#anyway. impromptu trip down memory lane.

[faunandfloraas]

Wait you're a Phoebe fan too?! 😳

Omg yeah 🥰

[naffeclipse]

Under the Storm

FNAF Detective!Sun & Detective!Moon x Vigilante!Reader (SFW)

You keep watching from the shadows when the lighter animatronic whirls Gregory around with a gentle spin and the kid pulls out his own funky moves. Now, where did he get those from? You’d guess that Detective Sun is as equally as amused as you by the brightness of his smile. The urge to cut in and steal Detective Sun for a little spin comes over you, but you hesitate at a flash of a memory that makes you sick and causes you to stay pressed back. Your boys are having fun. Well, most of them, anyway.

Word Count: ~13,700 Warnings: Guns. Possessive Behavior. Violence. Death. Implied/attempted/threatened suicide.

A/N: First, a little trip down memory lane, then a little impromptu dancing to break the ice, some minor terse conversations about what else Eclipse might have done to you, and finally, getting Gregory back to his dad! I struggled writing this one and taking out scenes that didn't exactly fit or messed up the flow, but ah, I hope y'all enjoy! Please, please, please note the chapter warnings for this one! It gets dark and that's why the rating for this part is Mature.

[snowbellewells]

“Over the Realms and Through the Woods, to Arendelle We Go”

A @cssecretsanta2k19​ gift for @xhookswenchx​

“Over the Realms and Through the Woods, to Arendelle We Go”

By: @snowbellewells​

This is my belated @cssecretsanta2k19​ gift for @xhookswenchx​ ~ and I truly am sorry for making you wait extra days, Lovely. It was such a busy December, then I traveled home, had family engagements, and so on.  But talking with you and learning different things about the show and the holidays that you enjoyed, put this idea in my head early. I just needed the time to write it down.  I have very much enjoyed being your Secret Santa.  I hope that your Christmas was Merry, that you will have a Happy and Blessed New Year. Please enjoy this story gift just for you!

Summary: Emma and Killian take their crew on a holiday road trip to visit old friends and make new Christmas memories…   A CS canon divergent in which the realms have been joined as they were in Season 7’s finale, but Henry has not left the Land Without Magic as he did in Season 7.  I always imagined him going out into the non-magical world for college, to write books, and so on (at least once it became clear they weren’t all going to make a permanent move back to the Enchanted Forest).  So for the purposes of this fic, he is home for the holidays from college, and Emma and Killian also have two little ones of their own. I used the daughter of my fictional invention, Morgan Ruth Jones, rather than Hope.  She’s appeared in some of my other fics, and I’m kinda attached to her.  I’ve gathered you enjoy original CS kids in your writing and reading as well, so I hope you won’t mind that liberty taken. I know that Westley Graham is not as completely original as I thought it was when I dreamed it up, but I love it too (especially since the show gave us so many Liams to keep track of already without naming a son of Emma and Killian’s Liam David as I once would have done).  Westley for the character in “Princess Bride” (‘As you wish’ makes that seem appropriate) and Graham for the hero they should have been naming baby boys after in canon.  You also said you really enjoyed the “Frozen” characters in 4a, so I have tried to incorporate them - and found it to be a fun new character writing stretch.  I truly do hope you will find this fun to read!

*************

“Papa, how much longer?” a tiny voice piped up from the backseat over Killian and Emma Jones’ shoulders with the wheedling tone only a four-year-old’s impatience could muster. “Are we almost there?”

Emma glanced over at her husband with bland exasperation and humor mixed together before swiveling in her seat as much as possible to look back at their daughter Morgan where she sat in her car seat behind Killian, idly alternating between swinging her feet and singing little nonsense songs she made up for herself, staring out the window at the changing scenery as they traveled from one united realm to another, heading ever steadily north toward Arendelle to visit Elsa, Anna, Kristoff, and Morgan’s best friend Sonja, Princess Anna and her husband’s little girl.

Henry, comfortably on his long winter break from his senior year at Boudoin College, had his nose buried in a detective whodunit, and though he was usually quite patient with his much-younger sister, he seemed to be craving some reading time to himself that Emma was willing to humor. She would like to keep them both fairly quiet so that Westley Graham, their youngest at just barely five months, didn’t wake up quite yet from where he was peacefully sleeping in his own backward-facing car seat between his two siblings and where Emma could reach him if needed.

Killian, for his part, chuckled indulgently, his sparkling blue gaze sliding back over to return Emma’s look before answering his little girl, seeming infinitely patient and making Emma love him even more all over again “We are getting closer, little Love,” he assured calmly. “You’ve been very good - and we should be there within the hour now.”

For a moment, Morgan merely nodded and hummed to herself in satisfaction as she watched the scenery pass by out the window. Once they had left Storybrooke behind, the buildings had given way to the forest, thicker and more wild as they had passed through the land of Emma’s birthright rule - the Enchanted Forest. Since then, the forest had thinned out, and slowly the flatter land became foothills, which then turned into snow capped mountains - something which really did seem to almost sparkle before their eyes - not to mention the imaginative view of a toddler. But it wasn’t long before she piped up again, still obviously a bit impatient and unable to hold it in. “Papa? Can you sing a song? … Please?”

Emma snort-laughed at the way her husband’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, not expecting that particular request if his expression could be any indication. Shaking his head, he admitted defeat rather easily for a once-fearsome pirate of the Seven Seas, especially when she playfully jostled his shoulder, egging Morgan on and adding the she would like to hear him as well.

It wasn’t long before Killian’s clear, strong voice was ringing out within the walls of their newer smallish SUV, having left the Bug at home in favorite of more passenger leg room and space for the wealth of presents they were bringing along, both from their immediate family and her parents and other Storybrooke folks who had come to know the Arendellian visitors when they were in the Land Without Magic some years back. The tune her pirate had selected was a rollicking sea shanty - one of their daughter’s favorites - that he and his crew had once sung on the Jolly Roger many years ago as they circled the waters of Neverland endlessly. His song and its playful, raucous melody seemed practically bouncing around the interior of the vehicle, swaying with the rolling buoyancy of its rhythm and pulling Henry from his reading to grin at the song he had heard countless times before. Thankfully Westley didn’t seem in the least disturbed, sleeping right through the impromptu serenade, and Morgan was giggling and clapping her little hands along with her papa’s song. Emma soon found herself singing along as well, watching her family in their joyous uproar, and marveling at the reality that this was the sort of cozy Christmas journey she could have now.

Killian seemed so into his song, and his children’s entertainment, that Emma couldn’t help checking to be certain he was still paying attention to the road ahead. It hadn’t really been until the last couple of years that Killian had begun to take over some driving duties for them on longer trips; having learned to drive capably well before that, but never fully becoming comfortable with - or trusting - their “horseless death traps”, as he often called them. Modern automobiles still seemed smoky, loud, and entirely too unpredictable to a person long used to ships on the sea or riding horseback and in carriages - not to mention one whose first experience with them had been being run down on the road and seriously injured.

All the same, he shot her a look of exaggerated affront as he finished singing, waggling those wildly expressive eyebrows of his at her and pressing his hooked arm to his chest in further drama. “Honestly, Wife? Don’t you trust me more than that by now?” Taking his hook from where it covered his heart, he gestured out the window to indicate the lane beside them. “I may not be as old a hand at driving as most, but I won’t drive us under a semi trailer like that Griswold fellow on the magic box.”

It was Henry who snorted his laughter then, at the reference to National Lampoon’s which they had watched the night before, prior to setting off on their journey. Shaking his head at his stepdad’s odd way of reassuring him, and humored in spite of himself, Henry placed a marker in his book and more fully joined their antics, now that they were drawing nearer to their friend’s kingdom anyway. Danger and adventure, or just taking a family trip; be it Christmas or some random everyday in between, there was never a dull moment with their little crew.

~~~~~***~~~~~***~~~~~

When they entered the Arendelle borders and pulled up to the palace’s front gates, within 45 minutes’ time just as Killian had promised Morgan, the sense of awed anticipation settled over all of them, the air inside the car going quiet at the stunning beauty that met their eyes. Somewhere within the last half hour or so, light flurries of snow had begun to fall around them, looping and twirling through the slowly purpling sky as afternoon inched closer to evening. The ground had already been covered in a picturesque light dusting of white, but it was growing deeper as the additional fluffy flakes continued.

Thankfully, ice didn’t seem to be a part of this particular snowy scene; the roads had remained safely passable and they had made good time. Four uniformed guards two on either side of the wide, silvery sparkling arch and gates of the front entrance to the Queen’s castle and grounds, bowed respectfully as the passageway opened for them. Emma had spoken to her dear friend via magic mirror that morning before they set out, and their arrival had clearly been anticipated.

Despite having been there several times before by that point, all over them sat in openmouthed adoration that overcame them for a few breathless instants. The setting sun hit the gate and front of the castle, sending glitter and sparks of light out to dazzle their eyes. It was as if the whole structure were indeed beautifully coated in ice - and yet there was none of the frigid austerity one might once have feared. Queen Elsa of Arendelle has long since found her equilibrium, allowing her the self-acceptance and open understanding to balance the cold with genuine warmth. She learned to love every part of herself - including her powers - just as she had once helped Emma to do, and as Killian had reminded her ever since.

Their vehicle had barely parked, and they were just stepping out and stretching their tired limbs when they heard familiar voices calling their names, a childish squeal of delight yelping Morgan’s in particular, the sound of several pairs of feet hurrying over freshly fallen snow (well, feet and one set of reindeer hooves) and then they were engulfed in a flurry of hugs and handshakes by the royal family themselves. Anna was predictably firing questions at them as quickly as she could voice them, about their trips, the rest of their family, Belle and the library, without even allowing them time to answer. Kristoff was shaking Killian’s hand and accepting baggage and gift wrapped boxes to lead them inside. Sven snuffled around Henry’s pockets and Morgan’s hair seeking out carrots and other treats as well as providing his own animal greeting. But through the melee, Elsa pressed through to wrap Emma in a fiercely tight hug for several long moments. When she did pull back, it was with a watery smile and unshed tears in her eyes to match those which started in Emma’s.

“I’m so glad all of you have come,” she stated fervently, that sweet, melodious voice trembling with sincerity beyond its usual poise. “Come in, come in.  We’ll get you warm and settled, then we can get caught up.”

Emma nodded, pressing the queen’s hand tightly in her own, before turning to grab more luggage and unfasten Westley from his car seat to do as Elsa suggested.

“Let me help you,” her friend offered, holding out her arms to take the still-sleepy child so Emma could reach the suitcase behind. “May I?”

Emma didn’t hesitate for even a second, easily passing her just-barely-stirring-to-wakefulness infant into her friend’s arms, moving her hand gently so Elsa could cradle Westley’s head and crooning lowly to him until he settled again, rooting deeper into the young queen’s arms as a pleased and rosy smile pinked her cheeks.

Throwing a surreptitious glance over to Killian, only to find him watching her with a comforting smile that already knew where her mind had gone and wished he could undo the old hurt, Emma shook her head to clear the memory as best she could and send her husband a small grin as reassurance that she would be fine. As much as she had tried to banish the moment from her mind, and as much as the sharpest stinging slap of betrayal had faded, Emma still saw her own mother pulling little Neal away from her, protectively fearing her magic and not letting Emma hold her younger brother. Intellectually, Emma knew her mother loved her, magic or no, realized that the knee-jerk reaction had not been aimed to hurt her… and yet… it had.

Watching Elsa as various emotions flitted across her face while cradling her friend’s youngest in her arms, gazing down at the drowsy babe adoringly, Emma knew Elsa had felt that same fear and suspicion she had, and that perhaps Elsa had almost resignedly expected her request to be denied, knew that parental protectiveness all too well, and had been thrilled when she was granted trust instead.

Little Westley Graham did nothing more than flutter his eyelids briefly without fully rousing and gave a slight coo of contentment as the Queen bowed her head to press a light kiss to the top of his downy, sandy-colored hair. “Come on then everyone,” she suggested cheerfully, looking as merry and confident as they had ever seen her and leaving Emma blessedly assured of her friend’s happiness.  “There’s hot chocolate with plenty of marshmallows in the large sitting room.”

She led the way, with Killian, Henry, and Kristoff bringing up the rear to make sure no overexcited little girls, snowmen, or reindeer were left behind. It didn’t take long to find their luggage placed in their rooms, their coats and snow boots shucked off, and all of them seated comfortably scattered around the large open room full of soft chairs and sofas, a roaring fire in the hearth at one end, and plates of toast and jam, cookies, doughnuts, scones and a whole pot of rich hot chocolate with marshmallows set out for the taking.

Conversation hummed warmly throughout the room as the kids played; Henry showing Olaf, Sonja, and his little sister how to make a chain of snow angels for the tree while the four adults caught up on all that had happened since they were last together. Westley had woken up, but to everyone’s surprise, the little boy had not cried or fussed for his mother, and so Elsa still held him gladly. His guileless blue eyes, the mirrored hue of his pirate father’s, blinked up at her curiously, looked more enthralled that concerned by the less familiar person holding him. One pudgy little hand unclenched to reach up toward her almost startlingly white braid and wrapped around the end of it, tugging gently with his tiny fist, and burbling happily as he did.

Elsa practically giggled, a musical, enchanting sound that the rest of them had rarely heard, and a light carefree look graced her face beautifully. “You really are quite a sweetheart, aren’t you?” she whispered to the little one softly.

She did eventually hand Westley back to Emma when he began to wiggle and wanted to eat. Once Emma returned with him after his feeding, she found the Queen of Arendelle seated cross-legged on the floor with Morgan and her niece watching wide-eyed beside her as Elsa effortlessly shaped and reshaped whorls and twists of ice into glittering ornaments she handed them to place on a tree they had left bare for that very entertainment. The girls let out little ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ of excitement and surprise with each shape that seemed to bloom from Elsa’s hands into thin air. Each new creation brough exclamations of delight, and the two children then ran to their papas at the tree to lift them up to place them high on the branches, then hurried back to see what ‘Auntie Elsa’ would create next.

As the decorating eventually wound down, the two little whirlwinds huffing and puffing from all their trips back and forth over the length of the room, and Elsa lightly chuckling at their theatrics, Killian came to sit near them as well, gathering Morgan into his lap and nodding encouraging at Sonja until she scooted up close to his side as well. Soon he was telling them a story of the first time he saw snow fall at sea as a young lad. He remembered how it looked trailing down to rest on nearly frozen arctic water, where their captain had unwisely taken them too far north for the season.

He was relating how his older brother Liam had distracted him by encouraging his wonder at the beauty of the sight. Killian himself had not realized until much later - a similar instance on his own ship facing the very real danger of ice floes in the water and the precarious travel a ship must make in the depths of winter driving the memory home - just how much danger they had been in that night as he had simply marveled at what seemed to his young mind cold falling stars of sparkling light. “He said each one was unique - no other could exactly take the place of the one before. Like people, Liam said they were…” Killian nearly whispered this last over the sudden lump in his throat, seemingly lost in another time and place. Emma reached out a hand to rest upon his knee, and he came back to them with a bit of a start, the faroff gaze clearing from his eyes.  “Like us even,” he added. “We might have been expendable slaves to most - but we mattered, at least to each other, and he always made sure I knew that.”

Both of their daughters had drifted off to sleep by then; the excitement of the day overtaking them once they had settled in to listen to Killian’s quiet, lilting voice. Kristoff came to lift Sonja from Killian’s side to carry her to her room, wishing the rest of them goodnight. Anna followed with a contented wave as Sven trailed behind, headed outside to his barn to bed down for the night.

Queen Elsa’s gaze remained on Killian, though the story had finished. There was a melancholy, almost wistful, look within her light eyes as she seemed to consider the story yet.  “He sounds like the best sort of big brother,” she finally said to Killian softly, and gentle and a bit sad smile curving her lips. “I wish I could have met him….” This last was said almost hesitantly, as if she herself did not quite know why it had slipped out, and yet she nodded determinedly after, as if confirming the sentiment.

“I wish you could have met him too, Milady,” Killian answered fervently, his voice a bit hoarse and husky with the regret and pain of still missing his elder sibling, even after ages had passed. “Maybe it’s just something about the way a younger sibling sees a beloved older one, but at times I can see  something of Liam in you.”

Elsa smiled once more, gratefully accepting what for Killian must be the highest compliment he could give someone. The three of them settled into a sort of peaceful remembrance of those no longer with them - bittersweet but not unpleasant, as they were reminiscing of good times and not just their loss - before she rose as well to retire for the night.

Her exit left Emma and Killian seated cozily before the fire together, one last mug of hot chocolate in each of their hands and the silent beauty of the room around them, still decked out for Christmas, and snow still falling outside, weaving a lovely spell.  Tilting her head up, Emma found Killian’s lips waiting to capture hers tenderly, sipping from them as if they were even more delicious than the chocolate and twice as precious. “I love you, my Darling,” he murmured against her cheek as his kisses trailed back to the spot behind her ear that made her melt on the spot. 

Practically keening back that she loved him too, Emma held her husband even tighter, wanting nothing else she could possibly imagine in that moment. As she gazed into Killian’s blue, blue eyes she could see the future of them, and their family, together, and she knew the coming year would be their best one yet.

Tagging: @cssecretsanta2k19​ @xhookswenchx​ @searchingwardrobes​ @kmomof4​ @jennjenn615​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @thisonesatellite​ @profdanglaisstuff​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ @revanmeetra87​ @teamhook​ @hollyethecurious​@winterbaby89​ @darkcolinodonorgasm​ @hollyethecurious​ @gingerchangeling​ @spartanguard​ @lfh1226-linda​

[kutemouse]

Hi! I just found your blog, and i'm in love with it. I would like to request from fluffy prompt 35+36 please with jin!

Well, what a coincidence, because I am in love with YOU kutie anon!! <3 Anyways, here is the imagine I dreamt up when hit with these prompts. Sorry it is so LONG (as usual) but in order to do these prompts justice, it is what it is. Hope you like <3

Fluff prompt #35: Can I keep this? It smells like you.

Fluff prompt #36: Please don’t cry. I can’t stand you crying.

Disclaimers: I found this gif on Pinterest, so it’s obviously not mine. Spiderman belongs to Sony, who has made a deal with Marvel/Disney to be used in their films, just in case y’all didn’t know.

Age Recommendation: 18+

Warnings: Swears, childhood romance, mentions of making love, Jin making me pop all the UwU’s and melting me into a puddle of fluffy goo.

Word Count: 2,968

Summary: You decided to spend your summer at your grandparents’ place where you used to spend summers during your childhood. The place is filled with so many memories, some good, some bad, but all containing him.

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

Always Loved You (Jin One-Shot, Fluff)

I couldn’t flip the pages fast enough. Currently, I was laying on a beach chair I’d dragged out to the edge of the lake, soaking up some sun while reading a trashy romance novel. The main character had finally confessed their love to the main love interest, and things were getting interesting.

“Y/n!” I ignored whoever was calling me.

“Y/N!”

“What?!” I hollered back, ripping off my sunglasses in annoyance.

“I need you to go to town! We need groceries for dinner tonight!”

I stood up, grumbling, pulling down my swimsuit that had started riding up my ass and gathering up my bag and towel. So much for a relaxing afternoon.

Still, I guess I was here for more than just a vacation. It was summer, and I’d just graduated from university. When everyone who attended my graduation party asked what I was going to do with my fancy new degree, I shrugged and gave some vague, non-committal answer. I had no job prospects lined up, not even an internship. I knew what I wanted to do with my degree, but no idea how to get there.

Sick of people asking me about it, I finally found something to do with my summer. I would go live with my grandparents and help them out. Truthfully, that was kind of a lie in itself. Sure, I’d help with whatever my grandpa and grandma needed, but mostly I was here to get some space and figure out what to do with the rest of my life. My impromptu trip got my parents off my back, at least.

I breathed in the warm, fresh air one last time before going inside to change. I loved it here. Back when I was in grade school, I used to come here for entire summers with my parents. Between the sun and the lake, I was constantly begging to come back here. I wondered when that changed… probably some time in high school, when I started getting busy with friends and parties. “I’m leaving now!” I called out to my grandma, scooping up the list she left for me on the coffee table.

“Thank you!”

I stepped outside and began the walk to the mini-mart down the road, relishing in the way my skin warmed in the sun once more. I hardly passed a single person, let alone a single car. That’s part of the charm here… no nosy neighbors or pesky so-called friends trying to get into your business and tell you what to do. Everything had a good distance between it, allowing for solitude and that small-town feel. I loved that it took a twenty minute walk to get to the busiest part of town, which was still nothing when compared to the crowded streets of the city.

A smile spread over my face as I passed a small park I remembered playing in as a kid.

“Tag, you’re it!” I shrieked before running away as fast as I could.

He growled and took off after me, causing me to squeal and run faster, giggling like mad. I ran up the steps of the jungle gym until I reached the very tippy, top. Oh no, he was coming! He grinned as he cornered me, but I had one escape left. I slid down the slide, still laughing as my bum hit the ground, got up, and started running. I didn’t make it far, though.

WAM! My feet tangled up and I ended up on the ground. “Ouch,” I gasped, looking at my hands. They had tiny cuts all over them, and my knee was scraped.

He reached me and pushed me hard in the shoulder. “TAG!” he screamed, but his smile faded when he saw me crying.

“Y/n, what happened?” he said, leaning down and examining my knee with large, brown eyes.

“I tripped,” I sniffled.

“Oh, don’t cry. I trip all the time. I even carry band-aides around just in case. See?”

I perked up a little when he pulled a bandage out of his pocket. He smiled at me as he peeled off the backing and stuck it on my knee. “It’s Spiderman,” I giggled.

He grinned at me. “He’s my favorite.”

The boy suddenly leaned down and placed a kiss on top of the bandage. “There. All better.”

He pulled me up and we continued our game of tag, shrieking and laughing even louder, if that was possible.

I blinked away the memory, realizing I’d stopped and was staring at the playground. God, I hadn’t thought about him in forever. How long’s it been? I wonder if he still lives around here… or even if he remembers me.

Our moms were best friends back in the day, and every time my family came here, we’d always spend the most time together. He was the only kid my age we knew around here, so he became my best friend. As we grew up, we went from sending each other hand-drawn pictures in the mail to full-on letters, then to emailing, then texting, then video calling.

One day, my laptop beeped, indicating I was getting a video chat, and I nearly declined it before seeing it was him. I quickly wiped my tears away with a tissue and blew my nose before answering the call. “Hey,” I said, giving the camera a watery smile.

“Hey! It’s been forever.”

“I know, I’m sorry, I keep meaning to call you but I’ve just been so busy.”

I sniffed, and he frowned, leaning closer to his screen. “Are you crying?”

“N-No,” I stuttered.

He gave me an amused smile. “Y/n, come on. You know you can’t lie to me.”

I choked out a laugh. “Alright, fine. Yes, I was crying, it’s stupid, just some guy being an ass as usual…”

I watched as he reached out a hand and leaned his camera even closer to his handsome face, concern etched all over his features, those brown eyes shining in what little light there was. “Please don’t cry, y/n. You know I can’t stand you crying.”

I nodded and laughed a bit more. “I know. I promise, it’s over with that guy. I won’t be wasting any more tears on him.”

He smiled at me. “Good.”

Lost in thought, I kept walking down the road, my tennis shoes scuffing along the pavement as I absentmindedly kicked stray rocks. I wonder if he ever thinks about me. Probably not. Last I heard, he too went to university somewhere in a far-off city. He was probably making a living for himself, his career prospects endless… probably dating someone too. Might even be married by now.

I huffed out a sigh as I reached the mini-mart. I stepped inside and grabbed a basket before pulling out my grandma’s list, muttering as I read it out loud to myself. “Y/n?”

That voice… it couldn’t be. No freaking way. I whirled around. “Jin?”

His face split into a wide grin. “It is you! What are you doing here?”

“J-Jin,” I stuttered, still not comprehending that the tall, handsome guy I was just reminiscing about was actually here.

He laughed. “Yeah, that’s me. It’s been what, six, seven years?”

“Something like that.” I could hardly breath. He looked only slightly older than what I remember. His hair was darker and pushed away from his face to reveal his forehead, but the rest of him was the same. The same easy smile. The same toned, wide shoulders. That melodic voice. Another memory suddenly forced its way into my mind, one that I’d been trying to push away since I got here.

The soft light of 6am caused my eyes to flutter open. A fresh, cool breeze danced across my bare skin, causing me to shiver and slide my arms back under the covers, cuddling close to the warm body next to me. I suddenly shot up. “Oh God, we’ve been out all night,” I groaned.

Jin sat up as well, chuckling. “It’s okay. Just tell your parents you were with me. They’ll understand.”

Oh hell. His voice was deep and husky from lack of use, and I felt myself melting into a puddle as he spoke.

Without warning, I leaned over and pressed my lips against his. He kissed me back eagerly for a few minutes before squeezing my waist, causing us to break apart as I gasped. “Listen,” he murmured, trailing his lips across my bare shoulder. “We should be getting back.”

“No, just a few more minutes,” I said, pulling him in again.

Jin indulged me for only a few seconds more, wrapping his soft lips around mine in a way that made my head spin. After an entire summer of flirting and driving each other crazy, we finally gave in and ended up kissing each other after Jin drove us out here to watch the stars. Before I knew it, we were in the back of his truck making love. He was my first. I always knew he would be. It was just a matter of getting us to cross the line between friends and lovers.

He pulled away from me. “Seriously, y/n, our parents are going to murder us as it is,” he laughed. “And… you’re leaving today. You’ve got to go pack.”

My heart dropped. I knew he was right. When would we see each other again? Jin began pulling his clothes back on, and I did the same. He grabbed his jacket and was just about to shrug it on when I tugged it away.

“Hey!” he protested, playfully grabbing for it back.

I buried my face in the jean fabric, inhaling deeply. It still smelled like him, musky with a hint of spicy cologne. “Can I keep this?” I asked suddenly. “It… It smells like you.”

Jin smiled. “Sure.”

“Y/n?”

I blinked, looked back up at Jin. “Yeah, sorry. I was just-”

“Lost down memory lane?” he said, the corners of his mouth turning upwards.

“Y-Yeah.”

I still had that jacket somewhere. I’d kept it wrapped in a plastic bag so, whenever I grew lonely or sad, I could pull it out and inhale his scent. I’d even fallen asleep a few times with my head buried in it, making myself feel better as memories of Jin wafted through my mind.

“I find myself doing that too,” Jin murmured, bringing me back to the present.

I never went back to my grandparents’ after that, finding myself too wrapped up in school, friends, and other boyfriends to bother. Or, at least, that’s what I told myself. Maybe the real reason I stayed away is because I didn’t want to find out Jin had been doing the same. Living his life… without me.

I tightened my grasp on my basket. “Um, I’ve got… I’ve got some shopping to do.”

“Oh, right. Well, I’ll leave you to it then.”

“Do you want to shop together?” I blurted out, noticing his mostly-empty basket.

Jin turned back around, his eyebrows raised in surprise. “Sure.”

We walked down the aisles in silence, picking out the groceries we needed as we went. “I can’t believe you’re here,” I finally said. “I thought you went to university.”

“I did,” he replied. “But I graduated recently, and I came back to see my family for a summer before heading back to Seoul.”

“Oh. Did you get a job?”

“Nope. I’m trying to become a doctor, so I need to go back to school for a few more years.”

“Nice,” I murmured.

“What about you? Why are you here?”

I sighed. “To visit my grandparents. Help them out.”

Jin stopped, grabbing something off a shelf, tossing me a knowing smile. “Come on, y/n, I know you. Why are you really here?”

I scoffed. “What do you mean? That is why I’m here.”

Jin stepped close, causing my breath to hitch in my throat. I caught a whiff of that oh-so-familiar scent and felt my legs turning to jelly as he leaned down so our eyes were level. “Are you sure?” he said, grinning.

I rolled my eyes. “I’m not here for you, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“That’s not what I was implying,” he said, chuckling. “But good to know.”

“Besides, you’ve probably got some girlfriend back in the city,” I muttered, turning away to grab something off a shelf.

“No, actually.”

“Really? The cocky, handsome Jin can’t sway them city girls?” I teased.

He shook his head. “Oh, that’s definitely not it. I could have any girl I wanted back there.”

Jin suddenly grabbed my basket away from me, causing me to whirl around. He stepped close, and I backed up until I could go no further, my shoulders pressed against the shelves. “The problem was me. I didn’t want any of them,” he murmured.

My lungs stopped working as his lips hovered dangerously close to mine, my eyes growing wide as our breaths intermingled. Jin drew back, laughing. “You should’ve seen your face,” he snorted.

“Fuck off,” I snapped, grabbing my basket back and striding down the aisle away from him.

He followed after me, his windshield-wiper laugh still echoing throughout the store. “Awww, come on, y/n. It was a joke.”

“Well it wasn’t funny.”

“Why not? What, you got a boyfriend that wouldn’t appreciate me flirting with his girl or something?”

His tone was nonchalant, but I sensed some tentativeness in the question. “No,” I replied firmly. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

Jin looked down at me, his brown eyes bright as he smiled. “Good.”

I scoffed once more and headed over to the cashier, placing my basket down on the checkout belt. Jin placed his behind mine, and when I got out my wallet to pay, he placed a large hand over mine. “I’ll pay for both,” he told the cashier.

I didn’t say anything until we got outside, both of us weighed down with shopping bags. “You didn’t have to do that, you know,” I scolded.

Jin chuckled. “A ‘thank you’ would suffice, you know.”

I marched up to him. “Just because you’re some big shot doctor now-”

“I’m not a doctor yet, y/n.”

“Whatever. Just because you think you can-”

He cut me off once more by grabbing my bags and loading them in the back of a truck. I stared at the gray vehicle, my mouth dropping open. It was the same truck. The place where I’d lost my virginity all those years ago.

I shook my head, bringing myself back down to reality. “What’re you doing?”

Jin shut the trunk door. “Giving you a ride. Now come on, stubborn, get in.”

I scoffed, but got in on the passenger side nonetheless. Everything looked the same, but different. Rather than a Spiderman lanyard hanging from the mirror, a few graduation tassels hung there instead. The truck was cleaner than I remember. No fast food cups littered the floor, but a couple half-empty water bottles were in the cup holders.

But it was the smell that got to me. That musk with a hint of spice… exactly like I remember. My body relaxed as Jin started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot, the same way I’d relax when holding onto his jacket back home.

It didn’t take too long to reach my grandparents’. Jini pulled in the driveway and shut the engine off, but neither of us moved. Jin stared at me, but I didn’t say anything, uncomfortably biting my lip and staring at the dashboard. “Y/n,” he murmured, causing me to look at him. I half-wished I hadn’t. His eyes were filled with that same look he gave me that night we kissed and made love, wide and perfectly brown.

“Why didn’t you come back after that summer?”

There it was. The question I’d been asking myself since I got here. I twisted my hands in my lap nervously. “Because… Because…”

“Tell me,” he said softly.

I pressed my lips together before releasing a loud sigh. “Because I was afraid.”

“Of what?”

“Of you moving on.”

Jin shook his head, chuckling. “Are you serious?”

I slowly nodded.

“Y/n, I couldn’t move on even if I wanted to. I loved you. I still… love you.”

My mouth parted open in surprise at his confession. “You do?”

Jin smiled and nodded. “Yeah. I tried to move on when I realized you weren’t coming back, I really did, but you were always in the back of my mind. Y/n, I’ve loved you since we were kids.”

I bit my lip, taking only a second to process before I unbuckled my seat belt and launched myself at him. Our lips pressed together, melding into the sweetest kiss I didn’t realize I missed with every fiber of my being. Jin wrapped a hand around the back of my neck, angling his jaw to deepen the kiss, and I threw my arms around his neck, trying in vain to draw him even closer.

We pulled apart, and I smiled as I took in Jin’s blown pupils, his lips reddening from being pressed to mine, his breath coming out in short gasps. “I love you, y/n,” he murmured. “I’ve always loved you.”

My smile grew. “I love you too, Jin.”

We continued kissing for what felt like forever before he pulled back, laughing and saying we needed to get the groceries inside. We unloaded the truck with the biggest grins, holding hands as we walked up to the house.

As I looked at Jin, the sun glinting off his dark locks, his smile lighting up my whole world, I found myself thinking that maybe there was a reason none of my relationships worked out. Maybe there was a reason I hadn’t found any opportunities coming my way after I graduated. And maybe, just maybe, I was exactly where I needed to be.

[let-the-bands-take-c0ntrol]

Safety Pin (Part 2)

Prologue, Part 1

A/N: So the way I’m writing this story is showing the past and present at the same time. Which means in order for you to understand what’s happening you’ll have to read the prologue. 

The Present

     You sat in the passenger seat of Calum’s car, cheek pressed against the window as you stared out the window. You had time to quickly stop at your apartment and pack some clothes for an impromptu vacation, but not enough time for you to get out of your wedding dress. The car ride had been pretty quiet thus far and the only sound present was coming from the radio. Calum kept glancing over to you trying to make sure you were alright. He had a pretty good idea of what you were going through. Having had his own heart broken by you before which resulted in you two spending a month away from each other. He wasn’t holding it against you. At that time Calum had told you his feelings too late, or he thought it was too late. Now that the groom had walked off during your ceremony Calum held out hope that you might one day give him that chance of making you his. 

“Are you hungry?” Calum asked, deciding the silence was becoming too much. You shifted in your spot then your head lifted from off the window. The thought of food had yet to cross your mind. The whole day had been a blur and it wasn’t until Calum had asked that specific question that you realized you haven’t eaten all day. In fact your were practically starving. 

“Honestly I’ve been waiting to hear those words all day,” you moaned out making a laugh leave Calum’s lips. “Seriously I’ve watched everyone eat as I stressed about walking down the aisle. “At one point I had a chance to take a bite out of a cookie, but as soon as it was about to reach my lips the wedding planner rushed me out the room because the ceremony was starting.” You laughed at the recent memory along with Calum. It had been one crazy day and even if you did walk down the aisle, you didn’t get married. As those thoughts entered your mind you suddenly became silent and could feel the tears well up in your eyes. Calum had stopped laughing when he noticed how quiet you had become.

“Hey,” he said, one hand leaving the steering wheel to rest at your knee. You looked over to him, chewing on you bottom lip to stop yourself from crying out. “He was an ass to begin with,” Calum told you, “And the guy smelled like fish all the time. Who wants to be with someone that constantly smells like fish.” You couldn’t help but crack a smile at his words. Calum shot you a glance and you felt him squeeze your knee before it retreated back onto the steering wheel.

“There’s an In N’ Out at the next exit,” you pointed out, having read the sign that the both of you had just driven by. Calum nodded at your words and with ease you moved his way from the carpool lane towards the right lane for the exit. Just as you both were pulling into the parking lot, Calum’s phone began to ring, the sound echoing around his car from the bluetooth speakers. 

“It’s your mom. . .” Calum said, his eyes casting over to you in worry. It had been exactly two hours since you had run away from your wedding ceremony and you figured at some point people were going to start looking for you. You suspected everyone had given you space that first hour, but now that two hours have passed and you were yet to return to the venue, people were starting to worry.

“Tell her you don’t know where I am,” you quickly told him. Nodding your head and allowing Calum to answer the phone. He gave you a look as if trying to confirm if that was what you really wanted him to say. You nodded again and with a sigh, Calum answered the call. 

“Hey M(r)s. Y/M/LN,” Calum greeted, trying to sound as cheerful as possible. 

“Hey, Calum, have you seen Y/N? She hasn’t come back and we’ve looked everywhere for her,” your mom’s voice came through the phone in a panic. Calum squinted one eye closed and it pained him to lie to your mom. “I have her phone and wallet, so she couldn’t have gone that far. I assume she’s with you?” The minute Calum made eye contact with you again, you began to shake your head. 

“I uhh, I haven’t seen her. Not since ya know,” he replied, giving you a half smile. Some shuffling could be heard from the other end and then a sigh left your mother’s lips.

“Okay. Let us know if you hear anything,” she responded, “I know you’ll be the first person she’ll go to.” 

“I promise I’ll let you know if she does show up,” Calum had said, staring you straight in the eye as he said the words. A few more words were exchanged, and soon the two of them were off the phone. “We’ll have to tell them at some point. Knowing your mom she’s gonna call the police and file a missing persons report if we don’t.” You began to giggle at his words, knowing he was telling the truth at how dramatic your mom could get if one of the kids didn’t call her at least once every two days.

“We’ll call her later,” you said, Calum rose an eyebrow at you and you gave him a sigh, “I promise. Now can we please get some food!” You had whined the last part and made your way out of the car. 

“Uh Y/N,” Calum said, stepping out of the car as well. 

“What?” you questioned.

“You should probably change out of the wedding dress before we go inside,” he suggested. You looked down at your attire and made a face. The two of you were trying to not bring attention, especially if people were looking for you,  and you being in a wedding dress would surely do that.  

“Right. Give me a minute,” you said, climbing back into the car to grab some clothes from your bag. Changing out of a wedding dress in the backseat of a car was harder than you had thought. It wasn’t like you had never changed in the backseat of a car before, but you had never changed out of something so complicated before. It had taken at least one other person to help you get in your dress and now trying to get out of it was harder. Calum leaned against the side of his car waiting for you. 

     “So where exactly do you want to go?” Calum questioned, grabbing a fry from the pile the two of you were sharing. Three hours had only gotten the two of you as far as Anaheim, and it was finally hitting you that you had no idea where the two of you were headed. 

“I don’t know, somewhere far away,” you responded, chin rested in the palm of your hand as you stared at Calum. You had called off work for your honeymoon, so you had exactly a week to not be anywhere. The thing that slipped your mind was where Calum had to be. It was dawning on you now that he dropped everything just to run away with you. “When do you have to be back to work?” you asked, eyebrows furrowing as the thought occurred to you.

“I have sick days saved up that I can use, so whenever you want to be back.” His words had sent a shiver down your spine. He was diving all in with you and suddenly you felt a bit selfish. 

“I couldn’t ask you to do that,” you said, playing with the wrapping paper that the straw came in. 

“I want to do it and besides, it was my idea for us to leave anyway.” The words flew out of his mouth quick and Calum felt his heart beating hard against his chest. He’d follow you to the ends of the earth if he had to. “So, I’ll ask again. Where do you want to go?” You could see a smirk come across his face and you found yourself smiling in return. 

“I don’t know,” you laughed, still unsure. It was an impromptu road trip. The two of you could end up anywhere for all you knew. Calum rolled his eyes at your response and he pulled out his phone calling out for Siri. 

“Where are fun places to go in America?” he said into the phone, choice immediately popping up on the screen. The smile on your face began to grow as Calum began listing the choices off. 

“Stop!” you had shouted after two minutes, hand reaching out to stop his scrolling  “That’s the one. . .Let’s do that one.” 

[mamabearlarusso]

Rollercoaster Ride (Journal)

After hearing a few hard truths from @extremeskate, I was honestly still a little bit nervous--gaining strength for the long and hard journey ahead--but I was keeping an eye on that light at the end of the tunnel...all morning and afternoon at work the next day.

I stepped in to check on the bonsais, during my break--something I had done more often these days, since...well, since they all left. The trees hadn't been trimmed in a while--I hadn't picked up the clippers in years, and now...I just couldn't bring myself to try again--but I would water and repot them whenever they needed it. I'd usually get called away before I finished and it was usually Anoush or Sheila with something that needed signing.

Sometimes I almost felt a presence in the room with me, for a split a second before they walked in. I guess it was just wishful thinking getting the better of me...at the beginning of the year, I was hoping that it would be Daniel turning the corner--that everything hadn't gone pear shaped and at least our kids still had their father around...during that period of radio silence, I was hoping that Robby would just drop by with some wild and crazy story explaining where he had been...it wouldn't have needed to be an apology for scaring me half to death...(I didn't--and still don't--feel I have the right to expect, let alone demand the same from him that I would Sam and Anthony...caring for someone else's child had it's own trials I was constantly trying to navigate)...but maybe just some last wish he had to fulfill for his grandfather...before picking up right where he left off last time.

This time, however...I'd be happy if he just walked in. He wouldn't have to talk to me, he wouldn't even have to look at me...I just wanted to see him. But that's just my selfishness thinking again...and of course it wasn't @robby-l-keene this time, instead it was Anoush. He was quickly escorting one of the new eager employees away from the doorway. I hadn't really thought about it until then, but whenever I had heard anyone talking to the customers about the bonsais...it was him. He didn't even say anything...just a tight little smile and nod, and then they were gone. As the sounds echoed down the hallway, I heard the employee asking him when she'd be able to hand out the trees, but I never did hear his answer.

Part of getting back to living my life, after everything that had been going on, was to gain some stability...again...and actually keep it. Work was rather easy going at the moment, the kids were...well, they were a work in progress--being a single mother was another tight rope I was still trying to learn. If I was honest with myself, my mind was dumb enough to wander--once or twice--and think about what Lucille would have had to say...strictly as a single mother's point of view and not a mother-in-law's, of course...but she was never strictly a one topic type of person and if you can imagine the tangents she would go off on...then that's exactly where she went, well at least in my mind she did.

So, that left friends. I hadn't seen too much of @dr-ali-mills lately, that brunch and girl's movie night had been discussed and rescheduled on a few occasions...but after the online debacle, I was having almost no trouble at all sliding right back into my high school defenses. (Some big drama over a boy happens...you better get ready for the backlash from the popular girls.) I know it sounds crazy, I'm a grown woman...why am I so out of it? Did I ever really grow out of my insecurities? Or were they just lying dormant, until the shit hit the fan at the epic levels I had stopped preparing for...a long time ago?

Seeing Ali's number glaring at me from my phone, I remembered the last time we were together--the impromptu brunch after I got back from The Rattlesnake. After hearing the big explosive news about whatever Johnny and I were, she did admit that it wasn't exactly her favorite thing--even teasing that Teen Ali would've had a few choice ideas for my new hair style, if ever given the chance--but she did also say she'd be there for me...even if it hurt. Ali's been a good friend--a great one even, given the mess I've dumped on her, time and time again. A quick memory flashes across...the look on her face when I gave her the friendship bracelet for Christmas. We might not be BFFs, as they say--just yet--but I've come a long way since high school, and I wasn't going to ruin it by falling back on old habits. Time to grab my board and jump back on that half-pipe.

...and I missed it by THAT much. I didn't even get the chance to hit the call button.

Someone must have decided to give me a break and grant a few wishes--though that someone also had a weird sense of humor, because I got not only one--but two--bittersweet surprises. A text from Robby...he finally reached out...and he didn't even yell at me. (Yeah, well, just wait for it. Can't you just let me have this one thing?) Anyway, he sent up the signal, because he was worried about his dad. Which--in context--would've also made me happy, because that meant that they were talking to each other again, if I hadn't gotten the text right after the first surprise of the night...a drunken call from @everyonesfavoritegoldenboy.

I didn't know what the hell was going on, it might have been because he was only half making sense thru the slurred speech or because my ears started ringing when he said that he'd been in town and didn't tell me. My mind went on overdrive trying to figure what 'all this time' actually meant. Driving around the usual spots, memories flashing of the last time I went looking for him, worrying that 'you ought to have someone better' meant that I'd have to risk losing him...again!

Everything stopped when I saw him...slumped there at the bar. The worry and fear of what I'd be walking into...the irrational anger over his silence and disregard for my feelings, making decisions without giving me a say in any of it...(Why would he? You're not exclusive...you're not even...I don't know what you'd call what you are. I said it was irrational, didn't I?)...but all went stand still when I saw his face. For weeks, I had only heard his voice a few times...but nothing of his living, breathing face. (Oh god, you're sounding like a teenager. Right?! Next thing you know, I'll be writing his name on my binder...I didn't even do that when I was a teenager!)

Seeing him there, with his guys around him, he was a mess...but I just wanted to hold him and make him feel better. (This all really kind of started that way anyway...when you think about it.) The whole rest of the night was, well...being so close to him after so long--it was intoxicating...and I'm not talking about the alcohol...okay, maybe some of it was the alcohol. Let's just say I'm very impressed with myself, that things didn't go the way they may have in my younger days, and I was able to go back home with a mostly clear conscience. Emphasis on the mostly.

After getting Johnny home from the bar, seeing those eyes of his watch me and feeling his warm skin and his lips tease me...having to put a stop to it before things got out of hand--only to strip him down for bed and hop in next to him...(Hey, I know he was drunk off his ass and didn't think I was really me, but I missed him so much and he was so hurt and broken...it was breaking my heart...but nothing happened, I swear, I put my arm around him and we just fell asleep. Yup...you definitely sound like a teenager.)...going back home to an empty bed, felt cold and lonely. In fact, the last time it felt THAT cold and lonely...was the morning after I came back from The Rattlesnake.

It didn't take too long before I made my way back there...but it was just a lunch break check in. (Sure...) Okay, there was a little fun teasing in between cooking up and eating a quick meal. (Which reminds me, I have to take that man shopping and teach him how to cook, or at least how I cook. Might even break down and make some chicken salad from scratch next time.) Then I find out that the reason behind the night at the bar was another near knock-down drag-out with Robby. I think I figured as much, given his timing. Both Lawrence boys contacting me on the same night--after nothing for days. Something went down.

Long story--already too long to be--short, Robby's mother @iamtheladyshannon was in a facility. There was a bunch of drama to go with it (as there always is when those nightmare houses are concerned), but the main problem at the moment was the subject of the constant and ongoing payment. Let's just say, father and son were at odds as how to go about it. I didn't and still don't know the whole story, but I had a laundry list of reasons why I had to do something to help anyway.

Once I was off the phone with @drlivingstoneipresume, awaiting another stomach churning encounter with yet more hospital paperwork...(Don't forget the next trip down memory lane. Shut up.)...it was just Johnny and me again. He had snuggled next to me on the couch, after his talk with @nursejoylove at the door. His hand had found mine, while I was still talking, and it had allowed me to calm down a bit. Having been able to get through the call with a relative coolness, and put something in motion that would help someone in need and by extension ease two people that I care about deeply...I felt a weight had lifted, at least for the time being. Lying back with his head on my shoulder and our fingers comfortably entangled, felt...nice. I went over the details with him, even though he probably heard most of it--I think running through it again, just helped both of us let it sink in...something was being done, we just had to wait.

He got quiet for a moment...'Baby...I don't want to cut this short...But Diaz... he's...'

I knew he'd be going to see @therunawaystudent eventually, if he hadn't already. One reason why I didn't let what bits and parts I overheard of their own conversation, get to me. (It did sound a bit familiar... No! I'm not going to start picking apart every interaction with every woman I see him with...this isn't high school and I'm not the jealous girlfriend. Yeah, and how well did that work for you with your own husband? No...shut up...this isn't about me, this about the boys...don't try and ruin this moment for me.)

Trying not to think about the renewed implications from my visit this weekend--too hard--I smiled warmly...you should have seen the look on his face. 'You mean you knew too? Have I lived in a cave??'

I couldn't help the thought that shot in my mind... "Oh, I don't know, seen any bats lately?" I was able to keep a straight face, until his finger bopped me on the nose. He shook his head trying not to smile. The light mood didn't last too long, though...my back to him as I gathered my things, trying to get the words out. That I was mere feet away from his door, when I brought @chickskickasstoo over to visit Miguel, not even a week ago. I couldn't bring myself to look him in the eye, it was already a long day with too many emotions running around to deal with that too.

He walked me back to my car and I kissed him goodbye with a promising wink for a future trip. God, I love that smirk! It was just what I needed to finish the work day.

[lake-lyn]

ET’s exclusive excerpt of The Tyrant’s Tomb by Rick Riordan (1/2)

Chapter 1

There is no food here

Meg ate all the Swedish fish

Please get off my hearse

I believe in returning dead bodies.

It seems like a simple courtesy, doesn’t it? A warrior dies, you should do what you can to get their body back to their people for funerary rites. Maybe I’m old-fashioned. I am over four thousand years old. But I find it rude not to properly dispose of corpses.

Achilles during the Trojan War, for instance. Total pig. He chariot-dragged the body of the Trojan champion Hector around the walls of the city for days. Finally I convinced Zeus to pressure the big bully into returning Hector’s body to his parents so he could have a decent burial. I mean, come on. Have a little respect for the people you slaughter.

Then there was Oliver Cromwell’s corpse. I wasn’t a fan of the man, but please. First, the English bury him with honors. Then they decide they hate him, so they dig him up and “execute” his body. Then his head falls off the pike where it’s been impaled for decades and gets passed around from collector to collector for almost three centuries like a disgusting souvenir snow globe. Finally, in 1960, I whispered in the ears of some influential people, Enough, already. I am the god Apollo, and I order you to bury that thing. You’re grossing me out.

When it came to Jason Grace, my fallen friend and half bropppther, I wasn’t going to leave anything to chance. I would personally escort his coffin to Camp Jupiter and see him off with full honors.

That turned out to be a good call. What with the ghouls attacking us and everything.

Sunset turned San Francisco Bay into a cauldron of molten copper as our private plane landed at Oakland Airport. I say our private plane. The chartered trip was actually a parting gift from our friend Piper McLean and her movie star father. (Everyone should have at least one friend with a movie star parent.)

Waiting for us beside the runway was another surprise the McLeans must have arranged: a gleaming black hearse. Meg McCaffrey and I stretched our legs on the tarmac while the ground crew somberly removed Jason’s coffin from the Cessna’s storage bay. The polished mahogany box seemed to glow in the evening light. Its brass fixtures glinted red. I hated how beautiful it was. Death shouldn’t be beautiful.

The crew loaded it into the hearse, then transferred our luggage to the backseat. We didn’t have much: Meg’s back- pack and mine (courtesy of Marco’s Military Madness), my bow and quiver and ukulele, and a couple of sketchbooks and a poster-board diorama we’d inherited from Jason.

I signed some paperwork, accepted the flight crew’s condolences, then shook hands with a nice undertaker who handed me the keys to the hearse and walked away.

I stared at the keys, then at Meg McCaffrey, who was chewing the head off a Swedish fish. The plane had been stocked with half a dozen tins of the squishy red candy. Not anymore. Meg had single-handedly brought the Swedish sh ecosystem to the brink of collapse.

“I’m supposed to drive?” I wondered. “Is this a rental hearse?”

Meg shrugged. During our flight, she’d insisted on sprawling on the Cessna’s sofa, so her dark pageboy haircut was flattened against the side of her head. One rhinestone-studded point of her cat-eye glasses poked through her hair like a disco shark n.

The rest of her out t was equally disreputable: floppy red high-tops, threadbare yellow leggings, and the well-loved knee-length green frock she’d gotten from Percy Jackson’s mother. By well-loved, I mean the frock had been through so many battles, washed and mended so many times, it looked less like a piece of clothing and more like a deflated hot-air balloon. Around Meg’s waist was the pièce de résistance: her multi-pocketed gardening belt, because children of Demeter never leave home without one.

“I don’t have a driver’s license,” she said, as if I needed a reminder that my life was presently being controlled by a twelve-year-old. “I call shotgun.”

“Calling shotgun” didn’t seem appropriate for a hearse. Nevertheless, Meg skipped to the passenger’s side and climbed in. I got behind the wheel. Soon we were out of the airport and cruising north on I-880 in our rented black grief-mobile.

Ah, the Bay Area . . . I’d spent some happy times here. The vast misshapen geographic bowl was jam-packed with interesting people and places. I loved the green-and-golden hills, the fog-swept coastline, the glowing lacework of bridges and the crazy zigzag of neighborhoods shouldered up against one another like subway passengers at rush hour.

Back in the 1950s, I played with Dizzy Gillespie at Bop City in the Fillmore. During the Summer of Love, I hosted an impromptu jam session in Golden Gate Park with the Grateful Dead. (Lovely bunch of guys, but did they really need those fteen-minute-long solos?) In the 1980s, I hung out in Oakland with Stan Burrell—otherwise known as MC Hammer—as he pioneered pop rap. I can’t claim credit for Stan’s music, but I did advise him on his fashion choices. Those gold lamé parachute pants? My idea. You’re welcome, fashionistas.

Most of the Bay Area brought back good memories. But as I drove, I couldn’t help glancing to the northwest—toward Marin County and the dark peak of Mount Tamalpais. We gods knew the place as Mount Othrys, seat of the Titans. Even though our ancient enemies had been cast down, their palace destroyed, I could still feel the evil pull of the place—like a magnet trying to extract the iron from my now-mortal blood.

I did my best to shake the feeling. We had other problems to deal with. Besides, we were going to Camp Jupiter—friendly territory on this side of the bay. I had Meg for backup. I was driving a hearse. What could possibly go wrong?

The Nimitz Freeway snaked through the East Bay flatlands, past warehouses and docklands, strip malls and rows of dilapidated bungalows. To our right rose downtown Oakland, its small cluster of high-rises facing off against its cooler neighbor San Francisco across the Bay as if to proclaim We are Oakland! We exist, too!

Meg reclined in her seat, propped her red high-tops up on the dashboard, and cracked open her window.

“I like this place,” she decided.

“We just got here,” I said. “What is it you like? The abandoned warehouses? That sign for Bo’s Chicken ’N’ Waffles?”

“Nature.”

“Concrete counts as nature?”

“There’s trees, too. Plants flowering. Moisture in the air. The eucalyptus smells good. It’s not like . . .”

She didn’t need to finish her sentence. Our time in Southern California had been marked by scorching temperatures, extreme drought, and raging wild res—all thanks to the magical Burning Maze controlled by Caligula and his hate-crazed sorceress bestie, Medea. The Bay Area wasn’t experiencing any of those problems. Not at the moment, anyway.

We’d killed Medea. We’d extinguished the Burning Maze. We’d freed the Erythraean Sibyl and brought relief to the mortals and withering nature spirits of Southern California.

But Caligula was still very much alive. He and his co- emperors in the Triumvirate were still intent on controlling all means of prophecy, taking over the world, and writing the future in their own sadistic image. Right now, Caligula’s fleet of evil luxury yachts was making its way toward San Francisco to attack Camp Jupiter. I could only imagine what sort of hellish destruction the emperor would rain down on Oakland and Bo’s Chicken ’N’ Waffles.

Even if we somehow managed to defeat the Triumvirate, there was still that greatest Oracle, Delphi, under the control of my old nemesis Python. How I could defeat him in my present form as a sixteen-year-old weakling, I had no idea.

But, hey. Except for that, everything was fine. The eucalyptus smelled nice.

Traf c slowed at the I-580 interchange. Apparently, California drivers didn’t follow that custom of yielding to hearses out of respect. Perhaps they gured at least one of our passengers was already dead, so we weren’t in a hurry.

Meg toyed with her window controls, raising and lower- ing the glass. Reeee. Reeee. Reeee.

“You know how to get to Camp Jupiter?” she asked.

“Of course.”

“ ’Cause you said that about Camp Half-Blood.”

“We got there! Eventually.”

“Frozen and half-dead.”

“Look, the entrance to camp is right over there.” I waved vaguely at the Oakland Hills. “There’s a secret passage in the Caldecott Tunnel or something.”

“Or something?”

“Well, I haven’t actually ever driven to Camp Jupiter,” I admitted. “Usually I descend from the heavens in my glorious sun chariot. But I know the Caldecott Tunnel is the main entrance. There’s probably a sign. Perhaps a Demigods Only lane.”

Meg peered at me over the top of her glasses. “You’re the dumbest god ever.” She raised her window with a final Reeee. SHLOOMP!—a sound that reminded me uncomfortably of a guillotine blade.

We turned west onto Highway 24. The congestion eased as the hills loomed closer. The elevated lanes soared past neighborhoods of winding streets and tall conifers, white stucco houses clinging to the sides of grassy ravines.

A road sign promised CALDECOTT TUNNEL ENTRANCE, 2 MI. That should have comforted me. Soon, we’d pass through the borders of Camp Jupiter into a heavily guarded, magically camouflaged valley where an entire Roman legion could shield me from my worries, at least for a while.

Why, then, were the hairs on the back of my neck quivering like sea worms?

Something was wrong. It dawned on me that the uneas- iness I’d felt since we landed might not be the distant threat of Caligula, or the old Titan base on Mount Tamalpais, but something more immediate . . . something malevolent, and getting closer.

I glanced in the rearview mirror. Through the back window’s gauzy curtains, I saw nothing but traffic. But then, in the polished surface of Jason’s coffin lid, I caught the reflection of movement from a dark shape outside—as if a human-size object had just own past the side of the hearse.

“Oh. Meg?” I tried to keep my voice even. “Do you see anything unusual behind us?”

“Unusual like what?”

THUMP.

The hearse lurched as if we’d been hitched to a trailer full of scrap metal. Above my head, two foot-shaped impressions appeared in the upholstered ceiling.

“Something just landed on the roof,” Meg deduced.

“Thank you, Sherlock McCaffrey! Can you get it off?”

“Me? How?”

That was an annoyingly fair question. Meg could turn the rings on her middle fingers into wicked gold swords, but if she summoned them in close quarters, like the interior of the hearse, she a) wouldn’t have room to wield them, and b) might end up impaling me and/or herself.

CREAK. CREAK. The footprint impressions deepened as the thing adjusted its weight like a surfer on a board. It must have been immensely heavy to sink into the metal roof.

A whimper bubbled in my throat. My hands trembled on the steering wheel. I yearned for my bow and quiver in the backseat, but I couldn’t have used them. DWSPW, driving while shooting projectile weapons, is a big no-no, kids.

“Maybe you can open the window,” I said to Meg. “Lean out and tell it to go away.”

“Um, no.” (Gods, she was stubborn.) “What if you try to shake it off?”

Before I could explain that this was a terrible idea while traveling fifty miles an hour on a highway, I heard a sound like a pop-top aluminum can opening—the crisp pneumatic hiss of air through metal. A claw punctured the ceiling—a grimy white talon the size of a drill bit. Then another. And another. And another, until the upholstery was studded with ten pointy white spikes—just the right number for two very large hands.

“Meg?” I yelped. “Could you—?”

I don’t know how I might have finished that sentence. Protect me? Kill that thing? Check in the back to see if I have any spare undies?

I was rudely interrupted by the creature ripping open our roof like we were a birthday present.

Staring down at me through the ragged hole was a withered, ghoulish humanoid, its blue-black hide glistening like the skin of a house y, its eyes filmy white orbs, its bared teeth dripping saliva. Around its torso uttered a loincloth of greasy black feathers. The smell coming off it was more putrid than any dumpster—and believe me, I’d fallen into a few.

“FOOD!” it howled.

“Kill it!” I yelled at Meg.

“Swerve!” she countered.

One of the many annoying things about being incarcerated in my puny mortal body: I was Meg McCaffrey’s servant. I was bound to obey her direct commands. So when she yelled “swerve,” I yanked the steering wheel hard to the right. The hearse handled beautifully. It careened across three lanes of traffic, barreled straight through the guardrail, and plummeted into the canyon below.

[king-beard]

Trip down memory lane #3 Havelock Street, Canterbury. The scene of an act of monumental drunken stupidity during my student days. Walking home with @jimcohen after a night of heavy drinking, I thought it would be hilarious to charge full pelt at weedy Jim (think Louis Theroux on a hunger strike) and use my bulk and momentum to propel him through the front door of number 32 - a complete strangers house. To this day, I still don't know why I thought this was a good idea. Had my idiotic plan worked, the sound of splintering wood, shouts of alarm and Jim's feeble cries would have swiftly been followed by police sirens and the click of handcuffs. Luckily, I had underestimated wretch Jim's ability to sense oncoming danger (an ability he had honed after a life spent being bullied by small children.) He desperately tried to spin away, I clattered into him at an awkward angle, and instead, sent his forehead crashing into the corner of the brickwork surrounding the door with a horrible thud. The sort of thud you might hear if you dropped a Ten Pin bowling ball on to a carpet. Or a stolen bottle of gin onto a sleeping clown. Ouch. Luckily I hadn't killed him (although given his general cadaver like appearance, this might have been impossible anyway). A midnight trip to Canterbury A&E was required to stem the constant bleeding, with a still inebriated Jim requiring several injections and stitches to put his forehead back together. (I still recall the look of disappointment on this carer/girlfriend (now carer/wifes) @saracohen81s face, when she realised the impromptu medical procedure had done little to improve his actual face.) Naturally, the various NHS staff treating Jim were awesome, showing patience and good humour in, for what for them, was probably a boringly, regular occurance. Happily, Jim's normally grisly visage was unaffected by the incident (as were his dwindling supply of braincells) but his forehead does now sport a permanent, Harry Potterish style scar to remember me by. So it wasn't all bad after all. #drunkenidiots #shenanigans #idiocy #drunk #morons #a&e #whatwasithinking #nhsrocks #cccc #canterburychristchurch #canterburychristchurchuniversity (at Canterbury, Kent)

[doomonfilm]

Review : Biggie - I Got A Story To Tell (2021)

As an 80′s baby who spent their teenage years in the 1990′s, hip-hop was a major part of my upbringing, my life, and my culture.  My birth in late 1979 runs nearly parallel with hip-hop’s emergence onto the mainstream, so I’ve had the pleasure (and sometimes, the displeasure) of seeing it change many times over.  One of the most significant moments of the late 1990′s was the East Coast / West Coast dispute, which found it’s sad winding down point via the deaths of two of hip-hop’s most iconic talents : 2Pac and The Notorious B.I.G.  Both artists have had unofficial documentaries, and both have been given the biopic treatment, but Netflix recently went down memory lane with the people that knew Christopher Wallace best to present us with Biggie : I Got A Story to Tell. 

From his days as a teenager, hustler and aspiring rapper, Christopher Wallace, better known as The Notorious B.I.G. to the masses, had his childhood best friend D Roc (Damian Butler) by his side with video camera in hand.  B.I.G. was born and raised in Brooklyn by Voletta Wallace, a Jamaican immigrant looking to improve her life.  Through trips back to Jamaica, a young Christopher Wallace garnered a thirst for culture, and an inspiration to MC from his Uncle Dave Wallace.  Back in Brooklyn, mentorship from legendary jazz musician Donald Harrison gave Christopher Wallace a unique frame of reference for his lyrical style, as well as a deeper enrichment of cultural appreciation.  Once Christopher Wallace ventured into the world of hustling via Fulton Street, the influence of his friends like Lil’ Cesar (James Lloyd), C Gutta (Suif Jackson) and Hubert Sam fed his thirst for growth in the hip-hop culture, while the presence of friends like Chico Del Vec (Michael Abrahams) and Olie (Roland Young) pulled him deeper into the hustling world.  Olie’s uncle I-God (Carl Bazemore) had connections, as did D Roc, and eventually, with the help of The Hitman 50 Grand (Kevin Griffin) and Mister Cee (Calvin LeBrun), as well as a co-sign from Matty C (Matteo Capoluongo) of The Source magazine, The Notorious B.I.G. found himself connected to P Diddy (Sean “Puffy” Combs), and the rest was bittersweet history.

While it was always present in the music, and it was touched upon in some of the early interview footage the public was presented with, I Got A Story to Tell does the best job of illustrating just how directly the mixture of B.I.G.’s cultural nurturing and his affinity for hustling directly impacted his lyrics, on both a content level and and authenticity level.  The love that Brooklyn showed for B.I.G. was also given a strong proof of existence from day one in the way that so many of his childhood friends that had no vested interest in his success (not in a guaranteed manner, anyway) championed B.I.G. as if the neighborhood would rise to fame with him... in many ways, it did both figuratively and literally, as B.I.G. kept several of his friends in utility and performance roles during his career, and collectively with Jay-Z, brought the profile of Brooklyn to even loftier heights than it currently sat in.  Showcasing the way in which B.I.G.’s previous experience with reggae, country, jazz and R&B fed into his overall musical aesthetic helps provide those unfamiliar with B.I.G. as an artist an idea of how nuanced his prolific flow was.

Personally, this documentary spoke to me because I not only experienced much of it in real time, but I am close enough to B.I.G.’s age that my early experiences with hip-hop mirrored his in many ways.  While I admittedly did not live in an area of Austin that was heavy on crime, and the drug-dealing element was near me but not surrounding me, the cultural awareness of hip-hop was identical, as Fat Boys and Run DMC were some of the earliest hip-hop I was presented with as well.  Watching the footage of the 1980′s was like a trip down memory lane, as it was a very vivid experience to me despite my youth, and the footage from the 1990′s was as crystal clear as I remembered it being.  From the emergence of the Party & Bullshit single from the Who’s the Man? soundtrack to the sad morning that I learned about his still unsolved murder, I watched every moment unfold during some of my most developmental years, and revisiting the journey definitely reminds me of a simpler time.

The foresight to have D Roc play as impromptu documentarian really set this documentary apart from others, as that element of intimate and personal amateur footage played a key role in the mixed presentation of promotional interview footage and documentary-styled interviews along with it.  The snappy editing lends itself to the kinetic era of hip-hop that the documentary centers around, while smartly utilizing simple insert shots and compelling infographics.  The score does a great job of letting the music of B.I.G. be the focus, but when it does present itself, it is mainly there to either emotionally punctuate the stories being told or illustrate the topics at hand.  While some of the footage collected and presented has found its way into the mainstream, much of what we are presented with in terms of early candid looks into B.I.G.’s talent and early demo tapes has not been seen on a widespread level.  The interviews collected not only give insight into how everyone felt about B.I.G. as a person, but in many cases, they often directly reflected some famous quotable from B.I.G.’s catalong of lyrics.

With March 9th right around the corner, I am happy that Netflix opted to release the documentary with enough time for people to revel in the life of The Notorious B.I.G. before honoring his death.  As a longtime fan of him and and his work, I gained new insight, but I can imagine that for those loosely familiar or completely new to him as an artist, this could be a tool for creating a new fandom. 

[shsummertimefest-blog]

Pave The Winding Memory Lane

Enjoy, @parabatrio!

Hello! This was written by the prompt for an all human AU and it sort of turned into something resembling the AU from 1x10, which I hope is okay. I also hope you enjoy this! :)

Clary had insisted on keeping the windows open instead of turning the air conditioner on and while Magnus had agreed at first – the air conditioner always made him feel sick – he could feel that they were both starting to regret that decision. The air was getting almost unbearably hot as they got closer to the beach and Clary's hair was tangled up in knots from the wind coming from outside. She was still eager to get there, though, Magnus could see it despite everything; the way she glanced out of her window at every turn, hoping that they'd finally reached their destination. She did it again when he slowed down, but frowned just a moment later, mimicking his own grimace at the sight in front of them.

The camper trailer in the middle of the road was almost completely drowned in smoke and the only thing Magnus could make out was two men squabbling at the side of the vehicle, completely blocking the way.

This was it. When he'd first got the assignment from his editor – the command to spend the summer at an impromptu camp at the beach and write a report that would end up in the lifestyle section of the high-end magazine he was working for – he'd known that it was too good to be true. Even when Clary, one of his oldest friends who had just happened to need to make the research for her sociology class at the very same camp, had joined him, Magnus had been only cautiously happy about it because, unlike Clary, he knew exactly what kind of crowd was the one who could afford to take a three month break from the world to live at the beach.

He was just about to mention that when one of the men neared the car and leant against Magnus's window. He was obviously distressed, face reddened under the harsh sunlight and blonde hair hastily pushed out of his face in complete disarray.

"You headed for the beach?" He asked instead of a greeting. By the time Clary had said yes (always eager to help, bless her, even when she didn't know what she was getting into), the guy's friend had joined him, looking about as troubled as he was. "'Cause we're kind of stuck."

"Did you try calling for help?" Magnus wasn't in the mood to be charitable, especially not with stranger who'd already kept him out in the heat far longer than necessary.

"Of course we did." Number two of the aforementioned strangers shouldered his friend out of the way to take his place. Now that he could see him properly, Magnus couldn't help but notice how stark the contrast between them was; the newcomer's dark hair and hazel eyes glistening in the unforgiving afternoon heat. "There's no signal here. And we've been blocking the road for hours, so if you could just pull us over to the beach–"

"That won't be possible." Magnus had been trusted with this car. There was no way he was breaking it down by testing its limits now.

"Why not?" Clary stepped in, turning to Magnus specifically. It wasn't difficult to see why; she always unleashed the full force of her most convincing charitable smile when she wanted something. "The beach is a mile away from here."

"And what if our car breaks down too?" The question was directed at everyone present and no one in particular, even though Magnus wasn't really expecting an answer.

"Please?" Stranger number one spoke again and Magnus sighed as Clary stifled a laugh.

“What a convincing argument. Magnus, come on,” she coaxed when he made to protest. "If the car does break down, I'll break the news to Luke, I promise."

Despite the reassurement - and the dread-filled realisation that he would pay for this, one way or another - Magnus gave a reluctant nod. "I'll drive to the front," he called out to the two men outside. "You'll tow the trailer to the car. How many more people are in there?"

“Just one.” The blond beamed at him. “You won't regret this."

"I hope so," Magnus muttered, but there was no one left to hear him – both men had moved out of his way so that he could manoeuvre around the trailer.

The procedure – surprisingly enough – went smoothly. Before he could change his mind, Magnus found himself at their destination with several overeager future campers at his tail.

"Thank you," one of them said, shaking Magnus's hand with a gesture that seemed far too official for their current surroundings. "We owe you. If there's something we could do–"

There wasn't, if Magnus had to be completely honest. He'd made sure to be as prepared as possible before he'd left New York and he was still quite sure of his ability to survive here for the next three months. But, since the offer had been made already anyway...

"Tell me your name," Magnus said. It was an impulsive, spur-of-the-moment decision – he was here to work, not to flirt with people who'd almost got him stuck in the middle of nowhere without any chance of getting help – but even on a second thought, he didn't regret it; not when he could see the pleased smile curling the man's lips.

"I'm Alec," he said and nodded to his companions, both of whom were still busy with setting up the camp. "And they're Jace and Izzy."

"It's a pleasure, Alec. I’m Magnus, and this is Clary." He turned back to his own car, not without a little regret. "But, unless you've got some tips on how to set up a tent–"

"He does," his friend – Jace –  interrupted from his place by the spot they'd chosen for themselves. "We come here every year."

The withering stare Alec sent his way was one Magnus was awfully familiar with – I know what you're doing – but he didn't protest and nodded instead, looking over to Magnus's car. "Are you going to share a tent? You and your..."

"Friend," Magnus filled in for him. Colleague would have been a better-fitting word for the occasion, he supposed, but the last thing he wanted was to put pressure on the possible subjects of his work by talking about it right away. "Yes."

"Then it's a good thing you found us," Alec said and while the words were obviously meant to get a rise out of him, Magnus had to stifle the urge to laugh. The man in front of him wasn't used to asking for help, that much was clear, and he seemed hell bent on returning the favour. "This is going to take a while."

                                                         o.O.o

"I can't believe she left us to do this on our own," Jace huffed as he dragged something – the barbeque, if the noise it made was something to go by – out of the trailer. They'd been trying to settle down for at least a few hours now and after a few years of it, the procedure was just familiar enough to be soothing despite how difficult it usually was.

"Yes, you can," Alec called out from the window. On the inside, their temporary home was a mess and he already knew that it would take a day or two while everyone – and everything – found their place inside it. Most likely two, come to think of it, given that Isabelle had already abandoned them in favour of getting into the water as soon as possible. "She does it every time. And on top of everything," he added, making his way back outside, "we have a car to fix too."

"Not for a few more weeks, we don't," Jace said. Despite his earlier complaints, he was basking in the sun already, clearly content that he'd just run out of settling down to do. Shielding his eyes, he threw a smile in Alec's general direction. "And even if we do, you can get your new friend to help us."

"My new friend?" Alec scoffed. He didn't want it to seem like he was protesting too much, but he knew that he was failing: Jace knew him too well to fall for it. "You're the one who talked to him."

"But he helped us because of you. It's not a bad thing," he continued and Alec suspected that his aversion to being subjected to this kind of analysis had shown in his expression all too well. "Alec, the purpose of this trip is to relax. That's why we do it every year. That's why me and Izzy convinced you to do it in the first place; we're all always busy. But here–"

"–there's no place for work," Alec finished. He'd memorised that mantra from every time when Jace and Izzy had had to talk him out of bringing some of the assignments his father had given him for whatever big project awaited them now and while he couldn't welcome the opportunity to do nothing for three months as readily as they had, he had to admit that it had its perks. "I know," he assured him and, for good measure, reached into the nearest cooling back to get a beer for them both. "Don't worry about me. I can actually enjoy this."

He meant it, at least to some degree, but then again, he always did. Pulling himself out of the outside world was just always a struggle and despite that, Alec found himself hoping that this time would be different.

                            ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

"I hate to say this," Clary called out as she sidestepped Magnus's bold attempt at a campfire to get to him, "but you were right. This is useless. None of them even got question three."

If Magnus remembered correctly, question three had been about the ability to juggle three months of life in the wilderness with the responsibilities that had to be left behind. "Not exactly a surprise, is it?"

"No," Clary admitted, voice muffled from the tent as she looked for the sandwich from lunch that she’d forgotten. They hadn't expected just how often they would have to make the trip to the nearest town for food, but the lack of any nearby civilisation was still maddening, even if neither of them was willing to voice their frustration. "But it's still– I didn't expect this. And our neighbours over there are being even less helpful."

Magnus didn't need her to point him in the exact direction to know which neighbours she meant. Even if he hadn't been introduced to them early on, Magnus knew that he would have noticed them soon enough – they were the loudest group on the beach even if they weren't the biggest one and yet somehow they managed to never let a word slip about who they actually were. Magnus was quite sure that the names they'd introduced themselves with had been nothing but nicknames and even if he'd figured them out partially, that still left too many questions unanswered for him to be comfortable with actually interviewing them.

Alec – or Alexander, as Magnus had taken to referring to him despite the unimpressed glances it got him – had to be the worst one. He talked if he was being talked to, but rarely more than that and rarely about anything personal; not even when he'd got slightly tipsy on the cocktails Magnus had made them. It was both bewildering and frustrating. In Magnus's experience, there was nothing that people liked more than being able to talk about themselves and the sudden secrecy wasn't something he knew how to deal with. He knew that Clary was facing the same problem – even if she hadn't said it out loud, Magnus knew that despite having a whole campsite at their disposal, it wasn't quite the same when compared to the trailer that hadn't moved from its spot next to them since day one.

Thinking of which... almost a month had passed since their arrival and no one from the trio in question had made the effort to fix their vehicle. At this point, Magnus was almost entirely sure that they had no idea on how to do it and it only cemented his already confirmed belief – if they'd wanted to get anything different from rich kids using nature as a getaway from their parents' mansions, they'd probably come to the wrong place.

It would make a good enough article, Magnus was sure of it – he knew that people liked reading about things they wanted to be able to afford and this was the perfect opportunity – but he found himself suddenly unable to focus on that alone. It was perplexing; he'd always managed to keep a level head before, no matter how deep into a topic he got, and this had been supposed to be easy. And it would have been, he supposed, if it hadn't been for the unexpected, and rather unwelcome, personal twist to the situation.

Said personal twist approached him now just as the last rays of the sun set behind the shimmering expanse of water behind him and while Magnus wasn't exactly surprised – it had become somewhat of a routine recently – the sight still wasn't one he was willing to miss.

"Hey," Alec greeted, padding barefoot through the no man's land between their two camps. He was still dressed in just his swim shorts and his wet hair was reflecting the last flecks of the sunset over the sky, giving him an almost ethereal look. "We were wondering if you'd join us. Izzy was just making burgers."

"And here I was, just about to say yes," Magnus sighed. The little twitch of Alec's lips – not quite a smile, but not unnoticeable either – was a small victory.

"Jace fed them to Lydia's dog," he continued. "We've ordered dinner already."

Lydia was yet another camper in the unintentional circle on this side of the beach and while she'd been one of Magnus's better informants when he'd tried to interview her, the way she behaved around their mutual neighbours had raised even more questions. She knew them, both Clary and Magnus had come to that conclusion, and it wasn't difficult to imagine why – she was the daughter of a politician and if there was anything to be said about the trio next door, it was that they seemed to have the same origins, no matter how much they tried to hide it.

"We'll be with you in a minute," Magnus said. Clary was still sorting through her data and Mahe wasn't about to abandon her; not when they could join them later easily enough.

"He's not going to change his mind."

Clary's voice floated from nehind him as soon as Alec had moved out of earshot and Magnus threw her a glance over his shoulder. "About what exactly?"

"About the interview." She settled down next to him with a sigh. "Neither of them is. And I was just thinking– don't they look familiar?"

"Should they?" Magnus shrugged. "If they were celebrities, we'd both have recognised them already."

"No, not that." Magnus could practically see the gears turning in Clary's head and he knew that whoever they were, they were more in her line of work than his own. "I've seen them somewhere before, but I can't figure it out."

"It doesn't matter." As soon as they left his mouth, the words already sounded foreign (it had to matter, it always did with the nature of his profession), but it was too late to take them back. And why should he? The realisation was unexpected, but not one he necessarily wanted to hide. "Their names," he elaborated, "and where they come from. It doesn't matter. We know them already."

"Yes." Clary's voice was softer than he'd expected it to be. "Yes, I suppose we do."

                                                        o.O.o

"You know," Magnus said, gathering the attention of their little group. "Ordering food over the phone kind of defeats the purpose of spending your summer away from the world."

"That's what I told them too," Izzy said. She'd just opened a new bottle of wine and was passing it around the campfire along with the slices of pizza she was distributing. "But no one would listen."

"If you'd like to die from food poisoning in the middle of nowhere, be my guest," Jace muttered into his cup, loud enough for Magnus and Clary to hear but not quite for Izzy on the other side of the fire. Clary's answering grin was a hint enough of what had transpired, though, and Magnus got up from his place between them to sit on Clary's other side instead so that he found himself right next to Alec. He'd just finished with his dinner, it seemed, and Magnus took the opportunity to try and engage him in conversation. It wasn't a professional one this time and Magnus was honest enough with himself to admit that that wasn't a first. More and more often, he had started seeking out the other man's company just because he wanted to rather than because he could get something out of it. He'd given up on that idea about two weeks into their stay and things had only changed for the better since then, with Alec becoming much more open than he had been before.

"Would you like to go on a walk?" he suggested now as he saw Alec fiddling with his empty cup. He got a nod in return and Alec got to his feet, offering him a hand to help him up.

"Sure, why not?" If he'd noticed the sudden silence reigning around the campfire, Alec didn't let it show. "I know a place.”

It didn't take long to get to Alec's place. The forest on the back of the beach was a thin one and the moonlight that streamed through the branches illuminated the path and Magnus couldn't help but wonder how he hadn't noticed this before.

"You've been here before, right?" he asked as he studied their surroundings. "Jace mentioned something about that on our first day."

"Is this for another one of your surveys?" The question didn't seem to hold any weight, but Magnus shook his head anyway.

"I'm contractually obliged to tell you if it is," he said and Alec laughed; the sound of it sudden and unexpected in its sincerity.

"I know that." He was used to being interviewed, then, and Magnus filed the information away despite himself. "And yes, we've been here before. We've been coming for years. Jace suggested it the year after we turned eighteen; our last summer before college. It was meant to be a one time thing, but then–" Alec shrugged. "It turned into a tradition, I suppose. And you?" Always one to deflect the attention from himself – especially when the conversation became as personal as this one just had – Alec turned to face him. "You've never thought of doing something like this before you got this job?"

"No," Magnus admitted. "And I probably wouldn't try it again. I'm not sure it's the place for me."

"That's a pity." It sounded like Alec had been bracing himself for the comment before he made it and Magnus looked up, startled by the determination in his voice. "It's been nice, having you here. Different."

"Has it?" They'd both stopped walking, Magnus realised, right in the middle of nowhere, but he'd had to. If he didn't, he would miss this moment, he was certain of that, and the thought was almost unbearable.

"Yes." The weight of Magnus's tension echoed in the solitary word and Alec was still looking at him; hadn't looked away since he'd started talking. "I don't know why, but... yes."

"There's plenty of time." For what? He didn't know. It had appeared after the first few days; this unacknowledged, unspoken something between them and it had only grown in intensity to the point where Magnus didn't know what to do with it except to voice it before it got too overwhelming to handle. "Summer isn't over yet."

"No," Alec agreed and the decisiveness in his eyes only amplified as he stepped closer. "It's not over yet."

The kiss, when it came, was both a surprise and completely expected, new and yet familiar in a way Magnus couldn't put his finger on. He'd known that it would feel like this if Alec kissed him; sharp and determined and all-consuming. He could feel Alec's fingers curling into the lapels of his shirt to bring him closer and his own hands found their way to Alec's waist until Magnus could plaster himself against him completely, greedy for as much as he could get before they had to pull away.

It turned out that he didn’t have to; not for more than a few moments, anyway. After all, there was plenty of time.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

They had decided to leave in the morning.

It would be easier that way, Alec had reasoned. They didn't want to arrive back in the city in the middle of rush hour, which meant that they  had to leave as early as possible if they wanted to avoid it. It had been a rational decision, unlike the majority of the ones Alec had taken during the last three months.

Three months. They felt like nothing now; the summer that had stretched in front of him had melted in what felt like a matter of seconds and before he'd known it, it was time to go back again. Back to work, back to New York, and away from everything this camp had brought with itself.

Everything. And everyone.

"We can stay for a while longer." Jace didn't sound too convinced, but it was still a brave attempt. "Robert wouldn’t mind."

"We can't and he would." Alec had thought over every scenario enough times for them to get all jumbled up in his head and had come up blank; he was quite sure that there wasn't a single encouragement that could work on him now. "And even if we could, what difference would one more week make?"

"I don't know. Maybe it'll be easier then. I doubt it, though." Jace's brutal honesty, bleak as it was, was still better than his sudden enthusiasm as he sat up. "Listen, it doesn't have to end like this."

Alec stared at him blearily over the last remnants of their campfire. Everyone else had gone to sleep hours ago until it had been just the two of them left and Alec had been fine with that; had preferred quietly coming to terms with the goodbye he'd have to go through in the morning instead of trying to find a solution that would never work. He'd been through this before, although he had never found himself in this exact situation; he'd had to deal with his parents's disapproval over plenty of things over the years and while everything – his sexuality included – had been accepted somewhat well in the end, he was aware that there was a limit to their patience and the notion of dating someone whose work just happened to consist of meddling in other people's affairs would be far too much even for them.

"Of course it does," he countered. "What are we supposed to do?"

"We could find them again when we're back home. Come on, how many journalists called Magnus could possibly be out there?"

"Journalists being the key word here. Mother and Father would be charmed by both of us. It's not like this is just about me, is it?" he challenged at Jace's affronted expression. "Look, if you want to go after Clary, go for it. But I didn't spend the entire summer deflecting questions just so I can ruin it all now. I'm going to sleep," he added for good measure when he detected the budding protest from Jace's side of the campfire. "It's late, and I'll have to drive tomorrow."

It wasn't a lie; not really. And Alec was more than used to living with half-truths.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Magnus had been having a good enough day by the time Clary burst into his office.

Really, it hadn't been all that bad. He was still focused on writing his article and, mainly, on reminding himself that it was supposed to be a happy story. It wouldn't be dishonest to say that it had been one of the best summers of his life and he’d said so already, glossing over the details that made it so good as well as he could.

Still, he could see the melancholy in every word. He couldn’t be sure that his potential readers would notice, but just the thought of submitting something like that was a strange one. It wasn't like him, like Clary kept reminding him, even though she hadn't been the same since they'd come home either.

He still wasn't completely used to her presence in the building in the first place, if he was honest with himself. She was still just an intern after her successfully completed survey, but she was slowly working her way towards making sure that she'd be hired full time once her internship was over and lately, she'd been allowing herself more and more liberties with the staff and especially so with Magnus under the guise of knowing him almost her entire life.

"I found them," she said now as she closed the door behind her back, leaning over Magnus's desk and turning her phone towards him. "I can't believe I didn't think of this before; their names sounded so familiar..."

Magnus stared at the picture on the screen. There was no mistaking the people he'd been shown; Jace and Izzy on both sides and Alec in the middle, all smiling at the camera and dressed in evening wear almost comically different from the clothes they'd worn on their vacation.

"The Lightwoods are the owners of the New York Institute," Clary said, as if Magnus's heart hadn't sank at the realisation already. "They just co-owned it before, but after my father..."

"I know," Magnus nodded. He did know; he'd seen Maryse and Robert Lightwood often enough, especially in Valentine Morgenstern's company, but he'd never seen the next generation of possible owners of the multi-million dollar company focused on research in the world of chemistry. They'd gained some of their popularity back after Morgenstern's imprisonment and while the entire case had been too far removed from the topics that Magnus's editor usually requested from him, it had still been impossible to miss.

Which, all on its own, was more than enough to explain all the secrecy.

Magnus met Clary's eyes over his computer screen, only to realise that she was as torn as he was; the desire to get in touch too big to be ignored despite everything. Despite this.

"What do you say?"

There wasn't a lot to say, really. They'd both suffered more than enough from Valentine's abuse of power, but it was worth the risk. Magnus missed them; Alec in particular, but Jace and Izzy too and the thought that they were one phone call away and that he'd just let himself give up regardless of that seemed almost ridiculous.

With a smile – one of the first sincere ones since they'd arrived back in New York – Magnus turned away from the phone and back to his keyboard, typing away furiously until he found what he was looking for.

                                                          o.O.o

It was entirely possible that Alec had made a mistake.

It wasn't something he liked to admit, no matter what the nature of said mistake was. His parents had taught him to always salvage what he could from the wreckage of whatever it was that had went wrong and move on. It was what they'd been doing for years, after all, and he was quite sure that they'd be proud of his decision to sweep it all under the carpet.

He couldn't really say the same about himself.

He knew that he was getting on everyone's nerves, and the same went for Jace and Izzy. It was almost funny, really; their traditional vacation by the seaside was supposed to help them calm down from the stress of their day to day life instead of making it even worse. But things had been different this time and Alec had had a taste of something he hadn't even thought of before – the possibility of following his heart no matter where it took him – and going back to his comfort zone didn't feel all that comfortable this time around.

It was ridiculous, he was aware of that. It had already been two weeks and there was a reason why things like what he'd experienced were called summer romances – they weren't supposed to last more than the time they'd been given. It didn't feel that way, though, and the more he thought about it, the more the idea of tracking down Magnus and finding a way to contact him seemed like a good one.

Just as he contemplated the possibility of actually going through with that, Alec's phone rang. He looked up from from his paperwork and picked up, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice. “Yes?”

“Mr Lightwood.” He could recognise his secretary’s voice and the tentative edge to it that usually meant that the news weren’t good. “You’ve got a call from the press.”

Ah. That explained it, then. A call from the press had never been a good thing; not for as long as Alec had been an active member of his parents’s Institute. “Did they leave a name?”

“Magnus Bane.”

And there it was again; the thought of every possible choice he could make running through his head at the sound of nothing but a name. Magnus Bane. So he’d been the one, Alec thought; this was the name of the man who’d made him go through so much conflict in his own mind in so little time.

“Mr Lightwood?” His secretary called out again and Alec realised that he’d been quiet for far too long already.

“Yes?”

“I could tell him that you’re busy, if–”

“No,” Alec cut her off, shaking his head even though he knew that she couldn’t see him. “No, it’s fine.” It wouldn’t be easy, Alec could already tell, but this time it was worth the risk. So he took a deep breath – he’d thought about this too much, too often to give up now – and took it. “Let me hear him.”

[biggy-habes]

Jonny Haber’s Day Off (Part II)

I woke up the next day feeling refreshed. At peace. The exact opposite of the previous morning. I had the entire day ahead of me. In the back of my mind the dread of returning to work the next day lingered. I felt like I had to make the most of today. So I grabbed some hiking gear and loaded Fennie up in the backseat. We were heading to Letchworth Park. For those not familiar with this area, Letchworth is a state park about an hour away. It is respectfully known as the Grand Canyon of the East. The Genesee River cuts through it, creating beautiful cascading waterfalls. The weather was sunny and mild and perfect for a long hike. Still lethargic from yesterday's walk through the trails, Fennie slept practically the entire drive. But once we arrived at the entrance to the park, he perked up. As we drove through the winding turns, he kept his nose out the window. He could not wait to explore these new smells! I decided to start at the Lower Falls and work our way up. The trail leading to the river was a decent 3/4 mile hike. When we got to the water, Fennie started to pull hard. Now he has never been much of a fan of water. You would think that taking a bath was worse than when his nuts got snipped. He created a scene at the pet store that I take him for his baths. It was like he wanted the store employees to think that I waterboard him. For the record, I DO NOT WATERBOARD FENNIE! He just hates water! He makes the most pathetic look when he has to go as far as to go pee in the rain. But for some reason he REALLY wanted to check out this friggin water! The flowing river created waves on the shore that he felt were a threat and he needed to bite the SHIT out of them! He would never get in above his knees. Dogs DO have knees, don't they? Well, anyways, that is where the water was. But he would dip his face in the water in order to bite the crest of the waves. And I sat there watching him, and thought to myself "You malingering ASSHOLE!"

As we started venturing back, I started to remember how a group of us rugby players would head to an area like this in Stony Brook for the day to cook some meat and drink cheap beers. And it dawned on me that I was not too far from where I went to college. I haven't stepped foot in that area since I was still in the service. Fennie was starting to slow down and was panting pretty hard, so I felt that perhaps we could save the rest of the trails for another time. Instead, let's take a trip down memory lane. I always remember the drive to Alfred being peaceful and serene. College was a very confusing time for me and I would use the drive to contemplate my wants out of life. Driving through the farmland brought back the familiar country smell. Soon I could see the white steeple signifying that I was entering Alfred Station. I passed the banquet hall where the rugby team had their social. Past the packie that would sell me gallons of Skol vodka despite my shitty fake ID. Past the hill that I had to climb to get to my dorm at Alfred U. I came up to the old Delta Sig house,  which has since been taken over and painted pink. I banged a right and entered the campus that contained 2 of the greatest years of my life. Alfred State. Home of the muthafuckin PIONEERS! 

As I drove around the loop of the campus, the memories came in waves. The 77 steps leading to Peet Hall...a treacherous hike for any drunken resident. The gymnasium where I had decided to "toss the gloves" during an intramural hockey game and, not aware at the time that my target was on the wrestling team, I proceeded to get suplexed onto the floor. At the top of the hill stood the Mackenzie dorms. This is was my turf from 1997-1999. This is where I went through 4 roommates. This is where I met my good friend Ed (oh there will be more on Eddie in later stories. He is a character!) And this was where my friendship with Johnny ("Tits") and Matt ("Squirrel") began. After reminiscing for a bit I walked over to the track, location of the annual Naked Mile. I ran this twice. First time was as a rookie on the rugby team. All rookies were expected to run it. The 2nd time…well, that was just for shits and giggles. Young Haber LOVED to get drunk and run around naked! After walking around for a little bit I left Alfred State and decided that it was time to pay a visit to the old rugby field. Now you will notice that I mention rugby a lot in this story. Well, this is because rugby played a significant role in my college life. I have never been known for my athleticism. My grandfather was a 3 sport athlete at Boston College and went on to play a year as a center in the NFL. I inherited his size and his passion, but the athletic gene unfortunately did not get passed down to me. In High School I played football, taking the position that brought my grandfather fame. Although I was a Varsity starter both my Junior and Senior years, I will never be known as a stand-out player and the name "Haber" will never be uttered in the halls of Greece Arcadia. When I went to college, I had tossed around the idea of trying to make a spot on the football practice squad. But it never blossomed into more than that. One night, while waiting in line for a beer at the TG house, a large group of loud, brash guys in purple jackets walked straight in and went up the stairs to the 2nd floor with arms filled with beer. I did not know who they were, but they seemed like the kind of guys that I wanted to be part of. As they walked past me, I read the back of their bright purple jackets and in bold white lettering it read "ALFRED RUGBY". I followed them upstairs, where they gathered around a keg and proceeded to drink like there was no tomorrow. One of them, just a bit larger than myself and wearing a backwards purple hat, had been challenged to a chugging contest. When he heard the word "Go", he pinched his cup and in one complete gulp he finished his beer. I had never seen anything like that! So after he collected his High 5s from the other ruggers I went up to talk to him. I cannot tell you exactly what was said, but I remember telling him that I wanted to see what this whole "rugby" thing was all about. He told me to show up to practice on Monday. On the front of his beer-covered jacket in white stitching was the name "BooBoo". I give this guy credit for introducing me to one of the greatest experiences of my life. Now, just like with football, I was not a GREAT rugby player. I was big enough to play on the front row, but again, I would never describe myself as "athletic". Despite the fact that my conditioning was shit and my balance was on the same level as a 4 year old, my heart and my grit got me a position as a starter as a rookie. Now, let me tell you, being a rookie on the rugby team was tough! You come to rely on the bonds that you create with your fellow rookies. This is where I really became close friends with Tits and Squirrel.

 I started driving towards the outskirts of Alfred towards Jericho Hill, where the rugby field was. I drove past the practice field, where I was able to imagine all of us scrimmaging. Punk would be running into a crowd of bodies, turning to scream "GET THE FUCK UP HERE AND RUCK IT OVER, YOU FUCKERS!!!". Mild-mannered BooBoo would become possessed and would run through anyone brave enough to stand in his way. And Squirrel would be way out at the opposite end of the field, dropping any kick that would come his way. Jesus CHRIST he had some hands of stone! I turned down the gravel road leading up to the game field, and eventually I was able to see the purple covering of the goal posts. I let Fennie out of the car and as we started to walk around the field, I recalled me getting my ears taped on the sidelines. Me stepping foot on the pitch for my first rugby game. All of the hits. All of the scrums. All of the sweat and blood that soaked into the soil. The sound that is made when large bodies violently collide. The smell of mud, body odor, and processed alcohol seeping from pores filling the air. And then, a feeling of sadness and grief overcame me as I started to think about my friend Squirrel. It was time to pay him a visit. I have gone to see him since the funeral. I wiped the tears from my eyes and headed back to the car. It was coming up on 4:30. Plenty of time to go see my old friend.

 Mattie lived his entire life in the small town of Owego, NY. All his life he had wanted to follow in the footsteps of his father and be a firefighter. I cannot tell you the number of times he would turn down an all-night binger because he was on call for the Volunteer Campus EMS. However, when he was not required to stay sober, he seldom was. Squirrel was loud and obnoxious, but he could easily become the life of the party. I never really saw him get angry. He was cool and easy going. Together, him and I wreaked havoc on Tits, never missing an opportunity to cut him down or pull a prank on him. One day we trapped him in a broom closet and proceeded to blow baby powder under the door until he agreed to go to the Rugby House (aka "The Alamo") for a party. He LOVED finding ways to get in trouble. He was not a very big guy, but that never stopped him from constantly talking shit. After leaving a party at TG (we spent A LOT of time there!!) he passed someone passing by with his girlfriend wearing a baggy white dress shirt. Squirrel turned and shouted "Hey, Jerry Seinfeld! Nice puffy shirt, ASSHOLE!" 

Squirrel's weakness was women. After hooking up with a girl at St. Bonaventure, her and her friend decided to make an impromptu visit. Later that night they took turns writing some of the funniest, most hateful shit in Sharpie on his door he had ditched her at a party. We spent the rest of the night scrubbing his door clean. After graduation we had all gone our separate ways, but we still managed to keep in touch. A couple of years later we met back up to play in the Alfred Rugby alumni game. As the years passed, the conversations became sparser. Squirrel went on to become a firefighter like he had always dreamed about. He became a husband and a father. When The Facebook became big we were able to reconnect and would share stories of our lives or talk about old memories. When Amanda and I were planning our wedding, Mattie was talking about flying to the Keys to attend the ceremony. And when all of that came crashing down, he would call me to make sure that I was hanging in there. I took one last look at the field that contained so many terrific memories. There will always be places where you just feel a sense of peace and reflection. It is a bit ironic that the pitch that hosted such ferocity on Saturdays would become such a place of contentment. As it turns out, another place of mine is the Arcadia football field house. When I would have my crackups in my 20s, my friend Schworm would always know that if I went missing, that is where he could find me. Anyways, I had to go. It was time to go pay my old friend a visit.

After Amanda and I split up I had taken a job in North Carolina. Still reeling from the difficult breakup, I had walked into the basement of the Research Department on a chilly, dreary day and sat down to take a few minutes to catch up on Facebook when I heard about Squirrel. There was a post regarding a fire in Owego during the night. There was a casualty. But no. It couldn't have been him. But I am sure that he must be pretty shaken up. I should probably try and reach out to him. Before I got the chance to, I was interrupted by a message from an old mutual friend, Wendy. Matt and Wendy grew up together. She let me know that the casualty was Squirrel. It did not process at first. That couldn't be right! He was a good firefighter! He was had a family! But then the reality started to set in. I went in to the office of the head of my department and explained what had happened and that I needed a couple of days off. That night I packed a suitcase, asked my father to let me borrow $200, and I drove through the night to New York. I shared a room at a run down Red Roof Inn with my friend Ed (my suite mate from college. Man, I cannot WAIT to get more into him some other time! He is a goddamn character!) So anyways, the next day me and Ed, who had become a volunteer firefighter and was decked out in his uniform, met up for breakfast with Tits and shared old stories over some eggs and bacon. I have not seen Ed in a few years, and Johnny for at least 20. We carried on like nothing had changed. We were missing the loud voice and dramatic flair of Squirrel. 

Now when I tell you that Mattie had died a hero, I am not sure if you quite understand. He was a loved and cherished member of his community. He had a tight group of friends. He did all that Dad shit. But he NEVER let that part of him that made HIM get away. He was still known for drinking a bit too much shitty beer and run his mouth any chance that he got. Owego is a very small town, and I think that everyone in that town was present to say their "Goodbyes" to Matt. There were Police, EMS, and Firefighters from Syracuse all the way to Pennsylvania there to pay their respects to their fallen brother. There were so many people there for his Last Call that they filled the auditorium and streamed it in the Gymnasium so that everyone was able to be present. The occasion was somber but the ceremonial pageantry was breathtaking. Squirrel had the tendency to be a bit of an asshole. But this was the ceremony that Mattie deserved. My old friend is my fucking hero. I love and I miss the fuck out of that guy!

I pulled into St. Patrick's Cemetery, and the part of me that grew up Catholic turned off the radio out of respect for the souls. It was not hard for me to find Matt's gravestone. Fennie was wiped out from all of the walking the past 2 days and he was perfectly content with sleeping in the backseat. I sat down in front of the gravestone marked Matthew Porcari. I talked to him like 19 year old Whimpy would talk to his fucking homey Squirrel. I caught him up on my life. I told him funny stories. About the death of my dad. And how I was struggling trying to cope with my grandmother's passing. And how much I fucking missed him. How I wanted to be sitting at a bar sharing these stories. I will never find a friend like him. He had the ability to be a complete jackass. But he was the guy that made you laugh and knew just what to say when life took a shit on you. He was the guy that would make sure that all of his buddies had a great time. He will always be my brother. I shed a few tears, and saw that the sun was starting to go down. I had a good 2 hour drive back to Rochester, so it was time to say "Goodbye" and that I would see him soon. 

By the time we got home Fennie and I were beyond exhausted. I had to return to work the next day. I was not sure what sort of reaction I would face. Despite the need for the time off to reflect on what has been happening in my life, I felt guilty for making my coworkers pick up the slack of my little break. And to be honest, I was embarrassed! A mental breakdown is never pretty. And to have it take place in your workplace, ON A GODDAMN CRISIS LINE, is not very cool. But when I got back to work, it was just another day. There were a few people who pulled me aside to ask if I was OK. And I truly appreciate that. I have to be honest, I work with an INCREDIBLE group of people. They were completely understanding. They could not believe that I was able to take all of this and still show up to work and do my job. I have been conditioned to take what life throws at me and find a way to absorb it and keep moving forward. However I never gave myself an opportunity to address it all. But being outside and in nature, just myself and my best friend-slash-companion-slash-Ryde or Die, it gave me a chance to process all that has happened and all that I have to look forward to. I did not take turning 40 very well. But it is gone. I am now looking at 41. It is time to figure out a way to get back to living. L-I-V-I-N-'. It is time to evaluate my relationships and my role in them. It is time to figure out the person that I am wanting to be. I have seen a lot of unbelievable people fade out of my life and a lot of them are never coming back. Some of them I can only talk to in spirit. I am not promised another 10 years. I am not promised another year. Is this the kind of person that I want to be remembered for? And if not, then what I am going to have to do to get to that person?

[justsomebucky]

Flashes (Part 3)

Summary: Soulmate AU. “The fault, dear Brutus is not in our stars, / But in ourselves, that we are underlings.” - William Shakespeare (Julius Caesar)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 2,012

Warnings: language, fluff, angst, it’s actually kind of optimistic???

A/N: Well, I did it…at least I tried. The lovely @minervaem challenged me (sort of) to do an angsty story. I’m warning you now, it’s not gonna be pretty.

Reader has her first flash, and stumbles upon some intriguing information...

Part 1 - 2 - 3 - 4

This is really freaking weird.

That was your first thought when the flash started, and it wasn't an exaggeration. While Natasha had always described her flash scenes as having radiant colors, your first flash wasn't quite so dazzling. 

Everything was very surreal and hazy, as if there was a filter over your eyes that muted each color. You were still standing on a street in New York City, but you didn’t recognize it at all, nor did you understand its significance. Shadows and shade covered most of the street.

You squinted, scanning every direction for any hint or clue as to what you were meant to be witnessing. There was a whole lot of no one and nothing in particular. What good is a flash if it doesn’t actually help you?

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught a slight movement – one of the shadows seemed to move ever-so-slightly. You turned your body slowly, focusing on the corner and mentally pleading with your brain to tell your soulmate to just freaking show himself already.

As if someone heard your thoughts, the silhouette of a person came into view. Your breath caught in your throat as you realized that you were staring at a man in an all-black suit…or was it a uniform? You studied his form carefully, raptly tracing every detail and mapping them in your memory.  

Yeah, it was definitely a uniform. 

The hard lines of his clothing showed off his muscular arms, broad chest and shoulders, a fit waist, a pair of thick thighs…

You tried to move closer but found that your feet were fixed in place. You were voiceless when you tried to call out to him. Natasha had always described herself in more of an observer role, having previously mentioned that she couldn’t interact with Clint, but you tried anyways for your own piece of mind.

Well, this sure as hell didn’t seem fair. There was actual man candy standing in front of you, and you couldn’t even interact with him. Shouldn't you get some kind of special deal because you missed out on flashes for so long? Some kind of two-for-one special? You deserved extra-long, extra-detailed flashes for all you'd been through.

The man shifted, placing his hands in his pockets as he turned his attention to something or someone you couldn’t see. As he turned, you noticed a small badge on the sleeve of his shirt. 

 NYPD.

Much to your dismay, your flash ended as abruptly as it started, leaving you dazed on the sidewalk in the light of day.

So, your soulmate was a police officer?

Natasha was going to be so freaking jealous! 

You longed to go back and see him again, or see what else you could figure out. Now you understood all the smiles Nat wore when she was having a vision; there was no other feeling like it in the world.

Since you finally had a flash, it meant your soulmate was alive and nearby. You were so overwhelmed by the mere idea of him that you collapsed to your knees right there on the sidewalk. All your life, you’d been told you were incomplete, but you’d never quite believed them until now.

You buried your face in your hands and wept for yourself, for your soulmate, but most of all, out of sheer relief.

Once you picked yourself up off the pavement and managed to calm down, you called Natasha.

You let her speak first, knowing that she was probably bursting at the seams to tell you about her progress. She informed you that she was still waiting for Clint to come out of a meeting after having two more flashes in the last three hours. According to her, if she didn’t see his face in the next twenty minutes, she was going to go into the board room and drag him out by his ‘sexy arms.’

“So anyways, what’s new? Did you find that Vision guy yet? Get any wackadoo mojo going?”

“Nope. He went out of business or into hiding or something.”

“Oh, sweetie, I’m so sorry.” Nat’s motherly voice was in full force. “I know you really wanted this to work. What are you going to do now?”

It was now or never. “Well…I, uh…I had a flash anyways…about five minutes ago.”

There was a brief pause of what you presumed to be stunned silence, and you bit your lip, waiting for the fallout.

"OHMYGODYOUHADAFLASH?" she shrieked. “Really? You’re sure? You’re not in some weird café where a hippie named Sunflower slipped you something, RIGHT?”

You cringed, pulling the phone away from your ear to try to spare your hearing. "Yes, I had an actual flash. It was...it was incredible, Nat."

“This is crazy! I am so excited for you! Who did you see? Were they hot? Wealthy?”

“It was a man. I didn’t see his face, but I saw his uniform,” you supplied, finally letting yourself feel excitement alongside your relief. “He’s with the NYPD.”

“Ooooooh! I could totally see you marrying a sexy cop.”

“I have to find him first, Nat,” you reminded her, a small smile gracing your lips. “And since this is a huge city with a ton of police officers, I’m not exactly sure where to start.”

“Well, start in the freaking city, of course! We can think this through.”

“I don’t know. It was different for you. You had a lot more to go off of when we searched for Clint’s name and photo.”

“It’ll be all right, Y/N. Reason it out like you always do. Your little impromptu trip must have finally triggered the connection, but I wonder why the distance was a factor. Maybe there’s more to his story than we could have ever guessed.”

“Maybe.”

Natasha was silent for a moment, but you knew she was still on the line because you heard people talking in the background. "Start with injuries," she suggested finally.

"Injuries? Like a head injury?"

"Yeah, like...he was MIA for over a decade, right? Something had to happen to make your connection weaker, to make it go silent for that long."

Nat made a damn good point. "I guess I could try the public library," you mused. "Maybe they have access to old newspaper archives.”

"It's a start, isn't it? Better than going to every police station until you have more flashes. Let me know what you find out, okay?"

"You got it. Thanks, Nat.”

“By the way, Y/N…” Natasha’s voice was wobbly now. You could tell she was emotional now that your news had sunken in. “I’m so freaking happy for you. You deserve love more than anyone I’ve ever known.”

You were a woman on a mission. 

Now that you’d seen him, knew he was real, knew he was within reach, you’d be damned if you were going to let a silly thing like knowing absolutely nothing else about him stop you. Nat was right; there had to be a reason for his prolonged absence, and it was probably the key to figuring out who the heck he was.

The public library was easy enough to find, and they did offer guest passes to use the internet. A man with a very important-looking library badge handed you a pass, then politely told you that you had thirty minutes of free internet usage.

You had thirty freakin’ minutes to narrow down the search for your soulmate.

No pressure.

The first newspaper archive pursuit yielded way too many results, so you narrowed your search.

You were able to get it down to six major results that were within the time frame between what should have been your flash age and now. Five of the police officers listed had died as a result of their injuries, and of the two who were still alive, one was a woman. Since you had seen your soulmate already, you ruled her out. 

That left one profile. Your stomach was churning, your nerves completely frayed as you clicked on the last news link. 

"Sergeant James 'Bucky' Buchanan Barnes, NYPD," you whispered to yourself, scrolling down slowly. “A Profile in Courage.”

The article stated that when he was thirteen, Bucky was the only survivor of a car accident that killed his parents. A drunk driver had crossed the center lane on a highway and hit the family’s sedan head-on. 

Doctors put him in a medically induced coma to try to save his life after significant brain swelling was detected. Once he regained consciousness, it took nearly two years for him to fully recover his mobility, followed by several more years of extensive physical therapy.

Eventually, he was released to the custody of a neighbor, Mrs. Sarah Rogers. She had been designated as his legal guardian in the event of his parents’ death. Her son, Steve, had gone with his adopted brother Bucky to police academy.

Well, that answered at least two of your questions.

Bucky had obviously either been incapacitated due to the coma during his flash age, or his injuries had been too extensive to allow any connection to occur at the time.

He also was able to have a great job with the police department, no questions asked, because he had clearly received an official medical exemption to the soulmate status laws.

Your heart ached for him. You wondered if he went into law enforcement because of that life-altering car accident. You wondered…

The article went on for a while, detailing his education, his time at the academy, and the event that caused him to get a commendation in the first place.

Nearly a year ago, Bucky single-handedly saved a woman and two of her neighbors in Brooklyn. The perp was the woman’s own abusive husband. He’d been drinking, and had come home and tried to kill her. She managed to get away by hitting him with a frying pan and running to the next apartment over for protection.

Lucky for everyone, the neighbors had heard him shouting the moment he came home, and had already called the police. Bucky was in the area, so he responded to the call quickly.  That night, he took a bullet in the shoulder to take the man down, disarm him, and get him in handcuffs. 

Sergeant Barnes sounded too good to be true. 

When you scrolled to the bottom of the page, there was a picture of Bucky shaking hands with the mayor with a bright smile on his face. He had the best smile, with little laugh lines and a mischievous gleam in his blue eyes.

Damn, you were lucky.

It amazed you, too, because you’d never considered yourself lucky like this before, never thought you’d been given the best of anything. But Bucky…

You were absolutely head over heels in love with Bucky Barnes. You were the epitome of the heart eyes emoji at this point, and you didn’t even mind it. It was stronger than anything you’d ever felt for anyone before, and for that, you were grateful.

God, how many times had you sat around wishing for this? The endless longing, the tears, the discrimination, the lonely nights…all of that would soon be distant memories, leaving room for new memories you would make with Bucky, if he’d have you.

If Natasha could see you now, she’d be thrilled, but she would also be sure to get a dig or two in, considering how much you’d teased her about Clint.

Hopefully you'd measure up to his standards, too, at least enough to deserve a man like him. After all, he had turned tragedy into triumph. You...well, you did the best you could with the circumstances you were given. That’s what soulmate connections were supposed to do, though, weren’t they? Your soulmate was supposed to make you want to be your best self, and help you achieve that through your partnership.

There was no way that you were going to let your insecurities keep you from meeting him. Both of you had waited far too long for this connection.

It was time to meet your soulmate.

Part 1 - 2 - 3 - 4

PERMA TAGS: @sprinkleofhappinessuniverse @minaphobia @amrita31199 @aenna-4 @ailynalonso15 @psingh97 @sofiadiaz04 @mirkwood---princess @lilasiannerd @coffeeismylife28 @capdanrogers @melissalovesmusicyay @hollycornish @northscorpio @gallifreyansass @ancchor @vaisabu @alurea-actually @hailey-a-s @buckyswinterchildren @cleanslates @minervaem @blackcoffeeandgreenteaforme @winterboobaer @kjs-s @hardcorehippos @jay-birdbitchez @rchlnwtn @seeyainanotherlifebrotha @aeillo @whyisbuckyso @crownie-sr @neverbeforgotten @givemethatgold @notsoprettykitty @punk-rock-princess-626 @dracsgirl @giannastoico @cosmic-avenger @rockintensse @angelicshinigami @heytherepartner @simplyme8308 @ria132love @dolthiac @feelmyroarrrr @assbutt-son-of-a-bitch @johnmurphys-sass @wishingtobelost @nolaimagines @decemberftw @imamoose @kcsavege4134 @indominusregina @kittthekat @smkunz613 @actual-bucky-barnes-trash @miss-jessi29

Story Tags: None this time! only one part left, sorry!

[thedaveandkimmershow]

Father’s Day this year turned into Father’s Weekend as we pre-functioned the holiday on Saturday and spent the middle of Sunday with my parents brunching at the Palisade Restaurant in Magnolia.

Now, traveling down to Magnolia is always a trip down memory lane... with present-day overlays: a condominium where Denny’s used to be; another condominium where Sunset Bowl used to be; a Safeway that taking up the entire block that used to be shared by Pay ‘n Save and Tradewell.

That’s Ballard, of course, right there at the intersection of 15th Avenue Northwest and Market Street. Once upon a time, it was to be a terminus of the Seattle Monorail Project traveling from West Seattle through its current run up Fifth Avenue and on to Ballard.

The project didn’t pan out... but, after all these years, Ballard is so, so, so, so... different. You start noticing it once you exit I-5 onto city streets. 

My favorite approach to the city is over Holman Road. Right at the top of the hill, there, you notice the greening of arterials. I noticed this the first time traveling Holman to 15th all the way to the Magnolia Bridge. I really noticed it in Magnolia along Government Way and 34th Avenue West from Emerson to the tennis courts.

Brunch at the Palisade was, of course, super fabulous, ever the classic experience. 

Linzy and I completely indulged in the dessert area. She grabbed a burnt creme brullet whilst I grabbed one, too, and a cream puff I promptly dipped into the milk chocolate fountain and a ginormous strawberry that I doused in the white chocolate fountain.

Back at the table, dad realized he’d missed the entire dessert spread. So he headed down there post haste.

Kimmer wanted a burnt creme brulee of her own and, whilst the server went off to check the cook’s recipe for nuts or nut exposure, quickly forgot she wanted a burnt creme brulee of her own.

Only after we’d all gotten up from the table did she remember the creme brulee and ran off ahead of us to grab one and, you know, eat it... right there.

After we all wished each other our fare-thee-wells, Kimmer ‘n I walked Linzy to her car that was quite a way’s away.

We’d never been down this way before. It’s basically where West Marina Place dead ends. There’s a sign, then some trees that block the view. Clearly, though, you can see a path.

Out of curiosity, we stepped out onto the path, quickly revealing the view below of low tide. 

Now the trail on the right, the one on which we’re actually standing, doesn’t go much farther than you see in the photograph. I’m pretty sure it ends with either steps or a rocky slope down to the beach. Beyond that, after more trees and beach, is the row of houses that line Galer Street... itself the tail end of 32nd Avenue West that cuts through most of Magnolia from north to south.

Standing here, though, I’m thinking I’m maybe looking at Perkins Lane. And that thought immediately triggers a useless piece of knowledge: there are maps that actually show streets where there is now water. In June, 2018, there are two streets lining Elliot Bay on the south shores of Magnolia. They are West Galer Street... and Perkins Lane. 

South of those two streets?

Nothing but water.

Okay so just scroll down below the maps if a little Magnolia history falls outside your interests.

As for the rest of you, yes, there are maps from the 1920s and 1950s showing at least two streets basically in Elliott Bay. The 1920s map even shows five or six streets off the beach to the south of Discovery Park.

On the 1920s map, the two streets to which I refer are identified as Puget Avenue and Logan Avenue. In the 1950s, they’re identified as Beach Lane and Lee Street. Not sure if we’re talking about the save pavement between those decades, but it’s hard to imagine we’re not.

Of course, speaking of hard to imagine, why would Rand McNally and Company (1924) or the Shell Oil Company (1956) record roads that never existed?

Seriously. They were never built.

Yeah.

No idea.

But to me, it’s always been a lovely mystery. Something to indulge whenever the thought arises. In this case, all these thoughts and subsequent research were triggered by the one view above.

Crazy how that works.

Just as frame of reference, the Google Map above shows Perkins Lane as the southernmost street facing the beach. Magnolia Boulevard actually sits atop the bluff.

Anyway.

If you’d like a clean, high resolution look at my temporary obsession, click here. The link takes you to Old Maps Online. Click on the red “Browse The Old Maps” button and a column of map thumbnails will appear along the right side of the screen.

So Kimmer ‘n I backtrack along the path and I see a cow.

No kidding.

A cow.

Immediately I whip out my 35mm and take some photos. Because yes. I saw a cow... floating out there on Elliott Bay under a hot, hot sun.

I wanted proof, see.

‘Cause a giant cow floating on Elliott Bay does not, in fact happen every day. 

The story of The Cow... is something you’ll find here.

Otherwise, take a peek at this timelapse showing part of its journey...

After the cow, we jumped back into our car and up I-5 to Lynnwood. 

Deciding to kill a little shopping at our local Value Village, we parked... then decided to take advantage of the car’s sunroof as we turned Kimmer’s bug into an impromptu photo booth. You can see the sunroof in my lens at the upper right corner of each picture...

The rest of the day was pretty chill. Hanging out. Desserts. Binge-watching more Last Man Standing.

It was a lovely end to a lovely Father’s Day weekend that was itself a lovely end to a pretty packed week.

Earlier in the day, back when we were at Value Village, I snapped a couple photos that captured an entire week focused on celebration and great eats.

It’s amazing how all of that worked out without, you know, planning it. 

Marriage Pro Tip: You get a ton of bang for your buck when you know just how to improvise on your feet. 

:-)