#and it starts off as like oh what if we did a weeklong game of manhunt/assassin to pass the time between academic stuff ^_^

[cidnangarlond]

wanting to write a story out of a dream I had but it's really just american "battle royale"

[janicho88]

In This Together Part 3

 Pairing- Dean x Wife!Reader

Word count- 5821

Summary-Find out what these two have been up to for the last year. What obstacles are thrown at these two now?  

Warnings- Possible sick reader, hospital/doctors, little language, little angst, fluff, implied smut, talk of possible infertility, pregnancy.

A/N-This is the third part of my first fic.  It started as a oneshot but turned into more.  The first part of this story was written, because I needed someone like Dean at the time. This miniseries I guess you can call it, is very personal to me.  I’ve lived a majority of the first two parts. If you’ve read it you can see why I wanted someone like Dean to lean on.  In this part I wanted to give the reader something I don’t know if I’ll ever have. Thank you for reading! Pictures found on google.

Part 1     Part 2

 11 months later August 2021

Slowly opening your eyes back up, you were staring out the window of your fourth-floor hospital room. This time your window looked over the street below, every time you were on this floor you had a different view. Dean was still sitting in the bed next to you, you leaned your head on his shoulder as you thought back on the last year and everything that had happened.    

October 2020 came around and your doctor let you go off your birth control.  He knew you and Dean were trying, or more not trying to stop anything from happening.  You knew nothing would happen right away and didn’t want to get your hopes up, you were also trying to stay positive that nothing was going to go wrong with you again. You were due a win.  

You had been back to work for about four months now, there were still some things you were trying to get used to at the new store.  Because of the two surgeries you could wear down easily and were mostly five days a week trying to get up to six. You had already rearranged the office and some of the shelves in the kitchen area to make it more efficient, but some of your employees kept moving things on you so you had to redo them. It would take a good year for your foot to be back to normal which was February, but it would never be pain free. As long as it was better than before you were happy.

Halloween was coming close and Sam and Jess invited you over to their house again.  Since you and Dean didn’t have any other plans you decided to join them along with Dean’s parents.  Jake’s costume this year was an adorably fierce lion.

 With things still crazy in the world and covid still around there weren’t many trick or treaters. Unfortunately, this meant more candy for Dean.  Being a Saturday night Dean didn’t have to work the next morning. and you went in later on Sundays, so you stayed for a while.  After Jake went to bed the guys turned on the, All Saint’s Day, movies Dean loves.  They weren’t exactly your favorite so at least he could try and drag Sam into his madness this way.  Dean was enjoying his brother being a bit more into Halloween now that he had Jake around.   You bid them goodnight just before midnight and took your sugar high husband home, he wouldn’t be sleeping for a while.  

Thanksgiving was late again this year, so your parents had decided like last year to do their Christmas party the week before Thanksgiving again. Even though you were working less this year you somehow got distracted and got to planning late.  This meant the first two and half weeks of the month would be filled with baking.  The nice thing about the store you took over was the regular oven it had so you could do some of it there.  Although first things first, you had to assemble your as baking list.  The night after Halloween you were sitting on the couch with the Hallmark Channel playing its Countdown to Christmas. Computer in front of you with Pinterest pulled up.  Dean walked in from the kitchen during a commercial.

“Hey Sweetheart, what are you up to?  Anything good on?”

“Nine Lives of Christmas, is on. I’m looking..”

“No, Seriously Y/N? It’s the day after Halloween, and you’re watching Christmas movies?”

You turned and glared at him. “One, I have been watching Christmas movies whenever you weren’t around for the last week.  Two, you like this one so hush.  The guy is a fireman, your missed profession. Three, I’m trying to get into the Christmas mindset to put together my baking list.”

“Oh great, it’s that time of the year again. What crazy ideas are you going to come up with this year, actually wait, let me grab a beer first.”

You laughed as he walked back to the kitchen.  Dean might give you a hard time with the Christmas crazy baking list you come up with, but you also know he very much enjoys the sweets you bake.  You two had been dating since your freshman year of college and he was always your official taste tester.  Although anything pie related was his favorite.

“I think I’m going to just do round sugar cookies again, while I was off after surgery, I watched a cookie decorating class that showed how to paint the frosting with food coloring and alcohol.”

“That sounds like a mess,” you threw a pillow at him. “I mean great Sweetheart, I’m sure they will be amazing.”

“Keep talking Winchester, see how big a hole you can dig.  Here’s a recipe for mini pie like cookies, I co”

“Yes!”

“..uld try. Okay, adding to the list      https://www.pinterest.com/pin/518406607102183606/

You were bound and determined one year you would get these cupcakes done; just not sure this year would be it. https://www.pinterest.com/pin/174584923040748115/

“How about Christmas Cheesecake Cookies?”  You showed Dean the picture and this time he glared you.   https://www.pinterest.com/pin/174584923040791076/

“Do you remember the red and green Krinkle Cookies you did last year?  Your hands were dyed red and green and so was everything you touched while rolling them.  I’m voting no more dyed cookie dough.”

“Fine spoilsport.”

“How about you put the computer away and come to bed with me.”

“You’re heading to bed already it’s only, oh.  Be right there Babe,” quickly shutting everything off you chased after your husband to the bedroom.

The party was a little smaller this year, some people still weren’t all for getting together with people yet.  It was mostly family and some close friends.  Honestly, you preferred it that way, less entertaining you and your mom had to do, and the more you could relax and enjoy the night.   The best part about having this early, was your baking was now done, you had even gotten Dean to get the decorations out and most of the house was done.  You enjoyed cuddling on the couch with the Christmas lights glowing around you.  

Thanksgiving was once again split between both of your families.  You went to your dad’s mom for a late lunch and spent time with your family. Then headed over to John and Mary’s for well, for Dean dinner, you were still full, so you just picked at a few things.  After cleaning you ladies joined the guys in the living room where they were watching the game and supposed to be keeping an eye on Jake.  You and Jess talked sales you saw in the ads and tried to get gifts ideas out of Mary for her and John.  Like your mom, she wasn’t very helpful and just said you guys didn’t have to get them anything.  Usually you and your mom would hit a few stores tonight, but nothing was really open with everything going on.  The two of you had planned for the next day to get a few things before you both headed for work. It was nice to spend time with just your mom anyways.

Every year December seems to fly by, it was the second week now and you had been feeling a bit off, and more tired than usual.  According to Dean you had become a bit moody too. Which of course you snapped at him when he mentioned that. He’d been watching his step after that. One morning you were taking care of the dogs when you felt sick and had to run to the restroom.  You didn’t go into work that day, since you didn’t want to get anyone else sick, but felt fine as the day went on.  The next day at work you walked into the cooler and for some reason the dough smelled strong to you and you had to walk back out and get some fresh air.  You attributed it to yesterday’s stomachache.  Then the burping started again. Donna heard you at work and came over.

“What’s going on lady?”

“Something’s off, I haven’t been feeling well, I started throwing up and the burping restarted.”

“You know what you need to do right?”

“I know, but really Donna, can’t I catch a break.  I don’t know how Dean is going to take it if the doctor tells me there is another problem, I don’t know how I’m going to take it.”

“Okay, well before we send you into the operating room again, maybe you should see what the doctor has to say first.”

“That would be the logical thing to do, I prefer worst case scenario.”

That night when you got home from work you told Dean what was going on and when you called your doctor’s office, they actually had an opening on Friday and could get you in then. Dean was unable to go since Benny would be leaving that morning for a weeklong trip to see his wife’s family for an early Christmas.

The day of your appointment arrived, the nurse, Julie that took you back was your cousin’s friend who first introduced you to this doctor.  You two chatted on your way back to the room.  When you got to the room, she asked what was going on and when your last period was.  You explained your symptoms and how you were worried about another mass or fibroid. It had been over a month since your last, but you hadn’t been regular since your surgery and going off birth control. They took a blood and urine sample to send for tests before you saw the doctor.  The doctor pushed near your uterus to see if he could feel any bumps around there. He wanted you to get an ultrasound, so that was scheduled for Monday, your labs would be done then also.

It was a quiet weekend for you and Dean.  Monday rolled around and your appointment was that afternoon.  Dean was supposed to meet you at the hospital, where the doctor’s office was located, but was stuck in a meeting with a new supplier.  Since you were there for an ultrasound you were just supposed to see the tech who would do the test, but Julie was the one who came and got you.  She took you back to the ultrasound room.  When you were back, she told you the test results came back.  You left the doctor’s office in a bit of shock after scheduling your next appointment.  As you passed the mall on the way home you decided to make a quick stop.

That night during dinner Dean asked you what the doctor had to say.  When he called you after your appointment you said you were fine and would talk to him at home you didn’t want to discuss it over the phone.

“I’m going to need follow up appointments for the next few months, but everything is good.”

“If it’s good why do you need follow ups, what aren’t you telling me?”

You got up and went to get the package you picked up from the mall, handing it to Dean you sat back down.  He looked at you and back to the wrapped box.

“Open it.”

Ripping open the paper he looked at the open back and back to you.  “Wait, what?  Really?”

“Yes!”

You told Dean what happened at your appointment.  The results came back, and you were pregnant. Because of your history though, the doctor still wanted an ultrasound just to make sure there wasn’t a fibroid or a mass there.  They didn’t find any problems; the tech could just make out the embryonic sac the baby would be growing in.  They figured you were around 5 weeks, and due around August 14th.  Dean jumped up and grabbed you in his arms, tears were gathering in his eyes, he was so happy.

Later that night you were laying with Dean on the couch and he was going through his phone.

“Hey, the baby is about the size of an apple seed right now.  An apple seed, that’s smaller than my fingernail!”

You looked over at his phone and saw he was going through baby sites.  “Yes, that is tiny.”

“I can’t wait to see them in the activity walker car, they are going to love it like Jake does.”

“Dean, honey, you know we still have like 8 months till the baby is here, and then they aren’t going to be able to use that right away, right?”

“Yeah, well they still will one day.” He learned closer to your stomach, “right little on, can’t wait to play in the car walker daddy got you.”  You had tears in your eyes watching Dean talk to your baby, you had been so afraid this day would never come.

Wiping your eyes, “I thought you said you bought that for Jake?”  Knowing that was his excuse at the time, hoping one day it would by your child playing in it.

“Well, I, um,”

“It’s okay Dean, I get it.”

Sitting in the hospital bed you looked down at the little one in your arms, and still couldn’t believe how lucky you and Dean were to be here. Your mind went back to last year’s Holidays, and what happened after you found out you were pregnant.

The two of you debated on telling anyone about the baby yet, since it was early.  As excited as Dean was you didn’t know how long he could keep the secret.  You would only be seven weeks along at Christmas but decided to tell everyone Christmas Eve at your parents.  You were going to tell them like you told Dean.  You found some grandparent gifts for them to open. Since Sam had Jake it would be John and Mary’s second grandchild, but your parents first.

While playing games after dinner on Christmas Eve, you and Dean rigged a team game that had your parents all winning.  Handing each of them the gifts you picked up Dean grabbed the camera to record their reactions. It took a minute before it sank in, but everyone was so excited for you.  Mary and your mom rushed over to hug you while John and your dad congratulated Dean. The rest of the family joined in after the grandparents.

“The baby is the size of a blueberry now.” Dean proudly told everyone.

The two of you decided to have a quiet New Year’s Eve in.  Your parents, Dean’s along with Sam, Jess, and Jake came over for dinner, and games. The guys ended up in the basement watching some competition, while you ladies were watching the New Year’s countdown and talking babies.  On a trip upstairs Dean heard the conversation and informed everyone that the baby was now raspberry sized.

You had your 11-week ultrasound the Friday before Dean’s birthday.  You scheduled it then because you thought it would be an early birthday treat for him getting to see the baby.  They were going to confirm your due date, and there was a chance you would be able to hear the baby’s heartbeat.  Dean looked over at you with a smile when you were walking up and threw his arm around your waist.

“What?”

“You’re starting to show, I can’t wait till I can feel him kick.”

“Remind me when this kid is playing soccer in me, how happy you are about it then.”

He put his arm around your waist as you walked. “Yeah, yeah, come on I can’t wait to see our little prune.”

“I can’t wait till next week, and we’re on a different food.”

Dean was so excited he could barely sit still in the office.  They called you back and got you settled in the room before the tech came back to start.  She started and was running the wand over your stomach when she found the baby and pointed him out to you.  Dean grabbed your hand.

“Wow, Sweetheart, that’s our little one.”

“Yeah.”  You both had tears in your eyes.  

The tech turned on the volume so you could hear the heartbeat.  “There it is, wait a minute.” She was moving the wand again.

“What’s going on?” You worriedly asked.

“There’s another heartbeat.  Here, we have a shy one.”

Looking at the screen you saw another tiny dot.

“Wait, are you saying?”  You looked over at Dean and he was looking at the screen it hadn’t hit him yet.

“Congrats, you’re having twins!”

“Wwwhat?” Dean finally tuned into the conversation.

“Happy Birthday weekend dad, you’re getting two babies!” Dean’s look of shock wasn’t one you would be forgetting anytime soon.

Leaving the doctor’s office, you both were a mix of shock, nerves and excitement.  It was hard to tell which one was winning out right now.  You had the family over to the house for Dean’s birthday on Sunday and you let him share the news with everyone.  You also decided it was time to tell the rest of your friends.

You moved your gaze from the tiny bundle in your arms to Dean staring down at the tiny swaddled baby in his.  Someone had Daddy completely wrapped around his finger.  Sensing you watching him he looked up with a smile on his face. “Sweetheart, I can’t believe our babies are finally here, I can actually hold them and see them when I talk.  You did so good,” he told you leaning over to kiss you.  Dean had been constantly talking to the babies and trying to feel them kick before they were born.  Ever since you got back to your room and the twins were brought in, he had one in his arms at all times, relishing in the fact he now could.  

Dean wanted to go all out for Valentine’s Day this year.  He said it was the last one with just the two of you, and last year it had been a week after your first surgery, so you just stayed home.  Thankfully, you had a dress that had been fairly lose on you before, so you didn’t have to go find something new.  Dean had reservations at a nice restaurant in town, where you enjoyed each other’s company and the food.  You were beat by the end of dinner and headed home to cuddle on the couch.  Dean was rubbing your stomach and talking to the babies while you watched a movie, you were running your hand through his hair.  

“How are my babies doing tonight? Did you enjoy the nice dinner I took your mommy to?  I can’t wait till I can meet you guys. A few more months, you have some growing to do.  You guys are 14 weeks, that means you’re as big as lemons now.  You would fit in the palm of my hand.”

The next month went by fairly quickly, both you and Dean busy with work.  There were things around the house that would need to be done to get ready for the birth of the twins.  It seemed like Dean was quickly lessoning what we would let you do without help so you wanted to get started soon before he had you completely sidelined. You had decided to turn your guest room into the nursery and move the spare bed into the office neither of you really used.  You cleaned out some of the lighter things because you knew Dean would freak out on you if you moved anything heavy.  One night you went through Pinterest looking for different ideas for the nursery before you rushed ahead with anything.

March 16th was your 6th wedding anniversary; you suggested a quiet night at home. Dean vetoed that since you stayed home last year, again because of you.  He booked you a weekend stay at a bed and breakfast a little over an hour away near the beach.  Being March, it was too cold to get in the water, but you spent time exploring the quaint little town and its cute shops. While you were walking the beach at sunset your first night you stopped to admire the view and Dean stood behind you wrapping his arms around your stomach.

“I love you so much, Sweetheart.”

“I love you too, Babe. Thank you for doing this.”

“You know I would do anything for you.”

“I know, you have always been so good to me, and you’re going to be such an amazing dad.  These babies are lucky to have you.”

“I love spending time just the two of us, but I can’t wait to meet these sweet potatoes.”

“Really Dean?”

“What that’s what the website says for 18 weeks.”

The rest of the weekend went very well, the highlight would have to be the last walk on the beach you and Dean took before you headed home. When you had stopped and were looking out over the water you felt a flutter in your stomach, and a few minutes later another faint one.  That’s when you realized it was the babies moving.  You told Dean and he kept moving his hand around to try and feel it too but was unable.  He was still excited because it meant he would be able to soon.

Easter was the first weekend in April, you split your time between your two families.  Sam and Jess hosted this year. While you and Mary kept Jake busy the guys hid Easter eggs around the yard for him to try and find. There were only about ten, but it still took him a little while. He was more interested in playing with the colorful plastic egg then finding the next one.  Dean stood beside you while Jess was helping Jake. His hand was on your stomach when he suddenly pulled it back.

“What was, wait was that?”

“Yeah, that was one of the babies kicking.”

“So awesome! I can’t wait till we are out there helping ours find eggs, take their first steps, holding them.”

“I think your order was a little backwards, but I know how you feel, Dean.”

You had a surprise to share with both of your families. A few days earlier you had gone for you third ultrasound. Since you already had the surprise of twins you decided to find out the genders.  While you were sitting around talking after dinner you let Dean tell his family, you had told your earlier in the day.  Jake was sitting in his lap when he started talking.

“Hey buddy, do you know how big your cousins are now?”  Jake didn’t understand and just looked at his uncle.  “They are the size of pomegranates.”

“Dean, Babe, he’s not even two yet, he doesn’t know what that is.”

“He’s Sam’s kid. Sam eats all kids of healthy shi.. stuff. I’m sure he has those around the house.”  Sam just shook his head and glared at his brother.

“Do you think you want a girl or boy cousin to play with?”

Mary was looking between the two of wondering if this conversation was going where she thought. Jake never answered Dean no matter what he did to try and pull something out of him.

“How about one of each, what do you think about that?”

“Is that one you’re having?”  Mary asked not being able to wait for any more of Dean’s game.

“Yep, we are having a boy and a girl.” Dean grinned proudly.

“Oh man,” Sam started, “a little girl is going to have you so wrapped around her finger.”  They all congratulated you and Dean once more.

It was the second weekend in May and you really needed to get going on finishing the nursery or starting it.  Who would have thought the hardest part was going to be picking a theme you and Dean could both agree on.

“Come on Y/N, what’s wrong with that idea?”

“Dean, I’m not letting your obsession with scaring your brother using clowns scar our children with a clown themed nursery. Not going to happen Winchester.”  The mobile and matching blanket he found even creeped you out a little. 

“How about race cars? No, I got it!  Let’s paint Baby on a wall!”

“Um, nice thought. We were trying to keep it neutral remember?  How about when they get older, and this little guy can appreciate cars almost as much as his daddy, you can do a car theme.  Who exactly is going to paint Baby, or did you suddenly become Picasso?”

“I didn’t get to who was going to paint it yet in my planning. Fine we can do cars down the road.  Where are your ideas?”  

“You have already shot them down, you didn’t want to paint the chevron lines, the silver and blue was to girly.” You just shook your head and went back to looking.  This was going just as well as picking out names.

Dean looked over at what you had pulled up. “I like that color.”

“Seriously?”

“What, I can’t like that?”

“No, I was asking do you seriously like it, because I do too?”  

“Well we like it, but how about my little rutabagas?”

“Really Dean?  Do you even know what that is?”  mumbling something he turned back to his phone; you wouldn’t be surprised if he was looking up rutabagas. On the plus side you finally had the nursery plans worked out.

Jess, Mary and your mom threw you a baby shower the first weekend in June you were about 30 weeks now.  They had the party at your parent’s house, this worked out nice for you since you lived closest to them and it would be easy to take things home.  Dean and the guys could hang out at your house since they didn’t want to attend the party the whole time.  Jake was almost 2 and very interested in the presents on the table. You all had to keep him from trying to climb up there.  It was a great couple hours playing games and spending time with family and friends. Babies Winchester were spoiled greatly!

Dean did come down toward the end, you’re pretty sure though he just wanted food.  You excitedly showed him the wonderful gifts people gave the babies and you.  He eagerly described the nursery, told people how fast the baby was growing, and how they were now as big as cucumbers.    

Your birthday was a few weeks later, and at 32 weeks you weren’t up to doing much for it. Your families came over to the house for dinner.  Your parents and Mary had been around and helped with different projects in the nursery. John, Sam, Jess and your brother on the other hand hadn’t been over in a while, so they had not seen the nursey.  Dean was eager to show them all

“This is where my little squashes will sleep.”

Jess looked at Dean and laughed, “It’s cute that you think they are going to sleep Dean.”

The majority of the nursery was done now.  You had gone with the soft aqua color you both liked, along with white furniture and trim.  You had gone with light grey and white chevron curtains and pillows to accent it, along with soft grey carpet.

The Winchester’s always did a big 4th of July BBQ, this year was no exception.  Ever since Sam and Jess got married you rotated hosting it between the three of you.  This year should have been yours and Deans’ but since you were 34 weeks along Mary graciously told you they would have it.  The doctor had told you to really start taking things easier, so you were trying not to overdo it.  Mary didn’t let you help much in getting ready for the party, but you did busy yourself in the kitchen at home making a few desserts and Dean’s favorite pasta salad. You were thankful for them taking over you hadn’t been getting much sleep and wouldn’t have had the energy to get everything done you would have wanted.

Dean was manning the grill talking with Sam, Cass, and Benny when you walked over to join him.  You could hear him talking as you got closer.

“Right now they are about the size of butternut squash, although they could be slightly smaller cause it’s twins.”

“I could have sworn you called them squash a few weeks ago, or was that a nickname for them?” Sam asked his brother.

“A few weeks ago, they were squash, now they are butternut squash.”

“I wasn’t aware there were different squashes,” Benny added.

“You know Dean for someone with an aversion to vegetables I’m surprised by the number of them you have called your kids.” Sam teased his brother with a laugh.

“What will they be when they are born,” Cas asked.

“Babies, Cas, they will be babies.” Dean shook his head at his brother and friends catching sight of you waddling over.  “And there is my beautiful wife, and mom to be.”  Dean leaned down and gave you a kiss while his hand went to your stomach.

Night came and you were heading back to you seat next to Dean to watch the fireworks.  When the first ones lit up the sky you could feel both babies start to kick, apparently, they were as big of fans as their dad. Dean moved you around on the bench so he was sitting behind you and could have his arms around you. When he felt the babies kick, he moved his hands around and started talking to them calming them right down.  The last few weeks whenever they were really active at night Dean’s touch and voice were the only thing that would get them to settle down so you could get a little sleep.

They figured your due date was around August 14th, but since you were having twins, they would most likely be early. Because of your previous surgeries the doctor wanted you to have a C-section to avoid any issues.  It wasn’t what you really wanted, but it was what was best.  They scheduled that tentatively for Friday August 7th unless the babies had other plans.   Which they did.  You were laying on the couch Monday morning with some heat on your back to help with the pain you were having while Dean was getting ready for work. Just before Dean walked out you started to feel some cramping. You were fairly certain you were in labor now.  Dean actually took it much calmer than you thought he would. He called the doctor’s office while you went to shower and change.  When you came back, he had both you bag and the babies in the car, and called Benny to tell him he would need to handle the shop today.

Once you go to the hospital things were a bit of a blur. They checked you in, took you to a room to exam you and prep for surgery.  Dean disappeared at one point and came back dressed in scrubs.  Before you knew it, they were taking you back to the operating room Dean right beside you the whole time.  

“It’s time to meet our pumpkins Sweetheart.”

You just looked over to him and laughed.

“It’s the last time I can say that.”

“I know Dean let’s go meet our pumpkins.”  Dean smiled widely at you as you headed down the hall.

Dean was holding your hand and trying to keep you calm when the doctor asked if he wanted to cut the umbilical cord.  He did and came back to standing next to you with tears in his eyes as he watched a nurse take your screaming son.  The doctor went back to work to get your little girl and Dean once again cut the cord. He was pushed out of the way quickly because she wasn’t breathing.  The nurse who brought your son over said that could happen with C-sections and she should be fine.  It seemed longer than the few minutes it really was before you and Dean heard her little cries fill up the room, both of you letting out a sigh of relief.

After recovering you were finally in your room with Dean and both of your babies.  Your families were here and waiting for your okay to come meet the newest members.  Dean proudly introducing the babies to the rest of the family.

“I would like you all to meet Patrick John and Sophia Allison.  You spent a few days in the hospital Dean right beside you the entire time.

After everyone left your little family alone Dean sat down next to you on the bed holding Sophia, while you held Patrick.  The two of you both lost in your own thoughts and the babies in your arms before you looked over to him drawing his attention to you.

Once you arrived home your mom and Mary took turns coming over to see if they could help you or just let you get some sleep.  Dean had to go back to the shop but tried to be home as much as possible.

The twins were two months old and not sleeping well through the night which was leaving you and Dean exhausted.  You were both working during the day, and the twins were waking each other up at night which had the two of you getting up each taking one of the babies.  You told Dean that you would get up and he could sleep, but he just kissed you as he walked by saying you were in this together no matter what.  One night you had finally got them calmed down early and both of you sank down on the couch.  Dean asked if you wanted to watch anything on TV.  

“Honestly, I don’t think I could follow along on anything right now, but the back of my eye lids. How about we head to bed before the little monsters wake us up?”

“Knew I married a smart woman.”

Just as you settled into bed you heard Patrick start crying, and then Sophia joined in.

“Seriously.” Dean grumbled.

As you were trying to calm both babies down Dean was playing on his phone.  All of a sudden you head Samuel L Jackson voice reading Go the Fuck to Sleep. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cb0t9TUNLpg

“Seriously Dean?”

“What?  They can’t understand and I completely agree with it.”

Much to your surprise the twins were starting to doze back off.  If this actually worked, you weren’t sure if Dean would let you hear the end of it.  This was the quickest they calmed down for you, and also the start of hearing this every night for the next four months.  

Things weren’t always perfect, but they were perfect for you.  You had an incredible husband who always supported you and two wonderful kids who would keep you both on your toes.  No matter what happened good or bad you and Dean were in this together.

  Thank you for reading!  For now this store is complete. 

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[ryewi]

a game for two pt.1 (M) - jjk

Summary: Seven days on a school trip to the seaside. Seven days with your best friends, alcohol, freedom and a mischevious Jeon Jungkook who just wouldn't leave you alone. Sounds fun, right?

Genre: schooltrip!au, classmate!au, smut, fluff, drama, tba

Words: 7,5k (a long boye)

Warnings: grinding, thigh riding, attractive consent female orgasm, dirty talk (like a tiny bit), language

Early A/N: the summary... flopped... the work didn't though so don't worry!

There he was once again, looking at you with the hottest smirk you've ever seen on a person.

"Jungkook! Come over here man, we're going to make room arrangements!"

And just like that, with a quick and distinctive wink, he turned around and walked away.

Jeon Jungkook, the hottest motherfucker, but also one of the smartest students in your class, has been playing this game of eye fucking for the past seven hours of travelling. The said man would also intentionally brush shoulders with you whenever in close proximity, whispering a barely audible “excuse me” as he walked by.

Currently, the whole school year (divided into 10 classes) was on a weeklong trip to the seaside. On your way to the hotel, you've visited two museums and three churches that you supposed were somewhat important to the history. Truthfully, as much as you liked history and appreciated fine art (also) in form of religious buildings, right now, you just couldn't care less. It was constant waiting for the drive to finally come to an end for the day so the class could hang out in one room, eat snacks and have fun together.

Jungkook on the other hand, found the visits extremely interesting and paid attention to everything the tour guide had to say. His eyes were always on the short woman and it looked like he sucked her every word in like a sponge. It was the first time you’ve seen someone be so bothered about a passing lecture. Therefore, when one of your best friends abruptly told you to look to your left and you witnessed Jeon Jungkook staring right at you, with the cheekiest smirk on his face, you felt rather privileged.

But then she began to point it out more and more and just then did you realize how much less does the man pay attention, since his eyes were constantly on you. That knowledge was both flattering and slightly disturbing, because his intentions weren’t clear; what was he trying to get from it? The smirk would never leave his lips, occasional lip bites thrown here and there and the sight was more than pleasing to look at. Especially knowing that his actions were directed at you only.

"Sister, go suck him off behind the museum or something, don't you see how he looks at you?" Marie said, pushing you slightly towards Jungkook. You turned to look at her, disbelief in your eyes at the crude words.

"You're crazy, Jungkook's probably playing pretend. The fuck would he want to do with me?" You replied, hands trying to pry hers off from your hips.

When you turned around, Jungkook's eyes were locked on to his iPhone. Yet, as if sensing your eyes on him, Jungkook looked up. Instead of a smirk, his pink lips lifted upwards in a tiny smile as he seemed to tap hard on the screen of his phone – your own phone immediately buzzing in your hands. You flinched hard, the device falling out of your hands, straight on to the back. Thanking Gods from above for it had not fell on the screen, you picked it up, inspecting with shaky hands the notification of a new message.

"Oh my god he texted you" Marie said, shaking you back and forth, smile reaching the top of her cheeks.

"I don't know" You replied, fingers working quick to press the password into the keyboard. Truthfully, you felt a bit giddy, thinking that it might be Jungkook who sent the text. Well, when the phone was finally unlocked, it appeared to have been your mom, as she asked where you are now and have you been eating well.

"Ah bummer, imagine if it actually were him?"

"Please, don't give me any ideas"

"Why don't you fuck with him too? Two can play the staring game, intimidate, tempt him” She suggested, mouth still relatively close to your ear, her voice sending shivers down your spine. “I’d honestly give all of my money to see Jungkook hooked on and chasing after someone, y’know?”.

Marie was right, Jungkook wasn't the type to chase after females, mostly because he didn't even have to. They always fell right into his arms, the man had much charisma and great flirting skill. Despite all of that, Jungkook wasn't the type to offer himself to just anyone. He was rather picky, but his gorgeous face and perfect body allowed him such attitude. That would probably be the biggest power of his, everyone was ripe fruit in his garden, yet he chose the ones he liked the best. And that motherfucker for sure knew it.

Something you've never seen Jungkook do, was date for longer than a week. This guy seemed to do everything else so well that his dating abilities had to suffer. It was possible to frequently hear stories about how good Jungkook was in bed, but also how bad the dates went. It was common sense that most females that went out with Jungkook only did it to get into his pants, and you somewhat pitied the man. Then again, Jungkook never looked that interested into doing anything else other than fucking with any of them. He accepted their flaunts, only to never speak to them again once he's done.

Exactly because of that, Jungkook never slept or showed interest in anyone from your class. The one-night stand wasn’t worth not talking to someone he sees every day for the rest of his life.

Therefore, his sudden actions were slightly confusing, and you had to agree with your best friend. Oh, what you’d give to see the game this man would play upon seeing defiance and not immediate compliance.

“You know what, you’re right, let’s play Jeon Jungkook”

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The buses parked at a nearby McDonalds right by the freeway, therefore offering a quick break before continuing the journey to the hotel. The line in McDonalds was horrendously long, but thanks to the determination of your friend, you managed to break to the front and order relatively quick. Upon noticing the ice cream machine working, you’ve taken the one in a lifetime choice and ordered a chocolate ice cream.

Situating yourself outside on one of the (miraculously) free tables and waiting for the rest, you enjoyed your sweet in peace, for a whole of ten seconds.

“Hello!” Everything happened so suddenly. Both the voice and body appeared surprisingly quick, and it took you a long moment to process that Jungkook launched himself from somewhere in the line to the seat across of you. He was smiling and his hair was covering his forehead, fringe coming to cover his eyebrows, giving him a childish look. Jungkook looked like a lost boy and the duality of this man was impossible.

“Uh, hi?” You replied, eyes giving him a once over, before looking down and on the ice cream. Scooping a big amount of it and bringing it towards your mouth, you enjoyed how nice it tasted. For a fast food restaurant with a broken ice cream machine, this proved to be rather good.

Jungkook was giving you a certain type of look, but it wasn’t the one from before. This one was something between expectant and excited. Catching you off guard, the two of you began a staring contest, unsure of what to say or do. The silence became uncomfortable quick and you quietly begged him to start talking.

“The machine’s working yeah?” Jungkook asked, pointing at the cup you were holding. He was still smiling and there was something different in seeing his lips form a smile and not a smirk.

“Yeah, but it won’t be working for much longer” You pointed back with your thumb to the line of students that were filling the small place up. Jungkook laughed at that, head falling back and eyes squinting into thin lines. His nose was scrunched and there was suddenly an undying urge to pinch it.

“Well, that’s too bad isn’t it? I should go ord- oh wait, you have something here” He stood up, leaning over the table fast. His thumb came up to the corner of your mouth and wiped off the slight smear of chocolate. Then probably rather predictably, he moved it to his lips and licked it off, humming to the taste.

“Ah man I wish I could get one, I better hurry!” And just like that, Jungkook was gone, probably faster than he appeared in the first place. There was a dumbstruck look on your face, and other students were either tracking their eyes after Jungkook, or looking at you. There will most definitely be gossip about this for the next two years.

“What was that about?” Your best friend Marie approached you from behind. She was carrying a cup of her own, a colorful drink inside as she sipped from the plastic straw. You ogled the straw and frowned, ready to once again scold her for not thinking about the environment. But before you managed to say anything, she beat you to it.

“They didn’t have any other straw, now answer my question” Her smile widened, shoulders shrugging as she watched you with anticipation in her eyes.

“I wished that I had an answer to that question too, but unfortunately I don’t”.

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"Well class, here we are, The Great Dragon" Mrs. Montero noted, walking a few steps ahead of everybody. She let go of her obnoxiously pink suitcase and walked up the short set of stairs with open arms. "Let our vacation begin!"

Mrs. Montero was a middle aged, forty-something old woman that had a spirit of a young child. She was a daredevil, and often seemed to forget that her teenage years are long over, therefore frequently accompanying and planning fun activities that maybe wouldn't suit her age. Mrs. Montero was also the form teacher of the most chaotic class in school, which so happened to be the one you were in.

Upon witnessing the rather childish and expectant grin on the elder's face, your classmates looked between each other. Suppressed laughs were evident as cheeks puffed and heads turned to avoid smiling straight at the other's face. You too looked around, trying to find your best friends (Marie, April and Jackie) that somehow managed escape to the other side of the group. Once your eyes met, you frowned and scrunched up your eyebrows at them, hand moving quick as to call them over. The three of them laughed and shook their heads no, whispering something between each other. You wanted to ask why, but in a matter of a few seconds, when your eyes accidentally averted their gaze just a bit to the left, the answer struck you like a lightning.

Of course, Jungkook’s eyes were once again on you. What else could’ve it been?

You tried playing along with a cool posture, and clear mind, but it proved to be rather difficult. Really, would anyone be able remain indifferent upon getting eye fucked by Jeon Jungkook? His eyes were now seemingly always on you, the feeling strange, causing you to shy away and immediately drop down to tighten your already tightened enough shoelaces. Jungkook’s gaze was burning your skin, every inch his eyes moved over left as an ignited patch that itched, begged to be covered.

The thing was, the two of you never spoke much. Not a single word was exchanged today, syllables traded for shy looks and sneaky smirks. The whole atmosphere was weird, but alas, you had no courage to go and directly ask what he was trying to do.

“The dinner is going to be ready soon, so head down to the diner once unpacked. The disco starts at 11pm, so dress well!” Mrs. Montero said, her pitched voice now a background noise in your head as you focused on Jungkook’s lips that ever so lightly, lifted up in one last smirk.

Just like that, he was off, disappearing into the crowd, like always.

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“He’s literally undressing you with his eyes, look” Jackie pointed out, head nudging in Jungkook’s direction. She spoke so close to your ear, soothing voice sending shivers down your spine. Her soft palms were soon placed on to your temples, carefully but quickly turning your head in his direction. Truly, there Jungkook stood, bottom lip in a strong hold of his teeth, as he observed the hilarious sight.

You managed to catch his gaze even in the dark and dimmed purple light. The reflectors that were every now and then passing over your heads uncovered the mysterious glint of Jungkook's eyes. The kind that only ever indicated trouble.

Slapping Jackie’s hands off your face and fixing your hair in a swift motion, you chugged the rest of the drink in your cup. The liquid burned your throat, immediately taking effect, as you suddenly felt much lighter and careless. You weren't a drinker, but after the class managed to smuggle in a bottle of whiskey, jack daniels and whichever cheap vodka, the temptation to take a few sips was too strong.

Not long after, Señorita was played and every student that was previously sitting, was now up and approaching their significant other/group of friends. Apparently, this song was loved and enjoyed by many. One could ask why, but upon taking a few glances left and right, they'd be able to conclude why. The track had awoken serious sexual tension, tens of students now grinding on to each other, teasing their way up to what would later be continued in the safety of their hotel rooms.

Looking around, your friends were nowhere to be found. Even Jackie, who was mere centimeters away from you just few moments ago. Although your companions weren't there, Jungkook somehow managed to break his way through huge masses of people and thought that he just might be the perfect replacement.

Oh I should be running, oh you keep me coming for you.

You felt a pair of strong hands on your waist and as if it were some kind of sixth sense, you whispered Jungkook's name. His face appeared next to yours just a few moments later, his chin pressing into the crook of your neck, waiting to see if you'd show any sign of discomfort before proceeding further. Luckily, Jungkook only felt you relax in his arms, your form leaning backwards into his. The beat of the song paired up with the slight buzz of alcohol made you feel so careless and free.

I wish I could pretend I didn't need ya

Jungkook gripped your waist tighter, putting more pressure down onto your hips and trying to guide your movements right before his crotch. Accepting his sly teasing play, you arched your back slightly, beginning to grind down on him.

A quiet sigh of content and satisfaction left Jungkook’s lips and he soon eased his grip, letting you have complete control over your movements. You pondered over the thought of him giving control up so easily; finding it incredibly amusing. The knowledge will come in handy in the future, you thought.

Unexpectedly, you turned around and put your hands around Jungkook’s neck, immediately locking with his. You suddenly craved closer contact and the man was more than willing to give so. His eyes were hooded and breath labored, but his trademark smirk was still plastered on those beautiful features.

Jungkook was about to say something, mouth opening to create words, but no sound came out. Not when you unlatched your hands and began slowly lowering yourself, fingers tenderly caressing the expanse of his chest and thighs. You finished the move in a crouching position, hands on the man's strong calves and face just a few centimeters away from his now obvious hard-on. Raising upwards just as painfully slow, you listened to the beautiful whimpers that kept leaving Jungkook's parted lips – the special kind of sound reserved for your ears only.

A hand lifted your shirt and crept up your back, feeling the smooth skin underneath. Waves of pleasure spread throughout your body at each and every touch – his cold fingers a perfect contrast to your burning skin. A moan surprised Jungkook and he made it his goal to make you create as much of those beautiful noises as possible.

The man looked like he was about to kiss you, his soft palm leaving the expanse of your back and finding purchase at the back of your neck. Jungkook's lips were that close to yours, that it was possible to feel his breath fan over your face. You inhaled the strong smell of jack daniels that he was evidently drinking before approaching you – oh how tempting it was to taste it too.

When the last chorus hit the speakers, you lifted a hand up to Jungkook's chin, dragging a point finger over the prominent cut of his jawline. At that, his breath hitched and he visibly reacted to the contact through a quick cringe. Goosebumps formed on his skin, sigh filling the small place around him. You smiled, continuing the trail from his jaw down his adam's apple, collarbones and the exposed part of his chest. It was so tempting to begin unbuttoning the rest of his shirt, but you decided not to do so this time. Pushing your hips towards his, you continued previous actions. His hands came downwards, not quite resting on your ass, guiding and feeling you for the last few seconds of the song.

It seemed to end way too quick, and so did the intimate moment between the two of you. As if a switch was flipped, Jungkook disconnected himself and disappeared into the crowd. On the other hand, your best friends appeared from the same direction, screaming and squealing because they've been monitoring on the situation from far away. Sigh, the whole class was probably watching you two from the corner of their eyes.

Maybe it was for the better, or not, but there was no sight of Jungkook for the whole night. You tried disregarding it as him finding someone to take care of his little friend, but that only made you think about him more. It awoke some kind of feelings, something unexplainable that made your heart spasm but stomach ache at the same time – it made you feel sick and you didn’t like it.

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The next day left everyone exhausted. It's as if the tour guides intentionally wanted every single student to pass out when back at the hotel. You've been walking for five hours and really, they could be considered an eternity at this point. The temperature was at the highest of highs; you’ve never been to hell, but this is exactly what you imagined it felt. Neither the hand fan or bottle filled with cold water helped and instead of listening to music, you listened to students constantly complaining.

One boy had to be excused from the tour because of what seemed to be a heat stroke, and only then did the guides and professors realize that they've maybe been pushing it too hard.

Although daytime was barely bearable, nighttime proved to be everyone’s favorite part of the day.

The class agreed to meet on the beach, right beside the barbeque spot, around 10pm, a little bit after the sunset. The plan was to eat, drink, listen to music and relax after such a tiring day. Many carried their Bluetooth speakers, yet no one used them. Not when three talented guys brought guitars and a Cajon to complete the whole idyll with beautiful, live music.

Although invited, Mrs. Montero decided to stay in and “let the teenagers be” for tonight. Truthfully, the whole group was thankful, since no one quite wanted the woman around. It meant that the alcohol could be carried freely and occasional swearing wouldn't be scolded and judged. There was no questionable behavior tonight.

When the clock hit 10pm, a small flame began to rise from a certain spot on the beach. Your male classmates have already started preparing, and you watched the whole scene from the safety of your hotel room. The fire was still weak, and guarded very well by a tight circle of rocks. It called, lured you in, the bright orange in the dark, and you turned around, heading to leave.

Your best friend Marie waited for you, checking herself out one last time in the mirror. She was wearing a floral, light cardigan, and a bikini underneath. You expected Marie to jump into the water straight away. After you complimented her look, she noticed your presence and turned around fast. Her eyes scanned your own outfit. Simple bikini top with light beach pants, nothing too revealing for your liking. Offering a quick nod, Marie opened the door and headed out.

Once outside, you were quick to spot Jungkook, the man made himself visible straight away. His muscled back and tiny waist as he crouched down were an immediate attention grabber, ripping out a loud sigh from you. He was helping the fire grow, adding what seemed to be a shot of vodka straight into the flames.

The sand underneath your feet made quiet but noticeable sounds as you walked towards the rest of the group. Jungkook immediately turned around, eyes widening at the sight of you dressed so effortlessly beautiful. At that moment, Jungkook could’ve sworn on anything that he has never seen a person so breathtaking as you.

Upon noticing his dumbfounded gaze, Marie stabbed your ribs with her elbow, making you yelp in pain and hop to the side, hand covering the hurting spot.

“What the fuck was that for?” You breathed out; breath labored after receiving such a hard hit. You were now crouching, trying to soothe out the pain that gradually became worse with each passing second.

“He looked at you with those eyes again! Please tell me you saw!” Marie whisper-yelled at you, her hands frantically flailing all around. She looked to the side, trying to steal one more look at Jungkook and what he was doing; gosh was that the most important right now?

“He’s still looking!”

Jungkook for sure was still having his eyes locked on to you, although not out of adoration anymore. The man was unsure of what to do, he was torn between immediately running over to help and watching from a distance. If he offered help, would it be too suspicious? Would he be too transparent? There was still a certain image Jungkook had to keep, the unbothered, playing hard to get type of guy. Yet, seeing you in pain made his heart break and he swore he was just about to help when-

When you gathered your pride, decided that your mother didn’t raise no bitch and stood up. The injury hurt like hell and you inspected it one last time. That’s going to leave a bruise.

Marie followed you to the rest of the class, explaining to your other two best friends what had just happened. Jungkook wasn’t looking at you anymore, well, not as much as before. You still caught him glancing over every now and then and he seemed somewhat shy – how cute.

Soon, everyone was gathered around the small campfire, passing bottles of unknown drinks and delicious pieces of meat between each other. The instruments that were played created soothing melodies that served as a boost to an already beautiful night. Some were already in the water, splashing around and tempting the rest to join.

It was perfect. The change between black silhouettes who ran through shallow water and the kids that sang their hearts out while leaning on to each other. The students evidently forgot all of their worries for a little while, finally finding some solace. The water perfectly reflected the full moon and all of those endless constellations. You sighed in content.

Everything was alright. You were happy.

Just as you were about to let a tear fall, out of nowhere, someone wrapped their arms around your waist and pulled you up. The first person that came to your mind was Jungkook. To your surprise, you managed to catch a glimpse of said man sitting on the other side of the fire, watching the scene intently.

Upon turning around, you saw your best friend April grinning with the cheekiest look on her face.

April was drunk, and oh god she was a hardcore lightweight.

“Wanna skip stones?” She slurred, holding out a hand for you to hold. April was a big child, hence being very easy to entertain. The reason why she proposed stone skipping was simple. She was pretty good at it and you weren’t, therefore just like a kid, April liked showing off.

Accepting the offer because you weren’t willing to deal with the emotional drunk behind the happy façade, you took a few steps into the water. The cold liquid splashed your calves in low waves. April was already searching for her rocks, iPhone battery lit up and pointed downwards. She was losing balance quick whenever she crouched, yet somehow managed not to fall. Until-

“April!” There she went. All of the rocks fell out of her small hands and scattered around. The female tried to fall on to her hands, to prevent getting hurt as much as possible. The face of discomfort and hurt as she held her hand right after the fall had fueled your concern.

“April oh my god, are you okay?” You asked, crouching right beside her, trying to inspect her body for any sign of bruises or cuts. Fortunately, there were none. You hoped that she hadn’t broken her finger, but because of her strong grip, you just couldn’t be sure about it. “Let me see, shh it’s going to be okay”.

“I broke my nail!” She sobbed.

Oh my god.

Oh dear god.

It was a great effort to mentally force yourself to carry as much empathy as before. Nails were a pretty big deal to April and you too understood the bother of having a nail that’s shorter than others. Just so aesthetically unpleasant. Yet, the amount of grey hairs you grew because you were genuinely concerned it was a serious injury weren’t worth it.

“It’s okay, I’ll get you a nail clipper and a file and we’ll get it done again, okay?” You asked with a hopeful tone, patting the other on the shoulder. She continued sobbing but made an effort to stand up before speaking up again.

“I’ll get it myself, I don’t want to bother you” She slurred, almost losing balance for the hundredth time.

“No, no, it’s not a bother, I'll be right back. You stay here, I can’t risk you falling down the stairs or something” That seemed like enough reassurance as April only nodded and wobbled back to the rest of the class, searching for comfort.

While walking the path that led straight to the hotel, you swore you heard someone trail behind, sand and dried grass crunching under their feet. You quickly dismissed it a classmate that’s heading back because of their own reasons and resumed the journey without any bothers.

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April’s file was hard to find, for it took five minutes of rummaging through her bag only to find it next to the bed. Taking a deep breath and sighing to let your frustration out, you grabbed the nail clipper that was in the bathroom and began heading out. Although you turned the lights off completely, the fire from outside was enough to create a rather dimmed light. The sight of flames was pretty enticing, and you found yourself staring at it for a few moments before snapping out of the daze and opening the door.

The person standing right outside only caught your attention once the door was safely locked. The intrusion was surprising, but definitely not unexpected.

"Well hello, what's the reason behind such a blessing of meeting you?" The corner of your lips curved upwards in a rather playful and teasing manner. The sight before you truly was a blessing. Jungkook was leaning onto the wall, strong arms crossed over his bare chest, flexing just enough to showcase the prominent lines of muscle. His black shorts were positioned lower than before, tiny waist shaping a strong v line you suddenly wished you could see the end of.

Yet, Jungkook’s face displayed a completely different emotion. There was a small smile playing on his lips, his hair curled and messily thrown all over the place. His eyes shone with a special kind of glint and for a quick moment you thought he looked angelic. Then, the next second, when Jungkook’s famous smirk made a comeback, you realized he were more of a devil.

"Oh, I'm just passing by, enjoying the view" Jungkook replied, eyes following an invisible path from the bottom of your toes to the top of your head, trying to emphasize his point. The obvious check-out would usually make you feel uncomfortable, but this was Jungkook. Because of him, you were feeling flustered and even more cocky, absorbing the attention from this breathtaking human like a sponge.

"Then I hope it's worth your money" You replied, blowing a kiss. Just as you were about to turn around and head back, the nail clipper accidentally fell out of your hands. Upon folding yourself to pick it up, a rather silent whine left Jungkook's lips. It sounded like the most beautiful sound your ears have ever heard. There was an unexpected urge to hear more of it, to be the sole cause of it once again.

"It's more than worth" The man mumbled, eyes falling down to see the object currently being picked up. "Really? She sent you out to grab a nail clipper?" Jungkook let out a laugh, in disbelief that a broken nail had you walking all the way back to the hotel and up on the 4th floor. It was a tad bit comical to you too now that he had mentioned it, hence a light laugh escaped your lips as well.

"Is it that important? Can't it wait?" Jungkook asked, tone indifferent.

You quickly caught on to the game the man was trying to play and guessed that there could be some time to spare, join in and play too.

"I suppose it could, but what could I do while I'm waiting?" Making sure to pout while finishing the sentence, you looked at the other with curious eyes, his reply already quite obvious.

"Me?" Although sounding like a question, Jungkook's answer was a statement. He seemed to close the gap between you in a matter of moments, his face now way too close to yours. It was possible to feel Jungkook's breath on your lips again, slight aroma of cheap whiskey tickling your nose. Yet, the man wasn't drunk, for his eyes were way too alert and clear.

"I'm not sure if that's worth my time..." You teased, biting your lip and raising your eyebrow at Jungkook. The cockiness Jungkook had woke up inside of you still sometimes managed to surprise you.

"I guarantee you that it is, beautiful" At that, Jungkook's hands were on your hips, pulling you closer to him where you could feel the prominent bulge of his growing hard-on. The position was awfully similar to the one in the club last night and you wondered how will the man move tonight. Another sigh came out of his mouth the moment you grinded back on him, drawing a small and tight circle with your hips.

"Well then, prove it to me" Locking hands behind his neck, you guided Jungkook's lips straight to yours. His were soft, but the moves were even softer. The kiss was slow, sensible and full of emotion which made you confused for a moment. Jungkook was the one in lead and it looked like he was kissing the love of his life and not just a girl he's trying to shuffle with for the night.

"Fuck no I'm sorry I can't do it like this" You heard him speak when you parted, his mouth lingering a few millimeters away. Then, they were once again on yours and the pace of the kiss changed. There was more of teeth, tongue and bites, it became messier as Jungkook seemingly tried to push you through the wall you were now leaning on. His hands were all over you and the high temperature your bodies exchanged was becoming way too much.

Jungkook was squeezing, groping, every single inch of your behind, hungry for even the smallest piece of it. His hot pants as he tried to gasp for air in between quick kisses only turned you on more; this man truly was a gem. You were trying to figure out the nature of his, if the constant pants and whines were labeling him as a submissive type, or were the aggressive moves an indication of a dominant man.

A certain strong push to the wall had you wincing, but unfortunately not out of pleasure. The injury that was cooling down had reminded you that this maybe wouldn’t be a nice idea. Alas, you were ready to dismiss the thought, only if it wasn’t for Jungkook who was now looking with an extremely concerned expression. Weird.

“It hurts a lot, doesn’t it?” He asked, lips turning down into a frown. Jungkook was beginning to pull away, scared that he’d hurt you more. His change of demeanor was once again confusing, concern a rare emotion for the other.

With a smile and a light nod, you reassured Jungkook that it’s all fine. After pulling his hands back to their previous position, you tried to bring back the heated atmosphere from before. Jungkook gave you one last skeptical look, but you had none of it and crashed your lips back on to his. Bearing the pain will be worth it in the end.

"As much as I'd like for you to choke on my dick right here, I'm afraid we'll have to move somewhere more private" Jungkook whispered, the flirty persona appearing again. He finally stepped away from you, letting you catch a proper breath. He took a moment to inspect how you looked, bikini top barely holding on, pants loose around the hips. Your lips were glistening and puffy, hair somewhat disheveled but nothing that a quick hand through couldn't fix. Yet.

Jungkook was quick to pull out a plastic black card, pressing it to the door right next to yours and unlocking it in a matter of moments. You followed in suit, looking left and right one last time to check for any unwanted spectators. Deeming the hallway free of any potential intruders, you jumped right inside of the room, shutting the door behind with a loud thud.

Although the lights were off, the flames from outside allowed you to notice how different Jungkook’s room was. It was much bigger and you remembered that they had five, where as you had four in one room. You were about to curiously inspect the different furniture if it wasn't for Jungkook pulling you into his strong figure and pushing you backwards towards a big double bed.

When the back of your knees hit the bed, both of you collapsed back, lips still moving together and refusing to break contact. Sometime in between then and now, Jungkook took your pants off, unsure if you’d be okay with getting rid of the bikini right now. The man was kneeling in between your open legs, kissing a path down from your neck, over the valley of your breasts and down a ticklish area of your stomach. He paid extra attention to land a feather-like, healing kiss to your side. Your hands were running all over Jungkook's toned abdomen, often tightening their softer grip on his small waist. The tiny waist has always been one of Jungkook's biggest representations.

"Fuck baby, your body is beautiful" The man whined, slowly rising up towards your neck and once again focusing on kissing the sweet spot on the bottom of it. You were pulling on his hair softly, seeking solid support but also wanting to show just how much his actions affected you.

"You're not so bad yourself" You replied, voice breathy and shaky. You tried rising your chin even higher, granting the other even more access - more space to leave marks on.

"Oh you like that? Should I mark you so the whole class knows what you've been up to, dirty girl?" Jungkook smirked on your skin. At the mention of 'dirty girl', you whined, back aching and head moving in a circle. Gosh, you'd do everything to have this man's hickeys all over your body.

Jungkook looked like an angel carved by the most talented gods. On the dimmed light, the shadows created by his prominent arm and torso muscles made them just that much more noticeable. Laying under such a sex symbol, seeing the want in his eyes, you felt empowered and confident. It was you who caused this man's dick to jump and you've never felt prouder.

“Would it be okay to take this off?” Jungkook asked, head tilting up to look at you. His fingers were holding on the thin piece of fabric that is your bikini, waiting for an answer.

“Please do” Was all that left your lips. It was quiet and broken, but that’s all the confirmation the other needed. All while sucking purple bruises on your neck, Jungkook's fingers untied the knots behind your neck and back in record speed. Once the garment was off, he lightly pinched and pulled on the sensitive buds, testing out what your body enjoyed the most. When it came to you, Jungkook was extremely eager to learn - and he learned fast.

"Jungkook" You whined, hips rising from the surface of the bed, seeking friction.

"Fuck baby, moan for me" Jungkook smirked, eyes moving to witness your poor attempts of dry humping his strong thighs. Granting you more access, Jungkook picked you up and flipped the both of you over so you were now on top of him, straddling his thigh. His hands found your hips pretty quick, introducing and setting a slow pace in which you grinded on top of his clothed thigh.

"Grind on me, fuck, yeah, just like that sweetheart" He cooed, peppering quick kisses over the tender and fresh bruises on your neck. The contact felt so good, and you knew that the wetness will soon soak through your cotton underwear.

"You're going to ruin my shorts darling, what will we do with them later, huh? Should I make you lick all of that up?" Jungkook whispered, voice right next to your ear, making you squirm. His grip tightened and he flexed his thigh - now that's when you felt the coil in your stomach begin to build. The filth the man was telling you only fueled your arousal. Sweet pet names paired up with what could only be described as a verbal sin created such an addicting contrast.

Your hand wandered lower, towards Jungkook's abdomen. His rough breathing was evident, abs tensing with every intake of air, the space between two halves of muscle enough for your finger to pass through. It seemed to tickle him as Jungkook shied away from your touch for a quick moment, first laugh of the night making its way to your ears. As much as his moans turned you on, his breathy laugh made your heart beam with satisfaction. In spite of the short pause in your actions, you were quick to get back to work, hand trailing even lower this time.

Jungkook's hard on was trying to break free from the tight restraint of his shorts. You wanted the other to get some relief too, your hand making its way down to the fly. Yet, Jungkook dedicated this moment to you and your high only, his own hand coming up to yours to stop it from proceeding.

That moment of bliss was so close. Jungkook’s thigh was touching every single spot perfectly. Despite the current euphoric feelings, there was still that little something missing that would push you over the edge. Jungkook managed to catch on to the needy look you offered, so he slowly moved one of his hands from your hip to your center. The middle finger of his right hand was soon positioned just above your clothed clit, teasing for a quick moment before starting to rub slow eights on it.

With sharp bucks of your hips and whines of Jungkook’s name, you reached one of the best orgasms in your life. Jungkook’s smirk was an indicator of his cockiness, the fucker knew just how good he is and what he did to you. Still, his eyes showed adoration as he held your exhausted body carefully. His pride was over the roof right now, but he was also extremely happy. He did that to you. Unreal.

Your phone suddenly began vibrating from somewhere on the floor and you stood up from the bed (with Jungkook’s help) and walked towards it. Jungkook looked at you with eyebrows raised, expectant expression on his face. When you bent down to pick up the small device, making sure not to bend your knees, Jungkook's hand was quick to grab a handful of ass. In spite of it being inappropriate, his eyes were still locked down on to your center. He made sure to thumb over that area as he listened to you answer the phone.

"I-I'm sorry, the d-door were acting up and I had to wa-wait for someone to come and help me" Your breath was still shaky and voice somewhat strained, and if the person on the other side wasn't completely deaf, they'd be able to hear the truth behind your obvious lies.

"Yeah ok-okay" You replied after what seemed like an eternity of silence, before ending the call. Maybe it was for the better, because Jungkook was touching you oh so beautifully again. Nothing else other than whimpers would be able to leave your mouth if the conversation went on.

Once you were sure that the line was indeed cut short, you picked up your stuff that was thrown all over the place before heading back to the bed. Jungkook wore a fucked-out expression, even though it were you who experienced an orgasm. Settling down right on his clothed cock, you grinded once again, earning a beautiful moan in return. Your right hand made its way to his jaw, holding it tight. His eyes were hooded and looking straight into yours, hands coming down to your ass and squeezing hard.

"I'm sorry baby but I've got to go" You pouted, head dipping down to kiss him once again. The kiss was slow and passionate, trying to make up for the time of the night that will be lost. Moans and whimpers were shared between the two as arousal kept charging the actions of both. Jungkook was quick to move south, retouching the bruises he made and pressing you closer to himself. Apparently, the man didn't want to let go, and neither did you, but your drunken best friend was getting impatient and whiny, and oh how painful she could be when she's drunk.

Somehow managing to break free, you stood up and tried to dress yourself to look as presentable as you were before you left. You’ll have to go grab a jacket to cover the bruises on your neck. Yet, the action of dressing was deemed hard as Jungkook's hands just couldn't leave your body. You were sorry for the guy, but somewhat thankful for the whole situation too. It only added up to the tense game the two of you were playing and it gave you a mischievous idea of teasing the other until he couldn't take it anymore. You hoped it would lead to the best dicking of your entire lifetime. And Jeon Jungkook was never the one to fail any expectations.

Once everything was on, you walked up to the man for the final time, hips swaying to the sides lightly as you crouched down in front of his open thighs. Jungkook's eyes grew expectant, maybe you’ve changed your mind, maybe you’ll stay a little bit more. His heart skipped a beat. When you lowered your head towards his crotch and unzipped the zip of his jeans, you landed an open-mouthed kiss to the clothed head of his cock, driving the other insane. Smiling at him, you zipped up the fly and patted on to the area softly.

"We'll see each other around, okay?" With that, you turned around and walked through the now unlocked entrance. Jungkook was left with a disbelieving and dumbstruck expression, accompanied by a horrible case of blue balls.

Oh you still had five days of this school trip.

And he planned on seeing you around much more now.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

A/N: Well hello! School's over, I managed to keep my grades how i wanted and so now I have more time! I was scared it won't be that good after my hiatus from writing but it turned out well! I like it and I hope you will too. See you soon hopefully!

[theresa-of-liechtenstein]

prompt: “pilot.”  for the weeklong #ProjectTheresa fanfiction challenge!

this one ran away from me and got super long so I’m throwing it under a cut

“Douglas, if you could, would you mind checking on G-ERTI? I’ve got to see about these blasted NOTAMs...something about thunderheads over Dresden…”

“Certainly, Martin. No rush.”

Douglas closed the door. Walking down the ramp, he muscled a luridly-yellow safety vest over his shoulders. As he headed for the hangars, he absentmindedly ran the thin mesh between his fingers.

This, admittedly, ranked high in the listing of Strange Arrangements. Martin, though finally able to fly for a living, still considered aviation as a hobby—thus, the Arrangement. On the off chance that Swiss Air wasn’t busy sending him off on tours to the corners of God’s green earth, Martin would wheedle a jumpseat to England from a colleague, bring his royal girlfriend along, and fly with OJS to give Herc some semblance of time off. 

Douglas frowned a little as he passed by the first set of hangars. Speaking of...where was Theresa, anyhow?

He shook his head. She’d slipped away with a safety vest, expressing a desire to wander around the airfield. Douglas and Martin, meanwhile, had devoted themselves to filling out paperwork for the day’s flight—just like old days.

Passing the last hangar, Douglas looked both ways before crossing onto the apron. G-ERTI was on stand outside their hangar, gleaming in the morning light. Before, Douglas had definitely been the type of pilot to joke that he didn’t care so much about the plane’s exterior aesthetics since he spent most of his time inside of it, but now he had to admit: something as simple as a new paint job really did wonders. The old bird was nearly unrecognizable, looking half its age. Flying like it, too, if anyone was asking Douglas.

He crossed around to the fore of the aircraft, to start his inspection at the radome. As he went to face G-ERTI head-on, he noticed another figure in a safety-yellow vest, examining their number two engine.

Douglas peered intently at the figure before abandoning his walk-around and stepping closer. “Your Highness. Grüezi.”

Theresa whirled around and blushed a little. “Oh! Hello, Douglas.”

“You were interested in the engine?” Douglas indicated it with a jerk of his head.

Theresa nodded, looking back at it. She seemed a little embarrassed—or at least uneasy. The two of them hadn’t talked in person much since those terrible days when they’d thought that it was all over. And of course, he couldn’t forget the first time they’d spoken—over the phone at this very airfield—when he’d had a bit of a laugh at her expense.

But he also remembered that she—barely hours after they’d first met face-to-face—had covered for them when they were burning off fuel. She’d been there for the auction, gamely climbed into the back of Arthur’s van, and was currently here for Martin.

He sought to make her feel a bit more comfortable. “Martin’s told you about how we got this engine, yes?”

Her eyes lit up. “St Petersburg? Of course. Many times.”

Douglas stifled the urge to laugh a little. “I can imagine.”

“He also loves to talk about you. How you tricked...erm. Carolyn’s ex-husband.”

“Oh. Yes.” Douglas chose not to analyze too deeply, and managed a noncommittal shake of his head. “Well, I. You’ve seen it. I do have some tricks up my sleeve for such occasions.”

She smiled and turned her attention back to the engine. “You seem to have plenty of tricks up your sleeve for all occasions. Such is...such is what Martin tells me.”

Silence fell between them again. He focused on a Gulfstream taxiing to the runway.

“Er, Douglas…”

“Yes.” He pulled his gaze away from the plane and looked back at the princess.

“Is it okay if I touch it?”

“Touch what.”

“The...er. The blades?”

“You want to see if they spin?”

She blushed again, and this time the embarrassment was evident. “Yes.”

“Go on ahead.”

She reached up and pushed against one of the blades, startling a little when the fan began to spin slowly. 

“Didn’t expect that?” Douglas smiled at her surprise. 

“No, I didn’t. It’s that easy?”

“Yep. Now imagine it spinning at God-knows-how-many-revolutions-per-second at thirty-five thousand feet.”

She must have taken the command literally, because after a few long seconds, her eyes widened. “Wow.”

“Exactly.”

“Do you think of that...when you fly?” Theresa turned back to him curiously. 

“Want to find out?” Douglas shot back. She looked a little confused, so he clarified. “Want to learn how to fly?”

Her eyes lit up again. “Really?”

“Yeah. I’m sure I’ve got enough knowledge to indoctrinate—of course, I mean educate—someone who wants to learn.” 

“Really?” She turned up the voltage in her eyes. “I’d love to!”

“Well, but I can’t start now…” Douglas tried to bring her back down to earth. Enthusiasm. That was what she and Martin seemed to have in common when it came to aviation. No wonder, then, that they’d become close. “For starters, I’m not an instructor yet. A few classes, and I think I’ll be able to add the qualification to my license.”

Theresa nodded, looking a little chastened. “Of course.”

“And—well, there’s the arrangement,” he pointed out. “You’re not going to get a very consistent education, seeing as you and Martin only come here every so often.”

“Yes. That’s right.” She looked down.

“Oh, don’t look like that!” He hadn’t meant to discourage her, and he attempted now to rectify his mistake. “We can figure something out. There’s multiple ways to get a transport license, assuming that’s what you want. You could go about it in a modular fashion—no need to come into a classroom a set number of days per week or anything like that. In any case, you’d be smashing as a pilot. You’ve got Martin, first of all—I think he’d be happy to coach you through revising for theoretical examinations, so you’re basically set on that front.”

She nodded, fidgeting with the hem of her vest.

“We’ll figure it out.” Suddenly, Douglas remembered the task Martin had delegated him. “Actually, we could even start now, if you’d like. Have you ever been on a walk-around?”

—

Some months later, Martin and Theresa were back in England. By this time, Douglas had a flight instructor rating, a night instructor qualification, and  a multi-engine piston instructor qualification added to his transport pilot’s license and a fuel tester in his pocket.

They met in the main lobby of Fitton Airfield, fluorescent lights gleaming off the glass counter where logbooks and charts were sold. As Douglas warmed his hands with a styrofoam cup of coffee, Theresa picked out a black logbook with green pages. After bidding farewell to Martin, she followed Douglas out to one of the Cessna 152s the airfield kept for instruction.

“It looks so small up close,” she observed as they approached the plane. “So light.”

“That’s why we tie the wings down,” Douglas gestured. “The plane could, quite literally, fly away in a wind.” Noticing her shocked look, he smiled. “Yeah. The wings work, even on the ground. It’s not that noticeable in a bigger plane, like G-ERTI, and even more for the biggest planes. But the wings are working all the time.”

He walked her around the plane and explained what he was looking for, similarly to their last meeting. She pulled off the pitot cover as he explained to her that if the pitot was not adequately protected, the airspeed indicator could fail. Douglas pulled out the fuel tester and drew out some liquid from the bottom of the tank. He held it to the sky and called Theresa over to look for water with him, cautioning her against allowing water into the fuel tank. She nodded, eyes wide.

Finally, he opened the plane’s door. “Watch your head.”

Theresa climbed in eagerly, and Douglas set about untying the wings before following her inside. Until that point, everything had gone smoothly, but he somehow had a more difficult time squeezing himself into the small plane than usual.

“It’s not exactly G-ERTI,” he excused himself as he tried to find the room to place his legs without bumping into the yoke. Whoever had used this plane before was, evidently, either a hobbit or an instructor much shorter than he.

Theresa stifled a laugh, sliding on a pair of sunglasses.

Once he’d finally gotten settled, he got on his headset, handed the other to Theresa, and quizzed her on the instruments. Evidently, Martin had prepared her well—or she’d been waiting for this moment for most of her life.

They whipped through a checklist and had the engine started in no time, and Douglas decided it was about time to get into the air. “Let’s check the brakes. Push forward a little.”

“The throttle? I can touch that?”

“Go ahead.”

Theresa reached down for the throttle and gave the plane a little bit of power.

“Rolling forward. Good. Now take the power back. Brakes.”

Theresa did as she was told. “Good,” Douglas complimented her, and she smiled. “I’ll check the brakes on my side.”

They went over how to transfer control to each other, and at last, Douglas directed her to get the power up and turn onto the main taxiway.

Her hand instinctively went to her yoke.

“Rudder. Use the rudder,” Douglas advised gently.

“Oh. Yes, right.” She took her hand off.

“Good. Stay on the center.” He slung his left arm over the back of her seat and directed her.

“Okay.”

They taxied around the airfield until Theresa could comfortably turn and stay on the centerline without confusing the rudder pedals and yoke. “It’s not like driving,” he advised at one point. “The yoke looks a little too much like a steering wheel, granted, but that’s something you’ve got to overcome. Rudder pedal. You turn with the rudder.”

“So yoke for roll, rudder for yaw?”

“Precisely.”

Finally, Douglas directed Theresa toward the main runway, got in touch with Carl, and asked for clearance to take off.

Carl granted it with the bare minimum of dallying, and Douglas grinned. “Okay, Theresa, we’re going up. Follow the yellow line.”

“What! Already?” Her eyebrows climbed up her forehead as she looked at him.

“Yes. You’re doing wonderfully. I’ll help you. Keep following the yellow line.”

They checked that the horizon was lined up, and Douglas directed her to push the throttle forward. “Full power. Keep looking outside. Stay on the center line.”

“Okay.”

“Good.”

Their speed climbed. Forty knots, fifty knots…

“Sixty, sixty-five—Pull back. Pull the controls back. Gently. Go on.”

Theresa pulled back on the yoke, and the ground peeled away from beneath them.

“We’re off!” In Douglas’s headset, he heard a distant cheer from Carl in ATC—and, from the sound of it, Martin.

“I’m doing it!” Theresa’s exclamation sounded not unlike one Martin would make, and he suppressed a grin. He could feel them rolling a little, but before Douglas could tell Theresa to do so, she was correcting it.

“Good. Now adjust your pitch angle. We’re a little too steep and might stall. And as interested as I am in seeing how you handle your first, I’m not keen on doing it so low and so close to the airfield. Not to mention this is your first lesson.”

“Okay.” She lowered the nose.

“Perfect.”

They climbed to a thousand feet and went through the climb checklist. Douglas put his hands on his own yoke and adjusted for her. “Don’t forget to fly the plane, Theresa.”

“Oh, yes, right. Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Just keep flying. Our goal now is to get this plane stable enough so that you could take your hands off the yoke, and the plane would just keep going on its own. They’re designed to be stable.”

They climbed further to about fifteen thousand feet, and after a good round of coaching, Theresa managed to keep the plane stable enough to take her hands off. After congratulating her, Douglas had her turn a few times, climb twice, and descend twice before taking control and bringing them back to Fitton to land.

Martin was there to meet them at stand, smiling in his luridly-yellow vest. “How’d it go?” he asked as soon as Douglas and Theresa had finished shutdown and piled out of the plane.

“The landing was smooth,” Douglas lazily passed the pitot cover to Theresa.

“You landed,” Theresa retorted, grabbing it out of his hand. Douglas laughed a little.

“Really, though,” he stopped her before they all went back to the portakabin. “You did well.”

She smiled.

—

Over their next productive (albeit sporadic) meetings, Douglas managed to help Theresa master slow flight. Though she was not what others might call a “natural” at flying, she could certainly absorb information better than most. After their sixth or so flight, Theresa could talk to Carl, work the trim wheel, manage a stall, recover from a spin without too much difficulty, and land visually.

Douglas, overall, was quite pleased with Theresa’s progress, especially for someone who was mostly restricted to ground schooling. 

He’d told her that she could very well find an instructor in Switzerland that could help her better—one who could teach her in German and be more regular with flight lessons—but she’d insisted on staying under his tutelage for the time being, which slightly flattered Douglas.  

And—more importantly—over the past few months, they’d gotten to talking between teaching moments, and by this point Douglas could, with certainty, call her a friend. 

They were going up today, in slightly poorer weather than usual, to review some of the concepts they’d covered thus far in less ideal conditions. As far as Douglas was concerned, and based on the relative ease with which Theresa had been able to manage previous challenges, this was going to be a simple review flight.

“Golf Mike Bravo,” Carl told Theresa from ATC, “Piper Cub three miles on final approach. Cleared for immediate take-off.”

Theresa flicked the transmit button. “Cleared for immediate take-off, Golf Mike Bravo.”

“Good,” Douglas rubbed his hands together as Carl signed off. “Right, Theresa. Let’s get ourselves out of here before that Piper comes in.”

“Okay.”

In no time at all, they were in the air—but today, Theresa seemed to have a little trouble getting the Cessna into stable flight. 

“Trim back,” Douglas advised her. “The plane wants to go up; notice how you’re trying to fight to keep the nose down? Remember, we can’t get any higher and enter Bravo airspace.”

“I know that. I’m sorry.”

“You’re porpoising,” he said gently a few minutes later, noticing how the nose kept rising and dipping. Theresa was probably still fighting the aeroplane. “Now you’ve got to trim forward.”

“Right! Right. Got it. Sorry.” Her tone had grown a little more prickly, and he noticed that the hand that reached back for the trim wheel was shaking slightly.

“It’s okay,” he tried to soothe, “relax, just correct yourself and keep on flying.”

He had her climb, descend, and turn for a while, then had her complete a checklist while he kept a hand lightly on the yoke. 

“Theresa, we’re rolling a little. Watch your attitude indicator. I didn’t ask you to bank.”

Theresa nodded, but kept going through the checklist.

“Theresa. You need to scan.”

“Right, I’m going to.”

“One of your wings is higher than the other.”

“What?” Her hand flew to the yoke, and she corrected the plane.

“You need to scan,” Douglas admonished. “Remember the T.” He pointed to the instruments he’d drilled her on months ago, forming a T on the controls. 

“Right, okay, I’m going to.” The prickle was back, and Douglas tried to stand down.

“Okay,” he directed in what he hoped was a calm tone. “I’ll have you do one last climbing turn, and then we’ll go and find a field we can practice spin recovery over.”

He’d thought it would be easy enough—she’d certainly done plenty of them before. But for some reason, today was different.

“Theresa! Your climb angle is too high. You need to scan!” he turned fully towards her in alarm as a stall warning began to blare.

Evidently startled by both his outcry and the stall warning, Theresa abruptly let go of the controls and screamed.

The plane, being a Cessna 152 and therefore the epitome of stalwart reliability, corrected itself and carried on happily scuttling across the English sky as if nothing had ever happened. Douglas was left to stare at Theresa, who’d buried her face in her hands, completely ignoring the panel in front of her.

He stared at her for what felt like thirty nautical miles before he cleared his throat, something like disappointment curdling in his chest.

“My controls. We’re going back to Fitton.”

“What?” She looked up at him, her eyes wide with shock.

“We’re going back to Fitton. I have control.”

And without waiting for her to confirm the handover, Douglas took hold of his yoke, dialed up the Fitton beacon, and began navigating back to the airfield.

—

“Hey, Martin.” Douglas opened the portakabin door, poked his head inside, and knocked on the wall—all while blocking Theresa from entering. 

“Douglas, what—” she yelped from behind, bumping into him. 

Martin took off his headphones and looked up from his charts, face brightening. “Douglas! You’re back? Where’s Theresa?” His face took on a confused expression. “Everything all right? That was rather quick.”

“Martin, get me my jacket.”

“What?” Martin stared, mouth agape. 

“Douglas, let me in!” Theresa tried to squeeze past him. Finding that difficult as he’d wedged himself between the door and the doorway, she thumped him on his back. “I’m not a child.”

“Theresa?” Martin called out. “What’s happened?”

“I’m going to borrow your girlfriend, Martin,” Douglas said calmly. “Get me my jacket.”

“What!”

“Borrow me—Douglas, let me in—”

“Douglas! What do you mean, what do you want—”

Douglas sighed heavily. “I need my jacket.”

“You’ve said that already, something like three times. Will someone please tell me what is going on? And did you just say you wanted to borrow my girlfriend?”

“I’m going to debrief the flight.”

“What do you mean? You can do it in here.”

“I mean, Martin,” Douglas burst out, suddenly losing patience, “something happened up there today, and we need to talk about it like adults, so I am going to bring Theresa somewhere nice and relaxing to have something to eat and drink and then we’ll talk it out.” He held out a hand. “Won’t take more than an hour. Now please. I need my keys. Get me my jacket, will you?”

Theresa stopped trying to worm past Douglas, and Martin’s expression changed into one of stunned shock. He rose, grabbed Douglas’ jacket off a hook, and handed it to him.

“Thank you, Martin. Theresa,” he turned to the princess. With a single shocked glance at Martin, she followed him down the ramp. 

“What exactly are we doing?” she dared to ask as he walked over to his Lexus.

“Exactly what I’ve just said to Martin. We’re going somewhere nice to have something to eat and drink and then we’ll talk about what happened today.” As he unlocked his car he realized that he was commanding a Princess; the humorous irony of this moment, however, would have to wait for another time. “Have a seat.”

“You realize this looks a lot like you’re kidnapping the princess of Liechtenstein.” She gaped at him over the roof of the sedan.

“You’re the one walking into the car, not me,” Douglas pointed out. “I am, in fact, very courteously unlocking the door and opening it for you as you gracefully sit in my car. Now come on. We should go. We have much to talk about.”

A former colleague from Air England had set up a coffeehouse a town over that sold food and drink at a reasonable price, having been declared unfit to fly by his GP due to worsening astigmatism. 

Which was where he was heading now.

As he turned into the car park, he remembered that he was not in an aeroplane and wrenched off his tie, tossing it into the back seat. “Let’s go,” he said without looking at Theresa.

“Okay.”

They silently crossed the car park and Douglas opened the front door for Theresa.

“Douglas! Haven’t seen you in ages.” The man was drying a mug behind the counter and waved eagerly as they walked in.

“Morning, Jeremy. Just dropping in.”

“Sure. Who’s this?” Jeremy indicated Theresa with a tilt of his head.

“A student.” Douglas kept his replies short. “I’m debriefing our flight.”

“Gracious, you’re teaching now?”

“On a limited basis.” Douglas offered a chair to Theresa in the back corner. “If you don’t mind…”

“No problem.” Jeremy turned away.

Theresa nodded distractedly and sat across from Douglas.

“I’ll get you something. What would you like?” Douglas turned to Theresa. “Something to drink, something to eat…”

She twisted around a bit to look at the display case of various baked goods. “I think...erm. An éclair?”

“Nothing to drink?”

Strangely, Theresa paled a little. “Just water.”

“You’re sure?”

“Just...water,” she glared lightly, and Douglas was vaguely reminded of her barking, “I am Theresa Gustava Bonaventura, Countess of Sponheim and Protector Extraordinary of the Cantons of Nimes!” into G-ERTI’s satcom. 

“Okay. Okay, sorry.” He put his hands up in a gesture of deference and headed to Jeremy’s post to get some food.

Some minutes later, he sat back in front of Theresa and handed her the éclair and water she’d requested. Jeremy went to talk to another customer in order to give them some semblance of privacy.

“Thank you.”

Douglas waited until they were both about halfway through their respective coffee/pastry before he started speaking.

“So. Let’s unpack what happened up there today,” he kept his tone low and calm. In front of him, Theresa clammed up a little, but he forged on. “Can you tell me, in your own words…”

“Who else’s words would I use?” Theresa interjected, then her ears turned red. “Well…” She thought for a second, then continued. “I didn’t have a problem getting off the ground, but I was having trouble...I was having trouble getting the plane trimmed to...to equilibrium. Then I did some climbing and turning, and that was okay, but then you asked me to do a checklist…”

“Right, and what happened then?”

“I wasn’t watching the plane, and it came out of its equilibrium.”

“That’s correct. And then?”

“You asked me to do a climbing turn, and I did, but I made a stall warning because I wasn’t scanning, and then…”

She trailed off.

“Right. That’s all true.” Douglas took a sip of his coffee. “Now. I know you knew how to do everything I asked you to. This was supposed to be a review flight, remember? I wouldn’t have let you go up in today’s conditions if you didn’t know how to do what I asked  you to—the bit of cloud and all. So.” He put his cup down. “What’s going on that you don’t want to tell me about?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean what was on your mind? Has anything happened between...has anything happened between you and Martin?” He dreaded to hear the answer. 

“What? No. No, we’re fine! Everything’s fine with us.” Her tone had abruptly grown defensive.

“Okay, okay.” Douglas tamped down the relief. “What I’m saying is, something’s probably set you off...Theresa. It’s like driving.” A thought occurred to him. “Wait, do you know...do you know how to drive?”

“For emergencies, yes. I was taught the basics a long time ago.”

“Well, you know how you wouldn’t—you shouldn’t drive when you’re unwell? Not just physically. Emotionally, too? Mentally?”

She nodded.

“Same with flying. You shouldn’t be flying if you’re not well. You shouldn’t have been up in the air at all today on that logic. Which begs the question.” He leaned forward. “You seem physically well. You’re mentally sound. Theresa...what’s wrong?”

Suddenly, she couldn’t meet his eyes.

“Come on, Theresa,” he urged. “We’re friends—at least,” he tacked on hastily, seeing the look that passed across her face, “a friend of Martin’s is a friend of mine, and you’ve—you’ve really been here for us, on quite a few occasions…” He sensed that he wasn’t getting his point across. “What I’m trying to say is…” He took a breath, reached across the table, and grasped her hand, which was lying limply next to her éclair. Her gaze whipped to him. “You can trust me. You can trust us. What’s happened?”

“Oh. Oh...I...Scheisse.” Theresa ripped her hand away and covered her face again. Douglas sat back and bit his lip, letting her talk when she wanted to.

Finally, she gulped, sat on her hands, and looked at Douglas. “Douglas. I…”

“Take your time. It’s okay.”

“Douglas...I think...I’m not saying, but I just think...I might be...Martin and I...well. I...might be pregnant.”

His jaw dropped. When the realization kicked in, he gasped and then grinned. The thought of a mini-Martin or a mini-Theresa was, frankly, incredibly endearing. “Oh my God! Congratulations—”

“No!” She shook her head rapidly. “Wait, no, I meant, not that I don’t want the congratulations, I mean no, it is not good, this is not good. Even though I’m only thinking I might...oh, it’s just bad! It’s really, really bad!” With shaking hands, she clutched at her curling hair like she was about to pull it out and looked at him, her hazel eyes desperate.

“What? How?” 

“We’re...Martin and I aren’t married! If we’re having a child, right now, it’s going to be regarded as an illegitimate child since we’re not married! And my family’s already angry enough at me—”

“Why would they be upset with you, for God’s sake? You’re running a microstate in your teenage brother’s stead, I’d say that’s more remarkable than a given person of your age—”

“Let me finish!” Theresa hissed. Douglas knew her frustration wasn’t directed at him, but his interruption wasn’t exactly helping. He fell silent with an apologetic, deferential nod. “Sorry. Yes, I know I run the country, but I’m just waiting for Maxie to finish his education and take it over—there was a constitutional crisis just to allow me to become his regent—they were going to give the state to a ten-year-old! I couldn’t possibly let them do that—but there are older...more...more conservative members of the royal family that...that don’t like that I’m doing this. And...I’ve never actually wanted to be...listen, I just don’t want to be…I don’t like politics. I never have, and you know I wanted to be a pilot. But I do...what I do! Because I have to…” 

Shakily, she picked up her paper table napkin and began to fidget with it. “And what’s worse...Swiss Air...Martin tells me they’re debating expanding to a hub in London, and...I want him to apply to be domiciled there. There’s a good chance they’ll let him, since he’s—he’s English, no matter how many times he reassures me that he’ll try to gain Liechtenstein citizenship…”

“Hold on. Citizenship?”

“Another problem. We talked to the archbishop of Vaduz. Martin’s not Liechtensteiner or royal, so one of those has got to give if we’re going to marry—and if any of our children are going to have any sort of claim to the throne. It’s not like I care about that last part, but the family’s going to make us suffer for it…”

“Wait, why would you want Martin to be domiciled here if Swiss Air opens a hub?”

“Because...I think it might be better for him. He’d be close to family, away from the worst of my relatives...not to mention close to you all.”

“And what about you?” Douglas stared across the table at her.

She sighed. “I...I would want to come with him if that happens. I've had...I have plans set up but I’ve never told anyone about them, not even Martin…I haven’t told anyone except Martin about me possibly being pregnant...”

“Again. Theresa. You can trust me.”

She gazed at him, openmouthed, then gave a “might-as-well-get-it-over-with” sort of shrug and continued. “Well, my next sister—she’s only a few years younger than me—she actually wants political life, she’s actually interested in running a country. She’d be overjoyed if I passed the regency to her. But after instating a constitutional crisis, I’d be expected to see the regency through, and that wouldn’t happen for...a few years yet. My God, it’s all so complicated, and I’m making no sense at all…”

By this point, the paper napkin was worried to bits on the table. 

Douglas sat there for a while, trying to figure out how to respond. 

“Theresa,” he began at last. 

“Yes?”

“Whatever happens...whatever you choose to do, and whatever you and Martin choose to do. You...you have a home here. Both of you. Really.” It wasn’t about flying now, this conversation. It wasn’t about mistakes, it wasn’t about pilot licenses or anything of the sort. This was different. This was family. “And if certain family members are being horrible...who cares about them? We’ll be your family. You have a—you have a refuge with us. You’ll be fine. You and Martin both.”

She looked dubious, for just a second, and then she looked relieved.

“That’s better,” Douglas soothed. “You’ll be fine. You will be.”

“Thank...thank you.”

“It’s the least I can do.” He stretched across the table and grasped his friend’s hand again—and this time she didn’t pull away. 

They smiled. 

A week or so later, after Theresa and Martin had returned to Zurich, he received a message.

I’m not pregnant. I’m okay, turns out it was a scare after all. I am truly sorry for the dramatics that day. Theresa

I’m glad to hear you’re okay. You are fine. You can always talk if you need it. Douglas

Thank you. Theresa

—

“She’ll be fine.” 

As Douglas scanned the horizon on the day of Theresa’s first solo flight, Carolyn elbowed him lightly in the side. “Hello, Captain Richardson? Do you happen to be in? She’ll be fine.”

He looked at Carolyn, who had endeavored to put on a reassuring look. “You’ve taught her well. She’ll be fine.”

“If I can say,” Herc interjected from Carolyn’s other side, “she’s done well for someone whose flying education has been so sporadic.”

“Yes. Loosen up, Douglas,” Carolyn admonished. “She'll be okay.” 

Douglas had let her take him up around Fitton twice before leaving her in the training Cessna to complete her first solo around the traffic pattern. In the distance, he saw her talking to Martin through the open door of the aircraft. 

Since their conversation a month or so previously, Theresa had made the decision to maintain her regency until Maxie’s coming of age. She and Martin were still discussing the idea of the domicile and marriage, but Douglas had faith that they would make the decision that was best for them. 

But that wasn’t important now, not when Martin had leaned inside and kissed Theresa, his vest stirred by the breeze, before he closed the plane’s door and walked over to meet the rest of the group, standing on the apron in front of the main lobby.

The setting was ideal—commanding a view of both the apron and the main runway.

“How is she?” Douglas asked a Martin anxiously.

“Relaxed, mostly.” Martin had his hands shoved into his pockets as he came to stand next to him. Douglas resisted the urge to laugh—Martin’s face was still a vibrant shade of crimson. “I suppose...mo-more relaxed than me.” He laughed nervously.

Arthur came trotting over as best he could with a plastic bucket in his grip. Water sloshed over the rim. 

“Arthur, dear heart—pray tell me why you’ve got that,” Carolyn turned and pointed at the bucket of water. 

“Ah. Well...I may have told Arthur of the tradition of a pilot’s first solo,” Herc replied a bit sheepishly. “The Americans cut off the shirt-tail—but we douse the pilot in water.”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake, really?” Carolyn rolled her eyes. “And she’s got on a uniform for the first time too.”

“It’s a rite of passage.”

It was Martin—of course—that had suggested Theresa get a uniform for the occasion, citing his own experience going through flight school. Initially, Douglas hadn’t even considered it—until that point he’d just let her show up in whatever she wanted to wear. However, he and Herc had agreed with Martin, and they’d pulled together to surprise Theresa with a uniform much like the ones the three of them used for flights with OJS. Martin had had the honor of fastening Theresa’s epaulettes for her—one stripe for now.

Douglas knew he would not be surprised if that one stripe would grow to three or even four. 

“She’s starting up her roll,” Martin announced, ever the observant aviator. 

Douglas watched her initiate her checklist before pulling forward and taxiing towards the runway. 

Theresa paused at the mouth of the runway, and if Douglas squinted, he could see her take a deep breath before applying power. 

The Cessna rolled down the runway, leaving the piano keys behind, quickly gaining speed. 

“Rotate,” Douglas murmured under his breath. 

The front wheel lifted from the ground, and the little aeroplane rose into the sky. 

“Good start,” Herc assessed. Douglas saw him hold up his finger to form an angle with the ground. “Good angle.” Seeing Douglas watching, Herc looked over and sent him a grin. “You did well.”

“Hurrah!” Arthur jumped up and down excitedly. “That was brilliant!”

“Yes, well,” Martin said. “She’s got to come back down.”

Douglas nodded. The relief he’d felt upon watching Theresa take off was quickly replaced by a heavy feeling in his throat. Martin was right. For a novice pilot, taking off was easy enough—landing, not so much. 

They craned their heads upward. The little Cessna was following the standard traffic pattern for Fitton, turning and coming back to land. 

Theresa descended from the sky and approached the runway as Douglas had taught her. He envisioned her as he’d seen her so many times, as they practiced touch-and-go after touch-and-go after touch-and-go: correcting the side-to-side alignment, watching the PAPI lights on the sides of the runway, aiming for the touchdown zone...

“Flare,” Martin called out as Theresa tipped the nose up to increase the angle of attack. 

“Come on,” Douglas muttered to himself, watching her intently. “Power through the ground effect, don’t use up the runway—!”

Finally, the main wheels touched the runway, followed by the front wheel, and he knew Theresa was pushing the rudder pedals as hard as she could to get the plane slowed down.

Martin and Douglas cheered at the same time, and Douglas felt Martin cling to him and jump up and down. 

“She did it! She did it!” he chorused excitedly. 

“Well done to you too, Douglas,” Herc said warmly, thumping him on the back. 

“I must admit, that was exhilarating,” Carolyn added, a hint of pride in her tone. 

“Douglas, here!”

He turned to Arthur, who shoved the bucket of water at him. Some of it slipped over the edges and wet Douglas’s shoes. “You should have the bucket since you taught her! I’ll help you if you need it.”

“Arthur, dearest, I should think one is enough for that!”

Almost as if in a daze, Douglas accepted the bucket. Theresa had done it. Of course, there was a long way to go in terms of licensing, but the truth still stood—she’d defied everything that had stood in her way. 

She was a pilot now. 

Finally, she pulled in to stand and, after completing shutdown checks, left the aircraft to slip on the pitot cover and tie down the wings. 

Martin broke from the group and ran to her, and they followed. Douglas came last of all, heaving the bucket with him. 

Theresa came to meet them, accepting congratulations from Herc and Carolyn, laughing as Arthur tackled her into a soul-crushing hug, and kissing Martin on the cheek. 

Finally, she turned to Douglas with a brilliantly relieved grin, and he smiled mischievously at her. Luckily, she had her gaze concentrated on his face, and not the bucket he was trying to hide behind him. 

“You’ve done well, Theresa. And now, since you’ve shown proficiency as a pilot...I’ve got something for you…”

Splash!

“Agh!! Douglas!! It’s cold!!!”

[yehet-me-up]

Frozen North ~ Night Three

PAIRING: Chanyeol x reader

GENRE: Horror/Suspense/SPOOP in general/light romance (because who else would I be?)

WORD COUNT: 2,160

RATING: PG13 (nothing gruesome, but knowing me there will be swearing)

SUMMARY: You run a late night radio show dedicated to telling scary stories and urban legends, the creepier the better. Listeners call in and share their own, creating a small but loyal community of folks like you who love this sort of thing. One night, a man calls in with what sounds like an all-too-real story and before you know it, you’ll do anything to make sure he’s safe.

Frozen North Masterlist

‘I don’t like this,’ Daniel says, coming into the booth with his bag slung over his shoulder. ‘Shit like this gives me the heebie jeebies.’

You stare at the number on the screen, running an anxious hand through your hair. ‘I don’t like it either. Something is seriously wrong here.’

He folds his arms and leans against the door frame. ‘And you’re sure this isn’t some stunt?’

Your eyes widen at his insinuation. ‘Do you think I’m doing this?’

Daniel sags with relief, awkwardly coughing. ‘No, I just- I’m glad you said it’s not you but… would have been nice if this was all some game.’

‘Yeah, it would have been.’ You stand and quickly close down your station. ‘I don’t think it is.’

He shuts off the studio lights, holding the door open for you. There’s a hauntedness behind his eyes that makes you shiver in the darkness. 

‘Me neither.’

When you get home the first thing you do is find food to shove in your face. The life of a grad student isn’t the most glamorous, but you make the most of it. Normally you try and cook a balanced meal, even though you get home so late. But tonight you grab a pack of mini muffins and pull out your laptop. 

You need answers, and you won’t sleep until you find them.

Grabbing your phone, you shove a muffin in your mouth and text the number, trying not to feel like you’re slowly going insane.

Y/N 12:31 AM: Chanyeol? If you’re there can you please tell me if you’re alright?

While you wait, you email yourself the photo from his FaceTime call. A reverse image search turns up nothing and you frown. Searching the most obvious place, you type his name into the advanced search on Facebook. 'Chanyeol’ garners 526 results. None of the first dozen or so listings look like him. You try to search Alaska but it brings up two profiles with default Facebook anonymous photos.

Frowning, you bite your lip. Instinct makes you type in ‘Seattle’ and instantly his profile comes up. You gasp and almost upend your laptop onto the floor, narrowly catching it with your quick reflexes.

His profile is set to private. ‘Dammit.’

It doesn’t give you much. A high school in Redmond, Washington. It says he attends the University of Washington too. Once for undergrad and now for grad school. No indication of years attended or major studied. No job listed. No friends list to dig through. The void of information makes you ache.

But it does give you one key thing - his last name. Park.

In under a minute you have his instagram profile pulled up. loey61.

It’s absolutely him. Gone are the fear and exhaustion from his face, he looks so real and alive and energetic in his photos he reminds you of the sun. As you scroll through his feed your heart squeezes insistently in your chest. His smile dominates his face, crinkles forming at the corners of his eyes as he laughs in photos.

Videos taken with a shaky hand at concerts. Sleepy selfies with his hand on his chin and his hair a mess of odd angles. Photos from a weeklong trip he took to Japan last year. 

It feels as though you know him, but you’ve never met; you’d have remembered the man with brown eyes and a voice like a roll of thunder. 

The bars he goes to with his friends are the same ones you frequent with your friends from school, with people from the station. He has no less than ten photos over the past few years of Suzallo library - the stained glass and the soaring Gothic architecture that surrounds your favorite study spot.

How have we been orbiting each other for years and never met? From his captions you gather he’s studying the anthropology of music. The buildings are right across from each other on campus. You frown and chew on the inside of your cheek. So strange.

Rallying your mind, you click on his most recent photo, dated a week ago. A photobooth photo, if you had to guess, of him in his bedroom playing the guitar, a pick between his teeth. The caption is the guitar emoji and the dancing man emoji.

The comments are what worry you.

Hey Chan, where are you? You missed my gig Monday at Showbox, what gives?

Helloooooo are you alive? Did Radiohead call you to tour and you’ve abandoned us?

Yo what time are we meeting for that study group on Thursday i totally forgot to write it down hahaha

Mom’s getting worried C, why aren’t you answering your phone?

The last comment catches your attention and you click on the profile. 

The family resemblance is uncanny, and the photo of the two of them from Christmas wearing matching reindeer antlers confirms it. With a shaky hand you click on the message button. ‘Shit, what do I say?’

You decide to just be straight with it. I think we should talk. My name is Y/N and I’m a radio host in Seattle. I think your brother has been calling in. Unless he’s the kind of person to pull some kind of crazy prank, I think he’s in danger. My number is 206-972-6347 if you prefer to text me. The show is The Long Night on 107.9 KJWZ and he’s called in the last two nights. The recordings should be up on our website.

It’s 1:57 AM at this point, so you don’t expect a response. There’s not much else you can do at the moment, so after dragging yourself through your nighttime routine you crawl into bed. 

As a last bleary thought you pull up his IG profile and send him a message.

I really hope you’re alright.

Aside from the usual messages from your friends, instagram alerts, and the like you have nothing from Chanyeol or his sister. With a sigh, you get ready for class.

Through a meeting with your thesis advisor, two seminars, a class you TA, and three hours in Suzallo studying and writing and trying not to watch for him, you anxiously check your phone every few minutes. Nothing.

By the time you arrive at the station you’re feeling anxious and desperate. On any other day it would amuse you how much you care about some random person, but this doesn’t feel random. It feels like fate, or some cruel joke God is pulling on you. 

Daniel gives you a tight-lipped smile when you come in the booth to set down your bag and coat. ‘Any word?’ he asks, eyeing the way you clutch your phone tightly.

‘No.’ You sigh, ‘I found him online, though.’

For once he doesn’t say anything back, just nods for you to continue.

‘I found his Facebook and his Instagram. I reached out to his sister. There’s all these worried comments…’

Suse stands up from the desk in the booth when she sees you and sets her headphones on the stand. She hurries into the room and puts an arm around you. ‘How’s it going with the mystery man? We’re all dying to know.’

You lean your head on her shoulder briefly before showing her the blank screen on your phone. ‘I messaged him last night, but there’s nothing. I don’t know what’s going to happen tonight, but I’m afraid for him.’

She sighs and snaps her fingers. ‘Dammit, I was hoping this was just a prank.’

‘Me too-’ you start, but get cut off by the dinging of your phone. You haven’t had it off silent since 2008, but this is a special occasion.

You pull up his message, heart thundering in your chest, and watch as photos come through. Six of them. Finally, a video. 

The photos are dark but they show a smooth white surface, lit by a moon high in the cloudy sky. All slightly blurry and from different angles, but it’s no mistaking this is the ice he’s been talking about.

‘Hey, I don’t mean to interrupt but it’s-’ Daniel starts, pointing at the clock.

‘So don’t,’ Suse says and waves him off.

You hit play on the video and the sound of wolves howling and wind makes your stomach drop. It’s only eleven seconds but it feels like it takes an eternity.

‘Oh, shit,’ Suse says behind you.

‘I know.’

‘No, look.’ She points to the vague outlines of dark lines on the video. ‘Are those bars?’

You play it over twice more, turning the brightness up and squinting. ‘Fucking hell, I think you’re right.’

Suse nudges your shoulder. ‘You should try to call him, he just sent these.’

‘Good idea.’

You hit the call button and wait while it rings. The longer it goes, the more Daniel points to the clock showing 8:06, the higher your anxiety rises. Finally, it ends. An automated message tells you yet again that the subscriber has not set up a voicemail box and you want to scream.

Frantically, you send him a text. Where are you?

‘If he doesn’t message me by intermission... I’m calling the cops.’

Suse shrugs on her coat and whoops. ‘Atta girl. I have to pick up Jimmy from work but if you need anything, call me. I mean it.’

‘Thanks.’

She leaves and you stare at the phone and the way those three little dots aren’t appearing. Daniel makes a noise of distress and you sigh. ‘Alright alright, I’m going.’

The show goes smoothly as it can. You thank yourself profusely for having Sundays set aside to pre-script the shows for the week. Lord knows where you’d be right now otherwise, with how much this Chanyeol situation has taken over your thoughts.

You and David the regular discuss the latest episode of Buzzfeed Unsolved. Someone going by the handle CryptidAndProud reads a decent Jersey Devil-inspired story they wrote. A weird crop circle in South America gets a good amount of traction. All the while you tap your foot and watch the clock tick on. Every few minutes you check your phone, refreshing your messages and instagram, hoping you’re not missing anything.

Just before the 10pm intermission a call comes in that makes you sag with relief.

1-907-613-2458 - UNLISTED NUMBER - NOME

You smash the answer button, cutting off one of the callers who is commenting that the crop circle ‘kind of looks like a dick from the right angle, right?’

‘Hello?’ You hardly recognize your own voice - high, frantic, worried. For long seconds the only thing you can hear is the distant sound of scuffling and what sounds like another man’s voice in the background. ‘Chanyeol?’

‘I’m here.’ He sounds so tired you feel it in your bones. ‘I don’t- I’m surprised I’m still here, honestly.’

‘Why is that?’

‘She came to me this morning. Before dawn,’ he says. The phone crackles and you hope the call didn’t drop. ‘I don’t want her to take me. I want to live.’

Suddenly, you want to cry. It seems incomprehensible that on Monday you didn’t know him at all, but by Thursday you’d give anything for him to be okay. You want to scream at him, asking if he’s safe, but you swallow it down harshly.

‘I want that too. How can I help you? Do you know where you are? I saw bars-’

The call cuts out and static fills the air. 

‘Hello? Chanyeol?’

Nothing. Your mouse hovers over the end call button but you can’t force yourself do it. The silence of the studio settles over you, not comforting like it usually is, but strangling, suffocating. You hate it with every fiber of your being. Daniel rubs his eyes in the booth, looking at stressed as you feel.

Clearing your throat, you hit end. The digital switchboard lights up, all sixteen lines filled with flashing lights. People out there, waiting to comment. 

‘Well. I don’t - I don’t know what to say. You guys have known me for years, most of you anyway. This isn’t something I’m doing. I think this is… something real. Something dangerous. If any of you know anything about Chanyeol Park, please call in. This has to end. I’ll be right back.’

You motion to Daniel and he queues up the ad break. With a sigh you slip off the headphones and they clatter onto the desk. Stroking your thighs anxiously you debate calling the police right this moment. Your phone rings, vibrating so loud against the wood of the desk you reel back and almost smack the back of your head on it. 

It’s not him and you want to howl. But it’s a Seattle number, and you’ve only given yours out to one person this week. Hitting accept you lift the phone. 

‘Hello?’

A woman’s voice comes through. ‘Hi, it’s... me Yoora. Chanyeol’s sister.’ She sniffles, she sounds as though she’s been crying. ‘I listened to your show. I think we need to meet up.’

~~~~~~

Tagging @yeoldontknow​ @enthusiastt​ @itskindofafairything​ @gogh-suck-it​ @nshitae​

[soranihimawari]

Hi Scores & Taiyaki

Hi Scores & Taiyaki

Welcome back to part 3 of the Kuroo x 1st person fic. This will be the last installment for now unless I decide to use Social Dummy again to continue the character’s relationship. But first things first, thanks for reading this and major shoutouts to @vbcshenaningansnwritings​ for reblogging my stories & @kaidasen​ for encouraging me to post these drabbles/drafts/fics. ::hugs to you::

Taglist: still open

The weeklong camp had come to an end before it had begun. I had a lot of fun hanging out with the girls during the end of camp barbecue. There were a few instances where I had to chase after Bokuto to remind him to not steal so much food from the different grills, but he just laughed it off before running away with a plate full of food for Akaashi. Kuroo on the other hand, was busy keeping track of his protoges, Kenma and Tsukishima (another tall middle blocker from Karasuno) by also doing the same thing. There was a moment before the visiting teams started to pack their belongings where Kenma tugged on my sleeve to pull me aside causing my conversation with the female managers to be cut short. (We had already traded contact info during the many nights we stayed up exchanging stories of their teams antics, so we all decided to text each other later).

“Everything ok Kenma?” I asked when we stopped walking. There was a safe distance between the side of the building where we stood and the other members of the teams.

“Kuroo seems to really like you,” he said in a low tone. I nodded as I kicked the invisible pile of dust on the concrete floor. His console was tucked away in his track jacket pocket, but he continued to play a different game on his phone.

“I have a feeling that I already know,” I replied with a smirk.

“Good. Because I couldn’t get him to shut up about you after you helped Lev out the other day.”

A chortle escaped my lips, “I see. Well, if that’s all you wanted to tell me, then I guess we could head back. C’mon, Karasuno is about to leave now too. Let’s say bye to Shoyo & Tsukki.”

It seemed as though everyone had begun saying their farewells by the time we returned.

***

Summer vacation quickly ended for me as soon as it had begun. Classes were starting again the following day, so naturally by the time I had arrived back home, I greeted my parents before calling my close friend, Riza.

“Kenma confirmed to me that Kuroo does like me and we may or may not have spent more time alone after lights out,” I explained collapsing on my mattress.

“Oh ho ho,” Riza chuckled on her end of the line. “So, the tom cat finally came around to liking you? That’s terrific. All of his fans are going to be heart broken when you guys go out on your date next Saturday.”

“I know. I am not looking forward to receiving those glares from his exes though.”

“Meh, you’ll be fine. They were the ones who let him go with the exception of Angela though. Those two always fought, but I am glad you two never really fought. Well, maybe except in trig when you both arrived at different limit answers, haha.”

“Of course you’d remember how well he took being wrong, Riz.”

“Mmhm. I gotta back my friend up whenever he assumes he is the smartest in the room. Anyways, I’m gonna go prepare for bed. See you in class tomorrow.”

“Okidokie. Meet at the convenience store at seven?”

“I’ll be there. Later Kat.”

***

The days seemed to have blurred together, but with both Kuroo and I heavily invested in our separate clubs outside of school hours, we barely had any time to discuss finalizing our plans for our arcade date. On Friday night before our date, I received a call from him. He seemed a bit stressed out, more so than usual, but that was to be expected since the team had a qualifying match scheduled in a few days time.

“Coach is making us have an extra practice on Wednesday and that’s when this chem lab is due. There’s also this make up test I have to do for history and I’m falling behind in trig since I can’t really find the time for homework. Kat, I don’t know what to do.” 

I was seated at my desk in front of my computer screen in the middle of typing an essay for English class. It was a three to five page paper discussing the themes of Westernized fairy tales which I stopped writing because clearly, Kuroo needed someone to snap him back into focus.

“Take a deep breath first,” I heard him inhale and upon his exhale, I continued. “Good. Now, listen to me carefully Tetsuro: meet me in the library after class on Monday. Bring all your materials for the classes you fell behind on. I’ll make copy of my notes and bring a pen to correct your mistakes on the trig quizzes since you got an 80% last time.”

“Our second date is a study date, huh?”

I chuckled. “It can be. Let’s survive the first one, yeah? The forecast called for rain tomorrow afternoon, so hopefully we won’t get caught in it on the way back.”

***

I arrived first to the arcade around 17:50. I was dressed in the best casual attire I could think of: navy wide leg pants, a white dress shirt paired underneath with a lemon yellow camisole. My shoes were black rain boots and my hair was left down. Kuroo came a few minutes later dressed in an all black street ensemble attire that made me think I was a bit out of his league (more so than before).

“You did not have to come here looking like an idol star,” I teased when he reached out to hold my hand.

“And you didn’t have to either,” he said with a smile. “Let’s go inside to play Street Fighter II again, yeah?” I nodded.

A few hours passed us by as we kept reloading the game cards playing different arcade games ranging from fighting games, TETRIS, and music games (like JuBEAT FESTO). Kuroo’s cat like smile made me more competitive when he failed the last song of JuBeat.

“Move aside, lemme see if I can beat your score sir,” I mused. I swiped my card and selected my first song and the speed. The tiles began to glow with the first few notes coming from the machine. There were a lot of encouraging words coming through the screen: “Combo!” “Perfect” “100 note streak!”

“By the time my round ended, the title card illuminated with a new hi-score slot waiting for my initials to be put in.

“If I wanted to date Kenma, I would have just taken him here,” Kuroo muttered under his breath. “Well, you win. I bow down to you, Kat-chan. Queen of JuBEAT FESTO.”

“You don’t have to, but maybe we should go? It’s almost 20:30 and I don’t want to stay out too late. Let’s go grab a bite to eat, yeah?”

There were a few food cart vendors located down the street from the arcade. Their carts were lined up against the entrance way of an old park where there once was a sunflower field. Years of urbanization caused the flowers to no longer be planted, but in their stead, a field of peonies were grown. I took a seat on one of the benches facing the flowers. A warm smile graced my lips as I leaned down to pluck one off the field. 

“Such a pretty flower for a pretty date,” Kuroo’s voice made me yelp in surprise. He cackled as he extended one of the taiyaki he bought toward me. “Here, I got you a taiyaki.” I took one of the fish shaped pastries an thanked him. We raised our fishes to each other and began to munch on them; we sat there for about half an hour making the time pass by playing a question game with each other. 

“Your turn,” I reminded Kuroo with a nudge of my elbow. “Ask me anything you like.”

“Alright,” Kuroo replied. “Hmm...I got it! Kat, how many dates do we have to go on before I ask you to be my girlfriend?”

I leaned forward and folded my arms over my thighs, a hum drawn out into the air. I made direct eye contact with the peonies, the one I plucked remained on the bench. He had a puzzled emotion worn on his face.

“As many as it takes for me to believe you actually like me. Kuroo,” I swallowed thickly. “You’re someone who would break up with a girl over the fact that they bore you or that they didn’t understand your commitment to your team as captain. It’s going to take some time for me to believe your emotions toward me are genuine. Sure, we had fun at training camp, but I need you think this through. Are you sure you want to be with me?”

At this point, Kuroo stood up and immediately crouched down in front of me. The summer breeze made his hair dance in the wind along with the blooms behind him. 

“I’m sure,” he replied. A hand of his combed a few pieces of my hair behind my ear; he grabbed the plucked peony blossom and placed it behind my exposed ear. “See? You do look more glamorous with it in your hair. C’mon, I suppose it’s time for me to walk you home.”

He pulled me up off the bench and placed a light kiss atop the crown of my head. 

We arrived at the fork in the sidewalk where we would have originally had split up before, but instead Kuroo escorted me to the front courtyard of my apartment complex building. He held my hand the entire walk over, telling me more stories of his childhood with Kenma up until the time Kenma turned twelve and they  climbed a tree to rescue a kitten. 

“And that’s how Kenma had his first pet,” Kuroo said, a triumphant smile over his face.

“So it seems,” I replied, a shortened giggle fell out of my mouth. He raised my hand to his lips, thanking me for a wonderful outing. His thumb traced over my knuckles lightly. I removed the flower from behind my ear before offering it to him. He pushed it back toward me before he tilted my chin up to meet his gaze.

“Keep it, sweetheart,” his voice told me. He leaned down again and kissed me, slowly to quiet my irrational fears of not being wanted by him. One kiss was all it took for both of us to come to terms with our outlook on each other. My eyes fluttered open, my hand still wrapped around the peony’s stem. He kissed my cheek when I wasn’t looking directly at him.

“Go on upstairs. I’ll leave after you go,” he told me in an hazy tone. He squeezed my hand gently. 

“Thank you for today,” I began as I turned around to open the door of the lobby. “See ya at school next week.”

***

About a month and half after our first date, Kuroo and I found ourselves curled up on the couch in his living room with a Ghibli film playing in the background. His arm was resting comfortably against my waist, drawing small circles on my skin. I turned my eyes away from the tv to look up at him before I decided I was done watching the film. I committed the minute details of his face to memory. 

He cocked his head to the side with a curious brow lifted toward me right up until the moment I initiated a kiss. Kuroo did not object to this sign of affection pouring from me. His hand moved away from my waist to my back, then I felt his arms loop behind me to pull me over his lap. I found myself wrapping my legs around his waist as my hands made their way on to the fabric of his shirt prior to me holding on to it for balance as he began to work on deepening our kiss. I found myself smiling into every kiss he gave me, stealing every ounce of air he had inside his lungs. He rested his head against the crook of my neck, his breathing uneven. 

“Three years of wondering what it would feel like to have you alone like this,” his voice reverberated gently against my skin causing a blush to dance across my face. Slowly, I felt his lips imprint open mouthed kisses up the side of my neck. He was gentle with me at first, much like the first person to kiss me like this. My breath was caught in my throat and it seemed he didn’t care as a whimper escaped my lips in anticipation not knowing where his lips were headed to next. Damn this boy, my inner thoughts cursed at him.

Each kiss gained momentum the closer his lips grazed against my own. In the past couple of dates that we had had, I mentioned off hand to Kuroo that if he were to kiss my neck, even playfully, I’d crumble beneath his touch. Smooth ass mother fucker, I thought. 

“Shh...” I hushed him within a few seconds when I felt his one of his hands disappear under the back of my shirt and the other stabilized the back of my neck. I’d like to think he counted how many layers of clothing there was between us, but his coarse hands roamed my body curious to know how soft my skin was.  

He pushed me forward, causing me to crash on to his demanding lips again; his hands were wrapped around my waist and mine laced lightly around the back of his neck, giving me more support to push myself into him more. His mouth was compressed against mine, yet this kiss remained as light as we had intended it to be. We sat like this for a few moments before our lips began to move rhythmically over the other, the pace being set by him.

I exhaled through my nose, not wanting to let go of him. There was an overwhelming feeling of mutual relief toward each other finally seeing what we could be. Relief raced out of hearts for a moment only to be replaced with this sense of combined eccentric panic, and lust. More, I thought. I need more of this kind of physical affection.

Kuroo’s hand on the small of my back travelled higher in an attempt to pull my shirt over my head, to which I shook my head in agreement.

“It’s too hot,” I said, lifting the fabric over my head and tossing it to the side. Kuroo’s eyed my exposed top half through running his hands up my sides. My chest rose and fell with every touch his grazed my skin.

“I concur,” he said. I shrugged before I leaned down, hands pressing his shoulders back on to the back of the couch. From there, I began my barrage of open mouthed kisses down his neck, leaving bite marks behind his ear. Hearing him hiss an exasperated sigh when he pulled me toward him causing me to stop.

My hair hung over my shoulders as Kuroo tilted his head up again to press his forehead against mine. He and I exchanged a few words making sure the other was doing ok; most of our replies were done in a hummed tone of the “yes,” variety.

Our heart rates needed to return to a normal pace prior to us continuing where we had left off. Kuroo’s playful shine in his eyes and smirk told me everything I wanted to know. I caressed his cheek when I pulled away, the inside of my palm warm from his flushed face. 

“Kat,” he breathed my name so effortlessly it caused me to stop stroking the side of his face.

“Hmm?” my vocal chords vibrates at the sound of my name. “What is it?”

Suddenly, I took note of how Kuroo’s eyes were trying to refocus themselves on my face; pupils dilated meaning he felt the rush of serotonin enter his system. He shifted his weight underneath me and whispered something along the lines of “you’re staying over tonight,” in my ear to which I nodded. I didn’t have time to wait since I felt him stand up with his hands under my thighs.

“W-woah!” I said, stifling a laugh when I moved my arms around his neck for balance. “Where are you taking me?” As if I didn’t already know the answer. I arched my eyebrow up at him with a teasing expression.

“My room,” Kuroo answered, his eyes crinkled with a smile. “To continue where we left off kitten.”

[docholligay]

In Which I Drive 17 Hours to Act Like a Goof

I want to preface this story with the advice that if you ever get the chance to meet Jen Cohn, you should do it. You should do it if you have only a passing interest in Fareeha Amari, even. She is an incredibly gracious, funny, and very very kind woman, and I am grateful that if I was going to act like I had never met another human being in my life, it was to an incredibly gracious, funny, and very kind woman. 

I also want to preface this story with the caveat that I am remembering this to the best of my ability, but there were parts, dear reader, where I believe my brain simply shorted out and left the building, very likely cruising over to some bar to have a drink and pretend it had never known me, and I understand the inclination. 

Lastly, I want to say that the only thing that keeps me from retreating to the mountains in shame is that if nothing, I am probably not the most awkward person she has ever met. 

But I’m probably up there. 

If you click beyond the read me, you solemnly swear that you will try to view this with a charitable eye, and please carry with you every positive thought you have ever had of me.  

I brought my fanfic to the con. This isn’t the first fanfic I’ve ever had signed–my sister got me Charlotte Chung’s autograph, and a friend is getting me Crispin Freeman’s–but it’s the first one I’ve ever gotten signed myself. With this, I reasoned, I would have three of my top five characters, and one of my top two, and so really the eight and a half hour drive each way wasn’t that big of a deal. So I planned it out, went to an Office Depot and had them print two copies, in case I lose or ruin one, on 24 pound linen resume paper like I’m John fucking Milton, and headed to Salt Lake. 

I wasn’t nervous the whole time I was in the con. I cruised artist alley, looked at the pinball machines, and strolled around waiting for her booth to open, picking out what to say, thinking I was going to play it VERY cool because I am a neat, casual, funny lesbian, and not an awkward lesbian disaster. 

Oh ho ho, hubris, you who makes a mockery of us all. 

I’m standing in line, waiting, and suddenly it occurs to me that while this fanfic is not, in the strictest sense, about her, it is, to some extent, about her. I can feel myself blushing as I’m sitting here writing this two days later, and at the con it was this overwhelming sense of HOW STUPID ARE YOU, HOLLIGAY? IT ISN’T EVEN THAT GOOD. I swear to god I felt tears spring to my eyes, and I was suddenly so EMBARRASSED of myself that I wanted to run. I started to shake. 

Luckily or unluckily, depending on how you take the tale, Nikki was right next to me. Nikki, our preeminent Pharah main and Definitely Not Super Invested in Pharmercy friend, was in no way going to allow me to bold. We had driven eight and a half hours last night, and we were literally going to drive eight and a half hours the next morning, for mostly this reason. I was not going anywhere. 

We get up there, and it should be noted that I’ve never met a celebrity at a con. I’ve met musicians after concerts and stuff, but nothing this structured, it’s usually just someone with a guitar sitting on the edge of the stage shooting the shit because that’s a solid 89% of concerts I attend. All of this might be very par for the course, but if stories I’ve heard are any indication, and things going on around me were normal, it could just be a Jen Cohn thing. 

She introduces herself as Jen and sticks her hand out to shake mine, and thank god my name is three letters and one syllable because I managed to remember it. I’m still holding my fanfic in front of myself, the spare copy still safely pressed in the cardboard bag. Nikki is chatting, because she still has the capability of speech, while I’m mostly shaking my head yes and no. 

I don’t remember how it came up, but Nikki said that we had driven here from Montana, and that it was about eight and a half hours each way, and that we had done it mainly to see her. Jen Cohn’s eyes lit up and she walked around from the booth and hugged us both, which I was not at all expecting, but was so sweet and felt so genuine and so kind. 

I’m just going to buy a print, I think, and have her sign it. 

But once again, Nikki was next to me. Jen is asking if we play Overwatch, and I’m nodding my head, and if I had the capability of speech, I might have said, I love Pharah as a character, so much, but her playstyle is a little beyond me, I stick to Tracer, harass is really my game. But I didn’t, and, so I didn’t. And then I hear Nikki. 

“We’re really more on the creative side of things, my friend here…”

O H N O. 

It’s not just my head that’s shaking now, it’s my whole body. I am a tiny Jewish maraca that can’t even keep time. 

Nikki must have said something about me having a fanfic, because I managed to present it. I even managed to set it on the table! And I haven’t creased it, or ruined it, or anything. 

She’s never had anyone bring her fanfiction before, she says, but she doesn’t say it like I thought she would, like no one has ever done it because it’s cringeworthy, but with a sense of surprise and delight. And then, it happens.

Jen Cohn starts reading my Fareeha Amari fanfiction. She starts reading my Fareeha Amari fanfiction and telling me I should contribute to the Pharmercy zine, they’re doing a round two and they didn’t add fanfic last time, but they might and they should. 

What I want to do, is shake my head and tell her not to read it, assure her that’s it’s all rather quasi-canonical, and not good besides, I want to take it away before she can realize that it’s all so terrible, and oh my god now she’s moving to the second page. 

But what I say instead is, “I have another copy, if you want it.” 

And I do, Merriwether font size 11, eight pages of white linen resume paper at 24 pound test, so it would hold up, you see. So it would stay nice. Maybe I said it because I didn’t want her to read it in front of me, that I hoped she would put it in some stack somewhere and forget about it. Maybe I said it because I did want her to read it, because I hoped, like I do with every reader, that it would do something for her, in some way. 

She said she’d love that, and as I’m going to set it on the table, still shaking so badly that I’m sure I look like I’m coming down off a weeklong bender, she asks me if I’ll please sign it for her. I nod, and as I go to take the pen from in front of me, her poor handler looks like she thinks I’m going to pass out, and I do feel a little like passing out, now as she mentions it with her eyes. 

I’m not sure what I wrote. I know it was some variation on thank you, and I doubt she could read it anyhow, my handwriting being terrible in the best of times and at the point we are in the story, it has disintegrated to this sort of rune-like text, as if I were practicing my Hebrew letters and forgetting that this is English. I signed it, and she signed my copy, and I carefully tucked it back in the bag with the careful folds, where it would be safe. 

There’s a million things I might have told her. That I loved the voice she gave Pharah, that I thought it was so wonderful how much she was behind Pharah/Mercy. That I’m Jewish too, and growing up with my major representation being Fievel Mousekewitz, while I know we’ll never have one in-game, sometimes it’s nice to imagine that a character you love might be Jewish. 

I did none of them. I mostly shook and stared. 

Nikki had no such problems. She was funny and engaging and decided she had to buy the Pharah/Mercy print, despite already having a print, because she does not care about them AT ALL, it is important for all to note, and she definitely doesn’t want to hang it in the office where she can stare at their gay faces. 

This is a good time to insert that Jen Cohn and Lucie Pohl both had this print, signed by the other, for people to buy, with all proceeds going to the Ali Forney Center. If you take nothing else away from this story, let it be that they are both using their fame for something good. 

Her paint marker screwed up and she turned a huge blotch of paint into this amazing huge heart, all the while laughing about how much love was on this print, all the love, and I actually did laugh, even in my sort of catatonic state. 

In conclusion, she was so amazing and lovely, and while *I* acted like a complete doofus (and Nikki may be able to fill in stuff I forgot) she was incredible and warm and one of the most positive, if not the most positive, celebrity experience I have ever had. She didn’t make me feel like I was acting like an awkward loser at all, even though I VERY clearly was, and again I cannot recommend enough that if you ever have the chance to even say hi to her, I’d do it. 

I still haven’t had the courage to see what she wrote to me. Maybe when I’m a little less embarrassed. 

The rest is on Patreon because it’s much more personal.

[frederator-studios]

Grace Ellis: The Frederator Interview

Grace Ellis is among the most exciting comic and TV writers working today, and all from coffee shops ‘round Columbus, Ohio. The first comic she created, Lumberjanes, is a NY Times bestselling series, in development as a movie, and brought her home Eisner and GLAAD awards for her cat to try to knock over. Grace is currently writing one of the most magical comics of the year, Moonstruck, but still found time to pen some awesome episodes of Bravest Warriors season 4 (after she determined that the gig was not, indeed, a prank). Grace and I sat down to talk log-doodling, queer representation in comics, and the commonalities between Beth Tezuka and Captain America.

Having written Lumberjanes: were you a Girl Scout yourself?

For a little, until my troop disbanded! Lumberjanes re-connected me with my Girl Scout roots. The inspiration for a lot of the woodsy stuff comes from an outdoor camp I was part of. After college I worked for Autostraddle, the biggest online network for queer women. They host a weeklong sleepaway camp every year called A-Camp. It has a bunch of panels, talent shows, activities - really cool stuff. When I was a camp counselor one year in Big Bear, I made friends with an attendee, Shannon Watters, who’s a writer and editor at Boom! Comics. Later, she approached me about making a comic together.

Wow! So Lumberjanes was your very first comic... ever?!

Yup! The first issue of Lumberjanes was the first comic I ever wrote.

That’s amazing! Wait, backin’ up - what were you doing before?

My big kid job was journalism. I studied a mix of journalism, theater and women’s studies at Ohio State. After school ended I started pitching around and got a gig writing ads for Playbill. Then I got some work with Bustle too. I was doing sort of garbage writing: mostly TV recaps and some vaguely personal stuff here and there. Very little actual journalism. Then I got the job with Autostraddle when the site was still fairly new.

So you taught yourself both comic writing and screenwriting?

Pretty much! I was already familiar with story structure, so it was really about learning to adapt those elements to different formats, and take advantage of each medium. That comes with practice more than teaching. Every format is different. Like with comics, I go panel by panel, one at a time. I have to keep framing in mind while focusing on what’s happening in the scene, and what the characters are saying, because comics are super dialogue-driven. Writing comics is like trying to write the minimum in order to say the most. 

How did Lumberjanes develop from the first ‘let’s make a comic!’ moment?

We drew a lot of inspiration from Ms. Kitty Fantastic and Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I developed the concept with Shannon and we started from just rough outlines of the characters. Then Brooklyn A. Allen came on and designed them. And after that we brought on Noelle Stevenson as a second writer. Working all together was really smooth, a cut-and-dry process. We only needed one Skype call per issue!

Which girl in Lumberjanes are you the most like?

Molly - well, I’m always told to answer Molly! She’s the timid and unsure one. But hopefully Jo as well! I like to think that I can be a leader.

How did you come to write for Bravest Warriors?

Shannon submitted me! Benjamin (Townsend, Story Editor) reached out. I actually forwarded the email to my lawyer right away. I was sure that I was getting scammed. I was so excited when it turned out legit!

(“Catbug! You don’t just bust in on someone when they're dukin’. Buddy... we talked about this.”)

Do you have a favorite character in Bravest?

Catbug is the most fun to write. Before pitching the Detective Catbug episode I wrote this season, I prepared by hanging out with a 5 year old. It actually helped! Catbug has the funniest voice, I just love writing him. But Beth is my favorite Bravest Warrior. Once I’d nailed down who she is, I really liked writing her. She kind of reminds me of Captain America: she’s unbeatable and refuses to stay down. And she’s unapologetically herself.

She truly is That Beth. How did you first start working on Moonstruck?

It actually started as a school exercise, with no plan to extend it! 2 years ago I was doing a program with Columbus College of Art & Design, where they partner their artists with pro comic writers. I was lucky enough to be accidentally (I later found out, secretly-totally-on-purpose) partnered with Shae Beagle. The assignment was to write a 5 page scene, with 2 twists; the first building off the second. That became the opening of Issue 1: the first twist is that we’re not in a normal human coffee shop - it’s full of mythological creatures. The second is that the girl we're following who seems totally normal… well, she doesn’t view herself as normal at all.

I’ve wondered why Julie is so insecure, when she’s surrounded by such a diversity of mythological people?

For Julie, it’s really this fear of losing control. She’s has a deep sense that in her werewolf form, she’s not normal. She’s not right. So she’s internalized some really negative stuff about what that means for and about her.

Are there levels of privilege and marginalization in this world around being human or mythological?

Yes - I’ve been working on how to represent societal privilege surrounding mythological and non-mythological people. A big inciting factor in Julie’s story is her falling in love with a girl, who - spoiler alert! - is also a werewolf like she is. But Selena has a totally different perspective on who she is. She’s comfortable with herself.

Your characters are so distinct - what is your process for nailing a character’s voice?

It’s a lot of time thinking about who the character is; how they’d react to things, based on their personalities and what they’ve lived. Living close to a college is a big help because I’m surrounded by people around the age of the characters I write. Overhearing conversations is often inspirational! I also pull a lot from real life and my own friends. I have the best time writing over-enthusiastic characters: the ones that are high energy, always on, and oblivious.  Julie, on the other hand - it was tougher to find her voice. She’s so timid, yet she also has this sardonic edge. It helped when I realized that she would say “Sorry” all the time. It’s her instinct to apologize for herself, even when she has no reason to! After figuring out something like that, that’s core to her character, I was able to grow her voice from there.

What do you find most challenging about writing? And most rewarding?

Being done is very rewarding! And feeling like you nailed it. The worst thing is when you don’t want to write. It’s easier now that it’s my job, because I have to do it. When I was an AV tech at a movie theater, I always wanted to write, but I wouldn’t do it. What’s tough is that I would rather think than write. Thinking is underrated. But the problem is, I know that I should write something - anything! - every single day.

Do you ever do any of your own art?

Nah, I’m not an artist. I draw sometimes. I’m a prolific log-drawer.

Logs?!

Yeah (laughs) I sometimes fixate on one thing and it becomes the only thing I doodle. Logs are that.

That is… oddly fitting! What is your creative process like?

It’s not very strict. My rule is that I leave my house every day before noon and go to a coffee shop. Then I just plug into it.

What do you like to do outside of writing?

Is there such a thing? Video games, especially during winter. Reading a lot of comics, plays and nonfiction. Biographies are great character studies. Currently, I’m reading a novel, The Blunderer by Patricia Highsmith. For writing pretty light and happy comics, I really do like books about heavy guilt and punishment...

Speaking of Patricia Highsmith - with her Price of Salt such a cornerstone in queer writing - what are your thoughts on representation and writing queer characters?

Oh yeah - we’re all familiar with the tropes. The sad stories, the coming out stories. They’re important in their way. But they aren’t what I need to write! I’m not a sad person, so I can’t just put that on. I write upbeat stories about characters who are already out and accepted. I’m a happy, out lesbian. So to represent those characters isn’t just what’s truthful to me - it also says to readers that hey, you can be a happy, out lesbian too!

Do you think there is a market for young adult media with queer characters and themes that didn’t exist a decade ago?

Absolutely. It used to be that anytime a writer put a gay or lesbian character in anything - let alone a main character - they were pigeon-holed as a ‘queer writer’. And a decade ago, that could severely limit, or even ruin, a writer’s career. Now, ‘queer media’ isn’t just a subgenre - gay and lesbian representation is coming into the mainstream. It’s a changing world. Lumberjanes did so well, it uncovered a whole market of tween, teenage girls and queer women. And there hasn’t been enough made for them! Backstagers, Zodiac: Star Force - a lot of the new comics coming out are riding on a wave of realization for the comic companies. They figured out that they were leaving money on the table when it came to queer female audiences.

What’s your advice to people who want to write comics or TV shows?

Write a lot. Write every day, if you can. It’ll make you a better writer. And put stuff on the Internet. It sounds scary, but it’s the best way to get your work seen. At this point, people are getting jobs off of Twitter. Networking is BS!

What is your Dream, or dream gig?

My dream is to write things that I’m proud of in many different mediums. A musical. A video game. A movie. I’m a really big fan of form. It’s an almost intellectual interest: the different things each format brings to the table, and how you work with each to find the best possible way to tell a story.

What are some of your favorite Things?

I loved Saturday Morning Cartoons. Recess, The Weekenders. I like weird slice of life children’s stories. Calvin and Hobbes is a huge favorite. LA Noir is my favorite video game. And one of my favorite comic artists is Alison Bechdel. She does a strip called Dykes to Watch Out For that is absolutely hilarious. ❀

Follow Grace on Twitter and Instagram.

Thanks for the interview Grace! We’ll no doubt be keeping up with you. Can’t wait for the great stories you’ll tell, across all the formats that strike your fancy!

- Cooper ❀

[aion-rsa]

Ranking The Jeopardy! Guest Hosts

https://ift.tt/3B7bUOI

When Jeopardy! GOAT contestant Brad Rutter spoke to Den of Geek earlier this year, he shared his opinion that there is only one perfect Jeopardy! host to replace the departed Alex Trebek. 

“Alex,” Rutter said. “But we can’t do it, unfortunately. That’s one of the terrible things about it. I can’t even really imagine what it’s going to be like.”

Alex Trebek was about as irreplaceable as a TV personality can be. As the host and quiz master of Jeopardy! for 37 years, the Canadian entertainer was the perfect combination of studious, professional, and playful. Following Trebek’s death from pancreatic cancer in November 2020, Jeopardy!’s producers realized there was no point in replacing the TV giant with only one host. That’s why they ultimately decided to go with a roster of multiple guest hosts for the show’s 37th season.

This was, in part, to pay tribute to Trebek’s genius but also to audition his replacement…or so they said. For, as we all know now, the open tryout seemed to be a little more close-ended than viewers were initially led to believe. Executive producer Mike Richards ultimately won the top job (with Mayim Bialik getting some primetime Jeopardy! gigs as well), which immediately called into question how fair the competition was. Richards maintained that he had no part in the selection process, but journalist and Jeopardy! expert Clair McNear with The Ringer confirmed that Richards was in charge of selecting the episodes to send to focus groups for each host including himself.

Read more

TV

Matt Amodio is the Real Jeopardy! Story Right Now

By Alec Bojalad

Then there were the podcasts…oh the podcasts. Through 41 episodes of Richards’ “The Randumb Show” podcast, the erstwhile host said some decidedly offensive and spicy things. Eventually Trebek’s replacement resigned after having filmed the first five episodes for season 38.

Like we said: it was a whole thing. But while Jeopardy!‘s guest hosting experiment was underway, it was certainly fun to take in. So much fun in fact that we decided to rank all 16 guest host in realtime. Granted, some of these picks haven’t aged particularly well. Still, it’s fun to look back on a simpler time when we all entertained the notion it was possible to replace Alex Trebek because clearly it’s not.

Jeopardy! will begin a new guest hosting process soon. In the meantime, here are our picks for round 1 of the saga.

16. Dr. Mehmet Oz

Show Air Dates: March 22, 2021 – April 2, 2021

No.

15. Robin Roberts

Show Air Dates: July 19, 2021 – July 23, 2021

ABC’s Good Morning America host Robin Roberts’ stint as Jeopardy! host wasn’t a disaster. The games began and concluded largely without a hitch. The studio did not catch on fire. No one was injured. And yet, her relatively poor performance underlies what a sensitive beast the Jeopardy! hosting position is.

Robin Roberts quite simply did too much. She was a bit too chatty and discursive at the top of the episodes and during the interview segments. She interjected a bit too frequently amid answers. All in all, she hosted Jeopardy! the way I suspect that I myself would host Jeopardy! – as someone completely jazzed to be there and unable to stop remarking on the surreal joy of it all. That’s fine, and ultimately endearing to Roberts as a person. But this show requires a sturdier hand than that.

14. Anderson Cooper

Show Air Dates: April 19, 2021 – April 30, 2021

Anderson Cooper is a good journalist and compelling TV presence. When it comes to Jeopardy!, however, he’s definitely not the right man for the job. Cooper is somewhat fortunate that human trainwreck Dr. Oz hosted first and gobbled up the lion’s share of bad Jeopardy! host press. Otherwise people may have noticed that Cooper did fairly poorly in his two-week stint.

Cooper seemingly didn’t prepare as intensely as Trebek or the other guest hosts as there would frequently be awkward pauses following contestants’ answers while the host checked if they were right. As a result, the number of Jeopardy! rounds not completed under Cooper’s tenure was unusually high. It’s a small issue, but an impactful one.

13. Savannah Guthrie

Show Air Dates: June 14, 2021 – June 25, 2021

Savannah Guthrie is an amiable and professional TV presence in her day job as the co-anchor of NBC’s Today. In her time as a Jeopardy! host, however, she came off as essentially filler. As is the case with most of the entrants on this list (save for the quack above), Guthrie was perfectly fine as Jeopardy! host. But while she got the job done, she did so without any particular distinction.

Guthrie also interjected a bit too frequently after contestant’s answers. Though that’s an admirable attempt to interject some of her sunny personality into the proceedings, the role of Jeopardy! host often calls for less rather than more. As such her two-week run as host is likely to be the end of the line for her hosting quest.

12. Katie Couric

Show Air Dates: March 8, 2021- March 19, 2021

Couric’s tenure as Jeopardy! host was the victim of bad timing. She had the tough act of following two guest hosts who were extremely steeped in the show’s history in culture in official Greatest of All Time Ken Jennings and executive producer Mike Richards. 

The longtime media personality ultimately did a fair job as host, with her only major flaw being interjecting a bit too frequently during rounds. Unfortunately, she doesn’t stack up well to the pros that preceded her.

11. Joe Buck

Show Air Dates: August 9, 2021 – August 13, 2021

As legendary sports broadcaster Joe Buck began his weeklong guest hosting tryout, recent Jeopardy! superstar James Holzhauer engaged in some classic Holzhauerian ball-busting.

Jeopardy says whoever hosts full time will have to quit their other job, so I’m crossing my fingers it’s Joe Buck

— James Holzhauer (@James_Holzhauer) August 9, 2021

Holzhauer is joking (or maybe not, it’s hard to tell with him) about how many sports fans despise Joe Buck as a broadcaster. Some combination of Buck’s voice, face, and dalliances in nepotism (his father was equally legendary sports broadcaster Jack Buck) rub people the wrong way. That’s all perfectly understandable. But it’s also wrong. Joe Buck is pretty great at his job!

He’s not great, however, at hosting Jeopardy! Buck seems like we would make for a good Jeopardy! host. He’s polished, well-read, and very comfortable on camera. Something about the experience just felt off though – like using a hammer on a screw. A hammer is a perfectly fine tool, but it probably shouldn’t be applied to everything.

So there you have it – Joe Buck: a perfectly fine tool.

10. George Stephanopoulos

Show Air Dates: July 12, 2021 – July 16, 2021

George Stephanopoulos faces a bit of an uphill battle on this list for a similar reason to Dr. Oz. Simply put: I just don’t like the guy. George’s case differs from Oz’s though. For while I’m morally opposed to Oz and his snake oil shenanigans, I just find George to be merely bad at his job as Chief Anchor ABC News.

Having said all that, it turns out that Stephanopoulos is quite good as a Jeopardy! host. While other guests got to enjoy a full two weeks to catch their stride, the Good Morning America anchor only had a week and used it quite well. Stephanopoulos was polished from the get-go, interjecting very little, and running some good, clean games. Ultimately, my personal distaste for Stephanopoulos’s journalistic performance keeps him lower on this list, but he performed well enough to rank even higher.

9. LeVar Burton

Show Air Dates: July 26, 2021 – July 30, 2021

Like many other millennials, my choice for Alex Trebek’s replacement before this whole guest host thing even started was LeVar Burton. Thanks to his work on as an educator on Reading Rainbow, Burton is one of the few TV presences with a level of learned gravitas approaching Trebek’s. He was a natural choice to get a guest host stint to try his hand at replacing the Canadian legend. How did he do? Well, it would appear there’s a reason Jeopardy! is opting for tryouts in the first place.

There’s really no way around it: Burton was fairly rough and unpolished as a Jeopardy! host compared to the top options on this list. While he did a superb job of respecting the format and not interjecting too much, there were several times in which he left the contestants hanging and forgot to prompt them to choose another category. It turns out that Jeopardy! contestants are helpless children when there isn’t a firm hand to guide them through the game.

Ultimately, errors like that are fixable and Burton’s warm, authoritative presence translated well to the Jeopardy! hosting format. As such, I still believe he would be a fine choice to succeed Alex Trebek. But in the spirit of judging these hosts on solely their performance, Burton lies near the middle of the pack.

8. Aaron Rodgers

Show Air Dates: April 5, 2021 – April 16, 2021

While the presence of a NFL star may seem like a desperate ratings grab from Jeopardy!, Green Bay Packers quarterback and former Celebrity Jeopardy! champ Aaron Rodgers is apparently dead serious about wanting the full-time hosting job, telling The Ringer that he could easily fit the show’s shooting schedule into his NFL obligations. 

Rodgers’ eagerness was evident over the first week and led to him coming across as a bit too excitable. He really settled into the role in his second week though and projected the correct balance of expertise and personability. 

7. Dr. Sanjay Gupta

Show Air Dates: June 28, 2021 – July 9, 2021

Perhaps this is a simple observation, but it’s really something to see how natural and poised TV veterans are on television. As CNN’s chief medical correspondent, Dr. Sanjay Gupta has plenty of experience in front of a camera. And that experience absolutely came through in his two-week stint as Jeopardy! host.

Gupta did little to distinguish himself from the favorites to take over hosting job later on this list, but there were absolutely no hiccups during his tenure – just two weeks of excellent Jeopardy! that also happened to feature the season’s most fearsome contestant yet in seven-time winner Courtney Shah.

6. Bill Whitaker

Show Air Dates: May 3, 2021 – May 14, 2021

In contrast to Aaron Rodgers, Bill Whitaker apparently has no interest in holding down the full-time Jeopardy! job, telling The Philadelphia Tribune that he enjoys his current gig as a CBS journalist. That’s a shame as Whitaker came off as quite a natural during his two-week stint. 

Soft-spoken and consistent, Whitaker was such a steadying presence in his time as host to the point that the novelty of there even being a guest host began to wear off. Ultimately he might be a little too one-note for a full-time Jeopardy! host but his time on the dais was well spent. 

5. Ken Jennings 

Show Air Dates: January 4, 2021 – February 19, 2021

In the Jeopardy! canon Ken Jennings is the only figure that approaches the quiz show sainthood of Alex Trebek himself. Jennings is the most impressive and successful Jeopardy! contestant of all time, winning 74 consecutive games, amassing over $4 million in earnings, and taking home the title of Jeopardy! GOAT in 2020. When he was brought aboard as a consulting producer on Jeopardy! last year, many naturally assumed he was being groomed for the hosting role.

Sure enough, Jennings was announced as the first guest host of 2021 and got the year started on the right track with over a month of excellent hosting. Jennings has said that part of the key to Trebek’s success with Jeopardy! was his intuitive understanding that the star of the show wasn’t any host or contestant, but rather the show itself. Jennings put that understanding to good use, using his wealth of experience to make the game show feel both friendly and satisfyingly competitive. 

Jennings would be a fine choice for Jeopardy! host. Perhaps his only real weakness, however, is…the tweeting, as it always seems to be. Jennings has tweeted jokes that toe the line between bad taste and offensive in the past, something that he apologized for last year. The issue with Jennings on Twitter  though isn’t the risk of future offensive tweets but rather his continued use of Twitter at all along with the rest of us plebs.

Jeopardy! seemingly exists outside of time itself. Save for improved graphics and Trebek’s graying hair, the show has remained largely the same since it premiered. The Platonic ideal of a Jeopardy! host would seem like he or she was spawned from the set itself, returning backstage to sit on their trivia throne and contemplate the mysteries of life between tapings. 

4. David Faber

Show Air Dates: August 2, 2021 – August 6, 2021

David Faber’s brief hosting stint on Jeopardy! provides compelling evidence that Alex Trebek’s replacement really should be a “nobody.” No disrespect intended for Mr. Faber, who is clearly somebody, but in terms of audience recognition the CNBC number cruncher is not particularly well-known.

And yet, Faber turned in a really compelling and fun week of guest hosting. Like any good Jeopardy! host, this former Celebrity Jeopardy! champion just sort of blended into the background and let the show be the real star. In place of flashiness, Faber offered up solid articulation of answers, clean games, and a steady presence. Based on his positioning in the guest host parade, Faber is unlikely to get the real Jeopardy! job. But should he grow bored of analyzing the markets at CNBC, he should consider hosting his own quiz show.

3. Mayim Bialik

Show Air Dates: May 31, 2021 – June 11, 2021

Mayim Bialik was a real pleasant surprise in her stint as host. In fact, she’s the best Jeopardy! guest host yet who was not previously affiliated with the show. Bialik leaned more toward the friendly end of the familiar/authoritative Jeopardy! hosting ratio, which is particularly impressive given her academic background as a literal neuroscientist. She kept up that energy throughout but was able to establish a nice balance in her second week.

As a longtime Big Bang Theory cast member, Bialik certainly doesn’t need the Jeopardy! hosting gig to pay the bills. But her experience in front of a live-studio audience and a clear passion for learning could prove useful in the position.

2. Buzzy Cohen

Show Air Dates: May 17, 2021 – May 28, 2021

On the flip side of Bill Whitaker, Buzzy Cohen may at first seem like too dynamic of a personality to work as a Jeopardy! guest host. His fun nickname, distinctive eyewear, and trendy haircut are at odds with such an ancient and venerated TV institution. 

As host of Jeopardy!’s Tournament of Champions, however, Cohen was consistently great. Due to his time as a Jeopardy! champion himself, Cohen empathizes with contestants easily and keeps things going at a rapidly appropriate pace for the competitive tournament known as “The Nerd Super Bowl.”

Could Cohen still succeed in shepherding the game show when played by its more “normal” contestants? He certainly deserves some consideration to do so.

1. Mike Richards

Show Air Dates: February 22, 2021- March 5, 2021

Alex Trebek would occasionally be asked in interviews who he’d like to replace him. It was not a question he frequently answered because who would want to speculate about an event that would presumably only occur after their death. He often joked that Betty White should because she was a close friend. But in the few instances he did consider the question seriously, he offered up Los Angeles Kings play-by-play announcer Alex Faust, Turner Classic Movies host Ben Makiewicz, and CNN legal analyst Laura Coates. Ultimately, Trebek told journalists at the Television Critics Association press tour that he “would leave it up to the people in charge.”

As we now know, the “people in charge” royally botched that decision. Jeopardy!‘s producers inability to properly vet their candidates led to an ugly situation for a harmless, syndicated show that has no business being involved in ugly situations.

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It must be said, however, that all that ugliness aside: Richards’ two-week tenure as guest host was great. Despite the stuffy connotation associated with the job “executive producer”, Richards was the most outwardly bubbly and joyful guest host yet. He still projected an air of authority and trivia mastery, likely due to his comfort and experience with the format. Richards was also an attentive interviewer, and well-researched – his shows were among the smoothest this season thus far. 

Now some of those good qualities seem slightly more sinister in context. Richards would obviously not be our (nor anyone else’s) choice to replace Trebek today but you don’t get a chance to change your Final Jeopardy! wager once the answer is in.

The post Ranking The Jeopardy! Guest Hosts appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3v92UG7

[magic5ball]

Nature Trail to Hell Arc III: The Blood Curse of Tako Shak (5)

Chapter 5: The Part Where I FINALLY Get to Tako Shak

           I spent seven days in that monster reflecting on my sins, though it does depend on your definition of ‘reflecting on sins’. Mine is looking at the sun and playing rock-paper-scissors. I even managed to win every single game I played, though this didn’t exactly make me feel better about being trapped in an oversized sponge. Or leaving F-Bomb for that matter, even if it was the right thing to do. I had to drink the water from Karma Chameleon’s skin, vampire style, and as for food, I just didn’t eat. I wondered if I might be trapped in the thing forever, but as the days went by, I found the space around me was getting tighter and tighter until ‘POP!’ out I burst from the reptile’s back like some alien parasite. I looked at the limp corpse below me. Sun must have dried it out. Speaking of which, if you ever decide to get one of those magic grow animals, remember to keep them out of sunlight, so they don’t start shrinking. Think of them like little spongey vampires.

           So where was I again? Oh right! I was in the woods, feeling all balmy because of the noonday heat (PA can get pretty hot in the summer). Not bad on its’ own, but when combined with an empty stomach (apple rings are one of the least filling foods in the world. Heck, if I had to choose between air and apple rings for a weeklong hike through a desert wasteland, I’d choose the air, no question) made me feel a bit delirious. And when I get delirious, I make bad decisions. This wouldn’t have been so bad if I’d landed near some dime-a-dozen suburb, but the luck of the Tostigs works in mysterious ways, and when I emerged from the forest it was in front of none other than a friendly neighborhood Tako Shak.

           If you’ve never been to planet Earth before (or maybe just some guy dwelling in a bunker in the wake of the inevitable Takopacalypse), Tako Shak is a Mexican themed fast food chain. The largest in the world, actually. Also, the Tako isn’t a play on ‘taco’. It’s short for Takoyaki. For why they did that, your guess is as good as mine.

They say it all started in the sixties (as these things usually do) with some hippie named Marty Dinklemann. Marty had opened a Taco stand, but it wasn’t doing real well, because hippies who make good business decisions hadn’t been invented yet. Anyway, one day Marty decided to snort a can of churro sugar and had this bogus dream where the Devil said he was going to claim his soul unless Dinklemann kept expanding his fast food franchise. Well, Dinklemann was sure it was just a bad trip, but he really didn’t want to take any chances. The next day he got a tan, legally changed his name to Guadalupe ‘Loopy’ Sanchez and made fast food history. At the time I walked right through those automatic sliding doors, there were over a billion Tako Shak’s worldwide, five of which sit right in the Arctic Circle. As for Sanchez, nobody’s seen him in over thirty years. Word has it his body started rotting, so they put his brain in a nuclear-powered robot underneath their headquarters in Death Valley, Nevada.

           But I’m getting ahead of myself. So there I was, sweltering delirious in the summer heat to the point I might as well have been drunk when I swaggered in, hoping I could at least use the bathroom, to which the greasy faced creep manning the register pointed to some sign telling me yesterday a new policy had been enacted, so only staff and customers could take the old wiz. Wouldn’t have been a problem, except I didn’t have any money on me. In fact, I had less than no money on me, seeing as I was in debt from those apple rings. You know you’re in financial straits when you can’t afford a churro that, if I was doing the math right, cost a whopping negative five cents!

For a moment I thought of bartering off my tommy gun, but that thing was just too awesome to part with.

           However, there was something I could afford, something that, despite being delirious from heat, I somehow remembered. You see, Tako Shak is a fast food chain, and like any fast food chain worth its’ salt packets, it had a secret menu. I first heard rumors about it back in second grade, when my friend Mayes and I watched the legendary B-Movie ‘Nature Trail to Hell Part 9: Shak of Darkness’. In it, there’s a scene where the characters talk about what they want to order from Tako Shak, unaware that the fry cook is actually a serial killer who baked their friends into tako meat (which was somehow still more appetizing than the real deal). As we were watching, we noticed there was this two second clip where the audio had been weirdly distorted. After that, we spent hours on the internet, desperately trying to find out why. (Okay, so maybe half that time was wasted playing LEGO Racing. Sue me.) We finally hit a breakthrough when we accidentally hacked into an 18 years or older chatroom, where this guy said that apparently the edited part revealed a clue to discovering the Shak’s secret menu. A couple more hours, Mayes discovered said secret menu involved watching the employee training video. Several phone calls, secret messages, decimated evidence, one FBI investigation, and several bouts of ‘pretty pretty please’ later, me and my friend Mayes finally got a video tape. THE video tape. (think of it as a black, overweight DVD. Who is also a rectangle.) After fiddling around with the tape a bit, we saw none other than Sanchez’s brain himself list off the menu, most of which had too many vitamins and minerals and not enough Silly Cheez for Mayes and I to ever buy.

But there was one thing on that menu, one I still remembered that cost something I didn’t exactly have on my person. In fact, you could say it was my person.

I looked into the pale face, the dark, sunken eyes, the sickle fangs that, had I been more aware, would have betrayed the cashier as a hippie. Instead, I raised a finger.

“One Blood Curse, please.”

The cashier looked at me like I’d just asked him for the square root of gilbitydop (27, if you’re curious), then he went to the back of the store.

“Hey Boss! Do we carry anything called a ‘Blood Curse’?”

A few minutes later, he emerged from the back with a piece of paper and a plastic knife.

“Well, little guy, it’s you’re lucky day. It seems like we do have the droid you’re looking for! Just sign here please.”

In one swift motion he nicked my finger with the knife. Barely thinking, I signed the contract with my own blood. Tako Shak officially owned my soul.

In the back, I could hear maniacal laughter as lightning flashed outside, despite it having been totally cloudless just a few seconds earlier. Only then did it dawn on me just how stupid what I did was. In one final, twisted joke, just as I tried to dash out, to back out of the worst mistake I’d ever made, a black tentacle emerged from behind the register, dragging me to my DOOM.

[lapetitetorte]

Not surprisingly, I have a story? It’s pretty long, and I’m sorry. My husband, Doctor Glass, recently went on a weeklong workshop. The participants worked on teams, slept in a dormitory, shared meals and spent all day together. While there, Dr Glass acquired a strikingly beautiful female friend, who was absolutely luminous – like a fallen star or a revolutionary. She was also just about to enter university, making her very much younger than Dr Glass. They were on the same team, had much in common, and seemed to enjoy each other. However, there was a twenty-something dude on the course who, according to Dr Glass, “made things awkward.” Immediately, he tried to make the workshop all about his pantsfeelings for Luminous Girl. Although he was on a different team, he was constantly buzzing around Dr Glass and Luminous Girl, getting in their way (which was dangerous and distracting, as they were doing physical labor) and trying to get her to talk to him, work with him, come over and look at his work, etc. In return she tried to ignore him, laughed him off politely, repeatedly referenced her desire to do her work, physically moved away whenever he got close to her, and stuck like glue to Dr Glass; saying NO in all those thousand little pleasant ways that women are trained to do. Awkward Dude tried to impress her with physical activity, but Dr Glass cut him off because he was being distracting. Confused and annoyed, Awkward stepped up his Game, trying to impress her with his intellectual cred, and it went down like a lead zeppelin, with Luminous and Dr Glass resuming their own work and conversations. So Awkward started loudly asking wasn’t Dr Glass married?! At this, Awkward Dude attempted to kill Dr Glass with his laser-eyeballs at every turn, lurking and glaring and pining like a bad Snape impersonator. (Dr Glass wasn’t sure why he was suddenly the target of the resulting animosity, as he clearly had no romantic interest in Luminous, until I explained it to him: Dude had decided that the reason Luminous Girl was not sleeping with him was because she was the Possession of Another Male, and further, a Male who Already Had His Fair Share of Females; thus Dr Glass was the enemy for not shunning her and leaving a clear path for fellow males. “Oh,” said Dr Glass in sudden revelation, “That makes sense, I guess.”) But the guy persisted – it wasn’t that Luminous didn’t like him! It was that she was clearly in thrall of my husband. The solution was to get her alone! So whenever they sat down to a lecture, Luminous, practically dragging Dr Glass by the arm, would move like lightning to position herself between him and a safe wall – with her lovely admirer circling them and glaring, loudly asking Dr Glass about his Wife Back Home. Awkward Dude implied that Dr Glass was creepy and odd for always hanging out with a girl half his age. Awkward Dude was annoyed that the course director, an older woman who should presumably know better, had assigned dorm space based on teams, so that Dr Glass and Luminous bunked in adjacent rooms (while he, Awkward Dude, was in the wing with the married couples!) because it was inappropriate and wrong to place a married man next to a teenaged female. On a particularly cold day, Dr Glass noticed that Luminous did not have warm clothing, and lent her an extra hoodie. It happened to have his name on it; Awkward Dude practically ignited, to the point where even the other people on the course were laughing awkwardly at him and saying “Uh, she’s… allowed to wear clothes?” Luminous and Dr Glass both liked hiking, so one evening after dinner, they went out for a hike by themselves – not inviting the others in case Awkward Dude got wind of their plans. (“I mean, it sounds cruel, but I just hated him,” Dr Glass said.) It was after curfew when they walked back to their rooms,and the halls were completely dark; Dr Glass hung back to fill his water bottle. When he got to the rooms, at the end of the corridor, Luminous had been cornered by Awkward Dude. When Awkward spotted Dr Glass, he yelled at him about how inappropriate it was to go hiking alone with Luminous. Luminous seized the opportunity to flee to her room, locking the door. “I think it’s inappropriate to police her hiking,” Dr Glass said mildly and went to bed. The next day was the last day of the course, and Dr Glass had had enough. Awkward Dude was “trying it on” in front of the whole group, making everyone uncomfortable. He had dragged Luminous into yet another unwanted conversation and Dr Glass called him out, in front of everybody, a deadly blow to Awkward’s pride. Awkward Dude tried to appeal to the group – he was only trying to be friendly – but Dr Glass had him up against the ropes, metaphorically, he’d broken the floodgates, and everyone began to laugh at Awkward instead: the old married couples, the other young men, and Luminous. “I really feel bad about that, actually,” Dr Glass said. He hadn’t really wanted to humiliate the younger man in front of everybody, especially since his only crime had been really inept flirting. Was it really Dr Glass’s place to speak for Luminous? Perhaps he’d made a big deal out of nothing. But Dr Glass didn’t regret it. He just felt odd. He didn’t know why he’d been so savage over something so banal as Awkward’s favorite movie. He was pretty sure that he didn’t regard Luminous as a possession, or something to be protected. He’d just snapped. “OH MY GOD,” I replied, “WHY DIDN’T YOU DO MORE? WHAT A FUCKING CREEPER!” Well, Dr Glass wanted to assume good intentions on everyone’s part. They’d all lived together, after all, eaten together, worked together. Emotions had run high. It would have been pretty terrible for the Dude if he’d been ostracized right at the beginning, just because he wasn’t very good at talking to girls. After all, he was there for the workshop. They all were. “AAAAH,” I wound down, “But what Luminous? WHOSE WORKSHOP WAS RUINED BECAUSE SHE DIDN’T FEEL SAFE?! She couldn’t just relax and enjoy spending time with you/her other new friends/nature – she practically had to have a bathroom buddy! He didn’t even let her focus on the work she was PAYING MONEY to do! You did not cross a line! HE CROSSED THE FUCKING LINE!” Dr Glass totally agreed. But he still felt oddly uncomfortable about it all, as if there was something there to regret, like he was missing a piece of the puzzle. And then I asked The Question. And after I asked The Question, his face changed. He looked sick. “I didn’t think of that.” After The Question, he wished he’d been more explicit – gone to the course director. Been there more for Luminous. The good intentions that he wanted to assume, the passes he was willing to give the other man, evaporated, completely. They had evaporated for me, halfway through the story. When I tell this story to women, they spot The Question right away. The men don’t; they think that Dr Glass behaved like a gentleman, neither doing too much nor too little. They are feminist men, and good people. They have read “The Gift of Fear” and they talk about privilege and the patriarchy, and they don’t spot it. The Question is this: Why Was Awkward Dude Waiting For Her In The Dark? Earlier in the story we heard that his own room was far away from hers. It was dark, at the end of a dark hall. He was waiting there, after midnight, with the lights off. HE HAD BEEN WAITING FOR HER IN THE DARK AT THE END OF A DARK HALL AFTER CURFEW, HE KNEW SHE HAD GONE OUT AND HE WAS WAITING FOR HER TO COME BACK. He was angry when he realized that she wasn’t alone. And Luminous was afraid – bolting into her room. Locking the door. And the women go HOLY FUCK WHAT IS THAT as soon as they hear about the atmosphere, and the men just accept it as another anecdote of Awkward Dude’s awkwardness, you know? Because how rude/silly/inept to pester a woman about hiking with another man! While the women are going BAD INTENTIONS BAD INTENTIONS FUCK SHIT THAT WOULD NOT HAVE ENDED WELL. And then you point out The Question to the men, and wait a while, and they suddenly go OH. OH MY GOD. WHY WAS HE WAITING FOR HER IN THE DARK. THAT’S – THAT’S PRETTY FUCKING SKETCHY. Everything changes. Dude-sympathy is gone. They put on the Matrix-goggles and peer into the world that apparently only women see. Awkward cornered Luminous in the dark after curfew at the end of the hall when he thought she was alone and he had a lot of anger and when my husband showed up he read Luminous as afraid and she ran into her room and locked the door. That is the reality. The good intentions, they are not there. Perhaps Awkward would have said that they were, that we, in our paranoia, are seeing rape in every dark corner. Perhaps he was trying to apologize for his previous behavior, or lend her a book, or make sure that she got back safely from her hike… so he’d chosen to do so alone, in the dark, making her afraid. That was what had been bothering Dr Glass. He wasn’t wearing the Goggles of Feminine Intuition, but he picked up on the signals that something wasn’t right. Seeing the Question doesn’t make you paranoid – it means your instincts are working. If you live in the world of women, it isn’t your duty to educate everybody, to hand-hold and explain, to pass out Matrix-goggles. It’s Situation Normal: All Fucked Up. But perhaps you, Letter Writers, have good men, men who just need to wear the goggles. That’s not really what I think, but our society is fucked up. I’ll assume good intentions on their part. Maybe it will help.

Comment on Captain Awkward post “#322 & #323 ‘My friend group has a case of the Creepy Dude. How do we clear that up?’” from user ElodieUnderGlass

This story is important.

I know it’s long. It’s worth a read. See if you can spot the question. See if your loved ones can.

[sweetcerac]

I just finished The Third Kiss by Kat Colmer and totally loved it! I loved the writing, the action, the mythology, and the characters’ fierce, sassy, and emotional personalities. I totally fell in love with this book! (Check out my review here!) I have the pleasure of hosting Kat on my blog tonight as she talks about what psychs her up to write and what inspires her amazing characters in this book!

Here’s the wonderful Kat Colmer!

Writers do all sorts of interesting things to psych themselves up before they start writing. Brewing a cup of tea in just the right way. Going for a brisk walk. Doing a free form writing exercise. Listening to music. Bikram yoga (Yes! Apparently!).

Just thinking about Bikram yoga makes me break out in a sweat, but I do like to make myself a hot cup of English Breakfast tea, light my lemon myrtle candle (one of my critique partners swears a lit candle helps the creative juices flow), and select my Two Steps From Hell playlist. Two Steps From Who you ask? TSFH are a movie trailer music production duo. You might have heard some of their music in trailers for X-Men, Interstellar, Avengers, Enders Game, Harry Potter, the Twilight Saga, to name a few.

Their music is epically awesome and playing it full blast is my favorite way to psych myself up for writing. It was the soundtrack to many of the scenes in my young adult paranormal romance The Third Kiss, especially the fast paced tracks when I wrote the fight scenes. The track SkyWorld will forever play in my mind when I read chapter twenty-four; a Tae Kwon Do sparring scene between the hero Jonas and heroine Cora. Here is a link to SkyWorld https://youtu.be/Lq2ANOkfsIA?t=5s and an excerpt from the beginning of the sparring scene in Jonas’s point of view. Have a listen and a read. Hopefully you’ll feel the same buzz I did when I wrote it.

  ------------------------------------

“Will you come at me already!” The longer we danced around each other, the more pissed off she became.

I flexed my fingers. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

That did it. Her face turned venomous. “You think the Groth Maar will extend me that courtesy?”

She was right. Protecting her here wasn’t helping her any. I should be pushing her to the limit, making sure she was equipped to deal with any situation. But here we were, her doing the pushing and me rubbing my sore ass.

I inhaled, steadied my breathing. Then spun, aimed a hook kick at her torso. She blocked, winced as she took the full brunt of my heel on her forearm. I came at her again, low kick this time. She sidestepped, blocked. For a moment or two I had the advantage, forcing her back. A second later my ribs screamed as her foot connected so hard my spleen rattled. Before I had time to counter, she’d swiped both feet out from under me, and I lay squinting up into the sun’s glare, my ass flat on the grass. Again. Somewhere in the distance a kookaburra laughed.

Leo leaned over the deck railing, shaking his head at me. “Dude, this is getting embarrassing.”

I closed my eyes against the pressing blue of the sky, lifted my hand, and flipped him off. In my head, I counted to ten, breathed in the earthy smell of grass and dry dirt, waiting for the dull ache in my rib cage to subside.

She was good. She’d always been good. But never so good she could flatten me. Impressive what one extra year of sustained training could do. My wounded ego warred with a sense of pride in her ability.

“Get up, Jonas.” Cora shoved at my leg with her foot. “That was an improvement, but you can do better.” “Give me a second.” Pushing my wounded ego aside, I heaved off the ground. On the deck, Leo and Beth both smirked. Idiots. “Don’t you two have something better to do?”

“Nah.” Beth grinned, that unnerving I’m-your-twin look in place. “This is much more entertaining.” I scowled at her, then returned my attention to Cora. She stood on the other side of the lawn. Legs shoulder width apart, arms up at the ready, weight even over her centerline, she was primed for another round.

I needed to break that iron focus of hers, unbalance her somehow. I grabbed the hem of my T-shirt and hiked up the cotton to wipe the sting of sweat from my eyes. Think dammit, where is the chink in her dobok? There’s got to be— I stopped mid thought; Cora’s gaze had strayed to my exposed stomach.

Hello, advantage!

Dirty pool, I know. But desperate times called for…more exposure. With Beavis and Butthead laughing at me from the deck, I’d take my upper hand any which way at the moment. I had enough grass stains tarnishing my reputation.

One swift move and my T-shirt was off. Cora’s eyes widened. I tried to keep the smug smile from my face—really, I did—but I’d had so little to smile about all morning. I stopped smiling the moment her eyes collapsed into thin slits. When her hands reached for the black belt holding her dobok together, I questioned the wisdom of my strategy.

Immobile, I stared as Cora untied the knot at her waist, shrugged out of her uniform, and…oh shit! White pants low on lean hips, stomach muscles corded below the hem of a workout crop top that showed just enough cleavage to make my mouth dry up, and a look on her face that said “bring it on.”

I was a dead man.

  The Third Kiss:

Love curses don’t exist. At least that’s what Jonas, master of the meaningless hookup, tells himself when a letter warns him he’s an Eros Guardian cursed to endure a test of true love or forever be alone. His levelheaded longtime friend Cora figures it’s a revenge prank by an ex. The way Jonas stamps each girlfriend with a weeklong use-by date, it serves him right.

But when an impulsive kiss between the two friends reveals potential for more, Cora becomes the target of the Groth Maar: demons sent to wipe out the Eros Guardian line. And suddenly the curse becomes dangerously real.

Breaking the curse means Jonas’s biggest challenge yet. Failure guarantees Cora’s death. But success may cost him his own life…and the loss of his carefully guarded heart to the one girl far too sensible to fall for him.   

You can buy this amazing book at any of these sites!

Amazon | B&N | iBooks | Kobo | Entangled Publishing

  Learn more about Kat Colmer!

Kat Colmer is a Sydney-based Young and New Adult author who writes coming-of-age stories with humor and heart. The recipient of several writing awards, she has won the Romance Writers of Australia First Kiss contest, as well as the Romance Writers of America On the Far Side contest for her debut Young Adult Paranormal Romance.

Kat has a Master of Education in Teacher Librarianship and loves working with teens and young adults. When not writing, teaching, or reading the latest in YA fiction, Kat spends time with her husband and two children.

You can connect with Kat at any of these places online!

Website | Instagram |  Twitter | Facebook | Goodreads | Entangled Publishing

[fitnesshealthyoga-blog]

New Post has been published on https://fitnesshealthyoga.com/how-a-daily-meditation-practice-helps-you-find-trust/

How a Daily Meditation Practice Helps You Find Trust

To see yourself is the heart of what a spiritual discipline like meditation is all about.

After meditating with my first meditation teacher, Arvis, for some time, I decided to do a weeklong silent Zen meditation retreat. Arvis said, “I feel good about a teacher named Jakusho Kwong up at Sonoma Mountain Zen Center. Maybe that would be a good place for you to go.” I was excited to experience an authentic retreat in a Zen Buddhist temple with all the accoutrements — the bells, the robes, the rituals, the whole thing.

I got there in the late afternoon, and the retreat was scheduled to start in the early evening. After we had dinner, we went into the Zendo for the first meditation session. It was a very formal place, and I had no idea what the etiquette was. There was minimal instruction, so I learned what I was supposed to be doing by watching other people, which heightened my awareness right away. I sat down on my cushion with all my gleeful anticipation about this experience as the temple bell was struck three times to begin the period of meditation.

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As soon as that bell rang, adrenaline flooded my body. It was not fear, but my whole system went into fight-or-flight mode. All I could think was, How do I get out of here? Let me out of here! which is silly because five seconds earlier I was thrilled about being there.

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Fortunately, a small, quiet voice inside me said, You have no idea how important this is. You must stay. So even though I had adrenaline rushes twenty-four hours a day for five days and nights in a row, I did not sleep throughout the entire retreat, and I contemplated leaving many times, I managed to hang in there — barely — and finish. Not an auspicious beginning for a future spiritual teacher, but that is what happened. I never knew exactly why I had that reaction, but I have a hunch. When you undertake a retreat like that, something deep within you knows, Oh, boy, the jig is up now. This is not make-believe. This is the real thing. Something in me knew that this was going to be a complete life reorientation. I did not realize this consciously, but unconsciously my ego reacted as if threatened: This is it. This guy is considering the nature of his own being as far as the egoic impulse running the rest of life.

In some ways, my first retreat was a disaster. The only thing that got me through was a mantra I came up with on the second day. Thousands of times over those five nights and days, I said to myself: I will never, ever, ever do this again. That was my big spiritual mantra!

One of the things that impressed me during that retreat was that Kwong — the roshi, or teacher — gave a talk each day, and that talk was my respite because I got to sit and listen and be entertained. It was a relief from the bone-jarring meditation, the never-ending silence, and the pain in my knees and back. Kwong had recently returned from a trip to India that had a huge impact on him. I could tell because as he was recounting stories about his trip, tears streamed down his cheeks and dripped off the bottom of his chin.

See also Try This Durga-Inspired Guided Meditation for Strength

One story especially touched me. Kwong was walking on a dirt road through an impoverished area. There were some kids playing a game with a ball and a stick out in the middle of the road. One kid stood apart from the group, as if ostracized. This boy was watching the kids play and had a sad look on his face. He had a cleft palate, so his upper lip was severely deformed. Kwong walked up to the boy, but they did not speak the same language, so he did not know what to say. There was a moment of indecision, and then Kwong took the boy’s hand in his and with his other hand reached into his pocket and pulled out some money. He pointed to a little shop that sold ice cream and gave the money to the boy. I thought it was a sweet way of giving a little comfort and acknowledging this poor kid’s existence, his loneliness.

As Kwong did this, he gestured to the group of children that seemed to have rejected the boy as if to say, “Go get them and buy them ice cream.” He had given the child enough money to buy treats for all the kids. The boy waved to them and pointed toward the ice cream shop, and all the children joined this one kid who had been lonely and sad. Suddenly he was the hero! He had money and was buying ice cream for everybody. The kids were laughing and talking with him. He was included in their group.

Kwong sat in full lotus position on his cushion in his beautiful brown teacher’s robes and told this story in a resonant, soft voice, deeply touched by the poverty that he saw and by the loneliness of that child. He never hid his tears, and he never seemed embarrassed by his emotion. Watching another man embody this juxtaposition of great strength and tenderness taught me more about true masculinity than anything else in my life. Hearing him speak with such fearlessness was extraordinary. For a young, aspiring Zen student, to have this be my first encounter with a Zen master was a tremendous stroke of good luck and grace, especially since during this whole retreat, except for the talks, I was hanging on by a thread. I continued to study with Kwong, did some retreats with him over the years, and appreciated his great wisdom, but I never again saw him in the state he was in on that first retreat. His openness and dignity were a powerful teaching — it was like being bathed in grace.

Since then I have attended and led hundreds of retreats, but I still look back on that first one with Kwong as both the absolute worst and absolute best in my life. I did not know how powerfully it had affected me until months later. Staying with whatever arose for me despite being flooded with adrenaline, sitting with it in a raw way through all those hours of meditation instead of running away, was profound. When you are having that experience, when you are being pushed to your limit, you do not think of it as grace, but the real grace was that I was in that environment. I was in a place where I could not go anywhere, where I could not turn on the TV or listen to the radio or grab a book or enter a discussion. I had to face the entirety of my experience. Afterward, when I tried to describe the retreat to people, I would end up in tears — not tears of sadness or even of joy, but of depth. I had touched upon something that was so meaningful, vital, and important that it opened my heart.

See also This 6-Minute Sound Bath Is About to Change Your Day for the Better

Meditation Helps You Feel Your Feelings

As we go through life, we eventually have enough experience to see that sometimes profound difficulty can also be profoundly heart opening. When you are in a tough position, when you are facing something hard, when you feel challenged, when you feel like you are at your edge, it is a gift to have the willingness to stop, to sit with those moments, and not to look for the quick, easy resolution for that feeling. It is a kind of grace to be able and willing to open yourself entirely to the experience of challenge, of difficulty, and of insecurity.

There is light grace, and there is dark grace. Light grace is when you have a revelation — when you have insights. Awakening is a light grace; it is like the sun coming out from behind the clouds. The heart opens, and old identities fall away. Then there is dark grace, like what I had on that retreat. I do not mean “dark” in the sense of sinister or evil, but “dark” in the sense of traveling through the darkness looking for light. You cannot see the way through whatever you are experiencing and whatever the challenge is. One of the most amazing things that daily meditation has taught me over many years is to have the wisdom and grace to quietly and silently be with whatever presents itself, whatever is there, without looking for a solution or an explanation.

To see yourself is the heart of what a spiritual discipline like meditation is all about. When people come on retreat with me, we meditate for five or six periods a day. The idea of meditation is not necessarily to get good at it — whatever your definition may be of being “good” at meditation — but the most important thing, the useful thing, the reason we are meditating is so that we encounter ourselves. If you are not using your meditation to hide from your experience or to transcend it or to concentrate your way out of it, if you are being quietly present, meditation forces honesty. It is an extraordinarily truthful way to experience yourself in that moment. This willingness to encounter yourself is vitally important. It is a key to spiritual life and to awakening: being present for whatever is. Sometimes “whatever is” is mundane; sometimes it is full of light, grace, and insight; and sometimes it begins as a dark grace, where we do not know where we are going or how to get through it, and then suddenly there is light.

One of the nice things about meditation is that when we sit with these moments as they arise, we start to trust in them and in the dark grace. We realize that it is in feeling lost that our true nature finds itself. In meditation we encounter ourselves, and it elicits a real honesty if we are ready for it. You can read about things forever, you can listen to talks forever, and you can assume that you understand or that you have got it, but if you can be with yourself in a quiet way without running away, that is the necessary honesty. When we can do nothing and be extraordinarily happy and at peace with that, we have found tranquility within ourselves.

Through experience, we find we can trust the moments when we do not know which way to go, when we feel like we will never have the answers. We know we can stop there and listen. This is the heart of meditation: it is the act of listening in a deep way. You could boil all of spirituality down to the art and practice of listening to nothing and trusting in the difficulty. That is what I learned on that first retreat. It taught me that a direct encounter with challenge is a doorway to accessing our depth, coming face-to-face with our most important thing, and being able to trust in the unfolding of our life.

As a teacher, one of the things I see is the failure of people to trust their lives — their problems and sometimes even their successes. It is a failure to trust that their life is its own teacher, that within the exact way their human life is expressing itself lies the highest wisdom, and that they can access it if they can sit still and listen. If they can sink into themselves, their own nobody-ness, and allow difficulty to strip them of their somebody-ness, then they can do away with the masks of their persona. Spiritually speaking, this is exactly what we want: to remove the masks. Sometimes we take them off willingly, sometimes they fall away, and sometimes they are torn off.

Unmasking is the spiritual path. It is not about creating new masks — not even spiritual masks. It is not about going from being a worldly person to a spiritual person or trading a spiritual ego for a materialistic ego. It is a matter of authenticity and of the capacity to trust life, even if life has been tremendously tough. It is stopping right where you are and entering profound listening, availability, and openness. If you feel wonderful, you feel wonderful; if you feel lost, you feel lost, but you can trust in being lost. You can do this without talking to yourself about it and without creating a story around it. We must find that capacity to trust ourselves and to trust our life — all of it, whatever it is — because that is what allows the light to shine and revelation to arise.

See also Yoga and Religion: My Long Walk Toward Worship

We see it when we stop and listen, not with our ears and not with our mind, but with our heart, with a tender and intimate quality of awareness that opens us beyond our conditioned ways of experiencing any moment. My first retreat, as difficult as it was, taught me that the most amazing things can come out of the most difficult experiences if we dedicate ourselves to showing up for the situation. That is the heart of meditation and the heart of what it takes to discover who and what we are as we turn away from external things and toward the source of love, the source of wisdom, the source of freedom and happiness within. That is where you will find your most important thing.

TheundefinedMost Important Thing: Discovering Truth at the Heart of Life

Excerpted from The Most Important Thing: Discovering Truth at the Heart of Life by Adyashanti. Copyright ©2018 by Adyashanti. Published by Sounds True in January 2019. 

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[there-willbeblood]

Chapter 19: Strategy for the Demise

Officer Derek Morgan sat back in his swivel chair and gripped his hair.

The Chicago Police Department's offices were closed, only the night maids were up at this hour. He had been going through his files for the past six hours, not moving, not eating, not sleeping.

The Rogers were providing more of a problem than he ever thought possible. It was so hard to even think about what they were up to because they always stayed two steps ahead of the police. It was impossible to catch these fuckers. Who the hell were they?

The thing about Officer Derek Morgan was that the more the Rogers outsmarted him, the more he was determined to catch them at their own game. He took his job seriously and didn't put up with bullshit, including the infamous Rogers.

Morgan would have given up by now if he was any lesser man. He never gave up on a challenge.

Derek sighed a heavy sigh and sat up in his seat, taking a huge gulp of coffee.

"This shouldn't be that hard." He groaned. "I'm better than them."

It wasn't the fact that the Rogers were innocent but Morgan didn't want to arrest Joseph for tax evasion, Steve for a speeding ticket or Thor on a morals charge. He was going for the big guns. Extortion, drugs, guns, illegal money laundering, murder; there was a list as long as the Chicago River but somehow nothing ever stuck.

Joseph was clean. He never left tracks and his sons followed in his pristine record.

Morgan thought back through his memory at what he was doing wrong. Why couldn't he catch them?

It was inconceivable that someone could be totally infallible. Even the Pope and some form of sin in him but if you looked at a Rogers' record, you would have never known that they were carrying any baggage. It was like they were clean without a smudge on them.

While Joseph was the leader and Thor was the muscle and James was the charmer, Steve was the second-in-command, the man in the most valuable position.

Who would take over when the father stepped down? Who would rise to become the boss? Who would everyone else answer to? Who would be the man in charge?

Steve.

That was who Morgan was after. Maybe it was because they were around the same age, maybe it was because they had similar goals of superiority, or maybe it was the simple fact that Steve had taunted him for years but Derek Morgan wasn't giving up until he had the second-in-command, in handcuffs.

An arrest of Steve Rogers would be an immediate career boost and on top of it all, Morgan would be able to put his nemesis away for life.

The only problem was that Steve had a brain on him that rivaled any mathematician or Rhodes Scholar out there. It was shameful at how easily he could elude the law and still be living to tell his sorted tale.

"Hey, Boss." Seth Cleary walked into the office with a bag full of amazing smelling sandwiches. "I got you the regular pastrami on rye." He sat down and propped his feet up on the desk.

"I can't eat right now." Morgan grunted. "I'm so pissed at myself."

"Why, what happened now?" Cleary took a huge bite out of his meatball sub.

"I've been going over this shit for the past two weeks and I don't even think I've made a dent in these files." He pounded his fists on the desk.

"Oh come on. You can't beat yourself up over this thing. The Rogers are untouchable."

Morgan glared at his deputy. "That's why no one's caught them yet. People think that they can get away with what they want..."

"I didn't mean anything by it but you've just gotta wait for them to fuck themselves over."

"That could take years." Morgan picked up a grainy black and white photo. "Do you see this guy?"

Cleary nodded around  a mouthful of food.

"That's Nicola Rossini, aka Rogers. He started this whole family and he's still sitting pretty in Sicily. Granted, he's over one hundred but still…"

"So what does he have to do with anything?"

"He was smart but his grandson is smarter. Joseph has created super machines for sons and I will catch them but I don't know how to pin them down."

"It's not like we haven't been trying. We've gone through all the files, we've been following them for weeks. What more do you want us to do?"

"I want you to catch the fuckers." In a rage, Morgan shoved some papers off of his desk. "No one is above the law!" He shouted.

"Whoa, D, man, calm down." Cleary said, concerned that this case was going to give his boss and friend an aneurysm.

"I know, I know." Morgan breathed in deeply. "I just can't stand Steve." He growled.

Cleary chuckled. "Steve is one cocky son of a bitch but he's crafty."

"Whose side are you on?" Morgan glowered.

"I'm on yours, Boss. Honest but you're going to kill yourself over this and they just aren't worth it. Let the Rogers come to an end on their own. We know half of the underworld is after them, especially Steve so it's not too much longer…"

"That's just the thing, half of the underworld has been after them for the past century. No one is ever going to take them down because they're too powerful."

"We just need an in. It shouldn't be this hard." Cleary sat back in his seat.

They thought silently for about ten minutes, not saying anything because nothing was really worth saying.

This was driving everyone in the Organized Crime division crazy. Morgan had halted all of his other inferior cases, allowing the majority of his time get filled with the Rogers. Cleary, although he was young, was clever and could help in tight situations. It wasn't that easy for a deputy to think on his toes but Cleary was good at what he did.

There was a knock at the door and a tired looking Embry Call was panting in the entrance.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Morgan asked his other deputy.

"I…I …I just ran up the stairs…" He sat in the other chair, grabbing Cleary's bottle of water. "The elevators are out."

"If you were in shape, this wouldn't be a problem." Morgan shook his head.

"I have a six pack, that automatically makes me in shape." Call downed the water. "Anyway, I have news."

"News?" Cleary arched his eyebrow.

"Yeah and I couldn't find Rogers anywhere. Steve was like a ghost since yesterday and I found out from some guys I know over at the airport that Daddy Rogers charted his jet for a weeklong trip to Moscow."

"Really?" Morgan leaned back with his hands crossed behind his head.

"Yes, really. They left yesterday and won't be back for five days."

"Good, that gives us five days to work freely." Morgan got a new sense of excitement in him. "I assume he took all the boys?"

"Yeah."

"This is our chance to get in. We have to find a way to clip these fuckers at the knees." Morgan sat up, going over his files one more time.

"The family is so tight. They don't leave any loose holes." Cleary thought out loud after a couple of silent seconds, watching his boss go crazy at his desk.

Morgan shifted the papers a little too quickly and a sharp pain stabbed the middle finger of his right hand.

"Shit." He said and watched as a small pool of blood began to pour out of the paper cut. A few drops dripped onto the files on his desk.

"Let me have a napkin." He said to Cleary who handed one over.

Morgan began to cleanly wipe the few beads of blood off of the files.

He was blotting the outside of another black and white picture when he saw something strange. Morgan had looked through thousands of pictures and this particular one probably about fifty times alone.

This certain photo was strange because it was the only one where Steve was smiling. Out of the massive amount of photographs, only one was with a smiling Steve. What kind of sadistic fucker was this guy?

It was landscaped outside of one of the freshman dorms at Northwestern. Steve had been visiting there lately but no one thought anything of it since a few Rogers cousins attended the school.

On this particular occasion, Morgan's blood had dripped in exactly the right spot, illuminating a certain portion of the picture that was hidden in the shadow of a tree. Steve was laughing towards the silhouetted figure and it had previously been shrouded in darkness due to the late afternoon time that the photo was taken but a certain halo appeared over the newly uncovered form.

Morgan turned on the halogen desk lamp and held the photograph up so that the light shined through the portrait. There were students running around the quad, the trees were in full bloom and it was taken last week by a deputy who had been tailing Steve.

The spot of blood shined in the light from the lamp and a beautiful woman appeared to clarify in that very second.

Since the picture was taken in grayscale, distinctive characteristics such as eye or hair color couldn't be determined but at least Morgan could tell that she was striking, totally unlike the other sluts Steve usually conquered.

Morgan looked between Steve's smile and this new woman's beautiful face.

Who was she?

"Have you seen this?" He asked his deputies.

"What?" Call went behind the desk to get a better look.

"Who's this?" Morgan pointed to the blood stained profile of the woman.

"Uh…I don't know." Was Call's answer.

"You've been tailing the fucker for a month and you don't know?"

"Sorry but it's not like I keep my eyes on him all day."

"She's wearing a Northwestern shirt and outside of the freshman dorms, find out who she is." Morgan threw the picture at Cleary.

A new sense of anticipation flowed through the officer who had finally found an in.

What stumped Morgan the most was that he had looked at that picture dozens of times and he was still in the dark as to who that girl was. How had he not seen her before? He should have been more proactive about all of this. He should have known everyone in Steve's life. Who was this girl who made him smile?

It took Cleary an easy fifteen minutes of searching the Northwestern University registrar to find the girl. He basically just hit the next button on the computer three hundred and twenty one times until she appeared.

"Her name is Natalia Romanov." Cleary came barreling back into the office. "She's eighteen and from Forks, Washington, wherever the hell that is."

Morgan snatched the papers out of Cleary's hand, quickly reviewing the information that came complete with a school photograph. "Eighteen?"

"Yeah just turned legal a month ago. We could get him on statuary if he's fucking her." Cleary said hopefully.

"No. Too hard to prove, too much of a cop out. I want to hit him hard." Morgan dispelled that theory.

For fifteen minutes, no one said anything and Morgan read through everything that was to be known about Natalia Romanov.

A father who is a cop? Maybe that would be useful.

This was some shit that was only found in dramatic movies. What the hell had Rogers gotten himself into now?

Natalia Romanov was a freshman from some little town in Washington State and didn't have any kind of infraction against her so she was clean.

The more Morgan thought about her, the more he realized that he had seen this girl before, twice in fact. They were both times when he wasn't really paying attention but he wished he had now. Each time, Steve was with her.

Once, they were laid out on the grass in the very quad in the picture, reading. When the hell did Steve ever read with a girl?

The second occurrence that sprung into Morgan's mind was the time when he saw them eating ice cream and walking down State Street. Her hair was pulled up then so she could have been someone totally different but Morgan didn't think so. It had to be her.

So…Steve has a girlfriend?

Suddenly, things snapped in Morgan's head.

He looked between Cleary, who was currently picking his teeth, and this Natalia Romanov in the photograph. Plans were formulated in his head within a second.

Morgan had found his way in.

[toomanysinks]

A look inside crypto firm Galaxy Digital, founded by “sidelined” Wall Street legend Mike Novogratz

Mike Novogratz, a former hedge fund manager who was once captain of Princeton’s college wrestling team, has been described as many things, including in just one New Yorker article in which he was featured last year.  An on-and-off-again billionaire. A sidelined Wall Street legend. “Bombastic.” “Full of shit.” A former party animal whose “lifestyle issues” led to his removal as a partner at Goldman Sachs back in 2000.

While Novogratz appears to be beloved by many friends, despite these qualities or perhaps because of them, he may be more notable as a risk-taker who has racked up big wins — and big losses — first at Goldman, then at Fortress Investments. Now, he’s trying to rebuild his fortune with his own merchant bank, Galaxy Digital, which describes itself as a “bridge between the crypto and institutional worlds,” and which is squarely focused on cryptocurrencies and the promise of new blockchain technologies. It may be a smashing success, but failure looks like an option again, too. At least, as of November, Galaxy had suffered at least $136 million in trading losses.

To better understand the firm and whether it has what it takes to stick around, we talked last week with Sam Englebart, a longtime media and tech investor who first began managing money for Novogratz’s family office and wound up cofounding Galaxy with him. Englebart  — who was visiting San Francisco from New York for the weeklong Game Developers Conference  —  oversees the outfit’s principal investments business and the EOS.io Ecosystem Fund, a $325 million joint venture with Block.one that’s focused on making investments in projects that utilize the EOS.io blockchain software. We asked about Galaxy’s not-very-good 2018 and how Englebart, Novogratz, and the rest of their 75-person team can produce the returns they expect to see. Our chat has been edited lightly for length.

TC: For our readers who aren’t familiar with Galaxy Digital, what’s the elevator pitch? 

SE: It’s an investment bank with a balance sheet to invest. We invest in everything blockchain and crypto related and in the future of tech broadly. We had two pools of capital, our balance sheet, and we’re also publicly traded in Toronto [having executed a reverse merger with a shell company on the exchange].  We’ve invested several hundred million dollars already in blockchain and crypto investments and tokens.

TC: One of the things you oversee is a venture fund that counts Block.one as the only limited partner other than Galaxy. Block.one develops software known as eos.io, a blockchain-based infrastructure software.

SE: It’s an evolution of bitcoin and ethereum; it’s another blockchain protocol that allows [developers] to build applications atop it that are decentralized. Block.one did a token sale and had enormous success, raising $4 billion dollars. And having raised all this money for the development of their protocol, they wanted to allocate some of it back to professional VCs who could then invest in way that’s beneficial to [its own] ecosystem, so they committed $1 billion to partner VC funds. Well, they are managing $400 million themselves, and $600 million is being managed by five partner funds, of which we’re managing $300 million. [The funds] are all geographically diverse. We’re the largest and cover North America.

TC: And you kicked in $25 million to have some skin in the game. Do you co-invest in anything with the other partner funds or share deal flow in any way? Also, does Block.one have to sign off on what you want to fund?

SE: Generally speaking, we’re trying to stay somewhat close to our geography, but if we see a great deal in Asia, we might share it with [former Jefferies Asia CEO Michael Alexander, the fund manager there] and take a share. And ours is ultimately a fund managed by Galaxy. We work closely and collaboratively with [Block.one] but they aren’t technically on our investment committee.

TC: What other products does Galaxy have?

SE: We’re also in the process of raising a credit and special opportunities fund to make structured credit investments in the . space. We have an index fund. It’s a portfolio of investment products. Galaxy Digital more broadly has an investment business, a trading business — Mike is best-known for and been a macro trader for most of his career and is now trading around crypto tokens and liquid products — and then and advisory business, too. We’re a registered broker-dealer doing M&A advisory, increasingly focusing on what we think will be opportunities as startups begin to [consolidate their efforts], and also doing traditional capital raising for startups and later-stage companies.

TC: Of those, which is your biggest business?

SE: Our investment business is our biggest business by far. Our trading business is growing quickly, even through a downturn in the market, though it’s really taking the longest to stand up as any trading business would. Our advisory business is [the most nascent].

TC: Galaxy found a way to go public back in August. Why was that important to the firm to do?

SE: If we’d just wanted to be a venture business, we didn’t need to go public. But we’re in this phase where institutional investors are going to want and need exposure to blockchain [investments] and crypto, while at the same time, it’s going to be a while before they feel comfortable buying these assets directly. Things are changing. Andreessen Horowitz has a [crypto] fund. [Former Sequoia Capital partner] Matt Huang has a fund now.  They’re credible investors. But change takes time. And in terms of custody and insurance and CYA-type stuff, we felt having a public currency was the easiest way for investors to do it who don’t want to lock up their capital in a fund but who want to bet broadly across the space.

Not much of the company is floated. We think that as we prove out what we’re building [that will change].

TC: Is it safe to say that last year was pretty brutal, especially given that the firm officially opened its doors last January?

SE: Oh, yeah, definitely, though it was a somewhat predictable selloff from in hindsight. I don’t care what the asset class it is — when things go up with that kind of velocity, they tend to come down with equal momentum. People got very excited. What’s unique about crypto and blockchain relative to other retail [offerings is that it’s] possible for the average person to buy into the frenzy. The development of other tech has involved professional investors taking risk in a calculated manner, but suddenly, [crypto] was available to everyone. And it was the evolution of crowdfunding and social media and information spreads fast, and when the message is that you can get rich fast, people are going to go for it.

Presumably, many retail investors who got in got out, along with people who’d been in the space a while and took their profits. So things were never as good or as bad as they seemed. Despite the ‘crypto winter,’ companies have been [at work] and a lot of the hype is turning into actual working technology.

TC: So no more frenzies or bubbles?

SE: We’ll definitely see more as this technology continues to develop. We’re still a ways away from it being the seamless technology we enjoy with the web. But it’s probably not all that different from what we lived through the last time around, where a few companies become massively important and a lot of them don’t.

TC: How do you rate SEC chief Jay Clayton? Are you in favor of SEC regulating more of this new world?

SE: Yes, for sure. Fair, researched, smart regulation is absolutely what an industry like this needs, along with making sure people understand that there will be standards in terms of behavior and business practices that every industry needs. I think the more, reasonable regulation we have, the better everyone will be.

TC: Is there a country whose regulations or approach you’d like the U.S. to adopt?

SE: There isn’t one particular place where I think, The U.S. should do this. We’re our own unique country, with our own issues and problems and benefits. I do [hope that] in an increasingly global world, we don’t over-regulate ourselves to the point of people building technology elsewhere. There’s a lot at stake.

TC: What has you most excited right now about the deals you’re seeing?

SE: Video games and digital objects are one of the reasons I’m excited. Many will integrate blockchain technology in important ways that will matter this year, and,  by the way, I don’t think we’re many years away from web 3.0 and the decentralized internet from being ubiquitous in the same way that we’d be shocked today if we encountered a business that had no exposure to the internet.

TC: What applications are close?

SE: The trickiest thing is to remember [not to expect an] old medium with a new tech thing stuck on it. The reason there’s been so much talk about blockchain and video games, for example, is because the [gaming] world is made up of digital objects. Meanwhile, people have recognized that the blockchain allows you to create truly scarce digital objects that someone can truly own and trade as they as they would a physical object. With respect to gaming, that means you can truly start to own the digital objects you are [using in gaming] or, if you’re a collector of certain physical objects, how you collect them will become gamified in digital ways.

Consider that owning something is really about status. You show your friends, you achieve the status of owning that thing, then you either put it in your closet or trade it for money. In the digital world, you don’t have to go through the process of dealing with that physical object that has to be stored or else packed and shipped to someone else. There’s a startup for example, VIRL, that buys custom shoes, then digitizes them using a volumetric camera system that turns them into a 3D object that you can see on your phone and authenticate as being one of say, only 10 copies. These digital sneakers — these non-fungible tokens — can then remain in the collector’s inventory or be made tradable through an exchange. And it just takes a second. You can have your item instantly.

The lines between commerce and gaming and trading grow more blurred by the day.

TC: What’s your driving thesis?

SE: That the digital world will be no different than the physical world as we invest more and more time in digital worlds and our digital identity, and included in that is the inventory of stuff we own. We’re going to demand that no one can take that away from us.

Above: Mike Novogratz speaks during the 2018 Yahoo Finance All Markets Summit at The Times Center on September 20, 2018 in New York City.

source https://techcrunch.com/2019/03/25/a-look-inside-crypto-firm-digital-galaxy-founded-by-sidelined-wall-street-legend-mike-novogratz/

[chocolate-brownies]

How a Daily Meditation Practice Helps You Find Trust

How a Daily Meditation Practice Helps You Find Trust:

One of the nice things about meditation is that when we sit with these moments as they arise, we start to trust in them and in the dark grace.

To see yourself is the heart of what a spiritual discipline like meditation is all about.

After meditating with my first meditation teacher, Arvis, for some time, I decided to do a weeklong silent Zen meditation retreat. Arvis said, “I feel good about a teacher named Jakusho Kwong up at Sonoma Mountain Zen Center. Maybe that would be a good place for you to go.” I was excited to experience an authentic retreat in a Zen Buddhist temple with all the accoutrements — the bells, the robes, the rituals, the whole thing.

I got there in the late afternoon, and the retreat was scheduled to start in the early evening. After we had dinner, we went into the Zendo for the first meditation session. It was a very formal place, and I had no idea what the etiquette was. There was minimal instruction, so I learned what I was supposed to be doing by watching other people, which heightened my awareness right away. I sat down on my cushion with all my gleeful anticipation about this experience as the temple bell was struck three times to begin the period of meditation.

As soon as that bell rang, adrenaline flooded my body. It was not fear, but my whole system went into fight-or-flight mode. All I could think was, How do I get out of here? Let me out of here! which is silly because five seconds earlier I was thrilled about being there.

Fortunately, a small, quiet voice inside me said, You have no idea how important this is. You must stay. So even though I had adrenaline rushes twenty-four hours a day for five days and nights in a row, I did not sleep throughout the entire retreat, and I contemplated leaving many times, I managed to hang in there — barely — and finish. Not an auspicious beginning for a future spiritual teacher, but that is what happened. I never knew exactly why I had that reaction, but I have a hunch. When you undertake a retreat like that, something deep within you knows, Oh, boy, the jig is up now. This is not make-believe. This is the real thing. Something in me knew that this was going to be a complete life reorientation. I did not realize this consciously, but unconsciously my ego reacted as if threatened: This is it. This guy is considering the nature of his own being as far as the egoic impulse running the rest of life.

In some ways, my first retreat was a disaster. The only thing that got me through was a mantra I came up with on the second day. Thousands of times over those five nights and days, I said to myself: I will never, ever, ever do this again. That was my big spiritual mantra!

One of the things that impressed me during that retreat was that Kwong — the roshi, or teacher — gave a talk each day, and that talk was my respite because I got to sit and listen and be entertained. It was a relief from the bone-jarring meditation, the never-ending silence, and the pain in my knees and back. Kwong had recently returned from a trip to India that had a huge impact on him. I could tell because as he was recounting stories about his trip, tears streamed down his cheeks and dripped off the bottom of his chin.

See also Try This Durga-Inspired Guided Meditation for Strength

One story especially touched me. Kwong was walking on a dirt road through an impoverished area. There were some kids playing a game with a ball and a stick out in the middle of the road. One kid stood apart from the group, as if ostracized. This boy was watching the kids play and had a sad look on his face. He had a cleft palate, so his upper lip was severely deformed. Kwong walked up to the boy, but they did not speak the same language, so he did not know what to say. There was a moment of indecision, and then Kwong took the boy’s hand in his and with his other hand reached into his pocket and pulled out some money. He pointed to a little shop that sold ice cream and gave the money to the boy. I thought it was a sweet way of giving a little comfort and acknowledging this poor kid’s existence, his loneliness.

As Kwong did this, he gestured to the group of children that seemed to have rejected the boy as if to say, “Go get them and buy them ice cream.” He had given the child enough money to buy treats for all the kids. The boy waved to them and pointed toward the ice cream shop, and all the children joined this one kid who had been lonely and sad. Suddenly he was the hero! He had money and was buying ice cream for everybody. The kids were laughing and talking with him. He was included in their group.

Kwong sat in full lotus position on his cushion in his beautiful brown teacher’s robes and told this story in a resonant, soft voice, deeply touched by the poverty that he saw and by the loneliness of that child. He never hid his tears, and he never seemed embarrassed by his emotion. Watching another man embody this juxtaposition of great strength and tenderness taught me more about true masculinity than anything else in my life. Hearing him speak with such fearlessness was extraordinary. For a young, aspiring Zen student, to have this be my first encounter with a Zen master was a tremendous stroke of good luck and grace, especially since during this whole retreat, except for the talks, I was hanging on by a thread. I continued to study with Kwong, did some retreats with him over the years, and appreciated his great wisdom, but I never again saw him in the state he was in on that first retreat. His openness and dignity were a powerful teaching — it was like being bathed in grace.

Since then I have attended and led hundreds of retreats, but I still look back on that first one with Kwong as both the absolute worst and absolute best in my life. I did not know how powerfully it had affected me until months later. Staying with whatever arose for me despite being flooded with adrenaline, sitting with it in a raw way through all those hours of meditation instead of running away, was profound. When you are having that experience, when you are being pushed to your limit, you do not think of it as grace, but the real grace was that I was in that environment. I was in a place where I could not go anywhere, where I could not turn on the TV or listen to the radio or grab a book or enter a discussion. I had to face the entirety of my experience. Afterward, when I tried to describe the retreat to people, I would end up in tears — not tears of sadness or even of joy, but of depth. I had touched upon something that was so meaningful, vital, and important that it opened my heart.

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Meditation Helps You Feel Your Feelings

As we go through life, we eventually have enough experience to see that sometimes profound difficulty can also be profoundly heart opening. When you are in a tough position, when you are facing something hard, when you feel challenged, when you feel like you are at your edge, it is a gift to have the willingness to stop, to sit with those moments, and not to look for the quick, easy resolution for that feeling. It is a kind of grace to be able and willing to open yourself entirely to the experience of challenge, of difficulty, and of insecurity.

There is light grace, and there is dark grace. Light grace is when you have a revelation — when you have insights. Awakening is a light grace; it is like the sun coming out from behind the clouds. The heart opens, and old identities fall away. Then there is dark grace, like what I had on that retreat. I do not mean “dark” in the sense of sinister or evil, but “dark” in the sense of traveling through the darkness looking for light. You cannot see the way through whatever you are experiencing and whatever the challenge is. One of the most amazing things that daily meditation has taught me over many years is to have the wisdom and grace to quietly and silently be with whatever presents itself, whatever is there, without looking for a solution or an explanation.

To see yourself is the heart of what a spiritual discipline like meditation is all about. When people come on retreat with me, we meditate for five or six periods a day. The idea of meditation is not necessarily to get good at it — whatever your definition may be of being “good” at meditation — but the most important thing, the useful thing, the reason we are meditating is so that we encounter ourselves. If you are not using your meditation to hide from your experience or to transcend it or to concentrate your way out of it, if you are being quietly present, meditation forces honesty. It is an extraordinarily truthful way to experience yourself in that moment. This willingness to encounter yourself is vitally important. It is a key to spiritual life and to awakening: being present for whatever is. Sometimes “whatever is” is mundane; sometimes it is full of light, grace, and insight; and sometimes it begins as a dark grace, where we do not know where we are going or how to get through it, and then suddenly there is light.

One of the nice things about meditation is that when we sit with these moments as they arise, we start to trust in them and in the dark grace. We realize that it is in feeling lost that our true nature finds itself. In meditation we encounter ourselves, and it elicits a real honesty if we are ready for it. You can read about things forever, you can listen to talks forever, and you can assume that you understand or that you have got it, but if you can be with yourself in a quiet way without running away, that is the necessary honesty. When we can do nothing and be extraordinarily happy and at peace with that, we have found tranquility within ourselves.

Through experience, we find we can trust the moments when we do not know which way to go, when we feel like we will never have the answers. We know we can stop there and listen. This is the heart of meditation: it is the act of listening in a deep way. You could boil all of spirituality down to the art and practice of listening to nothing and trusting in the difficulty. That is what I learned on that first retreat. It taught me that a direct encounter with challenge is a doorway to accessing our depth, coming face-to-face with our most important thing, and being able to trust in the unfolding of our life.

As a teacher, one of the things I see is the failure of people to trust their lives — their problems and sometimes even their successes. It is a failure to trust that their life is its own teacher, that within the exact way their human life is expressing itself lies the highest wisdom, and that they can access it if they can sit still and listen. If they can sink into themselves, their own nobody-ness, and allow difficulty to strip them of their somebody-ness, then they can do away with the masks of their persona. Spiritually speaking, this is exactly what we want: to remove the masks. Sometimes we take them off willingly, sometimes they fall away, and sometimes they are torn off.

Unmasking is the spiritual path. It is not about creating new masks — not even spiritual masks. It is not about going from being a worldly person to a spiritual person or trading a spiritual ego for a materialistic ego. It is a matter of authenticity and of the capacity to trust life, even if life has been tremendously tough. It is stopping right where you are and entering profound listening, availability, and openness. If you feel wonderful, you feel wonderful; if you feel lost, you feel lost, but you can trust in being lost. You can do this without talking to yourself about it and without creating a story around it. We must find that capacity to trust ourselves and to trust our life — all of it, whatever it is — because that is what allows the light to shine and revelation to arise.

See also Yoga and Religion: My Long Walk Toward Worship

We see it when we stop and listen, not with our ears and not with our mind, but with our heart, with a tender and intimate quality of awareness that opens us beyond our conditioned ways of experiencing any moment. My first retreat, as difficult as it was, taught me that the most amazing things can come out of the most difficult experiences if we dedicate ourselves to showing up for the situation. That is the heart of meditation and the heart of what it takes to discover who and what we are as we turn away from external things and toward the source of love, the source of wisdom, the source of freedom and happiness within. That is where you will find your most important thing.

TheundefinedMost Important Thing: Discovering Truth at the Heart of Life

Excerpted from The Most Important Thing: Discovering Truth at the Heart of Life by Adyashanti. Copyright ©2018 by Adyashanti. Published by Sounds True in January 2019.