrelenting sun.  I wanted to take in the scenery, the ocean was beautiful and the blue sea mixed with the blue sky only interrupted by the white ocean spray that crested and crashed into the rocky coast.  I noticed the pack was thinning; there was a collective miserable feeling around everyone.  I passed someone and he said, “you’re looking strong.” I muttered something back – I don’t know if it was comprehensible.  I knew I was coming up on mile 90 and after mile 100 every mile after that would be a distance PR.  It was also about this time that I noticed I was getting tired of eating my gels.  No worries I told myself- I had packed a glorious PB&J sandwich in my T2 bag.  I’d have real food soon. And there’d be more on the run course.  I stopped at a final aide station around mile 100 to get more ice and water and sprayed myself down.  The first table there had ran out of water bottles so I had to get off the bike and wait for them to get more water to pour into my bottles.  The bike course was pretty sparse by then and things picked over. By the time I hit the bike in, I honestly don’t remember anything.  I know I was able to get off the bike OK (surprising in and of itself), grab a bottle off my bike and my coach’s bike computer before handing over my bike to a volunteer. Total bike time: 6:49:04.

In the T2 changing tent, I looked around.  It looked desolate.  I checked the time – I seemed to be doing ok.  I asked a volunteer what the local time was.  It was early evening – about 4p.  I had plenty of time.  Did another full change out from bike clothes to run clothes.  Chuckled to myself that I was feeling like Beyonce with all of her change of clothes. I was salt crusted and legs were dirty.  Took 2 shower pills to clean off.  I wanted to clean off to feel better.  I wiped my face.  I put on my hat, my running shoes, my running belt and grabbed my sandwich and headed out to start the final 26.2 miles of this race.  Total time in T2: 19:34.

The Run

I got up and my feet HURT. My arches were super sore.  I walked out of the tent and tried to calm my HR down.  I felt dizzy. I grabbed water from a volunteer but didn’t feel any better.  My watch chimed 30 seconds into the run.  What the hell? I had thought I programmed it for a 90 second run and 30 second walk. NOPE. Forgot the last run I had was programmed from my 30 second sprint track workout and 3 minute walk.  I attempted to change the intervals but my watch said I couldn’t change while an event was in progress. GRRR.  I know what I had to do – this happened at my Houston Marathon where I didn’t have my watch intervals set correctly and had to do it manually – watching the time. It was going to be a long fucking run. While I had PRd my run in Houston that day, this was not going to happen today.  It would however keep my mind “busy” and distracted from the feeling I was having while running.  Funny because all day I was looking forward to the run and now I was trying to figure out how I was going to continue.  Anyone that knows me knows that math isn’t my sweet spot. So my 90:30 run walk intervals weren’t always accurate.  I gave myself grace. Didn’t matter.  Go by feel. Get some food in you.  I tried but my stomach started to heave.  I made it 2 miles by this point and needed food ASAP. I recalled that if I couldn’t eat, to at least chew food and spit it out.  Even taking food into my mouth made me gag.  And my water bottle filled with electrolytes were equally painful to digest. I got dizzy again and tripped and almost fell but by the grace of God caught myself from falling flat on my face. Negative thoughts started creeping in. It was only 2 miles into a 26.2 mile run and I couldn’t eat or drink and was dizzy.  I started looking for a medical tent.  I never saw one.  Honestly – the one time I did see a medic was the last 2-3 miles of my run and by that point, I wasn’t stopping!  In looking around, I saw FTC teammate Julie on her run.  She was running fast; I was walking.  I said hi and she gave me a look that said, “this is miserable.”  She was ahead of me and looked strong. Little did I know she crashed on the bike and was bleeding from her knee. She’s a total badass.  Was that her first loop? Second? Third? Everyone looked fresh and running fast.  I just kept looking at my watch, doing fuzzy math, putting one foot in front of the other.

Along the way, someone asked me if this was a 3 looped course.  I said yes. Knowing that, I was near the turnaround by then and felt better for a bit.  Around mile 6 or so, a supporter saw me and I guess I looked like death warmed over. He approached me as I walked and said, “Drink the flat Pepsi.  Trust me runner. Drink it.  And chase it with a lot of water.  It will do miracles for you!  I know this to be true!”  I looked at him and said I can’t keep anything down.  I was nervous if I drank it I would get sick.  I didn’t want to get sick and get stuck in a medical tent. I just wanted to be done.  But I ran off, got to the next table and took the Dixie cup of flat Pepsi and a small water pouch to chase it.  It worked. I felt better.  The sugar helped.  I tried to eat- still nothing.  Small bits of food here and there that I chewed and spat out.  After the first loop, I felt a bit better.  

I saw Gloria on the run while downtown.  The crowd was festive.  There were still plenty of people on the run.  I would be ok.  After the cheers of the crowd and the noise subsided, I started working on a game plan. That’s when my Garmin gave me a low battery warning.  Shit. Shit shit shit. OK.  New plan – focus on food.  I saw a table with oranges and bananas and pretzels.  I had an orange and it was glorious.  Yes. FOOD! Then I got to the banana. Nope. Couldn’t stomach it.  I nibbled, chewed and spat a half a banana out.  More flat Pepsi and water.  Would grab the pretzels on the way back.  Realized I had to focus on my run/walk intervals if my watch died before I finished the race.  I counted my steps for the run.  336 steps for 90 seconds of running; 26 steps for 30 seconds of rest.  I did this several times before I realized running for 90 seconds was too much.  My body was too weak.  It was getting late and the sun setting. I approached the turn around and looked feverishly for the special needs tent for my bag at mile 13.  I had more food in there but didn’t take it. I grabbed my head lamp but in hindsight I didn’t need it.  I grabbed my light jacket thinking I would get cold as the night settled in, especially with the wind near the sea wall going back into town.  I wrapped the jacket around me and kept running.  Then my watch died around mile 14.  Not that I was disappointed that I didn’t save my watch during the bike, but that I was running blind.  No way to tell if my pace was going super slow or not.  

I saw Joe twice on the run; both times it was when I was going the opposite direction back into town to complete my loops.  He yelled to me, “You’ll finish – you have plenty of time. You’ll get yours.” I wanted to yell back- maybe I did? I can’t recall.  I was in a dark place.  You’d think going into town you’d pick up the excitement.  Mine was the reverse.  I hit my lowest point around miles 17-19.  It was at this time that Gloria saw me coming into town and ran with me. She told me I was doing good. That she was proud of me.  That I have 2.5 hours to finish one more lap. She was willing to get me anything I needed, do anything for me. I knew it was against IM rules to have someone run and walk beside you but I could not tell her no.  Selfishly I needed her.  She was my angel and my saving grace those miles.  As we approached downtown, I told Gloria that she would not be allowed to run with me or be next to me.  Shortly thereafter an IM official came up and told Gloria she needed to let me be.  Gloria asked why and she was told the rule and after giving a very mad face to the volunteer, Gloria wished me well.  

Being as tired and as dizzy as I was, I just wanted to quit.  I felt horrible.  I was right in town so if I wanted to quit, I could just walk up to my family and say, “I tried.”  At one point I humored myself that I couldn’t quit because I had already bought things that said I was an Ironman at IM Village a few days before.  That got me ahead mentally for a half mile or so. But I also just needed to be done. The run was more mental than anything. I had to give myself something to look forward to.  Mile 20. That was the new goal.  I could get to mile 20 and feel fine, I told myself. More oranges and bananas.  I forced a banana down around that time, thinking I could vomit 6 miles and still finish. Still hard to drink my electrolytes so water, water, more water and flat Pepsi when I could stomach it. Spoke briefly to a guy who asked what lap I was on. I said my third.  He was on his as well.  I told him I was just looking for the damned turn around.  He said he was as well.  He looked strong and I told him so and wished him well.  

There was a group of us that kinda stayed together.  We were running and walking around the same pace.  We didn’t talk to each other but it was good to know I wasn’t alone out there hurting.  I could tell my pace slowed.  I didn’t have a damn watch to tell but I knew I couldn’t keep up my pace from before so I ran from cone to cone.  Walked the next set of cones.  Repeat. When the turnaround came, I knew if I got to a 5k I’d be fine.  And I sort of was ok until mile 24.  

Seriously those last two miles were insanely hard.  I strained to hear the roar of the crowd downtown which sounded a lot quieter. Even the loud band that played continuously for hours seemed to have relocated and moved closer to the finish. I needed something to get me by. I saw kind people on the street giving encouragement, “You’re so close!” “Don’t walk, run!” “You’re going to be an Ironman!” “Go, go, go!” That’s when I looked over and saw a medic on her phone. She wasn’t with anyone – just keeping herself busy.  Where the F was she all day? Too late now to stop.  Mile 25.  Was I now going uphill? How long was this corridor?  The band sounded like it was closer now and I could hear a guy on a loudspeaker now.  “…..(inaudible name) ... You Are An IRONMAN!”

My thought process went something like this that last 1.2 miles: drink water. Dump all the food you have stuffed in your tri top bra. Fix your hair.  Make it look like you didn’t just suffer for god knows however long you’ve been out here. And run like hell when you near the finish chute. I walked a good portion of that last mile just willing my brain to adjust to the new game plan.  I inadvertently dropped my water, my lifeline. Damnit! I didn’t want to run with trash in my hand so I jumped a curb and threw it into a trash can and hopped down back onto the course.  Ok.  Jacket is around my waist and I don’t want it.  I’m hot. I can’t toss it.  Damnit – just hold it.  I see a lady on my right who says, “You’ve got this! It’s just around the corner!” and that’s when I started to run.  I mean, run like I meant it.  I saw the red carpet and the lights.  It was a party scene and I was ready to …… sit the fuck down.  But first, that finish line.  That glorious finish line.  I looked up – did that time say 15 hours and something? I thought I was closer to 16 by my walking pace those last few miles.  That gave me a bit of a pep in my step.  I put my hand over my mouth – I started to tear up and then I heard, “That’s my sister!” and saw my brother Brian, Gloria, Kaia and my son Kyler with his hand stretched out to high five me.  It was a brief second but that moment of seeing their faces and getting that final power boost from my son got me across that finish line.  

I heard before I even crossed the finish, “Bethany Kilgore from McKinney, Texas – You are an Ironman!” and then I saw the ramp.  A ramp! I had to go up and down that thing and not fall flat on my ass.  I was depleted of food, water, electrolytes, and was high on adrenaline so by the time I crossed I walked gingerly across the threshold where some kind man grabbed my arm and guided me through the finisher chute.  Total run time: 6:13:01.  Total time at finish: 15:02:31.

Through the chute, my kind guide asked me, “Do you want water? Gatorade?” I said no.  He said, “I bet you’ll never want another Gatorade for a few months.” I smiled.  Then he told me I was going to receive my medal.  Medal placed around my head; a few congrats.  Ok.  More walking. Then he said someone had to get my timing chip.  Great. Next he asked if I wanted food. NOOOOO.  No food.  Ok, so he walked me to get my finisher shirt.  I stood in a daze as someone handed me my finisher shirt.  I looked around and noticed the line to get my finisher photo. Ugh.  I didn’t have the energy to wait.  Everyone looked so full of life.  I wanted to sit.  A nice lady helped me with my things, she fixed my visor which I always wear so low and held all of my sweaty things as I gave a few pained smiles.  I saw the rendezvous spot to meet my family.  I heard my name and got some hugs.  I was super thankful to be done but fell like crap.  I thought fresh clothes and sitting would make me feel better. After getting my clothes and changing (which took eternity with tons of foot cramps), I stood up and met my family on a bench.  I couldn’t talk without fear of getting sick.  I was still dizzy so I wanted to lay down.  As soon as I tried to lay down I started dry heaving. Nothing would come but saliva. I knew I was in a bad way so my friend Gloria sought a medic while my brother and kids waited for Joe to finish.  I got into a wheel chair and was admitted.  It looked like a war zone.  People messed up far worse than me.  People with EKGs on their chest.  Others getting massages from their cramped legs.  The guy next to me screaming from his leg cramp getting worked out.  I had a nurse come around asking if I was allergic to anything – “just penicillin” I said.  She thought it was odd that the three people in bed next to each other were all allergic to penicillin.  A nice doctor came over and said I was going to get an IV.  A nurse came over and stuck my left arm. Nothing.  Stuck my right arm and moved the needle around.  Nothing.  Had to call over someone else to get to my vein and finally got it in on top of my right hand.  I was hot and didn’t want a blanket.  I was in my sports bra and shorts that I had changed into along with my Oofos.  It took a while to get the fluids in even halfway through and by then I started to get cold.  I got an awesome space blanket and neck massage.  I strained to hear my husband’s name called but it was busy and loud in the tent.  I asked if the medic tent was busy now and the nurse said no, but that it was busy earlier – not enough beds to triage people to get in and get assistance. I got word that Joe crossed and was ok.  I was upset that I couldn’t see him cross the finish line but was thankful I felt better at that point.  I lulled off to sleep.

The kind doctor that attended to me let me know the medical tent was closing.  My fluids weren’t all the way done but I was feeling better.  I was thankful to see my family and Gloria waiting outside of the tent.  I felt a LOT better.  I was eager to shower and go home and sleep.  I said my thanks and goodbyes to Gloria and we got a cab.  Back at the resort, I told my brother to see if he could get something salty like fries and chips from the late night snack bar.  He came back with fries and nachos.  I couldn’t eat much but what I did tasted like food for the gods.  Brian let Joe and I go to rest; I miraculously had enough energy to take a shower and rinse out all of our bike bottles before laying my head on the pillow. I looked over at the time.  3:25a. Exactly 23 hours of activity that day.  

Was it worth it? Yes. It tested everything I had.  I learned that Joe crossed about an hour after me with little to no training.  And he didn’t need a medical tent.  But he ran his race; I ran mine.  We did what we each had to do and both became Ironmen that day.  It’s been 5 days; I’m hard pressed to want to do this again whereas Joe is eager to go back next year.  I’ll happily be his Sherpa!

What I’ve learned throughout this experience is that while this is a challenge of three sports for one person to complete, it’s a necessity to have a village of people that help you get to that finish line.  

For everyone that has helped me with any of my training swim, bikes or runs

For the friends that have put up with my insane training schedule and understood that my absence from any social life was temporary (and forgave me when I unintentionally fell asleep at social gatherings when I did go out)

For my daughter who gave me grace when I missed more than half of her soccer games this fall and passed out around 7:30p on the couch during cuddle time

For my son who was patient in getting the adequate drive time in to help him earn his drivers license

Collectively for my kids who allowed their parents to do a race smack dab in the middle of our family vacation

For my coaches who put up with my incessant questions

For my brother’s family for their understanding while they were in the midst of moving into a new home and for my nephew for allowing me to take his dad away on his birthday.  I needed my brother’s help post-race and to have fun with the kids while their parents were out doing a silly race

For my dear friend of 20 years Gloria who trekked across the Yucatan Peninsula and took a ferry to Cozumel to cheer me on for 15+ hours

And for my husband who made all the dinners, made all of the post-long weekend workout meals, and kept my insanity in check….

I thank you all. 

(Above: my new favorite Christmas ornament next to some of my favorite ornaments: my kids, an old Santa - my grandfather’s who died of cancer, my best friend Lisa and I, and a Mexican sombrero ornament from 1997)

Above: The Kilgore’s enjoying a relaxing day visiting San Gervasio ruins on Cozumel island.... post-race

[iamsonyeondone]

spy!bts // kim namjoon

♥ angst and fluff (warning: mentions of violence and minor gore)

♥ 3.3k words

♥ WARNING: mentions of violence and blood and slight gore if you’re not into that

kim namjoon is known for his ‘sexy’ brain - the way he can quickly strategize a getaway in less than a minute or how he’s always a part of creating another new invention with yoongi and jungkook

namjoon helps with providing the information on what they lack on while yoongi works on the functionality of the weapon and jungkook does the overall design

but thats not all when it comes to him

sure he’s a little clumsy at times, breaking his cartridge somehow and having to make do with a knife and still managing to pull through

but he’s pretty agile when he puts his mind to it

he would be able to sneak past guards swiftly, dislocating their necks with quick movements and squeeze through vents that were wayy too narrow and small for his tall and wide stature

but even with his outstanding abilities, he doesnt let it get to his head, ensuring that his teammates are way more important and having to put them first before himself

he was truly that kind of leader anyone would look up to and its amazing how it’s a natural part of his personality

he is also the reason why jungkook joined forces because he thought namjoon looked super cool when he tackled the punching bag like a monster

and its just an unspoken thing that namjoon still sees jungkook as a baby when he’s fully capable of knocking out a whole army of soldiers with a simply pistol and knife

*cue jungkook doing his silly dance moves while on mission and namjoon watches over him like a proud dad*

he may or may not join in and accidentally knock out a bodyguard while doing so

sometimes namjoon is too preoccupied with thinking up a storm that at least one of the younger boys have to follow him

the three youngsters always play rock paper scissors because they just Dont Know what will happen when they’re with namjoon

one time taehyung went on a mission with him and both of them nearly got their legs cut off from a chainsaw

or the time jimin went with him and needed to wear an eyepatch for an entire week because namjoon somehow managed to light the flare right in his face

you on the other hand, knows how to avoid his unintended attacks like a professional

people even think you might have a third eye that sees the future or something

because you managed to dodge nearly all of namjoon’s ‘accidents’

but that’s mainly because you’ve grown up with him nearly all your life

and sustained at least 457 injuries throughout your childhood

that boy from ilsan has grown up with you

although the career the both had right now was definitely not something the both of you would imagine

you’re still very grateful to know that the both of you share the same job and you were relived that he wasn’t going to do something so dangerous alone

despite the many dodging you have done, even the smallest things hurt you sometimes

for example, that time where namjoon accidentally chipped a cup and forgot about it so he used it to serve you and it cut your lip

you didn’t really mind but namjoon kept apologizing to you every half an hour for a week straight until you literally had to knock some sense into him

but even with his clumsy ways, he still managed to look out for you during missions and cover for you when you need it

he would literally run an entire mile to save you from a bunch of qualified soldiers even though you could handle them yourselves

but he’s very adamant on keeping promises, especially the one he made with your mom when he was 5, promising that he would protect you no matter what

and it gets pretty annoying sometimes, because he also includes nagging at you and making up rules as protecting you

“you have to sleep right now, we have a mission at 6 in the morning tomorrow,”

“but it’s only 10,”

“did i fking stutter?”

“this is why i like RJ more than you,”

yes,,, that’s jin’s codename dont even question it 

and honestly, it might have hurt to hear you say that whenever he nags at you, his intention only being the best for you in mind

and maybe because he doesnt just see you as his childhood friend

but whenever jin brings up the topic about how he always boss you around like your mom even though the rest gets away with it

he would always say because he doesnt want you to get hurt

and that was definitely true 

because seeing you in pain would only make himself suffer, and he didnt want to put up with either of that

remember that cut you had on your lip from the chipped cup, he actually genuinely felt super guilty about it 

so any of your injuries would be tended by jimin while namjoon tries to avoid you until your fully bandaged and treated

and you Know™

the both of you have been best friends for so long, how could you not tell how he felt in that moment??

and every time that flash of guilt in his eyes appear when he sees you get grazed by a gunshot or a knife??

but you dont mention it and instead lighten up the mood by doing silly things with the boys and eventually force him to join in

the wounds hurt when you move but seeing him so down hurts even more

i guess thats what love is called or sumn hohoho

another day comes and it doesnt really come to your attention until namjoon sends an alert to all your phones to have an impromptu meeting in the living room

as soon as everyone gathered, some still drowsy from their naps while others had just arrived back from a mission, namjoon stands by the coffee table while the rest took a seat on the couches

“we’ve got another mission for us in about 12 hours or so. Agust, i need you to be on watchout by the roof, bunny and calico will be the driveaway car. V and sunshine , you’ll be on the left wing while me and angel will get the right wing. rj, i need you to be the eagle eye and watch over the security cameras. we’ll talk about this in detail after 6 hours. everyone got it?” 

everyone nodded at once, taking in all the information while they got into their pairs to discuss things before the next meeting

you looked back to namjoon, worry in his eyes as he paced back and forth - it seemed like this mission was a bigger one than the others

“joon, what’s up?” you whispered, bringing him to the corner of the room as he sighed

“we’re going to infiltrate a highly-secured building where they keep the most treasured jewels and the boss needs us to make a clean escape no matter what,” he cursed under his breath, running a hand through his hair

it was probably the fifth time he had done that throughout the last ten minutes

“hey, look at me,” you put on a small smile

and with slight hesitation, he looks back into your glimmering eyes full of hope

and he feels he might be in too deep - his heart beating a mile per minute and the sound of his surroundings began to fade and his ears only focused on you

“you’re the smartest guy around here, and i’m definitely sure you’ll come up with at least something before the next meeting. besides, the others are just as capable, believe in them and we’ll succeed. Stop worrying, big guy,”

you chuckled, knocking his head slightly with your forefinger, eliciting a soft dry chuckle from his lips

“thank you, angel. now let’s get to planning,” he smirked half-heartedly, moving to the basement where all the excessive planning were made

with the help of energy drinks, coffee and jin’s snacks, the both of you managed to come up with three different routes

the first was the safest, yet took the longest

while the other two was much more riskier and needed all of you to put at least 200% of your efforts put into it

and if any of you didnt, it would either result in permanent injury, or worse, death

but namjoon tried his best to stray away from that topic, and was persistent on following plan A as much as possible

it was the least he could do to ensure your safety and the others

six hours pass in a blink of an eye, and everyone was gathered and ready with a list of suggestions to ensure the success of the mission

with the help of yoongi’s new and improved equipment as well as thorough planning on everyone’s part, nearly two-thirds of the planning was done

all that was left was to check if everything and everyone was in order

and then the actual thing would begin

time passes, and thirty minutes were left

jin took his seat by the multiple monitors, checking each and everyone’s navigating device as well as their in-ears

yoongi had already went to the destination an hour earlier to check on things while he set up his sniper and telescope

jungkook and jimin prepped up the car once they were done suiting up and preparing disguises when needed 

while you, namjoon, taehyung and hoseok had slipped into your bulletproof vests and lightweight boots and choosing the preferred weapon 

once the codename for the mission to begin had been uttered by joon, everyone went into full effect and ran to their spots

with swift movements and constant scanning of the area, you anf namjoon managed to get half way through the tight security

of course, having to ‘hurt’ a little more than a handful of people

while taehyung and hoseok crawled through the vents since the left wing’s structure barely had any blind spots for them to squeeze into

after nearly an hour and a half of crawling and sticking your backs to walls, you and namjoon managed to find the room where the required jewels were kept and protected

while namjoon deciphered the passcode, you were on lookout, eyes scanning every side of the hallway while your finger remained on the trigger

as soon as you caught shadows coming from the right, you signalled namjoon to go faster, heart pumping through your chest yet your words remained calm and cool

“shadows. how many more minutes?” you questioned him, your arms getting into position as you focused your silencer onto the approaching targets

“3 minutes at most. alert rj if you’re shooting,” as soon as you captured sight of the guards you were all ready to shoot

“rj, camera at the core,” you whispered, focusing your silencer onto one of their foreheads

“roger that, angel,” as soon as he had been alerted, with a quick push of your finger, a bullet shot through, killing the guard in an instant while the other had their firearms aimed right back at you

you aimed at the second guard as quick as you could and shooting him right between his eyes as well

but just as you did, he was able to shoot right through your left arm, leaving you hissing in pain while namjoon finally managed to unlock the room

“hey angel- shit. apply pressure, we’re almost done,” namjoon whispered, placing his arm above yours which you had been covering the wound from bleeding any further

“we got held back a little at the left wing but we’re here now,” a familiar voice softly echoes from above you

taehyung unhinged the vent’s opening, placing it to the side and hopping out, hoseok following suite

before they could speak about your injury, namjoon interrupted, “v, stay here with angel. me and sunshine will get the jewel and once i tell you the signal, the both of you take route B,”

taehyung didnt have the heart to go against his words, the aura namjoon emitted just from his expression told taehyung that there were no time for discussion

before namjoon could enter the laser-filled room, you held him back by his sleeve and shot him a smile “stop worrying in that big head of yours and get that damn jewel,”

a small smile crept onto his lips, yet worry never left his features

as namjoon and hoseok disappeared into the room, taehyung tended to your wounds with the mini first aid box jimin had made for everyone

the bullet was probably still lodged in your arm but taehyung had to make sure the wound had been disinfected before tying it up from wrapping a quick bandage over it

whilst you looked out for anymore oncoming guards

amidst the silence, taehyung was curious and he could never really contain that curiosity

“so you confessed to him yet?” taehyung looked back into your wide ones before returning his attention to tying up the bandage

“we’re on a mission, v. not now,” you groaned rubbing your temples with your free arm

“i’m just asking. besides you should do that soon before i do it myself,” he shrugged, tying a second knot to ensure it doesnt fall off

“or i’ll help tell too,” a voice echoed in your intercoms, mischievous giggles you could never mistake for someone else

“rj i swear to god, you’re supposed to watch out for us, not listen into our conversations so you can, i dont know, ‘spill the tea’.” once your wound was treated, you held up your rifle and watched out for the hallway on the right while taehyung watched out for the left

but when the sound of alarms rang throughout the building, you just knew namjoon and hoseok had already gotten their hands on the jewels

but you werent leaving until namjoon had given the word

“get ready, v. this is gonna be a bumpy ride,” you huffed, aiming your gun to the right while taehyung looked through his scope “i’m always ready,” he smirked

with every bullet you fired, the burning sensation in your wound grew even more, but you couldnt let the pain distract you from one of the most important missions that you had been given

and if namjoon were to know the pain you were in, he wouldn’t let you out of headquarters for an entire month

once the first wave of guards were wiped out, namjoon’s voiced echoed throughout everyone’s intercoms, taehyung giving you a knowing look as you nodded your head

with the rush of adrenaline, you and taehyung made way for route B, never letting your guard down as you fetched a grenade from your pocket

once you entered a single hallway, you blew up the side the both of you had entered from and kept running

and as much as your lungs burned and the pain in your arm began to worsen, you couldnt let it bring you or anyone else down

the door at the end of the hallway swings open

and you’re more than relieved to see jimin and jungkook, even if your eyes had tricked you at first glance from their disguises

“quicken your pace slowpokes, the rest are already catching up,” jungkook teased, jogging off to start the truck while jimin made sure you came out of there before the soldiers could

once everyone had hopped into the truck, jimin checked your wounds for infections 

but taehyung did an amazing job at keeping it clean and covered

“rj, any sign of rm or hope?” you groaned into your intercoms, jimin redoing your bandages as you looked out for any possible danger

but jin doesnt reply and your panic rises

jimin carefully ties up the bandage and watches over your frightened expression, your brows furrowing even more with every breath you took

“rj?rj?”

“calm down angel, he’s probably helping them in escaping. we’ll see them when we get back to headquarters, alright? remember the rule?” taehyung reassured you, looking at you through the rear-view mirror

“get back safe at all cost when he says the word,” you grumble, putting your attention to the grim scenery outside

something didnt feel right but orders were orders

once everyone alighted from the truck, jimin took out the necessary medicine for the wounds he had to treat

“if its just a cut, wash it and you’ll be fine,” jimin shooed the rest away as he tended to you on the sofa

“why does she get all the treatment,” taehyung raises a brow, tossing his bulletproof vest to the side 

“because unlike some of you, she’s an actual angel,” jimin shrugged, picking out his tweezers and a cotton ball drenched in alcohol

“it’s gonna hurt but we cant have you with a bullet in your arm for the rest of your life,” he chuckled, handing you a handkerchief to bite and relieve the pain onto as he began his work

in half an hour, jimin managed to remove the bullet and close up the wound, not allowing the others to disturb you while you went to rest in your room

but all you could do was pace around your room, your fingers fidgeting around with anything you could get a hold of

a soft knock on your door made you think it was jimin

but when you finally see the face that had been in your head the past few hours, you let out a long and relieved sigh

“missed me too much?” he chuckled until you nearly knocked him down with your hug

“hell yeah i did. you think i wouldnt?” you mumbled into his sweaty and stained clothes

but you didnt mind because he was finally back, safe and sound and in one whole piece

“did your get your wound treated?” he asked, gently peeling you off of him to check your arm while you were too busy admiring his face

you were so in the moment to not realize namjoon staring back at you

“dont ever do that again,” you mumble, a slight tremore in your voice but your eyes remain in contact with his

“angel you know i had to-”

“how can i let my childhood crush run out there like some dumbass. you think i can stand to lose my best friend?”

you were teary-eyed at this point, while he looked back at you in confusion and concern

“wait what was the first part?” he muttered, unsure if what he heard was true or not

“i like you a lot you idiot. why do you think i always cuddle up to you after a mission, or when you’re the one who worries the hell out of me the most or that-”

you were cut off with his lips planted on yours and you could feel his lips curl into a small smile

once he parted away from you, his smile stretched so far that his dimples seemed to deepen with every second

while your cheeks turned bright red under his gaze

“i’ve been waiting too long to hear that from you,”

“then you should’ve grown a pair and confessed to me, you handsome dork,” playfully nudging him

until namjoon once again, loses his footing and tumbles onto the floor, bringing you along with him onto the hard floor

the both of you groaned in pain

but your door swings open, revealing jimin with bag of medicine but his face who once had a concerned smile on his face turned into a devilish smirk

“so the lover birds finally confessed huh? and already skipping many bases,,, i’ll just leave so the both of you can continue,”

jimin giggled like a high school girl as he closed the door 

but the shout of announcement that vibrated the walls was a clear sign that the others were NOT going to let the both of you live

a/n: im just gonna post whatever i want at this point and finish up all my wips :///

[ceealaina]

Everything You Do Convinces Me More

Title: Everything You Do Convinces Me More Pairing: Steve Rogers x Tony Stark Link: AO3 Rating: T Summary: Steve likes to prank people. And then he and Tony hook up. There’s some kind of connection to the two events in there somewhere. Word Count: 5,222 A/N: Loosely based on this tumblr post about Steve being a total troll. My brain read it and ran with it. 

It started during Steve’s “reintegration process,” shortly after he’d been thawed from the ice, when SHIELD hadn’t quite figured out what to do with him yet, but didn’t want to risk leaving him to his own devices, and had kept him on lockdown instead. They hadn’t called it that, of course, but Steve wasn’t stupid. 

And the thing was? Reintegration was really damn boring. Steve missed the 40s, of course he did. He missed his friends, missed Peggy and the commandos (and Bucky, always Bucky, like a hole in his chest). And of course it was a culture shock sometimes; he didn’t think he’d ever get over the price of a cup of coffee. But it didn’t take him nearly as long to adjust as everyone seemed to expect, and the Recent American History books got real dry real fast. And well, ask anyone who really knew him, and Steve had always been a bit of a punk. 

So he started fucking with people. 

It was just harmless stuff, really, nothing more than a mild irritant. He’d taken to computers and the internet like a duck to water, and one day, three hours deep into YouTube videos, he ended up watching a 47-second video on how to flip a desktop screen. And so the next day, when he passed Agent Endright’s unoccupied desk (the same agent who, three days earlier had explained how to use a damn microwave in the most condescending tone that Steve had ever heard), he hadn’t been able to resist. And when he heard the frustrated cries coming from Agent Endright - who apparently hadn’t watched the same video as Steve - something warm blossomed in his heart. 

It turned out there were all kinds of fun tricks you could pull with desktops, so a few days later he slipped into Agent Alvarez’s office, quickly took a screenshot of her screen, and set it as the background, hiding the taskbar at the same time. He couldn’t help snickering himself later that day, when he walked down the hall to hear her grumbling about it to another agent, promising to report them once she found out who had done it. (Agent Alvarez, though very nice, was a stickler for rules. Personally, Steve didn’t think it hurt to approach them with a slightly more laissez-faire attitude.) When she pulled him into the conversation, asking if he had noticed anything, he managed to hide his smile, pulling up his best “aw shucks ma’am” expression as he assured her that he hadn’t noticed anything amiss, but he’d be sure to keep an eye out for any potential culprits. 

The next week he brought in a bag of raisin bagels, concealed in a chocolate chip bagel bag. Chocolate chip bagels were a weakness of Agent Lennox, and Steve made sure to position himself in the staff kitchen, drinking a cup of coffee and reading from the newspaper (a real paper one and everything!) when they took a bite, which was promptly spit out with a horrified noise. It was a close thing, but Steve managed to smother his laugh before blinking guilelessly up at Lennox, asking if everything was alright.

He kept going like this for the next couple of weeks. Everyone was talking about the string of pranks that was suddenly plaguing the department, and even though Steve was the only factor that had changed, no one had even the slightest inkling that he might have been behind it. It was kind of great.

Then, of course, Loki arrived and suddenly Steve’s reintegration period was over and without so much as a chance to change his underwear, he was thrown into the thick of things. It was chaos and destruction, and nothing that Steve had ever imagined was even possible. But suddenly he was part of a team again. They’d all gone their own ways at first, but slowly, gradually they’d all made their back to New York, back to Stark - sorry, Avenger - Tower. And it was good. 

They weren’t the Commandos, nowhere near that level of camaraderie, but there was something comforting in the familiarity of having the same people around him every day, and Steve had absolute faith that they would get to the point of real friendship eventually. He just… might… do something to help things along. Like putting purple koolaid in Clint’s shower head (the internet was seriously a wealth of amazing ideas. Steve was a huge fan). Or managing to convince Tony for three hours that he couldn’t figure out how the television remote worked and needed it explained to him. Repeatedly. And that may or may not have turned into a full out prank war among all the avengers that lasted a solid three months, right up until Bruce booby trapped the three hole punch to spray hot sauce, except the person who ended up using it was a high brow client, and Pepper put a stop to the whole thing. 

And through it all, not one person, not even Natasha (he was pretty sure) suspected Steve. They all figured he was some old 1940s fuddy duddy (Clint’s words, not his) who had been born before pranks had been invented, apparently. And Steve was happy to let them keep thinking that, maybe even play it up a little, if it meant he could continue to get away with doing what he was doing. 

The thing was, Steve was kind of a dick. Not an asshole - he felt that was an important distinction. He wasn’t a republican, he firmly believed in equal rights, and he would never hurt someone (unless they were a bad guy, obviously, or otherwise had it coming). But there was some little part of him that liked messing with people in harmless ways. Bucky had known that about him, had always given him suspicious looks, then laughed and called him a punk, ruffling his hair while Steve squawked at him to fuck off. But here no one suspected him, and when he was Captain America, couldn’t quite believe it even while seeing it happen in front of them. So sometimes, when he was exhausted from a long battle, or feeling like Steve Rogers had been replaced by Captain America, or when he was just tired of the pressure of constantly having everyone’s eyes on him, he would do things like steal french fries from strangers in McDonald’s, or shooting past people on bikes when he was out for a run, or cursing up a blue streak in front of teenagers in the park only to stop with a wink the second they pulled their phones out to catch it on camera, or lift cars when there were small children watching (that one was actually super fun. He loved the way their eyes would light up in amazement).

It just made him feel a little bit better about the crazy turns his life had taken. 

*

If you’d asked him three months ago - hell, if you’d asked him three hours ago - Tony would have never, ever pegged Steve as the pranking mastermind. If he’d had to rank the avengers in order of Most Likely to Prank, Steve would be at the very bottom of the list, somewhere below Jarvis. He loved the guy - they’d grown much closer after their initial meeting, and Steve had rapidly grown to be one of Tony’s favourite people. They spent a lot of their free time together, playing long games of chess when neither of them could sleep, or Steve coming down to keep Tony company in the lab, spending hours sketching and talking while Tony got lost in his work. They shared meals, and a love of ice cream, and talked a lot, long conversations that ranged from deep and meaningful to so funny they were on the floor laughing and could barely remember why. Tony adored Steve. He was genuinely kind, smart in a wildly different way from Tony, had a wickedly dry sense of humour that always took Tony off guard, and if Tony was totally honest with himself, he was rapidly developing a pretty strong crush on the man. He’d just never pictured Steve as the pranking type. 

Or at least, that had been the case, right up until the end of the last mission. It had been a long one, though thankfully they’d come out of it relatively unharmed. Tony had banged up his shoulder and ended up hovering near the Quinjet while he made sure it wasn’t anything critical. SHIELD was onsite by then, prepping for cleanup and debriefing, and Tony was only half paying attention to what was going on around him. He could hear people talking close by, and it took a few minutes before he placed Steve’s voice. He sounded confused, and Tony looked up, eyes tracking him down to where he was standing a few feet away, talking to a junior SHIELD agent with a piece of paper in his hand. 

“Son,” he was saying, voice endearing and pleading in a way that only Steve could pull off. “I really need your help with this. Director Fury asked me to fill out this paperwork, and paperwork’s just not my forte. This is form…” He looked down at the paper in his hand. “One-two-seven-niner Delta? And I guess I need form Bravo Bravo One-oh-seven? Do you think you can find the form for me? Fury’s on his way back, and I think he’ll lose it if he has to explain it to me one more time.” 

“I, um.” The agent swallowed, looking confused and more than a little intimidated. “I- yes sir, Captain Rogers. Of course.” He took off at a sprint, and as Tony watched, Steve’s lips twitched, curling up into a smug smile that Tony didn’t think he’d ever seen on Steve’s face before. 

Intrigued now, Tony started fiddling with the side of the Quinjet, turning himself so that he could keep an eye on Steve and his pleased smile while having an excuse at the ready if anyone asked what he was doing. It only took a couple minutes for the agent to return, papers in hand and a perplexed look on his face. 

“Um, Captain Rogers, sir?” 

Steve turned around, that endearing look back on his face, and Tony’s frown deepened because that look was far soppier than anything he’d ever seen on Steve’s face before. 

“Did you find the form, Agent?”

“Uh, well. I think maybe there might have been a mixup? I checked the databases, and I can’t find any record of the form you’re looking for?” He cleared his throat, fluttering the paper in his hand toward Steve. “I did find a form Bravo Bravo one-oh-four. But sir - this is an authorization form requesting permission to host an inner-office bake sale. I-I don’t think that’s the form you were looking for?” 

Tony couldn’t help snorting outloud, and Steve made an awkward choking sound before constructing his facial expression into something even more confused. “Oh,” he said, eyebrows knitting into a frown. “No, I don’t… That can’t be right, can it?” He stared down at the form in the agent’s hand. “Are you sure there isn’t a One-oh-seven?”

“I’m pretty sure, sir.” He was obviously trying to be assertive, but he looked pained at the look on Steve’s face. “I can check again?” 

“Would you?” Steve asked, face lighting up. “I’d really appreciate it.” He frowned at the paper again. “I’m sure Fury doesn’t want me to host a bake sale, but I just can’t wrap my head around searching these databases.” 

“Of course, Captain Rogers sir. I’ll… be back as soon as possible.”

Tony watched him run off again, narrowing his eyes as he watched the exchange. Flipping up his faceplate, he moved over to Steve, who was watching the agent go with the same smile as before. 

“Okay, what gives Rogers?” He asked in an undertone. “There’s no such thing as form Bravo Bravo One-oh-seven.” 

Apparently he’d actually managed to sneak up on Steve, because the other man jumped with a hilarious squawking sound. “Tony! Were you - I didn’t see you there, sorry.” He blinked, face going carefully blank. “What were you saying?” 

“That form you keep sending Agent Two Shoes after? That’s not what we use. It doesn’t even exist. “

“Oh, um. Are you sure? I could have sworn… Oh! You know what? You’re gonna make fun of me, Tony. That’s a form we used during the war. You know, with the ice and everything, sometimes I still get odd things mixed up.” 

“Riiiiight.” Tony frowned at him, puzzling out the detail that had been niggling at him since he first heard Steve talking. “Wasn’t 107 your unit? You know, back in the good old war days?”

Steve shrugged, and there was something slightly panicked in his eyes. “Coincidence. We have a form 70295, and that’s your birthday. It happens.” 

Tony blinked, that stopping him. “You know my birthday? You know those numbers make my birthday?” 

Steve rolled his eyes. “It’s not exactly a state secret, Tony, of course I know your birthday. Come on, I’m exhausted, and we still have to debrief. I’ll, um. Leave a note for Agent Hicks. Let’s go back to the tower.” 

“Yeah, alright,” Tony said, still giving Steve a suspicious look. “Let’s go.” 

*

Steve laid low after that, partially because he wasn’t sure how long Tony had been standing there and didn’t know how much he had put together, and partially because Tony was like a dog with a bone, kept watching Steve speculatively, and so Steve couldn’t have gotten away with something if he’d tried. Still, as previously established, Steve was a dick at heart, and eventually it seemed as though something else caught Tony’s attention, because he stopped eyeing him every time he walked into a room, or sneaking up on him at random moments. He had never called Steve out either, or questioned him further, so Steve figured it was safe. 

He started out slow, little things like moving Clint’s pizza box to the other side of the room when he ran to grab a drink, just enough to confuse him. When nobody jumped out to accuse Steve of being the catalyst for every prank war that had ever occurred, he started stepping things up again, and before long he had (in his own mind, since no one else could know) once again regained the title of Steve Rogers King of Pranks. 

*

It hadn’t taken Tony long to realize that watching Steve the way he was, he was never going to have another chance to catch him and confirm his suspicions. So he’d stopped. Or at least, he stopped actively watching him. Contrary to popular belief, Tony actually did know how to be subtle. It’s just that subtlety didn’t usually serve him that well, so he never bothered with it. Outing Steve as a secret evil mastermind would definitely serve him though, so subtlety it was. 

It took some time - obviously he’d spooked Steve with all his questions after the paperwork incident - but gradually he noticed Steve relaxing around him again, and not watching Tony in turn. And finally, nearly three months later, Tony’s patience paid off. 

It was after another mission and when Tony noticed Steve off by himself, helping with clean up. He made his way over, finding something to fiddle with just out of Steve’s eyeline. At first he was legitimately just doing his thing, cowl off and face exposed as he muscled some debris out of the street and into a somewhat neat pile. But then, as Tony watched, he paused to brush the hair out of his face and his eyes lighted on a group of little kids, around seven or eight, hovering unsupervised at the edge of the barricades, now that the danger had passed. They were watching in awe, whispering to each other and pointing at Steve in excitement, and while Tony had the brief thought of wondering where on earth their guardians were, they seemed pretty safe. Apparently Steve thought so too, because he stopped his cleanup efforts, grinning over at them and waving, laughing when that made them shriek in excitement and duck out of sight. It was sweet, and while wholesome was everything that you were supposed to expect from Captain America, something about it made Tony go all warm and tingly inside. 

But then, Steve looked around furtively to see if anyone was paying attention to him, and when he didn’t spot anyone, he winked at the kids and then picked up a fucking motorcycle and lifted it over his head. The kids all started hollering in excitement, and Tony didn’t miss the smile that spread across Steve’s face. Half impressed and half wanting to roll his eyes on principle, Tony watched Steve do a few overhead presses with the bike before setting it back down with a heavy clang. He held up a finger to his lips, indicating they should keep it to themselves, a secret between them and Captain America, and the kids all took off screeching in excitement. Steve laughed a little before turning back to what he was doing, the pleased grin on his face softening into something that Tony couldn’t quite place. 

When Tony had imagined finally catching Steve out, he had imagined making a big show of it. Maybe recording proof that he could play in lieu of their next movie night, so that ribbing Steve could be a team bonding experience, maybe just jumping out at Steve so he could hold the fact that he had caught him over his head for the rest of time. But something about the pleased look on Steve’s face, the truly happy smile, stopped him, made him want to do something to keep that smile on his face for always, and so Tony said nothing to anyone. 

*

Now that he knew, Tony couldn’t believe that none of them had picked up on it before. It seemed so obvious, in retrospect. Half the tower pranks happened when Steve was the only one who was even around to do it, and somehow they’d never once suspected him. It was a little disgusting, honestly, like Steve was so sweet and innocent he couldn’t pull a prank - even though they’d all witnessed him cursing out Nazis and Republicans and the Yankees on a regular basis? Tony was a little ashamed of the whole team (and himself, if he was really being honest.) 

More and more he noticed that all the pranks (with the exception of when things escalated to a full-on war) could be traced back to Steve, Steve who always looked just a touch too innocent, now that Tony was looking for it. And he’d had every intention of eventually calling him out, had started out just plotting the best way to do so, what the best reveal would be, how to most effectively show the team that he had figured it out first. Except the longer he went without saying anything, the less he wanted to. He kind of liked the secret of it, liked catching Steve’s small smile after he pulled something off, figuring out how he’d pulled his latest prank. It was like a secret the two of them shared, even if Steve didn’t actually know about it. 

And, truthfully, he was falling in love with this new side of Steve. That little crush had grown into something wildly out of control. Tony had known from the get go that Steve was his exact physical type; he’d jerked off to his pictures more times than he’d care to admit during his formative years, and that inclination hadn’t exactly gone away when he’d met him in person. But he’d gotten to learn Steve’s quirks, to realize he was more than just his father’s most successful experiment, and somewhere in there he’d just accepted that he was more than a little in love with the man. Realizing that Steve was a secret prankster, that he was capable of applying his tactical skills to the kind of pranks that took Tony back to his days with Rhodey at MIT? It was like Steve was made for him. 

They probably would have kept on like this forever, never actually going further than that, if it wasn’t for Clint - or, more specifically, if it wasn’t for Clint almost catching Steve. Tony had stepped off the elevator into the common area to find Clint sprawled across the couch, watching some made-for-tv movie, Steve sitting in a chair close by. Steve looked over at the sound of the elevator, giving Tony a warm smile, before glancing back over at Clint with a subtle look that Tony recognized, which meant something hilarious would be happening soon. 

Sure enough, just as Tony had finished filling his mug with coffee, Clint’s phone started ringing. Clint jumped, because he was a terrible spy, and dug it out from where it was buried in the couch cushions, frowning at the caller ID. 

“Nat?” A second later Clint was wincing, and Tony thought he heard faint sounds of Russian coming down the line. “What? No… I don’t… What? What coffee? No, I… I didn’t stand you up! I never messaged you! Why would I meet you for coffee in Bed-Stuy?” 

Tony couldn’t help wincing a little in sympathy, because he’d probably be terrified if he’d stood up Nat too. But also, watching Clint flail around, and the way he kept ducking like he was expecting Nat to come flying through the window at him, was a little hilarious. And the way Steve was carefully trying to not pay attention, chewing at his lower lip in a fight to keep from smiling as he looked out towards the window and pretended he wasn’t listening in on Clint’s conversation, made it hard for Tony to really feel that bad about it. 

Five minutes of Clint frantically trying to explain later, and Clint was hanging up the phone, looking decidedly frazzled. “What the fuck,” he breathed, in the tone of voice of a man who had just survived a near death experience. He started scrolling through his phone, frowning down at the screen. 

“Uh… What was that about?” Tony asked, because it looked like Steve was dying to. 

“Nat’s pissed at me for standing her up, but I didn’t even know we were meeting for coffee?” It came out as a frantic question, Clint looking perplexed. “She said I texted her for a coffee date, and that we were supposed to meet at two, but I haven’t talked to her since yesterday.” He shook his head, still staring at his phone. “There’s not even a message here.” 

“Huh,” Steve said, still acting like he was only half interested. “Weird.” 

Clint nodded. “It’s like…” He trailed off, eyes widening in realization. “It’s a prank! I think someone hacked my phone!”

Tony couldn’t help snorting a little. “Using the regular applications on your phone isn’t exactly what you would call hacking,” he pointed out, getting a glare in return. 

,

“Fine,” Clint retorted snottily. “Someone used my phone without my permission. I forgot it here for a couple hours, and…” His eyes grew even wider, and he pointed across the room at Steve. “You! It was you!” 

Steve’s eyebrows shot up. “Me?” he choked out. “Why would it be me?” 

“You were here! You were here when I left, and you were here when I got back this afternoon,” Clint was insisting, voice cracking a little in excitement. “Oh my god, has it been you this entire time??” 

“Uhhh.” 

“Relax, Legolas,” Tony cut in before Steve could give himself away based solely on the guilty expression he was wearing. “It wasn’t Steve. I mean, it’s Steve,” he pointed out, rolling his eyes when Steve looked a little affronted at that. “Come on. And anyway, he was with me most of the afternoon. I had some ideas for a new stealth suit we were trying out.”

Clint blinked at him, visibly deflating. “Really?” 

“Really,” Tony confirmed, finally chancing a glance over at Steve, who was nodding in agreement. 

“Sorry, Clint,” he offered. “I left right after you did.” 

“Aww, pranks,” Clint mumbled, staring down at his phone. 

“Here.” Tony clapped his hands, and Clint him his phone on instinct. “Let me take a look.” He fiddled with the phone for a few minutes, mostly entertaining himself by going through Clint’s browser history. “Yeah, looks like you have some deleted texts. Sent between 3:02 and 3:18.” 

Clint’s eyes narrowed again as Tony tossed him the phone back. “That’s when Sam gets back from the gym,” he breathed, looking like he was already thinking up ways to get him back. “That fucker.” 

Tony smirked to himself. “And on that note, gentlemen, I’ve got some highly volatile experimental stuff to get back to. If I leave it too long there could be chaos… explosions… All the fun stuff. I’ll see you around.” 

He’d half expected Steve to just pretend the entire thing hadn’t happened. Still, he wasn’t exactly surprised when he’d barely made it down the hall before he was jogging after him. 

“Hey Tony! Tony, wait up. I, uh… Wanted to ask you something?” 

“Oh yeah?” Tony turned, arching an eyebrow at him. “What about?” 

Steve met his gaze steadily. “The new stealth suit. I had a few more thoughts.” 

Tony gestured lazily down the hall. “Well then, walk with me Cap.” 

Steve didn’t actually speak until they were safely down in the workshop, fiddling with some of Tony’s spare machinery by the door while Tony made his way over to his latest project. When Steve still hadn’t spoken, Tony looked over to find Steve watching him like Tony was a puzzle for him to figure out. It made Tony shiver a little. 

“You know, don’t you?” 

Tony blinked. “Know what?” he asked, smiling sweetly back at him. 

Steve half laughed and half groaned, sinking into one of the couches and covering his face with his hand. He squinted over at Tony, wry smile in place. “How long?” 

“How long what?” Tony asked, unable to resist teasing Steve when he was getting that adorable, half-embarrassed response. “Oh, how long have I known that you’ve been the menace trolling the entire tower?” He shrugged. “You know, not long. Just a few… months.”

Steve groaned again, flopping back against the couch with a sigh. “It was the paperwork, wasn’t?” 

Tony couldn’t help laughing. “Form BB-107, Rogers? Really? You’re not exactly subtle.” 

Steve was laughing too. “Why didn’t you say anything?” 

Tony shrugged, feeling suddenly flustered, and turned back to the table, bringing up holograms and avoiding Steve’s eye. “Well, you know. It was kind of fun knowing something that no one else had picked up on. And I don’t know. it brightened up my day, sometimes, watching you mess with people. And, uh… It seemed to make you happy, so…” He trailed off awkwardly. 

There was silence for a long minute, Steve not saying anything at all, and Tony could only take it for so long. He chanced a glance back over at Steve to find him watching him with a speculative look, a slow smile crossing his lips. 

“You didn’t say anything because it made me happy?” he asked quietly. 

“Well sure, when you say it like that I sound creepy,” Tony grumbled. 

“No,” Steve said quickly. “No, not creepy. Not creepy at all.” He got up, moving toward him until he was leaning against the table beside Tony, elbows and forearms touching. “That’s… Really nice, actually. Thank you.” 

Tony snorted at that, trying not to smile at the table. “You don’t have to thank me for that, Steve. I know how rough it was for you, with the whole ice capades interlude.” He looked back up at Steve with a wink. “I hereby give you permission to do whatever you need to to make yourself happy.”

Steve rolled his eyes at that, but he looked pleased at the same time, and, feeling pretty pleased himself, Tony turned back to his work again, Steve a steady, reassuring presence at his side. 

“I, uh…” 

Steve sounded hesitant, and Tony looked over at him, finding Steve chewing nervously at his lower lip but with a determined look on his face. 

“I noticed you looking at me sometimes,” Steve admitted. “I thought…” 

“Thought what?” Tony’s eyes caught Steve’s, the two of them staring at each other for a minute too long before Steve shook his head, blowing out a soft breath. 

“God, tell me if I’m reading this wrong,”he breathed, and before Tony could say anything else, Steve’s big hand was curling around the back of his neck. Tony blinked at him, shocked silent, but when Steve leaned in, Tony didn’t hesitate to close the distance between them. It was probably a little too fast, considering the way their lips bumped together, but Steve just made a surprised, happy sound and then they were kissing, and it was even better than Tony had imagined kissing Steve would be. He couldn’t stop his hands from sliding around his back, digging into thick muscles as Steve’s grip tightened on his neck. 

“Fuck,” Tony breathed when they broke apart for air. He pressed his forehead to Steve’s shoulder, body feeling weak and giddy. “Definitely not reading that wrong, Steve, oh my god.” 

Steve laughed, sounding as giddy as Tony felt. His thumb was rubbing distractingly at the back of Tony’s neck. “Good,” he said, voice just a little rough. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.”

Tony grinned, absurdly pleased at that, and lifted his head to meet Steve’s gaze again. He traced his finger along Steve’s lower lip, shivering when Steve’s tongue flicked out against the pad. “Does this mean you want to go out with me?”

He earned an eyeroll with that, but Steve was grinning widely, no trace of exasperation. “Tony, I’ve been daydreaming about going out with your ages. Yes, I definitely want to go out with you.” 

Tony laughed, delighted, and then Steve was kissing him again, tightening his grip on Tony to pull him in close until he was practically sitting in Steve’s lap. Tony wasn’t complaining in the slightest; Steve was an incredible kisser, and being as close as possible sounded like a very good thing - especially with Steve’s fingers pressing bruises into his skin. 

They kissed until they both had to breathe again and pulled back, panting slightly. Steve ginned at him, flicking teasingly at one of the curls falling over Tony’s forehead. “Hi Shellhead,” he said softly, and Tony beamed back at him. 

“Hey yourself, Winghead,” he replied, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of Steve’s lip. He sighed softly. “You know, the one downside here… We’re going have to tell the rest  of the team, and they will be absolutely impossible to live with.” 

Steve chucked ruefully, and then stopped just as abruptly, a glint that Tony recognized all to well coming into his eyes. “I mean, we could tell the rest of the team…”

He trailed off and Tony found himself grinning because God, he loved this giant, childish troll. “Or…?”

Steve beamed at him, trailing his fingers up and down Tony’s spine. “How do you feel about becoming my partner in crime?” 

[honeykngdom]

souvenir for the road pt 2 | fangs x reader

read part one here

WARNINGS: more angst, just angst, forever angst A/N: I wasn’t going to continue this, but @rverdxle gave me such a good idea and inspired the muse, I couldn’t wait to get it done. A part two to the series was seriously needed, and I think a lot of readers were just looking for closure so I hope this provides just that! Italic parts would be pieces that are a flashback, and I’m hoping it isn’t too difficult to read/keep up with. My inbox is always open, and a reminder: sharing is caring. Hit that reblog button! :) 

May 28th, 2018

Riverdale High had come to the unfortunate circumstance where the air conditioning would not be available within the school building for the next two to four days. Students wore the bare minimum clothing requirement that wouldn’t lead to suspension; I sat my bare feet against the cold tiles and sighed in contentment, resting my chin against my palm. I looked over to where Fangs sat, leaning forward on his elbows as his bare arms flexed with his hand movements.

I returned my eyes to the front, watching as Jumian read over her notes. “In other news, with the end of the term coming to an end within the next month, I’d like to give you all a chance to start on your final project now,” She dropped a stack of paper on the first desk in front of her and instructed that each student take a sheet. We were being paired into partners to build a moving rocket or car using the basic principles of physics we had learned over the course of the semester.

My heart nearly dropped into the pit of my stomach when she called my name, followed by his, “You’ll be partnered with Fangs, Trev and Ethel, Chuck, you’ll be with Val ..” I watched as reluctant students gathered their belongings and moved to their respective seats; partners exchanged grim smiles as discussions on which model to build ensued. Fangs remained stoic in his seat, unwilling to move as he stared towards the whiteboard at the front of the room. Admittedly, the move from Southside to Northside hadn’t been easy for anyone. Many of us were struggling to fit in, while others like the Serpents had been discriminated against the moment they stepped foot into Riverdale High’s halls.

I sighed deeply, shoving my notebook into my bag as the bell rang; having not had the chance to talk to him during class, I gripped onto his arm tightly as he exited the class, yanking him to the side before he could wander too far, “I work nights four times a week, and I tutor on weekends. You can meet me after class in the library Mondays and Thursdays.”

Fangs brows pulled together as he shrugged out of my grip, adjusting the strap on his shoulder as he glowered down at me, “What if I’m busy.”

My first reaction was to act offended. What reason could he possibly have to be angry with me? I took a step back and met his eyes with an equally hard gaze, “You need this grade as much as I do.” I reminded him, glancing around at the waiting group just behind him.”So you’ll meet me, or I’ll do it without you.”

It had been nearly half a year since we had spoken to each other. Christmas had come and gone, New Years, his birthday — we hadn’t had a chance to reconcile, or talk much after that night outside the mini-mart. It was easier to avoid him after the merge; he wasn’t in many of my classes, but had branched his circle out from the Serpents. He and Veronica got along well, as well as he and Kevin. I tried not to let it bother me, or take personal offence to the fact he was willing and able to play nice with them, and not me.

I was obviously doing a terrible job. Fangs watched me for a few moments before his features softened and he nodded once, “Okay. I’ll see you at three.” He promised, hand coming up to gently squeeze my arm in reassurance. Confident he would keep his word, I slipped myself out of his grasp and turned on my heels to retreat down the hall towards the gym.

I glanced down at my phone, sighing at the time. 3:09 PM. He was late. I glanced around anxiously, hugging the physics textbook to my chest. The crowd that stuck around after the bell moved slowly through the halls, groups of people bundled together in front of lockers and staircases. I half expected him not to show up, and present a poorly executed excuse during class the next day. Unwilling to give up hope, I pulled the heavy library door open and entered the air-conditioned facility.

I had just past the history section, and was headed towards the bean-bags in the far corner when I noticed one of the chairs occupied; I squinted as I moved closer, shoulders relaxing as I approached, “Hey.” I mused quietly, pulling his attention away from the booklet in front of him.

Fangs looked at his watch quickly, brows lifted in mock, “You’re late.”

“I waited outside for you.” I replied quickly, setting my textbook on the table. “Figured I’d catch you there.”

He looked sideways at me for three seconds before he sighed and flipped open the textbook, fingering for chapter thirteen. “And risk running into Eddie? No thanks.” He laughed once, jotting down notes as he read through the first page, “So they’re playing The Conjuring at the Twilight tonight — wanna go?”

I leaned back into the chair and shot him a dubious glare, “Yeah, right.” I laughed once, pulling my knees to my chest. “I don’t think so.”

Fangs rolled his eyes, leaning forward onto the table to sneer at me, “C’mon, it’s not even that scary.”

I shook my head, “No way — a horror movie on devils night? With you? Of all people?” I asked, pointedly staring at him with raised brows and a tense jaw.

“What’s wrong with me?”

“You’re an asshole.” I countered, stealing one of the chips between his arms, “Remember that time I stayed the night, and you forced me to watch Scream?”

“Oh my god,” He groaned, dropping his head onto the table, “That was four years ago!” He hissed, narrowing his eyes accusingly in my direction.

“You chased me around the WalMart in a mask for half an hour!” I growled, shoving his shoulders roughly when he started to laugh, “I’m still traumatized!”

“Sh!” We glanced up to where the librarian leaned around the corner of the bookcases; face pulled together tightly as she looked between the two of us. I mouthed an apology, hoping I appeared sincere before I returned my attention to my friend.

Fangs propped his chin on his knuckles, watching me carefully for a moment before he sighed, “C’mon. It’s cherry coke and Twizzlers, and me — there’s no better combination in Riverdale.” He stated matter-o-factly, adding a smug smile when I rolled my eyes. “Mom said I could use the truck, we can fill it with hundreds of pillows and blankets and sneak in food. It’ll be fun.” He promised, trying to offer the most sincere smile he could manage. Reluctantly, I nodded. This prompted Fangs to lift his arms in triumph.

I quickly pulled his arms down, pressing a finger to my mouth in a ‘shushing’ motion as the librarian leaned back in her seat to shoot a glare at us from over her glasses. “Under the condition, you can prep me for this test.” I added quickly, pulling the textbook closer to me. “I still can’t believe you talked me into taking science with you.”

He hooked his fingers under my chair, dragging me forward. I was slightly overwhelmed with the immediate inhale of his scent, his warm breath saturating my lips as he tugged the corner of his mouth up in a smile. “Better get started then.”

I looked around the room once the door shut behind me; most of the lights had been shut off to help mediate the hot atmosphere. I wandered around the computers, eyes scanning along the open spaces occupied by stragglers. It was silent for the most part, save for the fans that had been set up around different areas of the library to keep it as cool as possible.

I couldn’t help the smile that graced my features when I turned down the row to folklore and found Fangs sitting at the end, back pressed against the wall. I dropped my bag next to him, folding my legs beneath me as I fell to the floor, “You’re late.” He accused, fixing his gaze on mine as I settled in next to him.

“I was waiting outside for you.” I replied with a grin.

June 17th, 2018

My fingers worked quickly against the keyboard, mouth wrapped around the straw of my milkshake. I hadn’t stopped drinking since Pop had put it down; my stomach had been rolling all morning anxiously. Being the perfectionist I was, I strived to have the oral presentation complete — though it wasn’t due until the end of next week. It was Sunday, and I had extended an olive branch to Fangs hoping he might join me for brunch and go over the presentation I had started pulling together. 

Every so often, I would pull away from my laptop and food to glance at my phone. We had met only a few times outside of class, most of which took place in the library after hours. Unfortunately, Sweet Pea or Kevin always managed to stumble across us and steal him away, so I had been left to my own devices on a few occasions.

There had been a few times I had thought about telling Jumian about his lack of initiative, but figured what good that did. It would only make him hate me more, I thought wearily. 

It already hurt enough thinking about how my own best friend had outgrown me.

I had refilled my milkshake twice and ordered another round of chocolate chip pancakes with a side of bacon when the front bell rang and pulled my attention away from the slow drizzle of the syrup.

He slipped into the booth, shaking the excess water from his hat off onto me from his side with a laugh. I whined in protest, kicking his leg under the table as he shrugged out of his jacket and rolled up his sleeves, “It’s been raining for four days.” He grumbled, shoving his wet coat into the corner of the booth. “I’m over it. I’m cold, I’m grumpy, I’m wet.”

I watched him pick up the menu and survey it; I stifled a laugh. As if he would actually order something other than chicken waffles. “I hear the blueberry pancakes are really good.” I mused.

“Y’know, I’m not really hungry.” He admitted with a grimace, leaning forward onto the table. I watched him closely, afraid to ask about why he wanted to push Sunday brunch up to Sunday breakfast. Sensing my apprehension, he looked up from under his lashes and growled to himself, hanging his head in a sort of defeat, “What?”

“What’s with you, dude?” I asked quietly, poking his forearm with my fork. He hissed in response. “You’re not eating, you barely look like you’ve slept in the last two fucking weeks.”

“What’s your point?”

I deadpanned, eyes narrowing in frustration, “Are you fuckin’ kidding me? What’s my point?” I growled, leaning forward, “It’s not a good look, Fogarty. You’re a damn mess, and it’s one call for social services to be on your front doorstep looking for your ma.”

Fangs glared at me from his side of the table, nostrils flaring and jaw tense under pressure. His eyes surveyed me now, working quickly across my features before his face began to soften and his shoulders dropped their defense. “Sir Douchebag is starting to get a little too loud with his anger,” He shot a pointed look in my direction, voice hushed, “If you get what I mean.”

I knotted my brows, “Slamming doors again?”

He nodded once, “Punching through drywall, smashing dishes.” His eyes had drifted to the window, eyes watching the rain pelt down from the heavens mercilessly. “I can’t be there when that shit happens, baby.” His voice had begun to quake, cheeks deepening into a dark pink as his eyes glossed over, “Because it’s gonna take one finger. One push, one step towards her, and I’m gonna lose it on him.”

“Hey,” I reached forward to wrap my hand around his, enveloping mine around his tight fist in reassurance, “Normal reaction, Fogarty. So Sir Douchebag needs to go — what’s the game plan?”

Fangs took a few moments to compose himself. He seemed so distracted, so out of his own head he could barely focus long enough to string together coherent sentences. I had managed to order breakfast for the pair of us (despite his lack of appetite, I still figured he’d appreciate the gesture), and was nearly finished when his head lifted from the table and he rubbed his eyes tiredly.

“So,” I started again, this time slowly. “What’s the plan?” I repeated, this time a little firmer, hoping to prompt a response.

I got a response, but it wasn’t the one I had been expecting. “I’m joining the Serpents.” My limbs froze midchew, staring at him in disbelief, and then .. anger? Fear? He wouldn’t meet my eyes. Instead, he had the heels of his palms pressing his eyes tightly, jaw tight and working under the skin.

“Just like that?” I asked quietly, leaning back in my seat in awe. “What gives you the impression that’s the right option?”

“It’s my only option.” He retorted angrily, bringing his hands up to his hair.

I shook my head, folding my arms, “Like fuck it is. You think you’re gonna walk around chanting ‘hiss hiss, motherfuckers’ for a few weeks and they’re gonna dispose of his dead fucking body if you ever get the opportunity to lay your hands on him?” I hissed venomously, “Is this before or after your mother ends up with a split lip?”

“You don’t think I haven’t thought about everything?” He asked, almost seemed desperate, “You think she wants her son to fucking join a gang? Be like his dad?”

“There are things you can do.” I emphasized the words by leaning forward to grab his hands again, linking my fingers through his, “Talk to her, voice your opinion. Let her know you’re concerned, Fangs, she loves you.”

He squeezed my hands tightly dropping his head down to rest his forehead against our linked fingers before he sat up and laughed, “You don’t think I haven’t tried? Most of our income is from him.” Fangs looked as though he were at a complete loss, unsure of what else he could do with himself. I pressed my eyes shut, rubbing my thumbs over his, “I like this a lot less than you do.” He added. “But I’ll do what I gotta do to keep my girls safe.”

“Girls?” I asked, brows pulling together in confusion.

“Ma will always be my number one girl,” He chuckled, leaning forward to rest on his elbows and smile, “And you’ll always be my baby.” His shrug had implied he meant it to be a nonchalant statement, but sincerity laced his words.

Fangs slipped out of his soaking leather, hanging it on the hook just outside the booth. His knitted sweater clung to all the well-defined muscles of his arms and chest with his gold chain just slightly visible around his neckline; he pulled his sleeves up to his elbows, and turned the computer so he could see the screen, “How’s it coming?” He asked, glancing down at all of the empty plates between us. “Still a stress eater, I see.” He laughed, beginning to stack the sticky plates on top of one another.

I wiped my mouth with my napkin, reaching for my chocolate shake as I chewed the remainder of my pancake. “It’s a sickness.” I complained, pushing the last of the bacon away; he happily reached in and picked at the last few slices.

June 28th, 2018

He leaned forward, balancing on his ankles as he set up the rocket launcher. While I had been spending all my time reading, writing and planning the presentation portion of our final, I had forgotten about the actual mechanical demonstration we had to have prepared. Luckily for me, Fangs had a knack for making things go BOOM!

“Are you sure this is gonna work?” I asked for the fourth time; he looked over his shoulder at me, eyes set into another cold glare before he returned to fiddling with the wires he had linked to his mounting station.

“It’ll work.” He stated — I couldn’t tell if he were trying to convince himself or me. “Okay, so when I say go, you’ll flick the switch, then hit the big red button.”

“So you mean the blue one.” I joked, looking out at the lake. Fangs had dragged me back out to the bridge we had gotten drunk last summer.

He stood slowly, ripping the remote from my hand as he joined me by his bike, “I’ll just do it.” He grumbled, shoving me with his hips so he could sit lean comfortably beside me. The warm summer breeze invited us out in our jean shorts and thin tank tops, and sneakers kicked off to the side. In the dim light of the burnt out lamp post above us, I could just make out the thin sheen of sweat that drenched the back of his neck and chest. Likewise, I could feel the heat pooling on my lower back and chest.

“One,” I counted, looking out at the river that quietly drifted beneath us.

“Two.” He continued, bringing his eyes to look at me, the corner of his mouth pulled up in a half smile.

He flicked the switch, and I leaned over and rested my thumb above the red button, “Three.” I said, pressing down.

His fingers gripped onto my wrist, pulling the bottle down to his level as he rolled onto his side and propped his head up on his knuckles, “I had to stick my hand into a glass case with a rattlesnake.” 

I looked down at him and leaned back, confused, “Why?”

“I don’t know.” He admitted quietly, tilting his head back as he took another sip of the alcohol. “No fear or some bullshit like that.”

We sat in silence; Fangs finished off the remainder of our red bulls and then stood on his feet, dusting his hands off on his dark denim. He held his hands out to me, encouraging to take hold. “What are you doing?” I asked with a groan as I rose from the warm pavement.

“Just trust me.” He said in a hushed tone, holding his finger up as he searched through his phone library. The music broke the silence of the night; he shoved it back into his pocket, then brought his hands forward to grip me and pull me into his body. “Trust me.” He encouraged again, snaking his hands down to my hips to manipulate them against his, working at his tempo. Our waists curved together as one, feet in time, bodies pressed tightly together.

My mouth fell open around a series of laughs, he then dipped me back and swung me around, causing my hair to fall out of its bun. “Now look what you did.” I grumbled, hurriedly moving to fix my hair. “You’ve released the monster.”

Fangs scoffed, bringing his hands up to rest on either side of my face, “My girl’s never looked more beautiful.”

The words lit a fire along my veins, waking a part of me I usually preferred to keep dormant. Especially in the presence of Fangs. I’d spent the last four years falling head over feels (stupidly) in love with the school’s resident pretty boy. How he managed to tolerate me as a best friend was beyond me. I tried not to dig too deeply into those feelings, instead choosing to enjoy his presence. “You can’t be saying things like that.” I sighed, bringing my hands down to rest around his belt loops. “You’ll give someone the wrong impression.”

“What kind of impression am I giving them?” He asked quietly, lips at my ear, touching the shell. A shiver rolled anxiously down my spine as his fingers gripped tightly around my dampened strands, his opposite hand curving along my body, “That I might actually recognize that my best friend is a total babe?”

“Do not.” I laughed, pulling away from his frame a few inches before he yanked on my hips and pulled me into him again. “That’s a load of shit, and you know it.” I reasoned, draping my arms around his neck, nails tickling the back of his head.

“Is it?” He asked.

I watched him carefully for a few moments, “You’re drunk.” I whispered, noting the way his eyes darted between my eyes and lips. But I knew I wouldn’t stop him. And he knew I wanted it. So in the next moment when he leaned forward to capture my lips with his, my arms tightened around his neck, holding him closer. The sweet taste of the Jäger lingered on his tongue, eliciting a quiet moan from my throat. I felt his mouth curve into a smile against mine.

I shared my first kiss with Fangs Fogarty, and it didn’t end there. We shared many firsts that night, and then agreed to continue the firsts as we approached junior year. What we were remained unknown and unspoken, and we just simply enjoyed familiarizing ourselves with each others bodies.

The rocket launched, smoke blowing from its rear as he shot into the air over the river, seeming to get lost in the dark sky. Sometime shortly later, we heard its body hit the water. We erupted into a chorus of cheers, jumping away from each other in triumph, “Holy shit!” He laughed, ducking low to grab my thighs, “I can’t believe that worked!”

I squealed as I wrapped my legs around his torso, pumping one fist into the air. “You fucking genius!” I beamed, leaning forward to press my mouth against his forehead in pride; our bodies froze instantly. 

Neither of us able to react, breathing shallow and uneven as we slowly melted away from each other. I fixed my hair behind my ears and cleared my throat, turning to stagger away from his frame slowly. “Sorry.” I mumbled, unwilling to meet his eyes.

He didn’t respond right away, and usually, that would have bothered me. Silence and uncertainty seemed to kill me the most with him, and that only appeared to happen now that he was apart of this whole other world. And I thought about caving, every day. Of joining him, just to see him. To be with him. If that were even something he was still interested in.

Judging by the staggering silence between us, I leaned more towards the latter. My arms gripped onto the railing of the bridge, and I leaned forward and over, watching the water move over the stones and through the weeds. I felt his hands on my back, pulling a sigh from me. “It’s not how it used to be.” He mused gently, wrapping a comforting arm around my chest. “It’s better this way.”

I let my eyes slip shut, bringing my hands up to grip onto his forearm tightly as I rested back against his frame. Memories of that first summer rendezvous played through my mind as we stood there, watching the river move gently into the night. If it was quite enough, I swear I could still hear the music from his phone, or the quiet chorus of our moans. Instead of dreading the inevitable, I spun and gripped myself tightly onto his frame, locking my hands together around his back.

Just for one night.

Just a souvenir for the road.