#but Walt made me so angry that i just wanted to finish as quickly as possible because i didn’t want to be angry for longer than necessary

[starbuck]

so. I watched Better Call Saul.

[writings-of-a-daphodil]

Fire Keeper: Chapter 8

Douxie x fem reader

Chapter 1

Masterlist in bio!

Series Summary: You are Jim’s older sister who is taking a break from college and has moved back home to Arcadia. You end up joining Jim and his friends on their adventures. Chapter 8 summary: You would really enjoy a nice relaxing weekend, but unfortunately that isn't in the cards for you when Strickler shows up at your house, begging for protection.

You were concerned, to say the least, for Aaarrrgghh. He would die soon and he was choosing to spend his last moments with you and your friends. You didn’t really know how to feel about that. You were flattered and happy that he thought of you as family, but family had to make sacrifices for each other and you didn’t want to see Aaarrrgghh die.

So you found yourself pacing Douxie’s bookstore, ranting to Archie about your problems. You probably should have been talking to your friends about your feelings, but you didn't want to bother them when they were also going through thnigs too.

You had to talk to someone though, and Douxie had asked you to watch the bookstore while he went on an errand. So you talked to Archie, it wasn't like he was going to tell anyone.

You were just about finished summing up your life when Douxie walked in. "How was the shop?" he asked.

"Quiet." You gave a small smile and sat down at one of the tables. Picking up a book you looked it over.

"Thanks for watching it," Douxie said, coming over to pet Archie who was sitting in the chair opposite you.

The bell to the shop rang and you looked up to see a young woman there. "Hey handsome, mind helping me find a good book?" 

You scowled. "Sure," Douxie said, walking over to her. You watched uncomfortably as the woman flirted with Douxie and to your dismay Douxie flirted back.  

Archie hopped into your lap and the woman looked over at the sudden movement. "Oh, your cat is precious, may I pet him?" 

"Um, sure." You really wanted Douxie to say no for some reason, which wasn't like you. The woman drew closer to Archie he recoiled away, giving you a feeling of satisfaction. There was something off about this girl. 

"Oh. I guess he just doesn't like me," the woman said. "By the way my name's Mindy." 

"Nice to meet you," you responded politly. 

"Mhm," she said then turned back to Douxie. 

"Why don't I check that out for you?" Douxie suggested, taking the book she had chosen to the register. 

You were content to glare at Mindy with Archie until she left, but your mom called. "Hello?"  

"Hi, honey. I was just wondering if you've seen Mr. Blinky around? I haven't seen him since he got ill and rushed to the restroom. I'm still really confused on what happened."  

"No, I haven't seen him, sorry. Anyways is there anything you need me to get from the store?" You asked, trying to guide the conversation away from Blinky. 

"No, I'm working all weekend. Just take care of your brother." 

"Don't worry, mom. Love you." You hung up to see Mindy frowning at you while Douxie searched for a bag for her book.  

"Is there a problem?" you asked her. 

"Do you work here?" 

"No." 

"Ah," was all Mindy said in way of a response. Soon though she was gone, and while you hadn't noticed it before the energy in the room has changed while she was there. Now it was back to its normal relaxing aura. 

"She seems nice," Douxie commented and you forced yourself not to roll your eyes. There was something wrong with that girl. 

"Well, I need to get going, Jim's expecting me." You stood up and gently set Archie on the chair you had previously occupied. You waved goodbye to Douxie and you made your way to your car. 

You were angry at yourself for feeling jelous, it wasn't like Douxie was yours or anything. However, the more you thought about it jealousy was only the cherry on top. You were certain something was off about her. She had changed the aura in the bookstore drastically, though you hadn't noticed it at the time. 

You pulled your thoughts away from her and Douxie and focused on getting home. You had too much on your plate to worry about an odd customer.

You arrived at your home around sunset and you sighed, content. A nice relaxing weekend was exactly what you needed.

“Jim? Are you home? Mom has been asking me all day about what happened to ‘Mr. Blinky,’” you ranted as you put your purse on the coat rack.

“Good thing we decided to put the axe up last.” You spun around and quickly chanted a spell when you heard Strickler’s voice. Orange chains shot out, binding him.

“Where is Jim?!” You hissed, holding a dagger you had summoned to his throat. (You had to admit you were proud that you were able to modify the sword spell without help).

“Oh! Y/n, I’m fine. See?” Jim gestured to himself and you saw that he was indeed fine. However, you still didn’t release Strickler.

“What is he doing here?” You snarled.

“Angor Rot is after him and I agreed to help,” Jim said, frowning.

You shoved Strickler away from you and released him from his chains. “I will help too, but only because if you die my mom dies.”

“Well, I’m glad we got that settled,” Strickler grumbled, clutching his throat.

“Mhm.” You rolled your eyes and went to help Jim set up other areas of the house.

You didn’t know how to feel about helping Strickler. Once upon a time ago he had been your favorite teacher, but after all he had done... You just didn't know how to feel.

Darkness quickly creeped up on you and soon you were eating a quick dinner. It wasn’t the best food you had ever eaten, but it felt nice and calming to eat.

You were scraping the bowl when you heard Jim scream.

“Jim!” You called rushing to the basement. You were having deja vu of the first time you met Blinky and Aaarrrgghh.

You rushed down the stairs, once again ready to defend your little brother, when you saw the source of his alarm. ”Oh my gosh! Why is there a hole in our basement!”

“How else am I supposed to get around while the sun is out? Don’t worry it only leads to the sewers,” Draal explained calmly as you and Jim stood there panicking.

“Mom will flip if she sees this!” You squeaked.

“Nobody knows about it but me,” Draal clarified, but it didn’t worry you any less.

“Did you get the Lodestone?” Strickler called from the staircase. Draal held up two stones, one blue and one green. As soon as he loosened his grip they snapped together and all the metal in the basement slowly floated up then rushed to meet him.

You yelped and sent a burst of orange magic to shield him. “I’ll take that as a yes?” Jim mumbled as Draal pulled the stones apart and the metal fell to the floor.

“It’s almost nightfall. Come on, there’s more work to be done,” Strickler said and you rolled your eyes. Helping him was something that would take a while to get used to.

You worked quickly, helping set up one trap after another. Angor Rot was smart and you hoped that these traps would work.

“Okay, that’s the last one. Now all we do is wait,” Jim said, finishing up the swinging axe trap.

“You know I’m a bit surprised how well we work together,” Strickler commented.

“Don’t think it’ll happen again,” you rebuked.

“Yeah,” Jim said, “You know I’m still gonna take you down after all this is over.”

“Perhaps if we get through this, I could talk to my constituents about the eye of Gunmar,” Strickler suggested. “I assume you’re still interested in finding the last triumbric stone?”

“You know where it is?” Jim asked excitedly.

“Personally, no. But my ilk are wide and numerous. Where there’s a will, there’s a way.”

“Why would you help us kill Gunmar?” You questioned.

Strickler laughed, “Let’s just say, I’m always looking out for my best interests.”

You scoffed. “You don’t say?”

“Oh what a shocker,” Jim said louder.

Draal gasped behind you and you spun around to see Draal pointing at an eye. “What is that?” The large troll asked.

“It’s his eye!” Strickler yelped.

“Gunmar’s eye?” Jim asked, confused.

“No! Angor’s! He’s been watching us! Get it!” Strickler commanded. “After it! There, there!”

“Y/n can you use your magic or-or something?” Jim asked.

“It wont let her,” Strickler said, pushing your hands down. You scowled at him as the eye rolled off the banister.

“Catch it before it escapes!” Jim warned.

“Gunmar’s eye, Angor’s eye. Enough of these eyes!” Draal grumbled as the four of you ran into the kitchen. The eye raced around the room and flew into the air towards the sink where Jim caught it in a cup.

“How long has he been watching us?” Jim asked. Suddenly the door knob rattled and you froze.

“He’s here! Get in position!” Jim ordered, and you all rushed to your places. You ran to the stairs and levetated yourself so you were hiding in the overhang.

“For the Glory of Merlin, Daylight is mine to command,” Jim whispered and you began to mutter a spell.

“Hey, kiddos, you home? Wanda messed up my schedule again. Guess I have the day off after all,” your mom announced as she walked into the house.

“No!” you screamed as she put her purse on the rigged coat rack.

“Mom, watch out!” Jim warned, tackling her to the floor.

“Whoa! Holy— Why is there an axe in the door?”

“Barbara! Are you all right?” Strickler asked as you quickly dropped to the floor. Hopefully she hadn’t seen you hovering.

“I’m fine. Whoa! Holy—How? What is—?” Your mom looked around at the room and you could see she was panicking. “W-Walt? Why are you here? And why are you holding a crossbow?”

“Me? Uh, yes. You see, um, there’s a school project I gave Jim and, uh.” He hid the crossbow behind his back as if that would do anything. The safety must have been off though so the crossbow took down your lamp.

“Die, Angor!” Draal roared, coming into the hall.

“No, Draal! Get back!” Jim warned and your mom let out an ear splitting scream.

“Um, hello. Sorry,” Draal apologized, and you face-palmed.

Your mom screamed again. “No, no, no! Mom! Mom, it’s okay! He’s—“ Jim started to explain, but he was cut off when your mom sprayed him with pepper spray.

“My eyes!” Jim yelped, and Draal backed up, recoiling in pain. He bumped into one of the many ropes that crossed through the hall and triggered a trap. He yelped as he ran into a bookcase which fell on him, knocking him out.

Your mom screamed some more and you tried to console her. “It’s okay, mom! He’s a friend!”

“He was a friend. Now, he’s out cold,” Strickler said and you rolled your eyes, the statement barely made any sense. Your attention was taken from Strickler’s poor wording and given to your mom who screamed yet again. You walked closer to her, but before you could reach her she fainted.

“And so is she,” Strickler mumbled as you used you magic to heal her and calm her. She soon woke up and you helped her to a chair in the hallway.

“More water Barbara?” Strickler asked, holding out a pitcher. You mom nodded, but instead of giving him the glass to refill she took the pitcher and guzzled the water down.

“So, let me get this straight. There are good trolls and bad trolls and somehow, you?” Your mom asked.

“If I may. There is a vast world beneath our feet, Barbara, and your children have stirred up a heap of trouble.”

“Dude!” Jim hissed.

You glared at him. “Not cool.”

“This is all so...” your mom trailed off and you gave her a hug, there were definitely better ways to tell her.

Strickler backed away. “I’ll give you a moment.”

“I can’t believe this is what you have been doing. All those late nights, getting arrested, you in the hospital. Why are you this...Trollfighter? A-and you, Y/n, you’re a wizard?”

“Uh, Trollhunter,” Jim clarified.

“Y-you should be worried about high school and girls not this, Jim. I mean, can’t you just ask someone else to do it. Y/n could, right? Or someone else...”

“I’m afraid it’s a...permanent situation? They need me, mom. Y/n is doing her best to help, but we each have our own jobs.”

“I know it’s hard to believe, but Jim is their protector,” you added.

“But who is going to protect you?” Your mom asked and you smiled.

“That’s what I’m there for, look.” You held up your hands and the bookshelf and everything else that had fallen glowed orange. All of the objects then began to put themselves back into their place. “See?”

“Wow,” your mother marveled, fascinated by the warm orange glow that was your magic.

“Barbara, you do have to leave! It’s-“ Strickler warned, but the alarm cut him off, Angor Rot was in the house.

“The basement!” Jim groaned.

“What’s in the basement?” Your mom asked.

Strickler put a hand in front of your mom to protect her and you almost started to like him again. “Draal was supposed to guard it,” he huffed.

A black ball rolled from the door, silencing any further conversation. You heard Angor Rot begin to chant so you threw up your hands, creating a shield around everyone.

The ball began to flash with purple electricity and you placed your selves, but all that happened was the power went out.

“What happened to the lights?” Your mom yelped as the chanting grew louder.

“Mom, stay close,” Jim ordered and you got ready to perform another spell.

“But I can’t see you!” Your mom called out. With the faint glow of your shield you could see her trembling.

“Y/n?” Jim asked and you let him out of the shield as glass shattered.

Jim dropped his flashlight. “For the glory of Merlin, Daylight is mine to command.”

“Jim, you’re glowing! H-how are you glowing?”

“It’s armor, Mom. It’s part of the job,” Jim explained.

A purple orb flew at your shield, but it ricocheted off your orange shiled, which was growing weaker by the moment.

“Mom!” Jim cried out as another purple orb shot out at him.

“Stick to the plan. You know what to do,” Strickler ordered and you nodded.

“You did not run, brave hunter, but the brave are the first to die,” Angor growled, finally revealing himself to Jim and you. You let down your shield and sent a blast of magic at Angor.

“Go! Go! Y/n, get her out of here!” Jim grunted as he fought Angor Rot.

“No! Not without Jim! No! Jim!” Your mom cried out as you and Strickler pulled her to the basement.

“This tunnel leads to the sewers. You can get to the street,” Strickler informed.

“What about my son? What’s going to happen to him?”

Strickler stepped in front of her. “No, you have to go!”

“No! He needs my help!” Your mom howled.

“Come on, mom. You're no good to him if you aren’t safe,” you pleaded.

“You don’t understand, Barbara. Our lives are bound magically,” Strickler said, trying to reason with her.

“Are you really talking about our relationship right now?” Your mom asked, irritated.

“We don’t have time for this,” you interjected.

“My boy is in danger!” Your mom pushed you aside, but you cast a spell, locking the basement door

“Y/n let me through!” Your mom ordered, but you shook your head. You needed to keep her safe.

Strickler moved to grab her. “Let me go!” Your mom slapped him, but she recoiled when she felt the pain as well. “Ow! What was that?”

“Listen to me! Leaves now!” Strickler growled and his eyes glowed.

“W-what are you, Walt?” Your mom whispered, pulling herself away from him and back to you.

“I’m someone who can help your son, but I can’t until I know you’re safe. Please,” Strickler begged

“Then go to him!” Strickler ran up the stairs and you opened the door for him.

“We need to go, now.” You pulled your mom to the hole.

“No, just...wait.” Silence filled the house after that statement and you mom grabbed a shovel. You creeped towards the staircase and motioned for her to stay there, but as soon as you got up the staircase she bolted past you. You chased her upstairs and screamed as she hit Angor Rot out of the trap.

“Mom, wait! No!”

“Get away from my boy!” She growled and you cringed.

“Mom, no! Get out of here!” Jim warned as Angor Rot attacked again. You shoved your mom to Strickler and tried chain Angor Rot, but you missed.

“Walt?” You heard your mom whisper. As you put a shield up around the two of them.

“Get out of here!” Jim growled as he faced off Angor Rot. You un shielded them and summoned your sword. Your mom ran into the hallway and you quickly backed out after her, sword raised. Strickler turned to follow you, but Angor attacked him, cutting his and your mom’s neck.

“Mom!” Jim cried.

“Well that didn’t go as planed,” Strickler muttered. You were about to jump into fight Angor Rot, but you heard Draal roar. He crashed into the room and tackled Angor Rot.

“Mom! Are you okay?” Jim asked as he helped her down stairs.

“My side hurts. Why—?”

“Come on, I have to get you out of here,” Jim cut her off.

“Can you drive?” Jim asked Strickler as you ran out of the house.

“Motivated enough I can do anything,” Strickler affirmed and you rolled your eyes, again.

“Move. I’ll drive,” you offered. No way you were letting a half-conscious Strickler drive.

“We have to go to the hospital,” Jim stated.

“Can’t. Our wounds won't be healed by modern medicine. We need to go to Trollmarket,” Strickler informed, coughing. You pulled the car out of the driveway and sped to the bridge.

“Sorry. I messed things up,”  your mom mumbled from the back seat.

“No, mom. I’m sorry. I should have told you. I should have told you everything,” Jim responded.

“Just hang in there and everything is going to be okay, alright?” You added.

You glanced in your rear view mirror and saw a purple flash. You quickly swerved the car to avoid the orb that Angor Rot—who had gotten free of Draal—cast.

“That’ll wake one up!” Strickler yelped as he slid in his seat.

You turned into the woods to avoid another blast and did your best to steer clear of any trees.

“Where did you learn how to fight?” Your mom asked.

“Shh. I-I’ll tell you all about it once we get you somewhere safe.”

“Perhaps now-” Strickler coughed “-We call your friends? I think we lost him.”

Just as he said that Angor Rot hopped onto the forest floor. “Go! Go! Go! Get to the bridge now!” Jim screamed.

“Mom, stay with us! We’re almost there!” You said, peering into the back seat as you reversed. You burst out of the trees and onto the road where you made a quick u-turn while Jim called his friends. You did your best not to crash as you soared into the canal.

“Jim!” Strickler warned as he gestured towards Angor Rot who was now on top of the bridge.

“Oh, no, no, no, no!” Jim sighed. Angor Rot jumped off the bridge and landed on the car, breaking the back window. Jim fought him as you tried to shake the troll off.

“Turn now!” Jim ordered and you did, but Angor still would not fall.

“Jim!” Your mom cried as you swerved again. Angor Rot finally fell free and you stuck your hand out the window. You sent a magic blast his way, but all it did was make him stumble.

He leapt onto the front of your car, breaking the front windshield. He grabbed your throat, but you swerved the car again, causing him to lose his grip on you.

“We have to shake him before we get into Trollmarket!” Jim called and you replied by breaking hard. The inertia sent Angor flying off the car.

“Straight at the wall! Just drive!” Jim yelled.

How do you know it’ll open?!” Strickler asked, panicked.

“I don’t!” you responded.

“It’s not opening!” Strickler yowled, but right as you were about to crash you soared through the wall and over Toby. You did your best to safely maneuver the damaged vehicle blue crystal staircase, but there was something wrong. You weren’t feeling well.

“We need help! Please!” You barely heard Jim call as things slowly faded to black.

****

So this is a pretty long chapter already, however I had planned to write it even longer. I decided against that though, and instead split chapter eight in half. You will get chapter nine on Friday! Have a fantastic day/night and please stay safe.

Also I'm sorry if your name is Mindy.

P.S. if you want to be on the taglist feel free to ask. I hope it works and please message me if it doesn’t.

Chapter 9: https://writings-of-a-daphodil.tumblr.com/post/628396240650092544/fire-keeper-chapter-9

[get-lost-in-fanfiction]

LOST - Another Story

Rating: M

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: I don’t have anything special to say for this chapter, so enjoy House of the Rising Sun!

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House of the Rising Sun

I’m sitting on the beach as Kate, Jack, and Charlie getting ready to go on a hike for the water. I realize that now is the time for Jack to want everyone to go to the caves. I’ve already made my decision, and I’ve got a pretty good excuse as to why I want to stay on the beach. As the only other person with medical experience, I’m going to stay on the beach while Jack is up at the caves. It’s a foolproof statement and not revealing at all that part of the reason I want to stay is Sawyer.

I tune in to catch Kate say, “It's not like I'm asking a personal question.”

“It is a personal question,” Jack replies.

“You don't have to get all quiet on me. I just want to know,” Kate says as she puts water into the backpack on Jack's back.

“Well, you're not going to know.”

“What's the big deal?”

“It's not a big deal. It's just something I did. I had my reasons. And I don't want to put it out there.”

I glance over and notice Sun watching them, I feel bad for her. Realizing now that this is House of the Rising Sun I decide that now is the time to “get to know her.”

“It's just that you and your tattoos don't add up,” Kate’s voice cuts through my thoughts, “Are you one of those hard-core spinal surgeons?”

“That's me. Hard-core,” Jack replies.

“If you guys are finished verbally copulating we should get a move on,” Charlie butts in, a pack on his back, “There's a whole beach of people waiting for us to get some drinking water for them. And the great white hunter's getting restless.”

“Okay, let's do this,” Jack finally says.

“Hey, Charlie. Ask Jack about his tattoos,” Kate says, amusement clear in her voice.

“Oh, you guys have an inside joke. How absolutely wonderful for you both,” Charlie replies sarcastically.

I never realized how in the first few episodes, the main characters all sort of have their centric episodes, which are appropriately named. I wonder what my episode would have been called if I was a real character. Probably something to do with hiking, since the character-centric episodes are named based on the flashbacks shown in that episode. Then again, who says I'm a main character anyway, I could get killed by Ethan for all I know. I shake that thought from my mind, I don’t want to die.

Then, suddenly, Jin is stomping angrily over towards Michael. Sun shouts after him. Jin runs up and tackles Michael at the edge of the water and starts slugging him.

“Hey, hey, what the…” Michael says hurriedly.

“Stop! Hey stop!” Walt shouts. Walt rushes up and Jin shoves him back, knocking him down. I scramble to my feet to help.

“Get off of him, please! Stop! Stop!” Michael says as he gets repeatedly beaten. Jin is trying to drown him. I bounce on my feet and look around nervously, no one is helping.

“Do something! He's going to kill him! Stop him, please!” Walt is screaming at Sun, and she is screaming back. Finally Sayid and Sawyer show up, and are running out to help. Sayid tackles Jin. Sawyer grabs Michael.

“The handcuffs from the Sky Marshal! Now!” Sayid shouts.

Sawyer tries to hand them to Sayid, but Jin is thrashing around and Sawyer has to help him to subdue Jin. Jin is then handcuffed to some kind of bar on the plane. Jin is still struggling. I rush over to Walt and place my arm around his shoulder.

“What happened?” Sayid says to Sun as Sawyer looks at me.

“I'm getting tired of saying this,” Michael begins, “I was just walking the beach with my son, and all of the sudden this dude is all up on me. I didn't do anything.”

Jim says something in Korean and everyone stares tensely at each other.

“Surely there must be something you're not telling us,” Sayid reasons.

“Surely? Where you from man?” Michael asks

“Tikrit. Iraq,” Sayid answers simply.

“Okay. I don't know how it is in Iraq, but in the United States of America where I'm from, Korean people don't like black people. Did you know that?”

Again, Jin shouts something in Korean.

“So maybe you ought to talk to him!” Micheal says angrily, pointing at Jin.

Sun points to her watch and says, “지금 시계 때문에 그래요, 시계.”

“The cuffs stay on!” Sayid shouts at her.

“A little louder, Omar. Maybe then she'll understand you,” Sawyer says sarcastically.

“Lay off him Sawyer,” I say and he just looks at me.

Then Hurley walks up to us, “Guys, that Chinese dude is going to get pretty crispy out here. How long are you going to keep him tied down like that?”

“Jin is Korean, Hurley,” I try to say as nicely as possible.

“He tried to kill Michael. We all saw it. The cuffs stay on until we know why,” Sayid says.

“Come on, man. Let's go,” Micheal says to Walt and I release him with a squeeze. Walt smiles at me and I smile back before he runs to catch up with his father.

As everyone disperses, Sawyer stays, looking over at Jin and Sun off in the distance. I stay with him.

“What are you thinking?” I ask cautiously.

“Nothin’ blue eyes,” Sawyer answers tersely.

“You’re so hot and cold with me,” I say, changing the subject and crossing my arms over my chest.

“What?”

“You heard me, one day you’re all sweet and protective then the next you’re like this! What’s going on?”

Sawyer sighs, “Blue eyes..”

“Dimples,” I sigh back. Sawyer smiles suddenly and brings me in for a noogie. I thrash in his arms, smacking them and laughing loudly.

“Sawyer?! Sawyer, get off!” I laugh-shout. He lets me go at that.

“C'mon let’s go eat some boar,” Sawyer says and I follow him in disbelief. Maybe me being here changes him for the better, sooner.

Once again I am on the beach, sitting, in the same spot I always do. I know right now somewhere in the jungle at the caves Jack, Kate, Locke, and Charlie have found “our very own Adam and Eve.” I know who they are, really, and I chuckle to myself at the story writers. They really waited until almost the end of the show to tell us who those two skeletons were. I know that Lost is all connected, but I have nothing else to think about. I look over my shoulder and there is Sun, sitting there looking troubled. I make a decision.

I get up from my place in the sand and walk cautiously over to her. She gives me an odd look and I wonder if it’s because of the time traveling thing, or the fact that I was with Sayid and Sawyer in the whole hand-cuffing incident. I try to set my face in a friendly expression as I approach her.

“Hi Sun, can we chat?” I say cheerily.

“아멜리아?” Sun questions, and I look at her with a blank expression. Real life doesn’t have subtitles. Damn.

“Uhm I’m really sorry I can’t understand you, but I want to talk. I promise I won’t hurt you,” I say quickly, “Van we go over there?” I point into the jungle, wanting to make sure our meeting is as secluded as possible. Sun nods and gets up.

“Great, we’ll, follow me then,” I say with a smile. I lead us off into the jungle, my heart pounding out of my chest. I’m not even sure this is a good move or not. But it’s worth a shot. We travel into the jungle a bit when I stop and turn. I take a deep breath and begin my unprepared speech.

“So, Sun. I know your husband has caused some issues lately with Micheal and stuff. I’m not here to be your enemy. Maybe you heard, maybe you didn’t, but um,” I take another deep breath before the shoe drops, “I’m a time traveler?” Sun stares at me.

“So I know that is probably really weird for you, and you’re probably wondering why I’m talking to you when I can’t understand you and you must not be able to understand me. Well, I know your secret. I know you can speak English and I know you can understand all of us.”

“You— You do?” Sun asks tentatively.

“Yes, I do, and I promise I wasn’t going to tell anyone. I understand how big this is for you. I figured since I have a mind boggling secret and that you have a mind boggling secret we could form an alliance of sorts?” I smile and Sun does too, “Not that we're forming a group against anyone, just that once you want to share that you speak English I’ll back you up is all.”

“You’re very kind Amelia, thank you.”

“Of course Sun,” I cut myself off, I’m not sure what else to say. “Should we head back to the beach? And again I promise not to tell.”

“Yes, let’s go back.” So we walk back together, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible when we come out of the jungle together. We part ways and Sun walks over to Jin. I suddenly stop when I see Walt playing in the sand.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Micheal says to Walt, then he turns to Jin, “You say something to my boy?”

Jin says something ans Walt looks scared. Sun looks scared as well and glances towards me for support. I’m rooted to the spot.

“Yeah, nice talking to you, too. Move it, Walt,” Micheal says.

They begin to walk away and Walt asks, “How come he doesn't like us?”

“What?”

“You said people like him don't like people like us.”

“Oh man. You know, uh, look, that's not true, and you know what, I don't think like that anyway. I was, I was angry.”

“What did you do to him?” Walt asks, and I’ve heard enough. It’s not my place to eavesdrop. I glance one more time at Sun before walking quickly down the beach towards the tents.

“Miss Kassman? Miss- Amelia wake up,” A strange, but kind voice says to me. I groggily open my eyes, and take in the surroundings of stark white walls and the beeping of some sort of machine.

“What.. Why am I here?” I whisper throatily, my voice hoarse from unuse.

“There was an accident, Miss Kassman. You survived,” I open my eyes to see a doctor with brown hair.

“M-My family? My mom, my dad? My brother?” I try to sit up, tears welling up in my eyes as a lump in my throat begins to constrict my airway.

“Please stay calm Miss Kassman,” the doctor says, and I search his sad face. I already know the answer. I burst out sobbing, my body wracked with survivors guilt. The doctor says silent as I cry myself out. After about 10 minutes I am finally able to regain myself and wipe my eyes.

“They’re dead aren’t they?” I croak out. The doctor only nods. I can tell he’s uncomfortable, but I don’t register it fully. “What’s your name?” I ask again, but quieter.

“Jack, Doctor Jack Shepherd,” the doctor says simply. “They told me to come and take a look at you. You sustained major burn injuries to your back, I’m a spinal surgeon and I wanted to make sure you were alright.”

I stare down at my hands, this Dr. Shepherd has bad bedside manner. I wiggle my hands and toes, I shake my legs and then look back up at the doctor. “I think I’m okay..” I say quietly.

“Good, that’s good,” the doctor says while standing, “The x-rays told me that much, but I needed to make sure myself.” Dr. Shepherd turns to leave and puts his hand on the doorknob before turning back to me.

“I’m very sorry for your loss,” he says simply but full of pity before opening the door and walking out. Soon enough a nurse comes in and checks on me. She changed my IV and tells me she is giving me something to sleep. She puts it in, and in a few minutes I am out like a light.

Soon enough Jack and Kate return with the water. I know Locke and Charlie stayed up at the caves to look through the wreckage there, so when I spot Jack, Kate, and Sayid finally walk away from each other that’s when I approach.

“Hey guys, welcome back!” I say more cheerily than I want, “Do you guys have water?”

“We sure do,” Jack says as he pulls a bottle from his pack and hands it to me. I take it greatfully and sit down in the sand to drink. Jack and Kate look at each other once before Jack speaks up.

“So, Amelia,” Jack begins, clearing his throat a bit, “Where the water is were some caves that could offer some pretty good shelter.” I look between Jack and Kate.

“Are you asking my opinion because you know I already knew about the caves?” I ask suspiciously.

“No no no,” Jack says, “I was going to ask your opinion but not because of the future thing. We think that digging in at the caves together would be a good way to survive. We have 46 people to give water to, it would be much easier if we were there.”

“Well, I think that while yes the water is closer, there might be a chance that we could get rescued if we stay on the beach,” I say unconvincingly.

“You and I both know no one is going to rescue us,” Jack replies, and I sigh. He’s right.

“Well Doc, I think you should just ask everyone and see who wants to go. If by some miracle we do get found us beach-ies can alert you cave-ies,” I stand and toss the half drunk water bottle back to Jack, “Thanks for the water.”

I mill around the beach and watch as Jack goes around to different people and gather up a group to go to the caves. I search around for Sawyer for a bit, but eventually give up when I can’t see him right away. Then I hear Jack and Hurley talk, and I whip my head around to scan the beach. Then I finally see Sawyer approach Kate, but his back is away from me. I scramble to my feet and sneak up on their conversation.

“Well, well, well, if ain't the belle of the ball?” Sawyer says as he reaches Kate, I’m right on time, “So what's it like having both the doctor and Captain Falafel fighting over you?” Kate doesn't respond, nor does she see me, “Just call 'em how I seem 'em, Freckles. Truth be told, I'm not the only one wondering where you're going to weigh in on this whole moving off the beach thing. Are you going with the pessimists, or staying here and waiting for the rescue boats?”

“Are you going?” Kate finally asks with an edge to her voice.

“Well, that's the real trick, isn't it? We all pack up stakes for the caves and the next day a plane passes by, they're going to go on their merry way and be none the wiser. On the other hand, stay here, get eaten by boars, fall off a rock, not going to be anyone around to answer that 911 call.”

“Amelia will probably stay, and you still haven't answered my question.”

“You didn't answer mine. And I asked first,” Sawyer says, not reacting to Kate’s mention of me. Kate just walks away and Sawyer turns around, bumping right into me.

“Whoa blue eyes! Where did you come from?” Sawyer asks.

“I was standing here the whole time,” I say, crossing my arms over my body and hugging my hips.

“So you heard Kate and I’s conversation?”

“Indeed I did James,” Sawyer lunges at me and covers my mouth with his hand.

“Say that a little louder will you?” He hisses at me, and I just lick his hand. I laugh heartily when he retracts his hand quickly and wipes it on his shirt.

“So are you going to the caves blue eyes?” He finally asks me.

“No actually, I think I’m going to stay here. You know in case someone needs a doctor and Jack isn’t around. It’ll be good practice,” I say as nonchalantly as I can.

“Awe and here I was thinkin’ it was all for me.”

“Not everything is about you, blondie,” I tease.

“Ohoho finally got a new nickname for me?”

“Indeed I do, and I see you’re still using the classic ‘blue-eyes.’”

“What can I say, I’m an unoriginal man.”

“Whatever you say dimples,” I say as I walk away, using his own line against him and leaving him dumbfounded.

Soon, almost too soon, Jack and his little group are getting ready to head out to the caves. I toss some wood on the ground for a future fire as Jack approaches me.

“Amelia,” He says shortly. I turn around and smile at him, his pack on his back and looking ready to go.

“Jack, what can I do for you?” I ask more kindly than I feel at that moment.

“Since you’re staying on the beach I wanted to give you some supplies, for doctor...ing,” Jack says clumsily. He hands me a small pack and I take it while looking inside. There is medicine and a few other things for patching up wounds. Simple stuff.

“Thanks Jack, I’ll keep it in my tent.”

“Just don’t let Sawyer steal it, okay?”

I laugh and sling the pack over my shoulder, “I won’t don’t worry, and if he does I have my ways of persuading him.”

Jack laughs as well and shakes his head before holding out his hand to shake, “Well, I’ll see you around doctor.”

I reach out and shake Jack’s hand firmly for a moment before dropping it, “See you around Doc.” Then he walks away and joins the group of Jin, Sun, two redshirts, and Hurley heading towards the caves. I wave at their group and Hurley waves back before I turn back to my pile of wood and begin to set up a fire as the sun begins to set.

Once it’s night and I know for sure that the group is at the caves, I allow myself to relax and sit with Sawyer, Sayid, and Kate around a fire. Sawyer makes room for me and I sit next to him, close but not too close. I look up at the sky as I feel Sawyer’s arm sling low across my back, hidden from our other firemates. I smile into the stars and close my eyes. It’s a peaceful night, and I know it won’t last long.

LOST

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Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged in updates!

[baroquebucky]

Can I request some Walter thingy where she is the only one at work that actually lives his gadgets and ideas and she is always trying to make him feel good when people call him weird or something

a/n: this is so cute yes !!

Another day when your office neighbor, Julie stole your blueprints for your new weapon idea. You grumbled and rolled eyes, it wasn’t right amywau you had to fix a few things.

You sighed and ran your fingers through your hair, eyes shooting open when you heard Walyer run out of his office space with a brand new ‘weapon.’ You peaked your head out as he showed everyone a new glitter bomb.

“God Bucket just forget it no one wants to see your dumb bomb” you heard someone say, followed by many other snickers and insults towards him.

You saw walter wall back to his space with his head down, unused bomb in his hands. You but your lip and shoved the new blueprints in your pocket and walked across the walkway and knocked on Walters door.

“I won’t do anything with my dumb- ohhh y/n uh hi” he spoke, his face turning red as he gave you a small smile.

“can i see what you were gonna show before everyone turned into negative Nancies?” You smiled and he nodded, a smile on his face.

“okay well i have a mini version of this, that way it won’t make as big of a mess but- basically it’s a glitter bomb and the glitter projects an imagine of a kitten, both of with will distract the bad guys because they release serotonin giving whoever used it a chance to either get out or get the job done!” He spoke with a smile on his face as you looked at the mini bomb go off, a tabby cat meowing right at you.

“oh wow, that’s really-”

“weird” he spoke and you shook your head.

“i was gonna say cool and creative but wow okay put words in my mouth” you smiled and you saw walter turn into putty.

“everyone always insults me i-” he began and shook your head.

“am i everyone to you walter?” you faked a pout and he blushed causing you to smile. “I better get back to work, I’ll see you around” you smiled and shot him a small wink, biting your lip as an attempt to hide your wide smile. Anyone who paid attention could tell you had a crush on the guy, lucky for you no one did.

The next day you walked through, security and made small talk with her, laughing softly as everyone looked in awe at the great Lance Sterling as he walked through the parted sea of people. You scoffed and continued to walk, going to your office and sighing as you heard everyone call out walter beckett for switching something out.

You furrowed your brows and leaked your head out, seeing a slightly happy yet nervous walter being confronted by an angry lance. You felt your face flush as you got out of your seat, adrenaline pumping as you prepared yourself to defend the ever so innocent boy. You stopped in your tracks however when you saw walter chase after Lance, following him into the elevator.

You sighed, shook your head and headed back to your seat, working on the final touches of a new weapon.

You grew restless during lunch, listening to people tease and make fun of Walter and his gadgets.

“Can you guys just shut the fuck up for one minute? The poor dude isn’t even here for starters and at least he created his thing on his own, unlike you Julie” you glared at the woman as she turned a deep red and walked out. Soon everyone was silent and you rolled your eyes, finishing your food and walking out.

You pressed the button on the elevator and shot a smile at walter, who was in the elevator, he looked flushed.

“hey i just wanted to say-” you began and he sighed.

“yeah i know my things are dumb and I’m weird” you frowned and looked at him confused.

“what? no! I wanted to say that i think you’re gadgets are cool and creative. I think you have something special and those people are to fixated on what can cause the most damage rather than i don’t know calmly diffuse a bad situation” you spoke, your eyes darting between walter and the floor.

Walter opened his mouth, about to say something when the elevator dinged, he jumped slightly and chuckled.

“I’ll see you around beckett, don’t let them bring you down” you said, walking out, leaving a flustered boy behind you.

“w-wait!” You heard and your turned around, a deep blush on your face as you felt walter grab your wrist and pull you back into the elevator.

“you okay?” You asked, concerned for him.

“i just- you won’t be seeing me” he sighed.

“what do you mean we work right across from each other” you chuckled softly. Your face still hot as you realized you were now holding his hand.

“I-i got fired, by Lance, for switching up the bombs” he spoke, your heart broke and your blood boiled.

“Walt im so sorry” you said pulling him in for a hug, your arms wrapping around his waist as he dug his head into your neck.

“I wanted to tell you because, i know you always called people out when they talked about me and uh” he started, face flushing before pulling away and giving you a small smile, “i really kinda like you” he spoke quickly.

A smile broke onto your face and you looked at Walters face, flushed cheeks and red ears. You smiled and pulled him in for a kiss. Lips locking as your hands got tangled into his hair. You both pulled away as the elevator dinged, a blush on both your faces as the door opened.

“i kinda really like you too beckett” you whispered into his ear, a smile breaking onto his face. As you walked out of the elevator, leaving behind a very flustered, and nervous boy.

[zenkatki]

Pandemic Ironman 2020

I have been asked by a few people to write something regarding Ironman Florida, the first full 140.6 Ironman held in the United Stated since the start of the COVID-19 pandemic. I have never done a race write up before and I am not sure where to begin. I will take it from training which started in March to the end of the race and the reader can skip around to the parts they find interesting.

Training

Ironman Florida was to be my tenth Ironman, a step on the road to Legacy. I started a training plan that I had used before in February and tweaked it a little with my Ironman Coach certification. I already had a good endurance base from the 2020 Dopey Challenge at Walt Disney World in January, so February was primarily weight training and short distance swim, bike and runs. I still had a pool this month at New York Sports Club in Smithtown.

March is where things got interesting and COVID-19 lock-down started. The gym closed. I quickly purchased a Thermal Reaction wetsuit from Blueseventy and found my gloves and booties. I am fortunate to live 2.5 miles from the Long Island Sound so open water swims started early March. It was freezing but a bit fun to channel my inner Wim Hof. The swim training for this Ironman was entirely open water, with one pool swim in July when my sister invited me to her Town Pool once it opened. It was a concern because I feel pool intervals are important but I learned to incorporate intervals in the open water which helped break up those sessions and gave me focus.

I was able to get weight training done at work, we have a pretty decent set up in our garage. Biking and running proceeded as usual with a mix of outside rides and runs and some Zwift workouts. With a ten month training period I worked a lot of Zone 2 heart rate training, I’ve become a big believer.

It was weird not knowing at this point if the race was even on, and training helped me deal with a lot of the unknown, the anxiety. It pushed me through the spring and summer feeling hopeful despite seeing all the races on the circuit being cancelled. I had a 70.3 planned for late August in Maine that was not to be this year.

Time passed and soon it was race time. Ironman sent multiple e-mails stating they were still looking to hold the race and how it would function. I kept a folder in my e-mail with all the correspondence from Ironman, the airline, the hotel and TriBike Transport.

Travel

For whatever reason this was a tough flight to find. I had to go American Airlines and the flight to Florida was out of LaGuardia to Charlotte to Fort Walton Beach, an airport that was about an hour away from Panama Beach City. Going home was Panama City to Charlotte to JFK. Out of all three airports, JFK in New York was the only one with the Department Of Health forms to fill out upon arrival.

Now the story I’m about to write is to show how important it is to remain alert and pay attention to detail when you travel. Hopefully you will learn from my mistake here.

I wearily got off the plane at Fort Walton and found a cab outside, a nice, elderly man named Bill who was willing to drive me over an hour to my hotel in Panama City. He was driving, we were chatting and he asked me if it was okay for him to stop for gas. Sure, no problem. At the gas station he asked if I wanted to get anything and I said yes, I’ll run in for a drink. As I exited the gas station I saw the taillights of my cab leaving the pump and proceeding down the road. Without me. I did my best to stay calm but my cab had just left me stranded and my bags were in the car, along with my wallet, shield, and ID. I wondered if I was on a television show. After a few minutes it became clear that I was not on TV, and I needed to do something to track down this car. I was angry at myself for not knowing the cab company name, or getting the vehicle’s plate. After getting nowhere on the phone trying to contact the airline I asked the woman at the gas station to call the police. It was at this moment my cab returned, and my friend Bill said he thought it was weird I wasn’t answering his questions anymore and when he turned around and didn’t see me, he remembered I ran into the gas station. I refrained from physically strangling this man and climbed back into the minivan, clearly shook regarding how this race weekend just started.

Hotel

I had booked the Boardwalk Beach Hotel & Convention Center when I registered for this race. It was originally the host hotel and the race was to take place right on the grounds which is super convenient. Due to COVID and the safe return to racing, the race venue was moved six miles away to Aaron Bessant Park so they could spread us out more. I kept the reservation at BBH to be fair and help with the hotel’s business. I did enjoy being there but it was far from everything. In retrospect I should have rented one of those kewl golf carts and used that to get around for the weekend. I spent approximately $100 in Uber fees going back and forth to Aaron Bessant and Pier Park. All my cab fees, airport runs included, came to about $250. A shuttle would have been super nice but I think the majority of the people racing switched their accommodations upon the announcement of the venue change.

The hotel itself was okay, I was on the ground floor so it was out and a short walk to the water and road. The cafeteria had coffee in the morning and some pastries but I only saw them cooking food my last day as I checked out. The people that worked there were nice, I’ll forever remember me cleaning my bike in my room with the door open and housekeeping cleaning the adjoining rooms. I had put some music on the Bluetooth and we had a great time.

Race Check In

About a week before traveling Ironman sent out an Active.com e-mail with a link to reserve race check in times. This again was to space us out and not have us standing in line, clogging up the area. I picked Wednesday night between 5-6PM. Bibs were given out first come, first serve so the lower your bib number was the earlier you checked in. I was #1038. I arrived at about 4:45 with my mask and was told I could go in. It was athletes only so if you were with someone they had to wait outside the Ironman Village for you. I had to answer a short survey verbally, get my temperature taken, and then was directed table to table, just like a regular race. For places where a line of people might happen there were tape marks and lanes were roped off with string and little ribbons indicating every six feet. I was able to pick my bike check-in time for Friday, they gave me a little card with 2-3PM on it. I actually really liked this system and I think it would be great even when racing goes back to its regular routine. I found it interesting that the swag such as the swim cap and back pack didn’t have the race name on it. The finisher shirt and medal had no date on it. I guess up until the very start of the race it was always uncertain if it would be a go.

I learned that Ironman Gulf Coast 70.3 would also be on Saturday, November 7th, with an 11:00AM start time. So both races would be going at almost the same time using the same course and staging area. I received an e-mail from Triathlon Wire with the numbers of about 1250 athletes for the full and 300 for the half.

After checking in I walked over to the TriBike Transport tent, picked up my bike, put air in the tires and rode it back to my hotel. It was dark when I got back so I walked over to Subway for a veggie sub.

Thursday was a day for me to ride a little, swim a little and look around a little. My calves let me know when I did too much walking. That happens to me often at Disney for marathon weekend. You’re in a great place and want to see it all but remember, there’s a race in a couple of days! I did what I could to find vegan food options in a very big seafood area. I remembered to bring food to eat later back to my room, I had a refrigerator and a microwave there.

I walked on the pier and saw a few of the swim course buoys set up. It always looks so far, doesn’t it?

Before bed I watched the athlete briefing on-line and reviewed the race packet I printed out before I left New York. I got my gear bags ready to be handed in along with my bike the next day.

Bike Check In

Friday I rode my bike and gear bags to check in at 2PM. For some reason we also needed to wear our timing chip which made me thankful I watched that briefing the night before, because they really weren’t letting people go in without them. Athletes only again, no one without a timing chip and an event race band could enter transition. In I went with my mask on again.

Bikes were placed every other space on the rack giving us a little more room. Gear bags stayed with the bike. I tucked mine under the rear wheel that was in the air. All items in the bags must stay in the bags even during the race. So the guy two spots down from me who set his area up like he was doing a neighborhood sprint complete with a towel mat had to put all his gear back in the bags. After taking a picture of my set up and saying good night to my bike (for real, I speak to it) I got out of there. I made sure I knew where I was regarding swim in, bike out/bike in and run out before I left. I picked up a veggie pizza before heading back to the hotel. I spent the remainder of that day eating, relaxing, reading, prepping my Special Needs bags. I usually apply race numbers (TriTats) the night before but there was no body marking for this race so I wasn’t going to use up the numbers.

I was slightly concerned about getting to the race start so early the next morning. The front desk had recommended a cab service, but I met an awesome man named El by the hotel pool. He needed a charger for his Garmin. I let him use mine and we started talking about the next morning. He had driven to Florida from Tennessee, had his car and offered me a ride to the start which I gratefully accepted.

Race Morning

Up at 3:45AM race morning. Made instant coffee, ate half a bagel, lubed, dressed, double checked all my bags and headed out. El and I drove to transition and he was able to park close to the transition entrance. Special Needs bags were handed off on the way in to Transition. Masks were on. I went to my bike, double checked the tires and filled the water and Gatorade bottles. They didn’t want us wondering around too much. I did see Chris Nikic walk into Transition. This race was his attempt at becoming the first person with Down Syndrome to complete an Ironman. I thought it was great to see him, a good sign. Now that I think about it at this point I just focused on that good thought and the cab ride from the airport wasn’t even in my head. Mike Reilly was there! I got ready to swim and tucked my Morning Clothes bag behind my gear bags, Morning Clothes stayed with us as well.

Swim

The forecast projected it being overcast most of the day and the morning was a bit cloudy. I picked goggles with a super light tint and it was a good choice. We were to stand with our bikes until our projected swim time was called out. I stayed put until I heard, “1:20-1:30 head to the swim start now!” Everyone thinking they were finishing the swim in that time started out and towards the beach, it was about a seven minute walk on the road and on sand. Some people had throw-away shoes on, I did not. The road had tape marks every six feet, they wanted you to try to stay on them when walk-traffic stopped. On the sand they had roped off lanes with pink ribbons tied on every six feet. We were to stay on a ribbon. There were spectators the whole walk. Eventually my lane made it to the water and they were letting four people enter every five seconds or so. Despite this great system guess what. Once we were in the water in was a traditional Ironman. It took some time to get passed the breaks but once I was in I was going. Two loops, clockwise in the Gulf. I saw fish and a sea turtle. There was a current pushing us sideways so it took some effort and a lot of sighting to stay to the left of the buoys. It wouldn’t be an Ironman if I didn’t get hit in the eye and I got it on my second loop. If you’re familiar with the Lake Placid swim it was like that only no cable though, sorry. Despite it being wetsuit legal I was getting hot towards the end. I really enjoyed the water though and had a swim time of 1:27:01.

T1

My transition neighbors were gone by the time I got into T1 so I had plenty of room. I was expecting to have to wear a mask in Transition but we did not. I had my bike gear in the bag set up so I could just pull it out and put it on and it worked well. I hung my wetsuit on the bike rack to dry hoping that was allowed. It was still there when I got back so I guess it was. Once I was bike ready I made my way out to start my ride. My T1 time was 10:39.

Bike

Because the swim had been warm I started my bike ride a little thirsty which was unfortunately a sign of things to come. To keep contact points down Ironman had reduced the amount of Aid Stations, so after drinking my water and most of my Gatorade quickly it was some time before I could refill. I ate every 45 minutes to an hour on the bike. Solid food was no problem, I had a lot with me and grabbed extra going through the Aid Stations. It was fluid I needed more often than it was available. If the sun had been out full force I think I would have had an even worse problem. It was about 80 degrees, humid, still overcast and windy which meant I was sweating and not really going anywhere when pedaling against the wind. I used the tail wind as best I could to make up time. I really think I need to be re-fit for my bike because at mile 30 I was already having terrible lower back pain. It wasn’t an easy ride and despite everyone telling me how flat the course is, it was over 3,000 feet of elevation. I had to get off to use the porta-potty and stretch early on. I guess at this point I should mention my race kit. I wore a one-piece tri suit from Zoot, the Autism Ohana kit. Google it if you have a chance, I think it’s great. Very colorful and for a good cause. I wore it to remember my friend Lizzie that I run with sometimes in Central Park as a volunteer for Achilles. But there are goods and bads of wearing a one-piece and the bads is definitely when you try to use the bathroom in it. It has little sleeves that are tough to find and get your arms through when they are wet. So there was a struggle in that porta-potty, no doubt. Finally I opened the door. The porta-potty was on an incline and I kind of stumbled out of it and cracked my left knee on the doorway. Then I bent over to grab my knee and hit my big, bike helmet head on the side. I felt like the Three Stooges was trying to do an Ironman, I really did. Shaking my head I got back on the bike and started to go. I felt my knee throbbing for about twenty miles. As I write this I have a wicked bruise. But back to the bike…This was a one loop course on the highways of Florida. There were wide shoulders and a bike lane that we rode in but in the back of my mind I kept thinking this was an active road way and any passing needed to be super carefully done. Cars were courteous enough not to use the right lane but if a driver wanted to be a jerk and use it they could. Any residential/business areas had spectators. As I said before it was windy. I did the best I could and had some good splits when the wind was with me but I needed to get off a few more times to stretch. I finished the bike with a usual time of 7:14:01.

T2

Again I had the area to myself so I sat to change shoes and get ready for the run. I was a little put off by my bike split and my stomach was not 100% but I thought I could have a strong run if I stayed focused. Removing sand from my feet was a challenge but it was important so avoid any irritation so I took the time to do that before I put my socks on. I stretched my back and drank more Gatorade before I left. I had a T2 time of 10:53.

Run

As I started my run I was greeted by just as many spectators as any other Ironman. Some had masks on, some didn’t. Some were dressed up, some played music. Everyone was encouraging and motivating. I started out so happy to be running. This course was an out and back two times along the highway parallel to the beach, passed all the hotels, bars and restaurants. The halfway turning point and the finish line were at Pier Park. For six miles I ran strong and thanked everyone for being out. A lot of people liked and commented on my race kit. It was great. But soon I knew I was going to have to do the run/walk, even as the sun went down and it started to cool off. I was unable to eat anything solid for the majority of the run. The thought of trying made me dry heave. I saw a few people really heaving in the bushes and was afraid I was going to join them. I took in as much fluid as I could, mainly water and Coke. I was sweating out a lot of salt, my neck and face were all gritty. I thought at first maybe it was sand but why would there be sand on my face, right? Out and back, out and back, using whatever I could in my brain to keep moving. I followed the cones they used to mark off the run area. Walk one cone, run five cones. My quads were shredded. I thought of my Mom and my Family. I thought of work and how I wanted to make everyone proud. I thought of the finish line and finally, FINALLY it was my turn to cross. My run took 6:25:20. Mike Reilly called me an Ironman with an official time of 15:27:52.

After crossing the spectator-less finish line I was given a mask and a masked volunteer guided me along, not touching me, to a table with plastic bags containing my finisher shirt and race medal. Someone with gloves and a mask removed my timing chip. I made my way over to Athlete Food and choked down half a veggie sub. I got my picture taken with my medal. (There were photographers out on the course too.) I had completed my 10th Ironman.

As I gathered my gear and dropped my bike back at the TriBike tent, Chris Nikic became an Ironman. I cheered from the parking lot. I started to walk back with the plan of getting passed the road closures to an area where I could call an Uber to get back to my hotel. But I started walking with a man named Dan who had volunteered in a kayak for the swim and at the finish line as well. He had just as long of a day as I had but when he heard of my plan to get back he ran into his hotel, got his keys and drove me to my hotel. And that really, really describes the Ironman atmosphere and Family to me. We all help each other, we all do what we can to get each other through the challenge. I am so grateful I found this sport, these events and have met some of the most amazing people.

I hope this write up helps someone with their goal, be it an Ironman or a first sprint triathlon, or a marathon or whatever. Please feel free to contact me with any questions if I missed something you wanted to know about.

Thank you to everyone for the well wishes, encouragement and congratulations. Thank you to Ironman and the Volunteers for having this race during one of the most hectic times in our lives.

Thank you for reading.

Kristen

SuperKat1029@aol.com

Instagram - @zenkatki

[tristan-dupont]

matters of the heart → daltan

TAGGING → Dallas Dwarf (@dallasdwarf) & Tristan Dupont

TIMELINE → Saturday, February 17, 2018

SETTING → Charming Dance Hall & Dallas’s Cottage

SUMMARY → Because some things in life actually ARE more important than science.

Dallas had always liked to study to the point of being overprepared. Science dictated that there was no one answer to anything, and that meant it helped to be prepared for everything. However, despite all the research she'd done on how to stop unrequited crushes and talking to other people about their experiences and even mentally readying herself for the emotional toll that finally telling Tristan the truth at the dance was sure to take on her, Dallas was not ready for the massive disappointment when she didn't get matched up with her best friend/crush. Theo was nice, to be sure, and he understood that she had her heart elsewhere, and it hadn't stopped them from trying to have a good time. But between punch cups and dances, Dallas couldn't even summon the enthusiasm to take notes on the dance around her. Whenever she tried, all she could look at was Tristan. He would've stood out to her anywhere, and he was having a blast from the look of it. He hadn't even tried searching for her and it made it that much harder to keep her gaze from finding him each and every time to remind herself that he was fine and she should be too. It was emotionally taxing. She just wasn't going to be productive tonight, that was the truth of the matter - so much potential research was going on but it was like she was angry with science for forsaking her when she'd needed it most. A matchmaker survey that didn't match her up with Tristan made no sense, not when every part of their existence felt so compatible from the beginning, but perhaps it was a sign. She'd never believed in signs, but science had gotten her nowhere so maybe it was time to consider other fields, and maybe it was even time to consider that she was trying too hard to force them into something they weren't. Dallas needed to accept that there would be other girls, pretty and clever and interesting girls for Tristan to like and interact with and dance with and that she was meant to be his friend, only his friend. It shouldn't be a bad thing. She loved being his friend, but she also knew the way she loved him had grown beyond that, so far beyond that that the weight of it threatened to crush her on the dance floor leaving a Dallas-pancake on the ground. She blamed the dance - formal events were proven to increase stress levels and heighten emotions, and her emotions were at an all time high as she thanked Theo for the company and politely excused herself with some lie about data transcription. With a final look over her shoulder at her friend, she felt a twinge of guilt for being so jealous. Tristan deserved to have fun. And she? She deserved to go home and scribble down some notes before playing sappy movies and researching how to reset her heart, and so off she went to do just that.

Tristan had to admit that his match had surprised him, but the match wasn’t an altogether unpleasant one. Though he’d assumed that whatever science went into the surveys — and his classmates’ general knowledge of how attached at the hip he and Dallas were — would have led to him spending the night with his best friend, Bronte was quickly becoming one of his favorite people in Walt, too. She was different than Dallas or even Kori and Noli; Bronte challenged him in ways he hadn’t thought about before, and at the same time with her he could just have fun. It was nice, to feel like he came first sometimes; as much as he loved putting himself second to research, or declaring himself his best friend’s assistant rather than her equal, Bronte liked to remind  him that Tristan could think about himself and only himself for a little while and not feel selfish when all was said and done. Getting to the dance and seeing that she was who he’d be spending the next few hours with had actually made him smile, and maybe… As much as it pained him to even think it, maybe it would be good for Dallas to be away from him for a while. Her weird comments lately had thrown him off, about liking him too much and wanting him to be mean to her to make her like him less, and she seemed just as confused about her actions as he did. She might be having a better time with someone new, wherever she was, and so Tristan put his best friend out of his mind for a while and just focused on dancing and laughing with Bronte. It was different, for sure, but as the night wore on, Tristan realized he was hardly thinking about science at all. Is this what it’s like to just be a normal teenager? he wondered. Maybe more nights without research in his future could be a good thing. Although more nights without Dallas… that he was less sure was something he wanted. As the announcer let them know that the last song was starting, his eyes went wide with panic, realizing he’d never set aside that dance they’d talked about earlier in the week, and suddenly, Tristan was frantic, excusing himself from Bronte, who seemed understanding as he pushed his way through the crowd. When he found Theo, though, Dallas wasn’t by his side, and Tristan’s whole face fell when he realized he’d missed her. His best friend had had one request, that they’d spend some time together at this dance just being normal, and some friend he was — he’d spent the whole night being normal with another girl, and neglected Dallas entirely. Tristan didn’t even consider going back to Bronte and giving her a better goodbye, or even having one last dance with her since all hope for a dance with Dallas was already gone. Instead, he pushed through the doors of Charming Dance Hall, out into the cool night, and broke into a run without any regard for his uncomfortable shoes, tight pants, and shirt and tie that felt like they were suffocating him as he sprinted down the streets of Walt. Finally, huffing and puffing and face dripping with sweat, Tristan banged on Dallas’s door, a secret knock they’d made up for themselves ages ago, and then only waited a second or two before he repeated the knocks again, desperate for Dallas to answer and realize he’d tried to keep his promise after all.

Dallas had been too lazy to wash off her makeup, but her dress was now comfortably rested on a hanger while she'd changed into sweatpants and a t-shirt to take notes on whatever sappy love movie was on her screen. Well, she sort of took notes; it was mainly scribbling, her faith in science a little too shaken to take her research mission on how to get over someone seriously. She'd considered calling her father for advice but she'd never bothered him with something as droll as boy problems before and besides, all he'd say was that she needed a little time. He'd be right, too. It had been a little bit of time since removing herself from the powder-keg of emotions that was the dance and she already felt closer to normal; soon enough this whole thing would be the new normal and she'd be fine. She was in the middle of consoling herself with that thought when she heard a knock on the door that evolved into her and Tristan's secret knock and her heart thumped loudly. The psychosomatic effects of a crush were still staggering, she thought as her entire body got nervous. Hands sweaty, stomach in knots, a pulse that threatened to deafen her. It was ridiculous. He was still her best friend. Still the person who knew her better than anyone, the comfort should be inherent. Or at least that's what she told herself as she shoved on her moccasins and slung on a sweater and ran to the door without even stopping to pause the movie. That blasted heartbeat effect kicked in on overdrive at the sight of Tristan's face, even if it was sweaty and out of breath. Sweaty. Out of breath. Had he run here? And he'd done their secret handshake twice and he was here while her cottagemates still weren't home yet, indicating that the dance was not yet over. Initial observations suggested that something was very off. "Tristan, what's wrong? Are you okay?" she asked, wanting to step closer and feel his forehead to make sure he wasn't feverish except she knew that wasn't her expertise and likely would just be an excuse to touch him; if something was wrong, he didn't need her feelings clouding her judgement. As they already had by making her forget to invite him into her home like a good friend-slash-hostess. "Come in, come in. And take your time catching your breath before you speak, otherwise it'll take longer for your body to realize you're out of danger." It occurred to her then that the reason her heart was warming despite his unorthodox appearance was because he'd appeared at all; she'd resigned herself to the idea of a whole night without seeing her friend and now he was here. She wanted to put a pause on the celebratory emotions until they'd discerned why he was there at all so in an effort to figure things out she started on her default - asking a long string of questions. "Were you being chased? Did I forget something at the ball? Did you just miss me that much? Are we going on night-time runs now? Are you waiting for Bronte? Because if so, you beat her here." Mentioning Bronte made her throat feel thicker and she had to stop her line of questioning for a second, her train of thought lost. "Um, or, do you need to say something?" she finished lamely, figuring the fastest way of collecting the answers she needed was just to let her friend tell her for himself.

Tristan’s hand was poised and raised, ready to do their special knock a third time, when the door swung open and the sight of Dallas long out of her dress from the dance greeted him. “How long have you been home?” he gasped, realizing it must have been a while. Tristan felt a pang of guilt at just how little attention he’d paid to her that evening — but why? He’d done nothing wrong, he was someone else’s date and the two of them had other friends, no matter how rarely they spent time with them without each other. Usually Tristan liked things that made sense, that could be explained by logic, but his extreme negative feelings towards not seeing Dallas even a little bit during what some would consider a major social event of the year just didn’t sit well with him. He was too winded to say much, though; he accepted her invite to come inside, wheezing slightly as he tried to laugh at her comments about the danger he was in. He kind of loved that about Dallas, the way she considered all angles, even the most over the top of medical extremes — and as fun as Bronte had been, he was sure that Dallas would have offered a lot more insight on how likely someone was to get injured doing the chicken dance, or why the oddest of pairs seemed to be kissing in plain sight when clandestine locations supposedly made situations like those more romantic. Still catching his breath, Tristan shook his head at the verbal line of questioning from Dallas that had replaced his own mental one. He even shook his head at the one about missing her, because that wasn’t the right word for it, was it? “I had fun… or at least, I thought I did.” Tristan wrung his hands together, admitting, “I’m not sure why I’m here. It just… didn’t feel right, when they called the last dance out and I hadn’t seen you at all. It just felt like this was where I should be instead.” Tristan knew that he was thinking with his heart instead of his brain in this moment, but what was it telling him? What did it want him to know? If he couldn’t answer that, maybe Dallas could; she was the smartest person he knew, four hours apart couldn’t change that. “What does it mean that I was with a cool girl, having fun at a dance that’s all about dates, and I had the chance to spend the lat dance with her — arguably the most romantic dance of them all? — but instead I wanted to see you?”

Dallas shrugged, biting her lip. "Less than the length of a movie. If I had to guess, perhaps thirty to forty minutes." She felt guilty now about leaving the dance without saying goodbye to him, but why? It was better for Tristan that she hadn't brought him down with her obvious sadness! From what she'd seen of him out there on the dance floor, he looked like any other kid in their school, albeit one she'd do anything for, and he deserved that. To not be the one people shied away from because they were the nosy science kids, but to just be one of everyone else and have fun like a normal person; he didn't need his weird friend there to weirdly make things weird like she always did. But he was here now, so maybe he did need her, just a little bit. Dallas could handle him needing her just a little bit. It hurt her to think that maybe he didn't need her at all, because she needed him and if she hadn't known it before, the way her heart felt like whining out-loud when he shook his head to the idea of missing her spoke volumes. She was only glad he couldn't hear it and that her heart, however loud and insistent it was becoming lately, was still only just an organ that couldn't speak because it wanted to tell him everything. It was nonsensical and wouldn't help, but the heart wanted what it wanted. And Tristan's heart had wanted to be here, with her. That could mean something or it could've just been wishful thinking. She had to consider that a possibility. She watched him and waited for more information with large, expectant eyes and she didn't even realize she was holding her breath until he said the word 'romantic' and she inhaled even more air, feeling a little light-headed. "Well. It could mean a number of things," she said slowly, gathering all the courage she possessed in her five-foot-tall body as she met her friend's gaze. "To help narrow it down, I could ask you some questions and you could give me your honest answers." Her mouth went dry, but she licked her lips in order to continue. She couldn't stop now, not when she was so close to finally telling him everything. Once it was said and done, she'd worried about how to deal if it turned out he didn't feel the same or that she'd scared him off, but right now she just needed to say it . "Do you feel anything when I tell you that I left the dance early because I was jealous that you were with another girl? That I asked you to be mean to me because every time you're nice to me it reminds me that I like you too much? And does it make a difference if I clarify that 'liking you too much' means liking you as more than just a friend?"

Tristan nodded his head slowly when Dallas said she could ask him questions to help him clarify what exactly it was he was feeling. A lot of confusion had been swirling around him since the moment he'd realized he'd been paired with Bronte and not Dallas; he'd had to do a lot of mental reshuffling, to change all of his expectations of his evening in a matter of seconds. But science was all about having expectations, wasn't it? And his mind was in turmoil now that all his expectations had been defied. "Questions sound great," he told her, although he'd expected her line of questioning to be... different, somehow. About Bronte, maybe, or the institutions of Valentine's Day and dances as a whole. Instead, he found himself faced with questions about Dallas, and her feelings, and it was like tiny gears were turning in his head, building up an answer that should have been so clear but had somehow eluded him. Tristan bit down on his lower lip, not sure why his palms were suddenly sweaty and his heartbeat, which had been so calm just a few moments ago, almost back to normal, was now going faster than it had been even during his sprint here. "I feel... silly, for not realizing that's why you wanted me to treat you that way," he said slowly, carefully. Feelings were unfamiliar territory; feelings were something he wanted to treat with great care, no matter whose they were, but Dallas was his person, in every way he'd ever imagined prior to this. Was she perhaps his person in the romantic sense, too? Her feelings had always been the most important thing to him, after all; he didn't want to do anything to upset them before he'd even figured out what it really meant for them. "And I've never... minded, when people assumed that you were my girlfriend. I just thought I was limiting your options, I never realized that you might..." He swallowed hard, a whole world of options he'd never considered racing through his mind. They'd always liked to consider every scenario in such depth; why had he not thought through this one? What had Dallas considered about it that made her think that it was the right idea, that he hadn't had time to catch up with yet? He wasn't sure what to do next, but their research showed that emotional sparks were meant to  be accompanied with physical ones. Nervously, Tristan asked her to do the one thing that he could think of in that moment. "What would you say if I proposed we... did an experiment? Usually the first step towards realizing if romantic affection is truth or just fantasy is to... test it, physically. Would it be all right if I kissed you now, to see if these um -- physical reactions I'm experiencing elevate even more?"

"Not as silly as I feel for not just telling you," Dallas admitted quickly, her words spilling out like she'd been holding them in for ages. "It wasn't because I didn't want to tell you because of course I wanted to tell you, I want to tell you everything, but I wasn't sure if my feelings were what I assumed they were in the beginning. I thought the jealousy could stem from other sources or that I was just projecting what everybody said about us being more than friends, and more evidence was needed to be conclusive and by the time I got enough I was just overwhelmed. And then it felt like you minded being called boyfriend and girlfriend and I took that as proof that you wouldn't want to be and so I tried to get rid of what I was feeling but - " Dallas cut herself off from speaking a mile a minute to breathe, shaking her head in lieu of using words to convey that no, her feelings had not gone away. Not for a moment. Even so, she was strangely calm for someone spilling her guts to her crush. She even had the momentarily mental calm to inwardly laugh at their different speaking speeds, but she supposed it came from the calm that Tristan could always bring her; as soon as they started working on a project together it was like she could breathe knowing she wasn't in it alone. Now, no matter what Tristan did or didn't feel towards her, she wasn't alone. She let him ruminate for a while, watching him curiously to try to gauge his reaction to all this new information. Was he flattered? Disgusted? Confused? Happy? The only emotion she could really detect was nervous, and it appeared that those nerves were contagious - the second the word 'experiment' left his lips, Dallas's palms grew sweaty. She had to wipe them on the side of her sweats as she listened to the rest of his question, her breath frozen in her throat as it dawned on her that this was her chance to kiss her best friend. She didn't even have time to think it over before a loud "Yes!" came out of her mouth, all too eager. Dallas cleared her throat, tucking her hair behind her ears to keep her hands from fidgeting. "I mean, um, yes, it would be very all right. It would be more than all right, actually, it would be a very prudent idea, fellow researcher," she chuckled nervously, raising her shoulders to her ears for a second before dropping them and letting out an exhale. "I approve of this plan. You may proceed. Or, well, I suppose we should get closer first?" It came out as a question, because she truly didn't know, but they'd come too far for Dallas to walk away now. Taking a breath, Dallas took one step towards her friend, her heart beating so loudly now that it threatened to deafen her and she felt she needed to say something or she might explode. "Tristan? No matter what happens here, you're my best friend." Her voice came out quieter now, calmer. This didn't need to be rushed. It just needed to be said. "The goal of this experiment is merely to test if anything beyond our base best friendship exists, thus its results cannot change what we know to be true. That it's you and me," she breathed, licking her lips subconsciously as she looked up into the eyes of the boy that hadn't left her head since she'd met him, giving a final nod as confirmation that she was ready for whatever came next as long as they faced it together.

“Actually, scientific studies indicate that most people our age have a fear of telling their crushes about their true feelings. Perhaps it’s because teenagers fear rejection, or aren’t ready to cope with change… Maybe… maybe this is going to change everything,” Tristan stumbled over the words, not sure if he liked the idea of that or not. The nerves intensified, and for a second he wondered if asking if he could kiss her was the wrong move. But they were always in sync, Tristan and Dallas; everyone knew it, and no one moreso than Dallas. Her comment about how they were friends first, no matter what happened, and how nothing would change that, put his mind at ease, and he nodded. “You and me forever, no matter what,” he promised her, nodding his head in agreement with the logic and the facts she was providing for him… but science wasn’t the reason he believed it. Maybe tonight was showing him that science wasn’t the answer to everything after all. “And not just because the facts say so, but because… my heart says so. Because life is better when you’re in it, and no matter what happens next, I’ll always believe that,” Tristan promised her, inching closer to her with every word until finally the tips of his shoes were touching the tips of her toes, and Tristan was swallowing the lump in his throat. He’d been kissed once before, but it hadn’t… meant anything. He already felt more just having Dallas in his space like this, in this new and different way, than he ever had at Halloween when someone else’s lips were on his. Hesitantly, still a little unsure how this would turn out, Tristan tipped his head down towards Dallas’s and let his lips brush against hers.

Hearing Tristan agree was more of a comfort to Dallas than any of the facts she'd presented to comfort them before what might be the biggest game-changer in their friendship. It was impossible to prove that they would stand by each other no matter what - there was no evidence that suggested their camaraderie would last forever - but somehow she'd always believed they would. And when it was Tristan who brought up his heart and the idea of faith in something as intangible as the power of their bond, it made her feel more than any experiment ever had. She didn't think she'd ever felt this much, period. There was crackly electricity running through her, from where she felt his shoes against her toes all the way up to her lips which buzzed as if they knew what was coming. She'd never been close to Tristan like this before and she knew the way she felt was subjective and inconclusive, but there was nothing inconclusive about the way her gaze flicked from his eyes to his lips and back again. And then in an instant  she had the answer she'd been hoping for. This was where she was supposed to be. This was what all the fuss was about. It felt like an out-of-body experience simultaneously mixed with the most aware of anything that she’d ever been and she knew instantly that she hoped this wasn't their last kiss. His lips were soft and they felt light on hers which was ironic, given the gravity of the situation. She lifted herself slightly onto her tip-toes and got closer, resting her hands and forearms against his chest to steady herself. She wondered if their tendency to be on the same page meant he too felt this intense calm, this same happy hum that drowned out all the millions of questions that lingered at the edge of every situation. She'd have to ask him to know for sure but for her, the kiss only served to reinforce what she'd been figuring out: she loved Tristan Dupont. She always had. She loved him in every way that she knew how to love another person.

Tristan hadn’t had time to really think about what he was doing when he’d been kissed before, but he’d assume that when the moment ever arose again, he’d overthink it. Worry too much about technique and the science of what a person should be feeling or doing, worry about all the theoretical situations that would evolve either during or after the kiss… but it didn’t feel that way with Dallas. Somehow, it all felt natural, like everyone in Walt had had the right idea and they had always been destined to share this moment. Later, Tristan wouldn’t be able to write down whether the sensation in his stomach had been more like butterflies or knots; he wouldn’t know whether his heartbeat sped up to an impossibly high rate, or whether he was frozen in time, and his whole body was slowing down. All he would know was that the feeling that had started to come over him when he’d realized that he wouldn’t get to spend any of Valentine’s Day with Dallas was elevated; morphed into a deeper understanding of what might always have been there, just out of reach, just beyond comprehension. Tristan had always known that Dallas was his future — and that should have tipped him off? He’d never considered her a part, but the whole instead, and as he pulled back from her, his lips still parted, his eyes blinking open until they were wide and awestruck, he at least knew one thing that he’d be able to write down: that this was the moment that everything changed. He glanced down at his watch, or else he might have stared at Dallas forever, simply amazed at what had been right in front of him for so long without him even knowing, and took note of the time. “11:03 pm, February 17th, 2018, at 4533 Spindle Street, I believe we had our biggest breakthrough in our love research to date,” he said sheepishly, and though he knew that he wanted to kiss her again sometime, right now he simply wrapped her in a hug, feeling the warmth of her small body tucked against him, experiencing a familiar motion with an entirely new layer added to it. “I’m sorry that I kept you waiting. You always did tend to understand big concepts earlier than I.”

Dallas almost let out a sigh of utter contentment when Tristan finally pulled away, her eyes still closed as if not wanting the moment to end. She couldn’t stay there forever though and her eyes fluttered open in anticipation of what she would see on his face. She thought maybe she saw the same adoration in his gaze that she felt in her own when she looked at him but it was hard to tell when her own heart still felt ridiculously and distractingly full and almost aching at the sight of his familiar high cheekbones and gemstone eyes. And then he said the most perfect sentence she’d ever heard in her life and all Dallas could do was smile, smile and almost giggle with how amazing it felt to be on the same page again. “I’ll write it down later,” she promised, although she knew they both knew that wasn’t the big deal here. The big deal was this. It was them. Her arms responded to the hug immediately, meeting around his torso. She felt downright tiny in Tristan’s arms with her head barely making it to his chest and shoulders but it didn’t matter because she felt safe. She felt safe and happy and at peace, like she always had around him and like what she imagined she always would. “And you always did tend to make concepts easier for me to understand,” she replied dreamily, “and I never would’ve understood this if it wasn’t for you, so thank you. For showing me that I’ve had a better grasp on what love means that I might have realized before.” She paused then looked up at him quizzically. “Did we just become a couple? Is that how that happens? Does this update in feelings come with an automatic update in our classification of each other? I ask because it’s fun to ask, by the way,” Dallas clarified with a smile on her face, “and not because I have any doubts in my mind. You’re actually what I feel the most sure about most of the time, and I know that you’re my person. At this point, a new label would be nothing more than a technicality.”

Tristan’s mouth turned up into a real smile at Dallas’s words, although he was sure the more they established their new dynamic, the more he’d have that dazed look of adoration on his face again. “It comes as no surprise that we’ve always balanced each other out; we’re the perfect team, after all,” he said, cradling Dallas close to him, glad that they could hug like this and it wasn’t confusing or upsetting Dallas anymore to be close to him without her feelings being reciprocated. They were; their kiss had proven that they very much were, and Tristan only nodded his head vigorously in response to her question. “I think it happens differently for everyone, actually, based on the information that we’ve collected, but it happening this way feels right for us, I’d think. Still… it might be fun to compare it to our previously gathered data, don’t you think?” Tristan asked her, glancing in towards her living room where her movie was still playing. “Were you very invested in what you were watching? Maybe we could spend the rest of our first night as a couple going through our study — seeing all the signs we missed that we fit onto the higher end of the love scale,” Tristan teased, pressing a quick kiss to the top of Dallas’s hair. Because they did that now; he’d always recoiled from touching back home, but Dallas had been the first person to change all that. Would they be the type of couple who were casually affectionate regularly? Would it be in public or private only? There was so much to learn about what their new dynamic would hold, but one thing was for certain: Tristan had never been more excited to learn something new in his entire life.

[interview-quotes]

What It's Really Like to Be a Disney Princess

By Michelle Ruiz (September 9, 2014)

Growing up, I was always the smart girl. I was valedictorian of my high school class, but deep down I always wanted to be an actress. There were no opportunities in the small town where I'm from, until one day, when I was in college and a commercial came on the radio saying, "You could be a Disney princess!"

My best friend had just passed away two weeks before. I was in a really bad place and wanted to drop out of school anyway. I went to the audition in my hometown in flip-flops and gauchos, and I was surrounded by musical theater girls stretching and practicing dance moves. I was completely out of my league. They taught us a cheesy dance — I remember a ballet move that was like holding a beach ball. I was pretty sure I was out because I'm a terrible dancer, but then they called my number. I was shocked.

They sent me to hair and makeup and put a Belle wig on me, then had me read the part from Beauty and the Beast when Belle is talking about her papa. I could imitate her high-pitched voice pretty easily. The casting lady was like, "OMG, that was fantastic!" She didn't even say that I was hired. She just went straight into, "So, typically we order contacts for our girls and make sure your roots are done." I later learned you can't work at Disney if your hair isn't "Disney standard" — part of that was no roots. They handed me a piece of paper and said, "In order to get the relocation package, you have to move to Orlando by the end of the month."

So I dropped out of college and went to Disney World. To start in any character role, you have to go through training for the "fur characters," like Goofy or Mickey. I did Chip and Dale for two weeks — and it was really exhausting. The costumes have no ventilation and you sweat out a ton of water in the Florida sun. There are certain heat indexes that allow for shorter "sets" out in the parks, but some people pass out because it's so hot inside the costumes.

I learned that the fur characters hated the face characters, the princesses and princes who show their real faces, because the face characters make more money. Back at home, I was working at 7-Eleven making $11.25 an hour. At Disney, when I started, it was $7.15 an hour with a face character premium of $2.50 an hour. So, $9.65 an hour — not great, but you go through a whole training where they show you all these mushy movies about Walt Disney and his life just to make you feel like, "OMG, I really love this company!" And the perks are pretty fantastic: 40 percent off at Disney stores, 50 percent off the cruises, 40 percent off food in all the parks and free passes for your friends and family. A lot of people stay for the perks.

I moved on to princess training, which was about a four-day process. I watched Beauty and the Beast with a trainer and spied on girls greeting guests as Belle in the France pavilion of Epcot. I did worksheets about Belle — "Who's her favorite person?" "Maurice!" Ironically, I didn't really like Beauty and the Beast that much as a kid; I thought it was really dark. But watching it a ton for the job, I connected to the song about how Belle wants to get out of her small town and thinks that there's got to be more to life — that's exactly the type of stuff I was writing in my journal. And she's the only princess that really shows that academics are a good thing and there's no reason to be a damsel in distress. I started to really love her.

I got a crash course in Belle makeup from the cosmetics or "cosmo" team, because the princesses have to learn to do their own makeup. They check your makeup and sign off on you before you go out "on set," which is what we called the different locations at the parks. All of the princesses sit in cosmo together getting ready. They ordered brown contacts to change my eyes and a brown wig. Some girls were jealous because I was allowed more freedom with my makeup because I already naturally looked so much like Belle. I realized why it didn't matter that I couldn't dance — everyone just kept saying, "Wow, you look just like the cartoon."

Most of the drama in cosmo happens when someone gets disapproved, or not allowed to go out on set. One girl got disapproved because her arms got too chubby. Another girl had a very bad acne breakout all over her face, and they disapproved her. Then everyone talks about whether she should or shouldn't have been disapproved — it's awkward. Some of the princesses did cleanses to stay fit; a lot the girls were naturally thin. We'd go to the gym after work or do workout videos together during our breaks. The fur characters are running around all day so they can eat crap like funnel cakes. The refrigerator in our break room was literally Lean Cuisines and those sugar-free Jell-Os with 10 calories.

I'd never been popular before; suddenly I was a literal princess. I was Belle for six, sometimes seven, days a week, all day, at Epcot and Magic Kingdom. Kids would line up to take pictures with me, or I'd be part of a parade in a huge, glittering ball gown. It was prestigious to be Belle — she and Cinderella are the two top princesses at Disney.A ton of girls are hired for their roles, and they're stationed at the most locations. Ariel's a good one too, but she isn't in as many locations and neither is Mulan. Pocahontas and Jasmine aren't out very much at all. One of my friends was white, but she's very, very tan, and she does Pocahontas.

It was a lot of fun, but emotionally, it was tolling. You have to smile for an hour straight; you can't drop your smile until you go on break and are behind closed doors because Disney doesn't want any pictures of us not smiling. The first few weeks, my face literally hurt. But I really love kids, and it was amazing to have kids that were really into Belle coming up to me, and I would just make up this elaborate story about waking up that morning and having oatmeal with the Beast.

We couldn't spend too much time playing with the kids though, because we had to greet 172 guests per hour. Disney decided that was the magic number. An attendant would have a clicker to count the number of people we met, and if we went under, we would get a reprimand. If you get four reprimands, you get fired. It sucked to have a really sweet kid that's waited in line for three hours come up all excited and have to say, "OK, let's hurry and take our photo" and shove them out the door. When they left the room where we greeted kids at Toontown, they went straight into a massive princess store. I think Disney felt like, "Well, we want them out of the room and into the princess store to buy some stuff."

The one time that I got really, really angry at work was one of the only days that was actually really cold in Florida — so cold you could see your breath. I had to stand in a doorway welcoming guests into a restaurant at Epcot in a sleeveless formal dress that was supposed to have a coat that came with it. I was freezing and my eyes were watering, but the location managers wouldn't let me go get my coat. When I went on my break to go pull the coat from the costume department, it was gone. I guess they'd hidden it. I started bawling. I had to take pictures with kids in the freezing cold, crying. Later, I was talking to the photographers, and they told me that that restaurant sold the photos of Belle and the guests for, like, $35 — and when Belle was wearing the coat, they sell 30 percent less pictures.

Another tricky thing was the creepy dads who would whisper in my ear when their kids were taking pictures with me. They'd say, "When the Beast goes to bed, I'll be waiting for you in the library." All I could think was, God, I'd hate to be your wife. I couldn't break character, but I would always address it and say something like, "Um, I go to bed when the Beast goes to bed." One of my friends, an Aurora from Sleeping Beauty, her skirt was unzipped and one of the dads stuck his hand in the zipper. Luckily there are petticoats underneath, but he was totally feeling her butt outside of the petticoat.

But amazing stuff happens too. My absolute favorite thing was meeting the Make-A-Wish Foundation kids. Belle would be in her village dress and ride the carousel or have breakfast with kids in their last months of life. They were so excited and amazed, and behind them were parents just falling apart. Their child is dying, but their child that's dying is incredibly happy at that moment. It's a very strange feeling — complete joy mixed with complete heartbreak. Things like that made me happy to be Belle, especially after losing my friend and being so miserable at home.

I met really good friends being a princess. We came from all over the country and had no one, so we all bonded really quickly and really strongly. My best friends were an Aurora and a Cinderella. Underneath Magic Kingdom, there's a really smelly concrete tunnel system — we would walk through the tunnels joking that we were like the three Mean Girls, just Cinderella, Belle, and Aurora marching down the hall.

We weren't finding romance at work, because most of the guys were gay. I don't remember any specific gay romances, but I'm sure there were. Prince Charming might have been hooking up with Prince Eric. My roommates were gay and dancers at Animal Kingdom. We spent many nights hanging out in our apartment watching classic Disney movies like Dumbo together.

They call it the "Disney bubble" — you listen to the soundtracks on your way to work and watch the movies at home. Even when we weren't working, a lot of times we'd just go into the park and watch the fireworks or watch Tinkerbell come down from the castle. Sometimes we would go get drinks at Animal Kingdom. Looking back, I was there for three years and I went to the beach once. Disney just draws you in.

After three years as Belle, I started to feel like I was in limbo. I didn't finish college. I didn't know what I was going to do next in my life. I still wanted to be an actress, and there's no market in Florida. I took a trip to a bigger city for an acting intensive, and my teachers told me I could have a real shot if I moved and started auditioning. I decided to give Disney my three-week notice. I gave them notice but said I still wanted to do a few shifts every year — back then, all you had to do was work five shifts a year to keep the Disney perks.

When I came back to Florida not long after leaving to pick up a few shifts, the casting department called me and said, "We need to speak with you about your role." I went to meet with them and they asked me how things were going with my move and if I planned to stay away for a long time. I said it was going great, and I was excited to be pursuing acting. I didn't realize I was being baited. They had me dress up as Belle, and I came back in and they were like, "We've just been noticing that your mouth is very different than all the other girls." It was the most bizarre thing ever, and it very clearly had nothing to do with my mouth. If my mouth was that big of an issue, they wouldn't have paid for me to move to Florida and be Belle in the first place. It was merely about the fact that I wasn't going to be there working every week, and they didn't want to dole out perks to another person like that. I got canned — and it hurt.

The shelf life of a Disney princess really depends. A lot of girls take themselves out before casting has to. People go on to work in musical theater at local playhouses or be teachers or do princess parties. Some never want to leave; as soon as they get disapproved, they just want to become a princess trainer so they still get to be part of the magic.

There's a little bit of bitterness for the princesses as they get older. I just got back from Florida actually, and seeing all the new girls, it sucks. People used to be that excited to see me, and cry to see me, and now it's these little girls who don't even have as much integrity as we used to have. We used to only speak words that princesses hundreds of years ago would speak. We wouldn't say, "Oh, those are cute shoes," or, "Oh my gosh." Princesses didn't say that. They would say, "Oh my goodness," or, "Oh, how wonderful."

Now that I live in a big city, it's a bit of culture shock. I still smile at everyone, even the guys who catcall me. I probably come across as such a naive idiot, but it's from being at Disney for three years, and being around people that all speak with such pep and optimism and watch Disney movies in their spare time. Smiling all day just makes you believe that everything's fine. It didn't occur to me that I would miss it as much as I do.

Nothing big has happened for me as an actress so far. I'm also working on getting my college degree. Despite some of my issues with Disney, I'm super glad I got to be a princess. I've gone to auditions where people have been like, "I think I have a picture with you as Belle!" It blows people's minds when I tell them. I don't want people to think I'm bragging. I say that I lived in Orlando and then they pry some more and I'm like, "I was Belle," and they're like, "Oh my gosh, that's so cool. And weird." When I tell guys, they think it's really cute.

[trentjmahoneyuwrfeng200-blog]

Turning Air Into Gold

“Turning Air Into Gold.”

                                                                                   By Trent J. Mahoney

 “Was he your brother?”

           It’s such a simple question; until only recently, I would have been able to produce a simple answer. Truthfully, that was the same question that had crossed my mind more than once this year. But now things were much different, it would be a travesty to plead ignorance and believe that they weren’t. How did it ever come to this? Christ, the first time I ever met him feels like only last week to me.

           I can remember everything about that day, as if it were the most important day of my life.

Thunder split the sky; rain water poured down the street, and gushed into a nearby sewer drain like it too was trying to escape this dreaded town. I jumped over the turbulent gutter river, and ran to the front doors of the high school. Upon entering, to my joyous surprise, the high school lobby was as silent as the grave; a much-welcomed noise when compared to the typical high pitched hum of gossip and rumors. Then out of the corner of my eye, I notice a figure, a divine figure, Jessie Staple’s figure. She had been my deepest desire, ever since I first laid eyes on her when I arrived in that shit-hole town, more commonly referred to as “Greenwood.” I did my best to look appealing; struggling to form a tremulous fabricated smile, and exhibit a pathetic wave. Unfortunately, Jessie had already spotted me and consequently made the deliberate motion to not look at me.

           Heartbroken and full of teenage angst, as I walked to my locker, I had made up my idiotic mind; I was going to write the most beautiful love-note that a misunderstood outsider of a teenager ever did write to the girl of his dreams. I was the teenager that thought himself much smarter and infinitely cleverer than my fellow pupils; so, it didn’t matter that I wasn’t one of the cool kid’s or even that I wasn’t that much of an athlete. Obviously, once she read the note that I had already began formulating in my horribly misguided brain, she was going to see me for who I truly was and then consequently she would fall head over heels in love with me. Once I had retrieved my thought provoking homework, a “word find” for Spanish class, I walked hastily toward the nearest exit doors, when the growing sound of laughter became wretchedly more apparent to me.

Without breaking stride for even a broken heartbeat, I peered into the hallway perpendicular to me, so that I too could observe what was evidently very comical to a modest sized gaggle of football players. They were in their “nonchalant-passive-aggressive-ridicule” formation, honking and hissing at a boy of about my height; but still worlds shorter than the testosterone gang.

“Ask him again Derek!” one underling honked to the “mother goose,” trying to repress his annoying, deep laughter.

“Alright, just so we're sure we didn’t misunderstand you ‘buddy,’ what’s your name again?” the brutish leader inquired, with a disturbingly calm demeanor.  

As I had started to avert my gaze, wanting nothing to do with the miss-fortune of a total stranger, something extraordinary caught my eye. A smile, not a “beak-ish” smile, which had been forged at the expense of another’s suffering. It was an innocent smile, like that of a child; a smile which held no lies or malice. Why is he smiling like that? I recall pondering; regrettably, the thought had come to me with a great sense of anger. Angry, as if it were the boy’s intention to make me feel rotten for caring more about my important problems, than his common high-school encounter with bullies. Disgusted with what I had seen, or perhaps with myself; I veered toward the men’s restroom which would provide me with sanctuary from the pecking of the football players, and allow me to walk home without constantly looking behind my shoulder for the ever so aggressive “flying-v” formation.  

Before I could escape to the lavatory, I heard it. A loud and triumphant yawp, as if Walt Whitman himself were making an undeniable declaration from the very rooftops of the world.

“Iam’me Haffmain!!” boomed barbarically through the corridors of Greenwood High.

The broken English sounded strangely deliberate, and though I could no longer see the boy, there was no doubt in my mind that he had spoken those words with every ounce of his heart behind them.

But the boy’s glory was short lived, as it was smothered by the thunderous cackling of the football players.

“I Amy Half-man!” a heard one jest, in what sounded to me like a “Tarzan” impersonation.

An idiotic joke. Still, it caused the entire gaggle to burst into laughter, despite the fact that the boy had clearly meant “I am me, Hoffman.”

“Alright boy’s let’s leave the little pussy to his ‘golf practice,’ lord knows he is going to need it if he ever wants to make it to the women’s PGA. Besides we gotta pick up the girls in like, fifteen.” mother goose ordered.

His acolytes adoringly giggled at what seemed to me to be a totally random and strange joke to precede a serious demand. Puzzled, I nearly had failed to notice that the “flying-v” was headed my way. I quickened my pace, and slunk into the men’s restroom like a philosopher desperately clinging to shadows cast upon a cave wall, rather than see the light of day.  

“I Amy Half-man.” Derek had repeated, pausing for a moment to laugh, and to finish constructing his next gift to mankind in the form of ingenious comedy.

“Half man, half cripple, half retard; one-hundred percent hilarious!”  Derek exclaimed with great pride.

While I was shocked that someone would even refer to anything as having three halves, the rest of Derek’s loyal gaggle found it extremely brilliant. They all continued to laugh absurdly loud for almost twenty seconds straight. I could hear them basking in their own greatness and cleverness until they exited the lobby, and I’m sure they carried on laughing long after that.

Although my hands were clean, I washed them furiously in the sink anyway just to be sure that they were indeed, absolutely clean. I exited the bathroom confident that I had done what anyone else would do, and thus rationalizing in my selfish teenage mind that I was not at any fault. As I entered the lobby, my logical thinking was shattered by the faint sound of humming. It was the boy. “Iam’me.”

He didn’t so much walk as he did hobble, his right leg had a slight limp; yet if you were to look at his body moving collectively, he seemed to have a strange spring in his step. In fact, if I had not heard him speak just moments earlier, I wouldn’t have thought he was handicap at all. As he waddled toward the exit, I continued to unravel Derek’s joke, curiously inspecting the paradox that moved before my very eyes. He wielded an old golf club, it looked like an archaic “four-iron,” something, one could safely assume hadn’t been used for its intended purpose for many decades. Despite its homely appearance, the boy showcased it proudly, leaving it slung over his shoulder like a knight who was heroically resting his blade after he had slain a terrible dragon. When he realized someone had exited the bathroom he immediately stopped, and turned his head to meet my sullen gaze. To my surprise, and undeserved relief, there was not any contempt in his eyes; I could not sense a single trace of ill-will about him. When, without any reason, an enormous grin quickly erupted across his face, and he whimsically gave me a grand wave with his arm fully extended and his hand loosely flailing in the air as if it were struggling to stay attached to his wrist. I was so in shock that all I gave back was a stare of amazement; with my jaw trying to escape my mouth because it too held much disbelief.  Then he turned to the exit; using his weapon to push open the door, the boy began to hum cheerfully again. The door shut behind him, and I instantly fell back to reality, realizing that the knucklehead was walking right into the tempest while holding a metal golf club! And though the rain had ceased, the lighting was still as violent as ever.

Before going after him, I hesitated, and questioned if the bastard had some kind of death wish, or if he actually was that clueless.

           Miraculously, Iam’me had traveled a fair distance in what I was sure was only a matter of seconds. He was under a long line of maple trees nearly one-hundred yards away from the school; the trees, as I had come to understand, effectively acted as a divider between the soccer player’s turf and the football player’s territory. I walked slowly, and menacingly toward him; like a pissed off mother straight out of hell, who was willing to traverse the expanses of the universe to ensure her bastard of a son was chastised, and corrected. A loud blast of thunder echoed through the brisk Minnesota air.

           “BWOOSH!” Iam’me imitated; while he swung his club wildly at some acorns that had fallen on the wet grass, knocking several into the soccer field. I could feel my face swelling with anger.

           “Hey kid what--”

           God had interrupted my objection with another blast of thunder.

           “BWOOM!” he yelled happily, this time whacking a family of acorns into the football field.

           “Hey you! What the hell is your problem, if football players saw you doing that you would become their bitch literally! And if they didn’t get you the lighting just might…” I reprimanded angrily, as I grabbed the club from behind him while he was mid-swing. The boy spun around excitedly, still holding the acorn launcher with one hand.

           “Ehh Doo!!”

           I became speechless and stepped back in shock, not due to amazement, but because of fear. It’s not possible… how did he know my name was Drew? I frantically thought to myself.  

           “Doo o’gay?” the psychic inquired.

           I let out a harrowing sigh of relief; Iam’me had meant “you,” there was no such thing as psychics, and most importantly I was still the master of my own future.

           “I’m fine… what are you doing?” I restated, this time with less force.

           He grinned and proclaimed “Erryting deserbs suntine.” The smile was distinctly present even as he spoke.

           The brilliance of his justification almost escaped my narrow mind, but as I watched him begin to imitate thunder again, what he was doing became very clear. He was liberating the acorns from their parent’s chocking shadows, placing them in a brave new world of possibilities, his world; because in Iam’me’s world even acorns had hopes, even acorns deserved to chase their dreams. It was like he was turning air into gold. Out of the ever-dark sepulcher that is the real, unsympathetic world; he was able to easily create light, and more amazing yet, he did it with nothing but a rusty golf club. I was about to ask Iam’me of his real name, when he produced an unbalanced golf swing, which sent a few acorns on an unintended route up into the maples.

           The robin was still falling to the ground when I heard Iam’me let out a terrible cry of agony; ignoring the handicap of his gimp leg, Iam’me “ran” as fast as he could to aid the creature. But it was already too late. It began to rain again. As I slowly and cautiously walked to his side I could hear him sobbing; and in-between the tears I could hear him calling out to the already dead bird. Whimpering softly to it “No” and “comb ack” like an autistic child who was learning of death for the first time. He cradled the bird gently in his hands, and remained kneeling in the mud despite the rain. I’m sure he had forgotten all about the rain and all about me as well; to Iam’me there was only the bird now. If I had not said anything, I know he would have stayed in the mud and cried until he was as dead as that bird.

           “It’s dead, there’s nothing you can do…” I said apathetically.

           He peered just over his shoulder; remembering that I existed, he yelled “DOO WRUNG” loudly as he wiped his nose with his soaked sweatshirt sleeve.

           Then he rose to his feet and started to savagely strike the ground, tears still racing down his cheeks, he ineffectively struggled to use his club as a shovel. On any other day, if someone were to tell me that you can bury a dead bird in the ground and someday it will grow into a “bird tree,” I would have laughed and called that person insane. But not that day. Logic, reason, mathematics, everything that I so fervently had put my faith into; none of it mattered to me while I was helping him “plant” the bird in the ground.

           I decided to walk him home that night; it would have felt wrong to just let Iam’me wander aimlessly in the storm for hours. Although neither of us spoke a word the entire time, it was obvious that he was glad to have someone to share the journey with. He stopped at a small dilapidated hut of a house; the front lawn was extremely overgrown, and smack dab in the middle stood a wooden sign that conveyed a macabre message. Much of the sign’s paint had washed away; still, one phrase was horribly clear in my eyes. “Foster Home.” Lightning had forked across the sky once again, as if god were trying to dramatize the horror of it all. A great amount of guilt rushed over me, it wasn’t even a month earlier that I had been complaining to my parents about how crappy our new house in the suburbs was.

           “Wat’s yoo’r name?”  Iam’me asked me in what must have been his best attempt at talking like everyone else.

           “Drew.” I stated plainly.

           “Doo” he reiterated, giggling happily to himself.

           Then he raised a fist and his golf club both high above his head; just as triumphant and cheerful as always, he proclaimed “Iam’me!!!” Then he turned away from me, and happily strode into the run-down house humming a different, but still whimsical tune.

Relieved to be alone, I walked quickly down the sidewalk; as I passed by nice house after nice house, I demanded myself to forget about Iam’me. After all, I had to write the world’s greatest love note tonight; and I had felt strongly that I had already wasted far too much time helping other people with their problems.

It hadn’t taken me very long to compose the disastrous love letter; but it had taken me almost an entire week to work up the courage to give it to her. Of course, I didn’t personally give it to her; I had decided to give it to her through the ever so romantic gesture of slipping it into her locker. Looking back at it now I find the whole locker affair quite humorous, but back then I had thought it the most dreadful thing I could ever experience. Had I noticed Jessie Staples was already in route to her locker, I would not have even attempted to shove that small book through the slits in her locker. But I didn’t, and so I did. She had walked right behind me, and watched me struggle for god knows how long. I finally realized her presence when she cleared her throat; she must have thought my pathetic struggle was not even worthy of validating with words.  However, the horror that had struck me in that moment had made even the most basic of conscious actions impossible; when I tried to turn around to meet her gaze, I gracefully tripped myself and fell flat on the hard school floor. After that I wanted nothing more than to escape; despite all my effort that would be the closest I ever got to Jessie Staples. While I rose to my feet I didn’t even dare to look at her judging figure, being so embarrassingly close. So I simply said nothing, left the note haphazardly sticking out of the locker, and walked quickly toward the lobby exit with my head down in a futile attempt to hide my shame from everything and everyone.

The cool March sun hung lazily in the western sky, and to my great disbelief Iam’me was playing golf with acorns under the “boarder” trees once again. I had been avoiding him for that entire week at school, because I had thought that there was no way Jessie Staples would ever date the guy who was friends with the mentally handicapped kid at school. A belief that seemed pointless after the epic tragedy that had just occurred; but still I did not want to see Iam’me, so I darted behind the nearest car in the parking lot and stayed hidden from his sight. The sun had nearly set when Iam’me finally had finished spreading acorns evenly amongst the football and soccer field. He surveyed the fields for a final moment, immensely proud of the good he had done; then he triumphantly rested the golf club on his shoulder and began his long walk home.

Just as I had arisen from my hiding place, a boisterous uproar came stomping out of high school. It was mother goose and his goslings; I had turned away and started to walk toward the soccer fields, but it was already much too late. The first peon out the doors had spotted me trying to casually escape.

“Derek! There’s that kid!! He’s headed for the soccer fields!” He snorted franticly.

Over the large squadron of geese that poured out of the door’s, I unmistakably heard mother goose demand “After him!!” Indeed, I had started to run the second I heard the first one refer to me as “that kid;” but even on my best day I wouldn’t have had a shot of escaping Derek’s minions.

I had made it just inches short of the sidewalk when I was tackled to the ground by a goose in a letterman jacket. The sidewalk ran parallel to a busy interstate, but despite the fact that I was clearly being held down by four steroid enthusiasts, not one car had stopped to object for the entire duration. The threat was short, but Derek’s message was vividly clear.            

“Stay away from Jessie, ‘Romeo;’ I own her. And if your scrawny ass ever try’s to steal what belongs to me again… I’ll force you to eat your own finger.” He said, calmly hovering inches above my own face.

He pulled his face away from mine and stood up; for a brief second, I had thought that I had gotten away with nothing but a morose warning. But when Derek had begun to laugh; I could tell by the delight in that twisted laugh, that I wasn’t going to escape the gaggle unscathed.

“But just for kicks, and to make sure you don’t forget my promise to you; I’m afraid you’re going to have to eat dirt.” He hissed calmly.

Then the rest of the mob laughed excitedly as Derek grabbed a large hunk of dry dirt and spat on it. A fifth accomplice of his then held my nose shut and forced my mouth open, leaving me totally defenseless against the germ riddled dirt-pie. Laughing joyfully at my suffering, the other remaining players without a role had joined in; imitating their leader they kicked dirt in my face and hair until they had felt like big men. Finally, god and the rest of the bullies had had their fill, and left while laughing without a sliver of regret or empathy amongst them. As I began to rid my mouth of the grotesque mix between saliva and dirt, I reluctantly picked myself up from the ground. I stared at the passing cars, as if to judge the interstate as a collective entity which was guilty of neglect. Then, much to my dismay, I spotted Iam’me staring at me with a look of great concern from across the interstate.

            “Doo!!” He cried, over the hum of the interstate.

           I had quickly turned away, afraid that if he saw me looking distressed, he would undoubtedly do something irrational; but Iam’me was graced with irrationality since the day he first arrived on this planet. The cars, with defiant horns like brass trumpets, began to complain in absolute unison. I was already furious, and he hadn’t even made it safely across half the unwelcoming gauntlet of racing metal and distorted obscenities. I clinched my eyes together tightly, momentarily accepting that there was an idiot on the interstate who was moments away from death. I waited for the inevitable “screech-crash” of death to reach my ears; when suddenly I felt a pair of arms embrace me, and two hands quickly followed, which rested at the center of my ribcage.

           “Doo o’tay?” Iam’me whispered.

           Realizing the tremendous audacity of Iam’me, who was willing to risk even life just to confirm that I was alright; I began to cry. Ashamed that I had just moments ago came to accept the death of my superior so easily; I let the tears roll down my face effortlessly to wash away the mud and dust.  For the first time in a long time, on that memorable day, I cried for nearly ten minutes in the presence of another human. All the while Iam’me sang softly to me his own rendition of Neil Diamond’s “Sweet Caroline;” a performance, which had a power to soothe that was so pure, and so effective, that I never have found a word in existence that could capture its beauty in totality.

           From that moment on, for the rest of what remained of the ever-diminishing school year, me and Iam’me were best friends. In actuality, he may have been my only friend my entire life. However, as much as I loved Iam’me and the beautiful simplicity of his way, I had thought as a teenager that it would have never been enough for me; and so, I did what most smart people did and went to college.

           Iam’me had been shipped away to a “care home” in Chicago upon turning eighteen in the summer, while I headed to Boston in the Fall. Only god knows how sad he must have been without me or the maple trees; or really without everything that was so familiar to him, that he loved so much. I had made a conscious lie the last time I had seen him; for I had told him that I would call him as often as I found time to while I was away at school.

           The first time I had heard of Iam’me since he left for Chicago, was from a young lady who worked with death.

           She was a mortician who had called me while I was at your typical college party, she was asking for me to come verify the body of “Isaac Hoffman.” and stated coldly that I was his only listed emergency contact.  

           The people at the party may not have been able to notice. But as I drank, and stood puzzled, unraveling the mysterious request, the truth had hit me. Like a giant acorn bullet hit me right between the eyes.

           “What happened?!!?” I inquired hysterically.

           “I’m not allowed to tell you that sir… not unless your related to him… Was he your brother?” She boringly insinuated.

           “Yeah, I am his brother…” I lied after much hesitation.

           The mortician without much human emotion at all proceeded to describe to me the fate of my hero. Iam’me had found a group of homeless people and had tirelessly shuttled food and water from his home on the north end, to their slum on east Cicero St; almost a distance of twelve miles, that he traversed for nearly three days straight. He had collapsed to the ground long before he died, due to his gimp leg, but even unable to walk the mortician identified a great amount of "wear and tear" on his jeans, which according to her indicated that when he could no longer walk he had begun to crawl toward the needy homeless until he died of exhaustion. I left the party and bought the first ticket to Chicago, during the flight a million different thoughts raced through my mind; as the other passengers slept, blissfully unaware that the world had lost one of its kindest inhabitants.

           They'll be calling it suicide... What a joke, Iam'me couldn't knowingly do harm to anything or anyone, least of all himself... He didn't commit suicide; no, it was this world that killed him. It's so strange that now I can't help but think Derek had been right on one thing about Iam'me... He was one-hundred and fifty percent of a human.. fifty percent saint, fifty percent hero, fifty percent was devouted to everyone else... All while he never comprimised any aspect of who he was for second... It only makes sense that it would be inherently impossible for such a selfless individual as Iam'me to exist for long in such an unforgiving and greedy world... Damn, I wish I would have told him that... told him about how he made my world infinitely brighter just by existing..

           I land in Chicago, and walk immediately to the appropriate morgue. I looked at his cold dead body, the sight of seeing him so still and incapable of laughter makes me feel ill, and I vomit without warning all over the glassy floor of death. I gather his belongs from the mortician, including his rusty club, then quickly stop by the care home to pick up only a small box of raggy clothing. Done with business, finally I sit alone in my hotel room, the sound of honking and drunken laughter making it impossible to sleep.

           In the morning I arrive at the civil burial to see much to my amazement, an old man present, he is the only other attendant at the funeral. I walk beside him, and he friendly greets me, in response I am only able to wave. I place the golf club on the closed, homely coffin, and say good bye to the greatest person I’m sure I’ll ever know. As the workers erase all knowledge of him from the world; I suddenly am reminded of the day with the robin. As I think about planting the "bird tree" with Iam'me, the corners of my mouth start to migrate towards my ears as if driven by some irresistible force. I realize that perhaps for the first time I could remember, I was smiling uncontrollably; without an ounce of dishonesty, or any regard for who might see it.  

           "Was he your brother?" the old man asked in a raspy voice.

           I turn to get a second look at him, upon inspecting him further I deduce he is homeless; undoubtedly, he had known Iam'me.

           "Yeah... Yeah he was my brother," I responded with confidence.

           "Ha, I see the family resemblance."

           "Oh?" I question, now very intrigued.

           "Yeah." He laughs.

           "Yeah, you smile just like him."

                                     The End.