#but i am uninterested in having a life surrounded by them outside of being paid for it

[fansofvow]

Interview with Eve Golden Woods!

Many of you know who is Eve is. She's a writer and artist, a part of Dreamfeel studios whose beautiful game If Found won Best LGBTQ Narrative and Best LGBTQ Indie game at the first ever Gayming Awards presented by EA games. I am really excited I had the chance to ask Eve some questions about herself, her time at Lovestruck and her creative process.

Congratulations on the two Gayming Awards (Best LGBTQ Narrative, Best LGBTQ Indie Game) for "If Found" from your game studio, Dreamfeel. What was the inspiration behind making the game?

If Found... was a game that emerged out of a collaboration between Llaura McGee, the founder of Dreamfeel, and artist Liadh Young. Liadh's background is as a comic artist, and so when they started working together Llaura had the idea of showing off Liadh's art by making a diary game, and using an erasing mechanic she had previously developed to let the player move through the diary in a fun way. By the time I came on board at the start of 2019, the game had already been in development for a while, so in some ways my work on that game was similar to the work I did for Voltage, because it was taking existing characters and concepts and writing a lot of scripts for them. Unlike Voltage, though, my work for Dreamfeel was a lot more collaborative and I had a lot more creative input. I really enjoy taking something and helping to make it the best version of itself that it can possibly be, but I was also really happy that I got to reflect a lot of my own experiences in If Found. Llaura and I both grew up on the west coast of Ireland, and although If Found... isn't autobiographical for either of us, it was definitely really meaningful to be able to tell a story that reflected our own experiences of growing up as queer teens in a similar kind of environment. Since the game came out we've had fans reach out to us and tell us that they also connected to the experiences of the main characters, and as far as I'm concerned, that makes me feel like I achieved everything I wanted to.

You are a writer and a visual artist. Does one come easier to you than the other?

I used to think of art and writing as talents, and I always felt like my art was at a very mediocre level (that's probably still true, lol). So when I was younger I focused a lot more on writing. It was only later that I started genuinely trying to improve as an artist, but when I did, I think I had a much healthier mindset, and approached it as a skill I could learn with patience and effort. Because of that, even though I still have a lot more confidence in my writing, I find art more fun and relaxing, and I don't stress about it as much.

Did you always know you would follow a creative path?

Kind of? Both my parents are artists, and I grew up surrounded by artists and writers, so it was something that was always very familiar and accessible to me. On the other hand, I didn't exactly have a clear idea of how to make it into a career, or what kind of work would be involved. But there's never been a point in my life where I wasn't doing something creative, even if it was only writing fanfiction.

What did your path to working professionally as a writer/artist look like?

I did a creative writing masters in college, but after that I spent years teaching English as a second language. That was really fun and I got to live abroad, but it was so busy and tiring that I didn't have time to do any writing outside of the occasional fanfic. I only started to take art seriously again when I became interested in games and comics as ways of telling stories. I did some critical writing, which led me to speak at a few local events and get involved in zine fairs. That was how I met Llaura, the director and lead of the Dreamfeel studio, and it's also what gave me the confidence to start applying for actual writing jobs.

Is there any work of art, visual or written, that you look to for inspiration?

So many! I try to read and watch as widely as I can, although there are touchstones I always return to, like the works of Ursula Le Guin and Terry Pratchett. Right now I feel very passionate about the actual play podcast Friends at the Table, which manages to combine really thoughtful worldbuilding and storytelling with cool, fun characters and great action scenes. I'm also reading a book called The Memory Police by Youko Ogawa, which has extremely beautiful prose.

Do you have a favorite piece of your own art, whether it is something you’ve drawn, a screenshot of something you’ve written or something else?

My favourite piece of art is usually whatever I finished most recently (I think that's true for a lot of people). Especially with visual art, once a bit of time has gone by you look back on it and start to notice all your mistakes, which is very annoying. But actually I do still really like the first piece of Fiona fanart I did last year. I managed to use some effects to give it a kind of nineties anime quality that I find really fun, and I think it conveys an emotion pretty effectively. That's always one of the hardest things to predict with visual art, whether the different parts will come together to create the exact mood you're looking for.

I also really like the compass I did for Bycatch. Krissy (@xekstrin) was the one who suggested filling it with fingernails, which was such a good, gross idea! As soon as I heard that I knew it was perfect and that I had to try and draw it.

Many people who read this blog know you as a writer for Lovestruck. When you look back on your time there, what stands out in your mind?

Lovestruck was very important to me when I first started because it was my first ongoing, regular, paid writing work. It gave me a lot of confidence and helped me to get into the habit of writing consistently and rapidly, which is a really useful skill to have. I know I was right to leave when I did, though, because I am just brimming with energy to work on my own projects, and channeling that power into something that you can't control will always end up disappointing you. Also, I made a ton of incredible friends, through Lovestruck itself but then even more so through VOW (@vowtogether), and that is more than worth all the difficult parts.

Is there any character that you would have liked a crack at writing?

Oh gosh, what a fun question! There are so many, but one I do sometimes think about is Axia, just because I know there are a bunch of fans who want her route, and because I had fun writing her as a villain in Zain's route. I can see in my head the shadow of a storyline that takes place after Zain's route is over, where she's in prison and trying to understand how she lost the battle with Zain and MC. I think there's, like, a gap there, where you could see her downfall forcing her to reconsider her assumptions about power, and that could build into a very interesting redemption story. But maybe it's for the best I never got to do that, because I would have wanted full creative control over it, and also I think the story in my head is very different to the sexy, in control, menacing version of Axia that her fans enjoy.

Do you have any upcoming projects you can talk about?

Most of my current work is under NDA, but I will say that I'm doing something very exciting with other VOW members that we should be able to talk about soon(ish). Maybe I can even give a little teaser... It's not a game, but it is something you can read, and my part involves cakes, swamps, and a museum.

Do you have a favorite quote or song lyric?

It's a big long, but there's a section from The Dispossessed by Ursula le Guin that has stayed with me ever since I read it:

"For we each of us deserve everything, every luxury that was ever piled in the tombs of the dead kings, and we each of us deserve nothing, not a mouthful of bread in hunger. Have we not eaten while another starved? Will you punish us for that? Will you reward us for the virtue of starving while others ate? No man earns punishment, no man earns reward. Free your mind of the idea of deserving, the idea of earning, and you will begin to be able to think."

It's such a profoundly radical way of imagining the world, so different to everything I was raised with, but whenever I think about it I feel like I can see something very beautiful and powerful that I hope to come closer to understanding some day.

And of course, "Solidarity forever, the union makes us strong."

I was a big fan of the show Inside the Actor’s Studio. Host James Lipton asked every single guest the same 10 concluding questions. I’ve picked 3 of them:

-What is your favorite word?

My favourite word: for sound, I like words you can really roll around on your tongue. Chthonic, alabaster, insinuation. For meaning, I think simple words that encapsulate big concepts have a kind of power to them. We use them so often we forget how big they are, how much weight they really have, but they give us the space to imagine new possibilities. Love. Freedom. Revolution.

-What is your least favorite word?

I've heard that "moist" is a lot of people's least favourite word but it doesn't actually bother me. My least favourite word is probably one where I feel like the sound doesn't match the meaning. One of the Irish words for rain is báisteach, which I feel has a much weightier and more onomatopoeic sound than rain. Rain is just very flat and uninteresting.

-What profession other than your own would you like to attempt?

Oh, so many! I love history, and I think being a historian/archaeologist would be fascinating. Or something that had a physical component to it, like being a potter or a carpenter. I don't think I'd be any good, but I'd love to take the time to learn.

What would be your advice to anyone who wants to pursue a creative career?

All the work you do matters. Even the failed experiments, the things you hate when they're finished. It all helps to make you better. Also, creative career paths are often really unexpected, so chase any opportunity that seems remotely interesting. Don't work for free for anyone who can afford to pay, but work for yourself and put it somewhere. On a blog, twitter, whatever. You'd be amazed how many people get noticed and get offered opportunities because of something they made in their spare time. You'll probably have to work another job for a long time, so don't be hard on yourself if you're too tired to devote much energy to creative work. Try to make art consistently, but don't feel like that has to mean every day. Don't chase after celebrities. Make friends with your peers.

[roselen-mylady]

Kickin it old school

Bucky Barnes x Deadpool!Reader

What happenes when Bucky falls in love with Y/n, otherwise known as Deadpool, the famous Merc with a Mouth? Can he break down her walls and enter the chaos that is her heart? 

WARNING: Mature language and suggestive themes

It started with a giggle. A little inappropriate giggle, underlined with drunken crudeness. It was a giggle that was accompanied by a dark, lustful smile and an even darker gaze. It was the kinda giggle that came from a girl who had never quite done it but had done enough hand and mouth stuff to no longer be completely innocent. A timid but craving giggle. A nasty giggle. 

Valkyrie had come to the compound for a meeting, nothing more. But with Y/n’s insistence she stayed around for their daily training. They held it outside today, allowing Sam to practice some group maneuvers with his wings and his passed down shield. Valkyrie went easy at first, not yet knowing the extent of Y/n’s power or how much she could take. 

But soon Y/n’s dirty and foul comments became more irritating than amusing and without much thought she forced Y/n back, making her fly across the yard. It wouldn’t have been such a damaging fall, no Y/n had survived much worse. Yet the decorative fence surrounding the building was an unforgiving cushion and Y/n’s head was soon impaled upon one metal spike. If her mind wasn’t so foggy she might’ve made a joke about being like an overthrown king, whose head was then displayed throughout the kingdom on a pike.  

Thankfully Sam wasted no time in making the joke, much to Valkyrie’s horror. She had killed many beings in her time, a lot without any cause or honor but this was different. The object of training wasn’t to kill your opponent but rather to better them. However there Y/n was, unmoving and what appeared to be dead upon the lawn. 

“Gods.” Valkyrie’s muffled voice came to Y/n like a blur. Y/n twitched, doing her best to lift herself off the spike. It was metal and quite firmly attached to the rest of the fence so she knew she had to find a way to work herself up to the top. 

Then the giggle came. The sultry giggle Wade used to love. 

“Deadpool, are you alright?” Valkyrie questioned, but was met with no response as Y/n gazed around her, some cheesy 90s song that had been long lost in her subconscious now filling the air around her. Valkyrie stepped into view like an angel coming to rescue her and Y/n couldn’t help but reach out to her as the woman broke the spike and brought Y/n up into her arms. 

Valkyrie was relieved to hear Y/n couldn’t die though the rather annoyed way Sam said it was alarming. Y/n’s white lenses widened as she reached out for Valkyrie’s face, letting her gloved hand caress her skin. 

Sam emerged somewhere from behind but Y/n paid no mind, finding Valkyrie’s confused expression almost…sexy? She couldn’t think straight but for what she was going to do, she didn’t need to. 

Y/n accepted the music in her head and the image before her, bringing both hands up with two fingers pointing into Vs. Y/n wasted no time in making very indecent gestures, only furthering Valkyrie’s confusion. Y/n couldn’t even hear Sam’s mock disgust as her hand drifted to her mouth motioning a lick between her two fingers though her mask covered her mouth. 

Valkyrie looked back to Y/n with an amused but uninterested smile before another set of arms took hold of Y/n. The cool metal under her back was different from the metal in her head and she found herself leaning into it for comfort. A scent so familiar filtered through her mask and she inhaled deeply, enjoying it more than the smoke from her guns. 

Looking up she was met with Bucky, his kind blue eyes and even warmer expression sending chills through her high state. Very much like Valkyrie, he fell victim to Y/n’s sexual gestures, her palm forming a circle in front of her mouth as she bobbed it closer and closer to her face. He didn’t respond, at least not that she could tell in the disoriented state she was in, instead setting her down upon her feet. 

Taking that as a go ahead, she began to sink to her knees but before her fingers could begin to dig into his waistband, his metal fingers wrapped around the spike, yanking it harshly out of her skull. 

The music stopped instantly and everything went cold around her as she collapsed into the grass. She groaned, gripping her head as an agonizing headache tore through her brain. “Oh fuck!" 

"She’s back to normal. If you can even call her that.” Sam teased as Valkyrie stepped forward to check on Y/n. Bucky stood in front of them, closest to Y/n and she now took notice of the pink dusting his face and the uneasy shift of his hips. 

“How did you survive that?” Valkyrie questioned, curiously as Sam tugged the shield out of a poor nearby tree. 

Y/n shrugged lazily, rolling over onto her side to climb back to her feet, blood still pooling in the lawn beside her. “Can’t die. Headshots only make me loopy.” Y/n explained, circling her finger next to her head dramatically as she struggled to piece together any coherent thoughts. 

“Yes, so I gathered.” Valkyrie laughed, referring to Y/n’s lewd suggestions. Y/n only shrugged shamelessly. 

“Well, if you’re ever up for it, you know where I’m at. I’ll even let you stab me again if that’s what you’re into.” Y/n winked, missing Bucky’s slight frown as he started back toward the compound. 

She didn’t know he’d only come out upon hearing a sickening squish of her skull sinking down the spike. She didn’t know he’d rushed to the lawn and nearly had a heart attack when he saw her. Didn’t know that even though she was practically immortal he still feared for her life. Didn’t know he’d give his for hers in an instant. 

Valkyrie smiled at the offer but didn’t give a response instead leaving Y/n guessing. She liked it when they played hard to get anyways. 

“Dead, c'mere.” Sam called over causing Y/n to turn away from Valkyrie’s retreating figure. She made her way over to him, still dizzy from her brain repairing itself but managed to make it over to the tree where he’d instructed. 

“Try catching the shield, I don’t think I’m throwing it hard enough." 

Bucky froze at the request, already sensing what a terrible idea it was. Yet before he could even begin to object Y/n complied, bracing herself in preparation. 

"Wait." 

His words hung limply on his tongue, exactly what he feared would happen, happening the second he spoke. Sam yelled out an apology as Y/n yanked her hand out from under the shield where it had been pinned to the tree. 

She didn’t cry or scream in pain, instead giving a frustrated shout as she jerked herself back, ripping her finger off in the process. 

"Aw, pussyshit." 

•••

"Ha! Sam, look! Baby finger!” Y/n wiggled her tiny middle finger, thrusting it into Sam’s face. He recoiled in disgust, forcing away her hand. 

“Ew, no! I don’t wanna see that thing.” He cried, pushing her off his desk. Y/n shrieked as she tumbled to the ground, landing flat on her ass. 

“Shit.” She groaned a little, choosing to sprawl out instead, too lazy to get back up. “Come on! You’re the dumbass that chopped it off. Masturbating is going to suck ass! What the fuck am I supposed to do with this?” She pushed her hand forward once more, smirking as he spared it a cautious glance. Immediately Sam looked away again, shaking his head in distaste. 

Her hand fell against her stomach, her other hand coming to massage the little finger as it grew in. But before she could continue to terrorize Sam the automatic door slid open, heavy boots clambering into the room. 

“Y/n, what are you doing on the floor?” His deep voice sent familiar chills through her spine and she quickly sat up, trying with all her might to ignore the feeling. Bucky looked down at her, his brows furrowed in confusion as he nudged her leg softly. 

“Cause this jackass, pushed me off the desk.” Y/n replied as she kicked Sam’s chair, crushing his leg against the side of his desk. He grunted painfully, shooting her a deadly glare before Bucky intervened. 

“How about we call this even before things get out of hand?” He sighed, rubbing his forehead like an agitated parent. 

“I don’t even want to hear the word ‘hand’.” Sam groaned. Y/n gasped, angrily rising to her feet and throwing her hands up wildly. 

“You cut it off, you stupid shit suckle!” She screeched, fuming at this point.  

“I told you, I’m still getting used to the shield!" 

"Eat a cock!” Y/n shot back. 

Bucky sighed, grabbing hold of Y/n’s hand to inspect it carefully. All the vulgar words she had planned to use on Sam were quickly lost to her flustered thoughts and her scarred face fell into an awestruck expression. 

Thankfully he didn’t see the pink that dusted her cheeks, only frowning slightly at her new appendage. It was small in his larger hands, but so was the rest of her hand and she quickly retracted it before she could start to enjoy the feeling. Bucky’s fingers followed hers for a split second, chasing the warmth that she provided but he caught himself, letting his hands drop to his side with a deeper frown. 

“How long will it take for it to grow back?” He asked. She shrugged, looking down at the dried patches of blood still lingering around the new finger. 

“Eh, like 10 minutes. I’ll be fine. One time this huge motherfucker, Juggernaut, ripped me clean in half like a damn phone book. Well, it wasn’t clean. It was messy-it was so fucking terrible.” Y/n laughed, unaware of the alarmed look Bucky and Sam shared. 

“What happened to your legs?” Sam questioned reluctantly, knowing the answer wasn’t something he really wanted to know. He was just so damn curious. 

“No idea.” Y/n hummed quietly, looking off into the distance as if searching for her literal other half. The men watched her with vivid concern, trying in vain to force away their own theories about the whereabouts of Y/n’s legs. 

“We have another mission. Suit up and meet at the jet in an hour.” Bucky told them, his voice stony in a way that only happened when he was upset. He then turned, storming out of the room leaving Sam and Y/n with equally confused faces. 

“The fucks wrong with Terminator?” Y/n questioned, jerking a thumb back at the door. Sam shrugged, lifting himself up from his desk, trying not to give Y/n the satisfaction of watching him limp. She noticed though. She always did. 

•••

“Getting real tired of these HYDRA motherfuckers!” Y/n yelled, firing at one of the agents as she ran down the infinite looking hall. Bucky ran alongside her, his metal arm braced out in front of them to deflect bullets. 

Well most of them. 

“Fuck!” Y/n screamed, slamming her hand down over her left breast with an appalled expression. Bucky froze as did the HYDRA agent that shot her, equally shocked. 

“You shot me in the fucking boob!” She screamed, disbelief and vengeance lacing her words. “Oh shit, that fucking does it. I’m shooting you right in the dick, cum bucket.” She promised, her smile venomous as she directed the gun at the man’s groin and fired without hesitation. 

The man cried out in agony as he fell to his knees, making Bucky visibly flinch beside her as she shot again. “Y/n.” He warned, looking around at the hall which was slowly flooding with more agents. “We have to move on." 

"Not yet. Not until this guy’s kids come out of his bitch like pudding!” Y/n stepped forward, firing again even though the man had already become unconscious. Only the click from her empty clip seemed to calm her rage and she growled in frustration. 

“Stupid!” Y/n shouted at herself, slamming the now unless gun into her thigh holster. The man on the ground with an ever growing puddle of red growing around his lower half was a gruesome sight but it made her smile. “Worth it.” She whispered with a smirk. 

“Sam’s waiting for us outside!” Bucky reminded, turning around them and kicking one of the agents into the group behind him. The harshness in which he had been forced into them made them fall, buying Bucky and Y/n sometime while they recovered but not much. “The elevator is our best bet outta here." 

No sooner had he said it, Bucky immediately stopped, glaring at the sight before them. A dozen men came around the corner, blocking their path with an older man in a suit at the front. 

"Whoa there, buddy, you’re within 100 feet of a school. Don’t make me call your parole officer.” Y/n mocked, putting her hands on her hips as she stared down the man at the center. 

His brows furrowed in confusion and he looked around at the other men, hoping one of them might fill him in. The agents behind the pair had gotten back to their feet, coming to block the other direction of the hall, cutting off all means of escape. 

“You have nowhere to run, give us the drive and I promise your death will be quick.” The man demanded. Y/n glanced over at Bucky, her taunting expression obvious to him even under her mask. He couldn’t help but let a small smile slip as she turned back to the man. 

“I’m gonna have to stop you right there, pal. Sorry to steal your whole Dr. Evil moment but there’s been a change of plans.” Y/n started, menacingly stepping toward the man. There was still a fair distance between them but it was close enough to make the man cower. 

“If you leave right now, I might-

let you keep your hands. If not, well, let’s just say you’re gonna have a tough time tickling your pickle tonight.” She smirked at the older man. Some of the men were baffled by the woman before them, unsure if they should be fighting her or not. Seriousness was never one of Y/n’s strong suits. Unlike people such as Captain America and Colossus, Y/n ran on violence and smartass remarks. This was in every aspect of her life even in her grieving process and while this wasn’t the healthiest of methods she didn’t really care. 

“Kill them.” The man ordered, sinking back into the group, as they stepped threateningly closer. Y/n nearly smiled under her mask. She loved it when they played it hard to get. 

“Time to kick it old school.” Y/n announced, reaching behind her and tugging free her dual swords. She spun them expertly in her hands, bringing one above her head while the other stretched out in front of her. “Bring it on, cock thistle." 

Bucky stood in awe as he watched her. The thumping in his chest was a forgotten feeling. It was something that died when he fell off the train and only just recently had it been revived. Ironically it was the one woman who couldn’t die who had brought his ability to love back to life. 

And for that she owned his heart. 

A single bullet rang out but Y/n was much faster than the bullet, swinging down the katana and slicing it clean in half. A moment of confused silence rang out through the hall, tension rising faster than the bullet that just tore through the air. 

Like the shot at the beginning of a race, the simple sound made everyone erupt into conflict. Multiple men swormed Bucky, crashing him into the wall but struggling to pin him there. Bucky was stronger than all of them but they just kept coming, a mess of men grabbing hold of his limbs and immobilizing him. 

Y/n charged forward, dropping to her knees and leaning back as she moved to slide under the man closest to her. He cried out as she cut off his hand, a soft thud on the ground telling her that her sword had gone clean through. She rose again, turning and bringing one of her feet up to plant herself before, digging her katana into the man’s back. The man fell limp on the ground, his dismembered hand still gripping the gun he had pointed at her. 

"Need a hand?!” Y/n shouted, glancing over at Bucky’s predicament. He looked back at her, his face twisted into a provoked expression. That was the only answer she needed and she quickly rolled under the rain of gunfire directed at her, landing a few feet from Bucky. She stretched out her sword, sliding the edge through the small space next to the tigger, lifting the gun and hurling it in Bucky’s direction. 

He caught it effortlessly, overlapping his metal fingers atop the dead man’s butchered hand and pressing the barrel to one agent’s skull. He made quick work at taking out three of the men, evening the playing field enough to overpower the men. He shouted as he forced himself forward, his pure brute force powerful enough to throw back a few of the men. 

Taking advantage of their stupor, he hammered his fist into the face of the agent next to him, causing blood to spill from his nose as he stumbled back. Bringing his elbow back into the next man, he knocked him unconscious before breaking free. Bucky pivoted on his heel to attack the agent hurling themselves at him once more. His hands came to fist the straps of the man’s uniform, thrusting him up into the ceiling and shattering the fluorescent light above them. The agent fell into a pile on the floor, the glass from the light scattering over his unconscious form. 

Y/n launched to her feet, slamming her knee into the chest of another man forcing him into the wall before driving her sword into his chest. Once retracting the blade, he sunk to the ground smearing blood down the wall as he collapsed. Quickly returning to her feet, she sprinted a few feet, pounding her foot into the wall as she vaulted over the next man, slicing his throat as she went.

“You stupid bitch!” A voice shouted over the chaos, catching Y/n’s attention. She tilted her head as she looked at him, the white lenses in her mask widening. 

“Excuse me, shit brains? Since I’m an Avenger now that’s terrorism right?” She questioned, turning to Bucky. Noticing he was occupied she rounded back to the man, narrowing her eyes at him. “As Scoutmaster Kevin once told me many years ago.” Y/n took large strides as she made her way to him, murderous intent rolling off of her in waves as she wiped the blood from her sword onto her leather clad forearm. 

“I’m about to fuck your shit up." 

The man howled in pain as she pelted her sword into his knee, the sharpened blade piercing through his kneecap and burying itself into the floor behind him. Y/n ran forward, kicking the blade further in causing the joint to snap with a sickening crunch. 

Grabbing hold of the man’s head, she flew forward, flipping over him as she balanced her weight on his already unsteady form. She landed behind him, pulling his head back with a harsh tug. Knocking out his other knee, she forced him down, bringing her other katana to his throat while her foot rose to settle between his shoulder blades. In one swift movement, she pushed him down, digging her blade into his neck with a satisfying slice. 

Bucky met her eye as the man dropped, the gurgling from his throat echoing through the hall. Bucky’s gaze was surprised but not disgusted. Instead he marveled at the sight of her, astonished by Y/n’s display of atrocious violence yet fierce beauty. Never had he seen anything like it before Y/n entered his life and while he should’ve been horrified by half of the things she did he couldn’t. Because ever since she joined their team she had only done those things to destroy the same organization that had destroyed him. And he couldn’t get enough. 

Y/n looked away, flustered under his gaze. She couldn’t handle the way he sent chills down her spine and butterflies to her stomach. It was cliche but it was happening and she refused to face it. "I see the elevator.” She told him, catching sight of the leader trying to run out of the corner of her eye. Her head whipped around, her hand reaching forward to grab the blade still plunged in the dead man’s knee before chucking it at the escapee. 

The sword sunk into his skull pinning him to the wall as Bucky took out the remaining men beside him. “We have to hurry, our cover’s been blown and Sam can’t wait around for too long.” Y/n nodded in acknowledgement, sheathing her sword as he came to stand next to her. 

Y/n glanced around at the bodies scattered around the hall. It was quite a scene, blood splattered along the walls and floor, bullet holes littering the plaster and the light fixture above them flickering wildly as it struggled to keep the hall lit. 

“Oh, I am so touching myself tonight.” Y/n groaned at the sight making a soft pink flush across Bucky’s cheeks. The mere thought of it sent blood rushing to his face and he shifted awkwardly as it rushed to other places as well. But before he could mumble an embarrassed response, shouts from more agents echoed down the hall cutting short any sort of awkward conversation he could have mustered. He quickly shuffled through the corpses, dragging Y/n along with him as she quickly plucked her other sword from the man’s skull.  

They ran around the corner coming up on the elevator fast. The agents giving chase were catching up and Bucky urged Y/n in front of him, instinctively trying to protect her. Once reaching the elevator, he ripped open the doors, too distracted by the growing danger the agents presented to notice the fact that the elevator wasn’t even there as he stepped forward. 

But Y/n noticed and she quickly grabbed him, spinning them to where he was out of the way. However in the process she forced herself over the edge, falling back clumsily. 

For a split second Bucky reached forward, trying desperately to catch her but she was already falling. She slipped through his fingers dropping the eleven floors to the bottom of the elevator shaft, landing with a sickening thud. 

Bucky choked on his breath, staring down at her still and twisted form as his heart clenched in his chest. Flashbacks of his own fall began to overwhelm his already cluttered mind and he almost wanted to scream. 

It was 2 agonizing seconds before she moved, a loud shout echoing through the shaft. 

“Motherfucker! I think I just shat my spleen!” Y/n moaned, rolling onto her side. Bucky let out a relieved chuckle and looked behind him, mumbling his own curse before jumping down after her. His metal arm grasped onto the cables, slowing his fall but the screeching of metal on metal seemed to amplify in the confined space. 

Once reaching the bottom he jumped off, crouching down beside her as her blood began to pool around her head. “Shit! I don’t know what hurt more, falling eleven stories or listening to your arm! It’s like two tractors trying to- Fuck!” She cried as his arms slid under her body, pulling her up against his chest. 

“I found the elevator.” Y/n laughed dryly as she pointed above them, the said elevator hanging a few floors above the floor they had been on. “How convenient.” She mumbled, glaring up at the air as if focusing her annoyance toward a certain writer who enjoyed torturing her readers. 

Bucky was oblivious to her turmoil, instead shaking his head at his stupidity and cursing himself for letting his feelings for her distract him. It was his fault she fell. Is this how guilty Steve had felt?

“We’ll have to have Sam meet us on the ground instead.” Bucky grunted, kicking open the doors to the ground level. He ran out into the room, his grip on Y/n remaining firm as he headed to the exit. 

“Nothing like falling 100 or so feet to get you going, am I right?” Y/n snickered at her own joke, trying to ignore the erratic beating of her heart as his cologne invaded her senses. 

They made it out, the sky blooming in a beautiful shade of orange as the sun began to set. Y/n admired it for a moment, smiling when the quinjet came into view. Allowing her to slip out of his arms, Bucky planted his hands on her waist to insure she was steady before bashfully shying away as Sam landed. 

“Come on!” He shouted, opening the back ramp for them. Bucky followed Y/n as she ran up to the jet and climbed up the ramp, keeping an eye behind them as the HYDRA agents ran outside. The ramp closed just in time and Y/n let out a relieved laugh as she fell onto the bench inside, whopping amusingly. 

“Well, that was a shit show. Got this little fucker though.” She grunted, pulling the drive out of one of her pockets before handing it over to Sam. He accepted it, eyeing her with a rare look of concern. 

“What the hell happened to you?" 

"Decided to take a swan dive off the eleventh floor. Not my highest record but still fucked me in the ass.” She laughed, tugging off her mask. Her hair was matted and bloody, sticking up in one spot from her mask but any effort at soothing it was pointless. The scarred tissue around her lips and nose contorted in discomfort and sweat had coated her brow from their fight. 

She was healing already but it didn’t ease her any as her bones reset and her organs reformed. It was an excruciating process but she didn’t complain, instead pulling out her gun and observing it as Bucky sat down next to her. 

“Who’s balls I gotta fondle to get some tacos? I’m starving.” She nagged, dropping her mask and gun on the floor before stretching out across the bench on her stomach. Her head rested on Bucky’s leg making his blood run cold as her chin brushed the inside of his thigh. 

“You offering?” Sam replied, raising a suggestive brow as Y/n’s new position. 

“You wish.” Y/n winked at him, making Sam shake his head disapprovingly. 

“Eh, you’re not my type.” He insisted, sharing a playful glare with her. They had a confusing relationship but most of her relationships were. Sam didn’t hesitate to tease her or join in on her pranks, much to Bucky’s chagrin. Y/n rather enjoyed Sam’s company and she knew he felt the same though they seemed to hate each other. 

“I’m nobody’s type, Warren Worthington. I’m kinda the, 'if I squint really hard I can pretend you’re the non-blue version of Mystique- Lawrence not Romijn- so I’ll fuck you’ kinda gal.” She rambled, not caring to explain who the hell she was talking about. But she didn’t have to. Bucky was already frowning. 

Y/n wasn’t lacking confidence, no that was the one thing she had an abundance of. She knew exactly what people thought of her horribly scarred body and she chose not to give a shit. But what upset Bucky the most was the fact that she believed herself to be unwanted. Did she truly believe that she was undesirable or was she just joking? 

“Want some?” Y/n questioned beside him, holding up a small white package labelled 'Y/n’s cocaine’. He shook his head, his brows furrowing as he wondered why on Earth she thought that moment was a good time to offer him cocaine. Or how any time was the right time.  

She shrugged, ripping open the bag and pouring some of the white powder into her gloved hand and inhaling it harshly. He winced at the sight but her drug problem wasn’t the cause of his downcast expression. Rather the fact that the beautiful woman who had introduced herself as Deadpool seemed to be oblivious to his feelings. 

Bucky couldn’t get the sick feeling to subside the whole way back to the newly rebuilt compound. 

•••

“Here I go, here I go, here I go again. Girls, what’s my weakness? Men!” Y/n sang along, ignoring the strange looks from the man in the elevator as she danced along with the song blaring on her portable radio. “Ok then, chillin’, chillin’, mindin’ my business." 

The elevator opened on the floor where most living quarters and showers were kept, hers included and she stepped out with a bit of a jig as she kept pace with the beat. "Yo, Salt, I looked around, and I couldn’t believe this. I swear, I stared, my niece, my witness.” The soft patter of her feet down the hall was soothing as she lifted her arms above her head, swaying slightly with the music as she twirled, barely missing the agent who was coming out of his own room. 

“The brother had it goin’ on with somethin’ kinda, uh. Wicked, wicked had to kick it

I’m not shy so I asked for the digits.” Y/n rolled her shoulder rhythmically as she side-stepped past him, keeping her moves swift and joyful as she danced along to the song. The showers weren’t too far now but her loud music was slowly catching the attention of people who had already called it a night, summoning them out into the hall. 

“A ho? No, that don’t make me. See what I want slip slide to it swifty. Felt it in my hips so I dipped back to my bag of tricks.” Y/n’s heart skipped a beat as Bucky stepped out into the hall. He was dressed in a much more comfortable looking attire of sweatpants and a t-shirt and while it was plain it still sent a familiar tingle to her core. 

Opting to push aside her unwelcomed feelings toward the man, she continued on deciding to have a little fun with it as she went. 

“Then I flipped for a tip, make me wanna do tricks for him.” She spoke along to the song, making eye contact with Bucky as she did. His eyes seemed to glue to her hips, watching them with a guilty expression, the gentleman in him fighting his obvious stares. He tried with all his might to drag his gaze elsewhere, only managing to lift them to her half-masked face with a flustered expression. 

“Lick him like a lollipop should be licked.” Y/n winked, flicking her tongue sensually. The line sent a deep flush to his cheeks as she came to stand before him, her fingers racking his t-shirt. 

“Came to my senses and I chilled for a bit. Don’t know how you do the voodoo that you do. So well it’s a spell, hell, makes me wanna shoop shoop shoop.” Y/n smirked, spinning on the ball of her foot and walking off toward the showers, a bit of a pep in her step as she left Bucky absolutely flabbergasted. 

The music faded along with the scent of her perfume and Bucky lingered on the senses, his heart racing wildly. He was so distracted in fact that when Sam crept up beside him, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he followed after Y/n, he didn’t even try to object. For now he would bask in what was left of her presence and the frantic pace of his heart. 

But he couldn’t enjoy the feeling for long. 

•••

“Sam!" 

Bucky knew he would regret not stopping his birdbrained friend. Said perpetrator now ran full speed down the hall toward the kitchen, arms cradling Y/n’s suit urgently. Sam sprinted behind Bucky, hoping his super soldier best friend might be able to spare him his life as the raging Merc with a Mouth made her way to him. 

Poor Bucky didn’t even have time to process what Sam’s arms held before, Y/n came storming in clad in only her mask, water dripping from her untucked hair and other areas. "Sam, you dick kicking fucktard! Give me my fucking suit, now!” Bucky tried in vain to shield his eyes but it was too late. He had seen enough to fuel his fantasies for the rest of his life and any hope at burying his painfully unreciprocated feelings were now dead. 

“No! You practically live in this thing, it’s disgusting!” Sam yelled back, climbing onto the counter to stuff the suit behind the fridge. “You���re banned from it until you wash it!" 

"How the fuck am I supposed to do that?! You crammed it in further than a priest goes into a 6 year old boy!” Y/n screamed back, marching threateningly over to the counter where Sam stood. 

Bucky didn’t know what he admired more, her lack of shame as she paraded around in the nude or her lack of remorse as she grabbed Sam’s ankle, brutally yanking him and causing him to crash onto the hard surface. 

“Motherfucker! I did not come down here and ruin that poor teenage boy’s virgin eyes for you to be a punk ass bitch!” She screamed, pointing in the direction she had just come from. Sam groaned, sparing a glance in the direction. 

“What’s Spiderbrat doing here?” He huffed, gripping his ribs tightly as he tried to rise from the ground. 

“I don’t know.” Bucky mumbled, putting his hand against his temple as he attempted to remove the soaked Y/n from his sights. 

“Spiderman?! That was Spiderman?! I have an obligation to the fans!” Y/n cheered excitedly before spinning around and running off down the hall. “Wait Spidey!” She cried, her feet slapping the tile in wet smacks. 

“I swear to God if she takes his virginity. Y/n!” Sam yelled after her, flying up from the ground and speeding after her. Y/n screamed as she slipped, a loud crash echoing down the hall as Sam cried out in pain. 

Bucky practically shook as he struggled to erase her from his mind. He couldn’t do this to himself. It was in her nature to be inappropriate and flirtatious. He couldn’t allow himself to read into it. He couldn’t handle the rejection.  

•••

Bucky needed some air. He had sat in his room for an hour trying to recover his composure. His heart still raced and his face hurt from how much he had been blushing but nothing seemed to stop it. 

Venturing up to the roof wasn’t like him. Usually he would go on a run or try his luck at the training room but today he wanted to just sit alone and think. However once reaching the roof he found that wouldn’t be the case. 

Y/n hummed quietly along to her radio, swinging her feet cheerfully over the edge of the building as she sewed back together the bullet holes in her recovered suit. It was a routine of hers, one she only started to develop when Blind Al refused to do it anymore. 

Bucky stepped forward quietly, not recognizing the tune but loving the way it sounded from her. She wore a simple pair of shorts and tank top, exposing much of her scarred skin but not as much as he had seen earlier. He was grateful she unknowingly took pity on him but covering up, coming to stand a few feet behind her. 

Tying off the sting, she reached over to the box of band-aids, pulling out a Hello Kitty themed one before slapping it on over the stitch. Y/n cheered out triumphantly, holding up her suit to inspect it before draping it over the ledge beside her. A half eaten burrito was set on her other side and she absently reached for it, taking a bite out of it as she bobbed her head to the music. 

“You wanna bite?” She questioned, mouth still full with the food. Bucky mentally cursed himself for being caught but gave into her offer, coming to stand beside her. She handed him her burrito and he hesitantly took it, biting into it carefully. 

“You owe me 5 bucks. That show you got downstairs wasn’t free.” Y/n smirked, lighting the tense atmosphere a little. Looking up at her, he had no choice when a smile crept onto his face. Everything about her seemed to fill him with a giddy excitement, like riding a roller coaster. Y/n was a roller coaster of a person. 

“Only 5 bucks. Little cheap if you ask me.” He replied smoothly, earning a giggle from her. She shrugged shamelessly, swinging her legs over to his side of the ledge. 

“Gave you the ol’ bestie discount. Pay 10 dollars more and I’ll even throw in a night of your wildest dreams.” Y/n winked, hating how much she adored the pink that dusted his cheeks. 

He shook his head with a light chuckle. “No, I wouldn’t want it to happen like that.” He replied, flinching at his own words. Her brow furrowed but judging by his mortified expression she decided to leave it alone. 

Grabbing his hand she gestured for him to sit next to her and he did, climbing up cautiously as she turned back around. It was strangely soothing on the edge, the risk of falling sending a small thrill through them. Y/n had a way of giving him tiny bursts of joy, something he’d never experienced before. Not for a very long time. 

He couldn’t begin to describe the way she could make his heart race with a simple glance. In training when she takes him down he finds the fact that she could end him with ease peculiarly enticing. He’d experienced a variety of experimental drugs but never the recreational type. Though he imagined the high he’d receive would be very similar to how Y/n made him feel. 

She gave him a buzz that he slowly began to crave. Life before her just seemed so dull and he never wanted to go back to that. He’d become a bit of an addict for her presence and he felt safe in doing so. Losing her to the ravages of battle as he had so many before was impossible and Bucky felt that his feelings toward her could help him move on. 

The breeze flushed against their bodies, turning Y/n’s attention to the stars flickering above. The way she gazed up beside him, reminded Bucky of dates he had in the 40s. They were simple and sweet, always ending with a soft peck to his cheek or lips.

Imagining Y/n on one of these dates was like seeing a pig fly but he didn’t care. His old life was gone and no one helped him move on from it better than Y/n even if she was unaware. In the past women were polite and lovable and Y/n was anything but. 

She was foul mouthed and wildly inappropriate, constantly saying things he would’ve never dreamed of hearing from the women he used to date. Her dark humor was wrong and he still struggled to understand it at times. She killed without hesitation or remorse and in the most gruesome ways one could imagine, not giving the action a second thought. All of this was new to him and while at first he disliked everything she stood for, he couldn’t help but fall in love with her as time passed. 

She was everything that was so new to him, yet still carrying the underlying characteristics he loved so much. She was brave and reckless, willing to give her life for others. Her morals were still there yet buried deep within her, never to be exposed unless she encountered something truly corrupt. 

Her decisions were rash and not thought through, her lack of mortality seeming to make most situations trivial to her. But he suspected she was like that even before her mutation. Despite her carelessness in battle, she cared so much more than she’d let anyone know. People she considered friends, need never fear any danger for she would eliminate any threat that dared show its face. 

But what he loved the most was her strength. While her physical abilities were amazing and dared outmatch his own, he loved her emotional strength more. She had experienced so much pain, like he had but she still managed to smile. Still managed to make him smile. And he loved her for it. 

“Thank you for saving my life today.” He spoke earnestly. Y/n shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly, gazing out over the city. 

“No worries. Couldn’t have ya becoming a pancake, now could we?” She laughed, trying to mask the true worry that started to set in. What if he had fallen instead of her? What would she have done?

'Probably would have gone after him.’ Y/n sighed silently, knowing it was true. 

“No, I guess not.” Bucky offered a smile, hoping she didn’t notice the guilt in his eyes. Another uncomfortable silence settled over them but Y/n didn’t seem to mind. 

“You’re beautiful.” Bucky mumbled quietly, almost timid under her stunned stare. He didn’t regret saying it, only wishing he had said it more often. 

The way the night sky accented her face was glorious even though she was scarred. Her scars had never really been an issue to him. The first time he had seen them she was reluctant but understood their need to see the person behind the mask to gain their full trust. He hadn’t been anticipating such intense scars but he wasn’t repulsed by them. In fact he thought she was breathtaking and he wondered just how different she had looked without them. 

When she explained how the scarring had come to be, telling them that her disfigurement was actually because of her cancerous cells mutating, he felt sorry for her. He knew what it was like to be tortured until he became something else and he hated the idea of her experiencing it as well. Yet even through all that she insisted she was 'a sexy motherfucker’ and he couldn’t help but agree. 

Her hair swayed with the breeze, falling gracefully around her face and outlining her shocked expression as she tried to figure out if he had really complimented her or if she had just misheard him over the music. The glimmer of sincerity in his eyes caused her heart to leap, making it harder to reply. 

Her eyes were her most beautiful feature. The one thing that hadn’t changed since her mutation and he found that he was able to read her better through her eyes. Whether or not her eyes displayed the same enjoyment her smile showed, told him everything he needed to know since she covered almost everything about her with some smartass remark. Her eyes gave her away. Her eyes were everything. 

“Thank you.” Y/n whispered, unable to piece together any sort of snarky reply. She couldn’t even break her stare as she gazed into his compassionate eyes. A tug at her heart pulled her toward him and as much as she tried to fight it she couldn’t shake it. 

Bucky felt it too as he cautiously leaned forward, his metal hand coming to caress her cheek as his eyes absently dropped to her lips. Her breath flushed over his own sending chills along his skin. Their lips ghosted over one another, barely brushing in the tenderest of touches. 

Yet a sudden change of song sent Y/n tearing herself from his grasp, a crestfallen expression taking place of her once longing gaze. The upbeat tune rattled her to the core, dredging up the memories she so desperately tried to subdue. 

We're talking away.

I don't know what, I'm to say. 

I'll say it anyway. 

Today's another day to find you

“What? What’s wrong?” Bucky gasped, pulling away with a concerned frown as he reached out to hold her arms. She shied away from his touch, making him instantly retract his hands, fear of hurting her flashing across his face. 

“No, uh, I’m okay. I’m sorry I’m just-I…” she trailed off trying to find the words to blame it on herself. She knew Bucky still feared the Soldier that lurked in the darkest parts of his mind, waiting for the right moment to break free and destroy everything and everyone he cared for. She knew she was one of those people. And she knew she had just terrified him by moving away but she couldn’t help it. 

“I’m not ready for this." 

Shying away. 

I'll be coming for your love, okay?

Take on me. Take me on.

I'll be gone. In a day or two

"I’m not ready for something meaningful. I’m not ready for you." 

Bucky’s face fell at her confession, shifting away from her. She wanted to reach out or say something, anything to make him stay but the ever growing guilt in her heart rendered her speechless. 

She couldn’t do this. Not to Bucky. Not to herself. And not to Wade. 

But she couldn’t stay silent. 

"I had a boyfriend.” She spoke, her voice shaky and fragile. Bucky froze, unable to lift his gaze to her. “His name was Wade. I was with him before I got cancer and he was there when I got diagnosed. He was there when I refused treatments and he was still there when I became this.” She gestured to herself, deciding to spare Bucky the story of her avoiding Wade for all that time because she feared how he’d react when he saw what she had become. 

Much like Bucky, Wade didn’t care and after she saved him from Francis, they somehow made a life together. Tears welled in her eyes as she thought of him, his loving gaze and dirty mouth bringing a bittersweet smile to her face. 

“His crazy matched my crazy, big time. A real ride or die type. Oh, that man’s mouth could make me sound like a nun. And we were going to start a life together.” She hastily wiped the beginning of her tears as Bucky listened quietly beside her. “But I was reckless and arrogant and I got him killed before we could." 

The hurt Bucky felt from her rejection was slowly starting to fade as she explained, his intense emotions starting to morph into sympathy. 

"I loved him more than anything in this life and no matter what I did, I couldn’t get back to him. Immortality is a bitch like that but I thought, maybe just maybe if I somehow managed to destroy myself completely, I would be with him again. But nothing worked.” Her voice broke as her emotions overcame her. 

It took everything Bucky had to not pull her into his arms right there and hold her until she couldn’t stand it anymore. But he couldn’t. Her heart still belonged to the man who made her into who she was and he had to respect that, however painful it was. 

So needless to say. 

I'm odds and ends. 

But I'll be stumbling away. 

Slowly learning that life is okay.

“I’m sorry.” Bucky mumbled, unsure of what else to say. He’d experienced loss before but never something that made him want to end his life. For 70 years he lacked the freedom to do so and now that he did, he wanted to live for himself. Wanted to experience everything that had been taken from him. 

But now it was Y/n that lacked freedom. She was brave enough to venture into the unknown for Wade only to be dragged back by her immortality. The two were very different, as they always had been. And while Bucky thought it made them better together, Y/n could only see it as a reason to stay apart. 

Wade was her other half, her soulmate. Bucky could never replace him. And she could never ask him to. 

“It’s not your fault.” Her reply was sincere but dulled, as if the automatic response wasn’t what she wanted to say yet happened to be the only thing she could manage. She wanted to say so much more. She wanted to tell Bucky that while Wade was her first and most beloved partner, it didn’t mean he was her only. 

Ignoring the way Bucky made her feel was growing more difficult and try as she might she couldn’t deny it any longer. She loved Bucky. 

From the very beginning she had been hooked by the super soldier and every tragic thing that had happened to him. She loved his rare but breathtaking smile, the one that made her dizzy and weak at the knees. She loved the moments when he’d let his frustration out through hushed swears and absolutely adored the times he’d remind her that his vocab was that of an army man from the 1940s. He could spout off a string of profanities that would make a sailor cower and even though he always apologized after, the action only made her feel more at home among the team. 

She loved what a gentleman he was, even to her, who was as unladylike as they came. He’d never hesitate to go out of his way to do little chivalrous acts that made her heart race and it only made her crave the 40s man more and more. 

But what she loved most of all was how much he understood her. He knew what it was like to be forced to the breaking point until he became something he wasn’t. He knew what it was like to not trust your own mind and for that Y/n loved him. 

But she still loved Wade more. 

Say after me. 

It's no better to be safe than sorry

Take on me. Take me on. 

I'll be gone. In a day or two.

“Bucky, I-" 

A familiar feeling stopped Y/n dead in her tracks. A sense that told her something was wrong and one she had only felt the night she lost Wade. It was like the world around her slowed down and all she could hear was the frantic beating of her heart as she looked out into the open night air. 

A jet engine roared through the sky, coming faster than Bucky could react in his moment of weakness. Fortunately Y/n was much faster, grabbing hold of the super soldier and dragging him off the ledge. They ran across the rooftop, ducking back behind the small concrete entrance that housed the elevator back down to the building. 

A harsh explosion followed not too soon after they had seeked cover and Bucky moved forward, bracing her against the wall as he did his best to keep her steady as the building rattled on impact. Heat enveloped them and Y/n tried her best to ignore the heat rising to her own face, being pressed so close to Bucky’s chest. 

The jet flew past the building and into view, rounding back for another attack. Y/n watched it with wide eyes as it flew straight at them, readying another missile. 

"Look out!” She screamed, tugging furiously at Bucky’s t-shirt as she dragged them to the other side of the concrete housing. They moved fast, making sure to stay ducked down to avoid becoming more of a target than they already were. 

Thankfully for them, the jet didn’t strike the roof, allowing them to slip into the elevator and begin the descent to the rest of the compound. The aftermath of both explosions shook throughout the building and the lights inside the car had turned red, telling all those in the building that they were on high alert. 

“It is those HYDRA fucks? What do they want?” Y/n questioned. Bucky didn’t reply at first, silently calculating their next move. It was a cold reaction but something he couldn’t quite shake from his Winter Soldier days. 

“They’re here for the drive.” He answered finally as the doors opened up to reveal the lab floor. Sam ran to them frantically, leaving the two scientists to back up files and technology in case the attack went too far. 

“Good! You’re here. I’m going out to try and stall the jet, you guys get a quinjet and meet me outside.” Sam instructed, heading into the elevator only to have Bucky grab his arm. 

“Sam, they want the drive. They won’t stop until they have it.” Bucky explained carefully, his eyes returning to the seriousness they always had during missions. 

Sam shook his head, “What do you expect us to do? Hand it over?” He questioned. Bucky shook his head, all the plans he was able to put together ending in failure. There had to be something. 

“What if they think the drive is destroyed?" 

Bucky and Sam turned to Y/n, mutual looks of confusion taking hold of their features as she glanced back at the lab. The scientists had finished up and we’re now rushing past them to the elevator but Y/n’s eye caught something else. The drive was placed in a small container, Stark tech of some kind to make sure no external sources could get to it. 

"How would we do that? They’re not gonna take our word for it.” Sam protested. Y/n was already making her way to the drive, her own plan forming as she went. Bucky moved to follow her but she quickly turned around, as if sensing what he was doing. 

“Sam take Bucky with you. Distract the HYDRA assholes for as long as you can while I transfer the drive’s info to the safe house. Follow my lead.” Y/n demanded, rushing over to the desk which held the drive. 

“No way, I’m staying with-” Bucky was about to object but another explosion quaked the building, sending him back into the elevator. Sam grabbed hold of his arm before Bucky could react and the elevator closed, leaving Y/n alone. 

Bucky yelled out, forcing himself toward the buttons but Sam’s grip was tight and Bucky found he didn’t have the energy to fight him. Y/n’s plan would work, they always did. But he feared what she might do to herself in the process. 

“Why would you do that!?” Bucky shouted, trying to make up for his lack of fight through his words. Sam didn’t answer knowing Bucky was being irrational. Y/n insisted again and again she could do 'shit they’ve never seen’ as she fondly put it, but it hurt Bucky everytime he couldn’t save her. 

He’d watched her 'die’ countless times and each time he couldn’t do anything. It trudged up memories he’d rather forget. Memories of protecting Steve and still losing him to the one thing he couldn’t fight-…time. Memories of the helplessness he felt during his time at HYDRA. Memories of losing his old self, a part of him he’d never be able to save or recover. 

Bucky stormed through the hangar, heading toward the first quinjet he saw. It took every ounce of self control he could muster to not rip the door off the machinery but he managed to climb in, leaving the jet unscathed. 

Sam flew ahead with a couple of agents in their own quinjet while Bucky followed behind, ultimately taking his own route straight toward the attacking jet. He knew their technology well and knew the weakest points to hit but even if he took out this jet, another one would take its place eventually. There had to be a way to insure they wouldn’t come back. Maybe if he went back and took out the new boss? No, someone would rise up and take his place. 

His eyes narrowed as he began his attack on the jet, using the large guns installed within the aircraft. The HYDRA jet instantly maneuvered away from the shots but Bucky anticipated it and moved with them, raining as much fire as he could on them. 

But before he could advance on them any further, another quinjet launched out of the hangar, flying past at breakneck speeds. Bucky’s heart dropped when he heard Y/n over the radio. 

“Listen here you HYDRA nutsacks. If you want the drive, you’re gonna have to come get it. And I don’t play fair.” She taunted over the frequency, urging the enemy jet to follow her as she raced away from the building and Bucky. 

As she had expected the jet followed, sparing no expense as they hastily rushed through Bucky and Sam’s attacks. Nothing mattered but the drive and Bucky wished he had thought their mission through a bit more. He didn’t even know what was on the drive let alone how far HYDRA would go to get it back. 

But he soon found out how far they’d go to ensure their enemies didn’t have it. 

“Y/n, look out!” Bucky cried, unable to stop himself. He knew what Y/n was planning. She was meant to go down in the plane. But he wanted to stop it, hell at this point he would rather give the drive up. Y/n’s powers were amazing, yes but he couldn’t help but feel that one day her luck would run out, that one day she just wouldn’t come back the same. She’d be horribly changed like he had been. A monster. 

He couldn’t bare to see her become that. 

Y/n skillfully flipped the jet, steering a harsh right as the HYDRA jet stayed close on her tail. “Get the others out of here. I can handle this!” She called, keeping her words careful as to not alert the enemy of her plan. 

Sam listened, turning away to lead the other quinjet back to the headquarters but Bucky couldn’t. It wasn’t fair. He knew what it was like to die and come back and he couldn’t understand why Y/n was so willing. At first it was noble, giving her life for his but then she did it again and again. 

Bucky was terrified for her. Terrified she wouldn’t be Y/n anymore. And terrified of the reason she kept destroying herself. 

“Bucky go back! This isn’t your fight!” Y/n yelled at him, switching to a frequency only they could hear. 

“The hell it isn’t! The only reason you’ve been fighting HYDRA is because of me. I’m the fucking asshole that keeps leading you straight into harm’s way when I’m supposed to protect you!” He fought, following behind the chase.

Y/n groaned, frustrated by his insistence on keeping her safe. She didn’t need to be safe, if anything he should be protecting everyone else from her. “I never asked you to protect me! Why can’t you just leave me the fuck alone?!” Angry tears began to well in her eyes but she rapidly blinked them away, keeping her focus on the jet behind her as she began her trek up into the sky. 

Maybe if she flew high enough the HYDRA jet would stall long enough for her to get an advantage? 

“You know why!” Bucky spoke, his tone matching her own agitation. He really hoped he didn’t have to say it. Saying it at all was nerve-wracking but saying it in the middle of a fight? How could he spring that on her?

Y/n’s heart dropped as her grip tightened on the yoke. His words shot through her like a thousand bullets but she found herself unable to recover from it. It was all too familiar. Too depressing. 

“You don’t know what you’re saying.” Y/n replied, praying to whoever had control of her miserable life that Bucky was mistaken. Maybe decades of being touch starved and deprived of love had made him think he cared about her. 

Unfortunately that wasn’t the case. 

“I love you, Y/n! Fuck you always make things so difficult and you never take anything seriously but I love you more than I’ve ever loved someone. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you but you keep dying before I can show you that." 

His confession was rough and forceful but still so heartfelt. Y/n wanted to cry at how much it reminded her of Wade’s but she didn’t allow her tears to consume her. Only pushed herself and the quinjet through the atmosphere, watching in the display as the HYDRA jet began to fall. 

"Please, say something.” Bucky pleaded, his voice fragile and broken. He knew rejection was imminent. Their talk on the roof told him that she wouldn’t accept his feelings. But he needed to get it out, needed to tell her before she died. 

“I’m sorry, Bucky.” She replied quietly before switching off her radio. Silence fell over the jet as she allowed the engine to shut off. Bucky flew past her, further into space, having not anticipated her sudden drop. 

She was alone again, free falling toward the earth once more like she had mere hours before. Although this fall would be much more fatal. More destructive. 

As she angled her jet straight toward the enemy jet, switching back on her engine and accelerating at deadly speeds, she found herself without a single comment. 

Not one word slipped past her lips as flames consumed her before she could even feel the impact. 

•••

The apartment was familiar. It was an apartment she had left to Weasel when she made a more permanent stay at the compound. She still visited from time to time but it didn’t look like this anymore. No, this place still had the messy bed with scribbled words on the chalkboard above it. It still had the colorful table and the warming sunlight shining through, a light Weasel usually blocked with curtains. Still had the memory wall full of pictures of her and Wade, a wall that was now bare. 

This was her and Wade’s home. 

“Red?” His voice rang out like heavenly bells and Y/n’s head whipped toward the sound. There he was, seated in the leather chair near the window. He looked just like he had the night she lost him. His hair was short and barely styled, having only grown a small amount in the time she had known him. There was a small amount of stubble along his lower face but his next words quickly dominated her observations. 

“What are you doing here?” She didn’t answer, wanting to study his face as long as she could. She wanted to refresh her mind with the image of his loving eyes and adorning smile. Wanted to forever remember the slit in his eyebrow from a long forgotten fight and the way his hands gripped the arms of the chair as he stood. 

“I died…again. I know you said it wasn’t my time but I just hoped, maybe this time it was?” Y/n spoke carefully, stepping forward, finding that the clothes she had worn seconds before had been replaced with one of Wade’s large t-shirts. 

Instead of moving to hold her and tell her she was right, that her time had finally come, he let his gaze fall. Her heart clenched in her chest and angry tears filled her eyes but she refused to allow them to fall, refused to let her chance at seeing Wade be cut short by her uncontrollable tears. 

“Who’s in charge of all this shit? Who fucked us over so bad that we can never be together?” Y/n snapped, turning her teary gaze toward the ground. She couldn’t bare to stare at the blurred wall separating her from Wade. Couldn’t stand to show up here time and time again only to be refused the one person she wanted most. 

“I don’t know, baby. Trust me if I did, you wouldn’t be there and I wouldn’t be here.” His voice was almost like a forgotten memory and Y/n hated her mind for allowing it to slip so far from her thoughts. He always spoke to her with such a tenderness, a tenderness he never used with anyone else. 

“I wanna stay with you.” Y/n pleaded, struggling to lift her eyes from the floor. Wade had begun to frown at her wish. She didn’t know why.

It was a sad frown like he wanted so desperately to agree but couldn’t. Wade knew his love still had a purpose in life and he couldn’t be selfish by asking her to stay. In the end nothing could make her stay, even if she begged for it on her knees. Because she still had a life waiting for her. A life without him. 

“Things are complicated now.” Wade tried to explain, moving closer to her. This wasn’t what Y/n wanted to hear and she stood in place, not moving an inch as hurt overcame her. 

“What do you mean?” Y/n questioned, trying not to sound as vulnerable as she knew she was. She wanted it to be over. To finally get the life with Wade she never had. But she could feel something tugging her back. It grew stronger with each passing second and she knew soon it’d reclaim her. But the feeling didn’t make her angry. She wasn’t upset. 

The feeling was overwhelming but in a good way. Like when someone says 'I love you’ for the first time. 

“Bucky.” Wade confessed suddenly, dragging Y/n’s attention away from the tug.  

“What-…?" 

"He loves you. You know that. Our times up baby.” His voice was miserable but stern. They never spoke so seriously before, even in the previous times she’d reached him in the afterlife. Every word was true even if it was his worst nightmare. And Y/n knew how much it pained him to say it. 

“No it can’t. I-” She tried to argue but found that there were no words to dismiss it. The tug was getting more powerful and familiarity washed over her. The tug was Bucky. He was her tether to the world and as much as she wanted to, she couldn’t let him go. 

But she couldn’t let Wade go either. 

“He loves you and as much as I want to do horrible, horrible things to him, I can’t. He can love you, hold you- fuck, he could give you a baby. All the things I can’t anymore.” Wade’s voice cracked and Y/n’s own tears began to fall, shaking her head at the mere thought of letting anyone other than him love her like that. 

“I need you to let me go before this gets too hard.” Wade begged. 

It broke Y/n to see him so lost, so shattered. This hurt him just as much as it hurt her but he was strong enough to push on. To tell her what she knew she needed to do, even if it was the last thing she wanted. 

He’d always been stronger than her. 

“Will we ever be together again?" 

In response, she received no words. Just a smile. A smile that told her everything would be okay. That no matter what happened it would be them against the world, even if she found love from another man. That smile told her more than any verbal answer could and put to rest the longing in her heart. 

"Kiss me like you miss me, Red." 

A bittersweet laughter echoed between them as she looked at him. All the love she’d felt for him was still lingering in her chest and she knew it’d never truly be gone. But another love was still there, one that was growing stronger like the tug she now felt.  

"Well, come here." 

Wade paced forward, moving through the barrier effortlessly and tugged her close to him like he had many times before. Her arms wrapped around the back of his neck as he pulled her up by her thighs, planting his lips on hers without missing a beat. 

Kisses with Wade were always passionate and hot but this one was different. His hold on her was tight like he knew it would be the last and his lips lightly caressed hers, pouring every ounce of adoration he had for her into the kiss. Y/n clung to him like her life depended it, feeling the tug become so powerful she feared she’d be ripped from his arms. When they pulled away there were no words spoken, just a gaze. 

Then she was pulled back. 

•••

When she woke up, she couldn’t feel anything, not even the air that flushed into her exposed lungs. Her chest was slowly piecing itself together and judging by her pounding headache, she figured her skull was doing the same.  

She no longer felt pain the same way others did and while she knew the process of her body morphing back to normal would be excruciating, that pain was dulled to her. All she could focus on was the voice calling out to her. 

It was only then that she looked around at where she was. The ground was cold under her skin, or at least what skin she had feeling in so far. The smoke from the crash was bellowing into the night sky above her but she couldn’t smell it. She was only just beginning to feel the nips of heat from the fire biting at her arms and legs, though she wasn’t sure if they were even attached to her anymore. 

The voice cut through the chaos like a beacon and Y/n couldn’t help but feel relaxed by it. It was soothing and a reassurance of safety came with it. 

Soon the owner of the voice forced his way through the debris, finding her battered body torn apart among the aftermath of the destruction. His eyes flashed with horror but he wasted no time in moving forward, yanking a heavy piece of metal out of her chest to free her. Y/n watched, not even knowing she had been impaled. 

Bucky had seen many horrible scenes before, most of them having been by his own hand but this was terrible. He was unsure if it was the fact that she’d done this to herself or if it was that she was forced to stay alive throughout the entire thing, but either way it unnerved him and he felt the need to get her out of there immediately. 

He grabbed hold of her torso, pulling her up into his arms and taking notice of the fact that one of her legs and ¾ of her left arm was missing along with most of her chest. But despite this she just smiled at him, leaning further into him. 

"Hey, Seb. Oh, wait, fourth wall! Fuck me!” A delusional giggle escaped her and Bucky brushed off her comment, trying to focus on getting her out. He wasn’t sure where her limbs had gone or if he should try to retrieve them but Y/n slowly losing consciousness in his arms urged him to get out of there and he did just that. 

“Hey, you’re gonna be okay. We’ll get you back to the med bay and you’ll be good as new.” He smiled at her and she nodded, knowing he was right. Didn’t make the process of self healing any less uncomfortable. 

But she couldn’t think of that right now. Wade’s words were still fresh in her mind. 

'He loves you. You know that.’

“Bucky.” She croaked, her own anxiety for what she was about to say overpowering everything else. The disaster around her didn’t matter and neither did the cracks in her chest as her ribs reformed. All that mattered was getting her words out before she lost consciousness. Before she lost her nerve. 

“It’s okay, Y/n. I’ll get you out of here.” Bucky assured, dismissing her call. Y/n frowned, reaching to grab hold of his face only to realize her arm had not yet grown back. She cursed silently, looking up at him. That crash was really a bitch. 

“Would you get your head out of your ass and listen to me?” She insisted, hating how vulnerable she was making herself. She hated being so emotionally weak in front of anyone other than Wade but she tried to listen to his wish. Tried to let him go. 

“Look, I care about you, alright?” She confessed, noting the way Bucky’s arms tightened on her and how he stilled instantly. “Ever since they fridged Wade, I never thought I’d care about anyone like I did him. But then you came along with your perfect smile and perfect eyes and ugh-God, why is this so hard?!” A groan escaped her as she let her gaze fall from him. It had always been easy with Wade, they fell into place like puzzle pieces but with Bucky it was harder. More real. 

His fingers curled around her waist, feeling the skin reshaping under his metal fingertips. Y/n was just loopy from the crash, he couldn’t take her confession seriously right? 

“Y/n, I-" 

"I know, I’m sorry. What I did on the roof was wrong, I was just scared-I’m-I’m still scared.” She admitted, her hold on him tightening desperately. Bucky frowned, guilt flooding him for putting her in such a conflicting and uncomfortable situation. 

He should’ve never said anything, should’ve never put her in the position where she had to force herself to move on from a lost love. It was wrong and terribly unfair. 

“Forget it, let’s get you somewhere safe, okay?” He replied, watching as her eyes grew heavy, losing her fight to stay awake. The looked like she wanted to argue but before she could she fell unconscious, allowing him to finally focus on escaping the wreck though his mind was cluttered with guilt and self hatred. 

It wasn’t fair. But then again life never was. 

•••

When Y/n woke up again her body was almost completely healed. Other agents were cautiously refilling the building after ensuring that no other HYDRA attacks were imminent. They had no reason to return after all, the drive was destroyed and as far as they knew, the information had gone down with Y/n. 

Bucky told himself he’d finally look at what the drive held since HYDRA had put up such a fight for it but he couldn’t bring himself to leave Y/n’s bedside. 

She’d been hooked up to several machines that would help her heal, something she’d surely throw a fit about when she awoke. She’d told them plenty of times that she didn’t need the whole 'hospital bullshit’ but it was just procedure. Plus Bucky suspected the medical personnel liked to piss her off as much as she did them. 

He would’ve found her curses amusing when she finally did regain consciousness but his nerves were too great. They’d left off in a serious and rather suspenseful moment and he almost wanted to disappear all together. 

Talking with Y/n was what he’d wanted to do all this time and best case scenario, he’d finally win her over. But he knew the worst case was more likely. He’d always managed to fuck things up and this was no different. 

He was wrong to force his feelings upon her and while he felt guilt and knew he’d be rejected, he wouldn’t have taken it back. It felt freeing to tell her. He was actually relieved she knew how much he cared for her. 

“What in the fuck nuggets is this bullshit?” Y/n snapped suddenly, yanking the IV from her arm and tossing it away from her with an annoyed glare. “I already told you guys-.” She stopped mid sentence, upon seeing Bucky sitting there. 

He looked tired and she wanted to make a joke to ease the nervous stare he directed at her but she couldn’t bring herself too. In the last 24 hours she’d been an emotional train wreck and while her heart screamed to tell Bucky whatever he wanted to hear, she knew things were more complicated than that. 

And deep down he knew that too. 

“Look, about what I said after the crash.” She began, running a hand through her hair. Bucky watched as she did so, hanging onto her every word. He’d remembered what she said or at least what it sounded like she was going to say. But had she meant it or was it out of pity? 

“I want you, okay?” She confessed, expelling all doubt from his mind. She wasn’t one to beat around the bush and quite frankly she was tired of struggling for words. So she spoke from the heart, even if it wasn’t very romantic. “I’ve liked you for a while but-…Wade’s death still hurts.” She continued. 

Bucky sat on the edge of his seat, his heart pounding in his chest as she spoke. It’d been so long since he’d had a chance at love and he already felt as though he’d messed it up. But then again they’d always been a little messy. 

“But I wanna try this. I know I said I wasn’t ready for anything serious but I wanna try us no matter how fucked up we are together.” Y/n told him, reaching for his metal hand and clasping it in both of hers. “I wanna fuck the world with you. I wanna fuck it so hard.” She smiled, earning a laugh from him.  

Her confession was overwhelming and clumsy but he took it like it was. Y/n was an overwhelming person and he was ready for that. He was so ready for whatever mayhem she had to offer. 

“Fuck the world, huh?” He questioned, amused as her eyes lit up with joy. 

“Yeah. You and me, Buck.” She promised, holding his hand tightly. His heart swelled at her words, shifting to sit on the bed with her as she leaned closer to him. 

“Deadpool and Winter Soldier. I kinda like it.” He said, smiling at her as she smirked. Dirty words began to develop on her tongue and before Bucky could even realize what he’d walked himself into, she was leaning toward his ear, her breath brushing his skin and leaving chills in its wake. 

“I bet you’ll like it even more when I say it in bed won’t you, Winter Soldier.” She spoke in his ear, her voice smooth and sultry. His face had flooded red but he refused to let himself get all flustered and speechless. 

There was once a time where he was a lady’s man and while he knew he was probably a little out of date, he was a fast study. And having known Y/n all this time had taught him a few things. 

“Only if you scream it." 

Y/n paused, looking back at him with a mix of shock and pride. She was at a loss for words and Bucky quickly accepted his victory, launching forward and putting his lips on hers. 

Despite her lustful comments her kiss was tender and passionate, a kind of kiss he’d longed from her for some time. A kiss that although hesitant was strong and heartfelt. 

They had some work to do and while their relationship would be chaotic, it was their chaos and he couldn’t ask for anything more. 

"I gotta know something.” Y/n admitted suddenly, pulling away from the kiss. Bucky was a little confused but nodded anyway, wondering what on Earth would be so important. 

“Who taught the Russo brothers about time travel, Endgame was so fucked."   

[lesserpandeu]

Around The World in 17 Days | Day 1: Toronto

day 0; day 1

fandom: Seventeen 

genre: Fantasy + Angst & Fluff

pairing: Chan (Dino) x Reader 

words: 6,547

summary: Suffering from a condition that causes you to randomly end up in almost any place in the world, your life was a little chaotic, to say the least. When a solution seems to arise, you are more than happy to try it out. In order to heal, you need to meet the several people you are connected to by the red string of fate. And if this situation couldn't have gotten more ridiculous, one of them was your soulmate.You just don't know who.

Your first day on your mission dropped you in the big Canadian city, Toronto. You meet one of the first 'soul-bros', Chan. While you stress over how exactly you're going to fulfill your purpose with him, you end up doing it so naturally you barely even noticed.

A/N: so this has actually been out for a good year now on my ao3, but I forgot to post it here, so yeah. here. woops. ALSO I PROMISE DAY 2 IS COMING SOON I PROMISE. These things are tough because I research a lot about the cities so I get tired of working on this fic pretty easily. So it takes a lot of time, and I get lazy sooo that’s a really messy combination. Thanks for everyone who has stuck around though! You guys are amazing and believe me your comments make me want to work harder, haha. 

Day 1: Toronto

As you began to regain your conscious steadily, you instantly felt an intense difference in the general comfort of your surroundings. The bed you had fell asleep on was replaced by incredibly hard surfaces. Your back was laying up right on a wall of some sort, pain generally coursing through your spine. I should’ve seen a chiropractor before I started this shit, you thought as you winced at the pain when you began to process it. Arching your back, resulting in a cracking noise, your stretched out your arms and legs. Your left leg winced and started when it hit something, causing you to hurriedly open your eyes. 

A dumpster. Briefly taking a glance at your surroundings, you saw you were in a narrow alleyway. The buildings you were between were fairly tall, maybe 4 or 5 stories, and made of brick. Your best guess was that they were apartments. You next paid attention to the heat that had bothered you the instant you woke up. It was summer here still, so that wasn’t unusual. You reached for your pocket, turning on your phone. As you looked down, you started. After the brief panic, you observed closer what had spooked you. 

A thread from the one tied around your finger led across the alleyway, turning around the corner. Scrunching your eyebrows, you turned your hand around. It didn’t get tangled and when you reached with your other hand to touch it, your hand just went through it. It took a moment for you to think of what it might’ve been. One of the red strings of fate? You assumed that was it. Maybe it lead you to a soul bro? You nodded to yourself, slightly skeptical. How else am I supposed to find them? You reasoned. A jingle came from your phone, making you turn your attention towards it. It booted, showing you the time from your original timezone before swiftly switching to what you presumed to be the current timezone. 8 A.M. That was about normal. Your ability usually meant you’d wake up at about that time no matter the timezone, maybe earlier or later depending on how severe the difference was. As you dismissed all the notifications (nothing important, at least for now), a sun graphic appeared on one side of your phone showing the number “78 F” and underneath the word “Toronto”.

Toronto, huh? It wasn’t too far from the Canadian-American border, if you remembered about the location. Near Lake Ontario? You slightly rose an eyebrow. Wasn’t Canada supposed to be cold? Maybe it just wasn’t this time of the year? Clearing your mind of the minor questions you had, you looked back up to where the string was pulling you. You supposed the best way to start was to follow that string somewhere until you could maybe come up with some sort of game plan. Or a money exchange or ATM. Maybe you’d try to go penniless the whole day? The grumble in your stomach disqualified that thought as quickly as it came. Maybe you’d look for breakfast first.

Getting up and dusting yourself off, you began to follow the string. I wonder how far away they are? You wondered as you turned the corner. Your attention drifted from the string and to your surroundings. The surroundings were quite urban, a block away in the direction the string was leading you were office-like buildings much taller than the other buildings. More life appeared on this street than the one you had woken up on. The corner that the string directed you to turn at was what appeared to be a restaurant, advertised by a large sign. It would likely be lit up, blinking, and flashing if it were dark. The rest of the block had a few stores, some more plain looking residential places. It was a pleasant city, similar to other cities you had been to when transporting place to place.

Your stomach twisted inside of you yet again, enough to make you wince a bit and look down at it with a glare. “Be quiet,” you scolded it. It growled back at you, as if refusing to be silenced. Sighing at its persistence, you looked back up at the restaurant. As far as you knew, you only had one day in Toronto to meet the person you were tied to. But you still had to eat, right?

That being said, you figured to stop in. Just before, you slipped off your jacket, tying it around your waist. One essential thing about transporting was wearing layers. You never know when you’ll need it. 

Walking into the restaurant, you were surprised to see a fairly large amount of people. There were just as many enough that you even thought that they were full. Maybe I should just find another place, you thought. Arriving at that decision, you were just about to turn around and leave when a waiter had come up with a smile.

“Hello, just one?” Well it was too late now. Sure, you could simply explain that you had changed your mind and wanted to leave, but that would be awkward for your uncharismatic self to explain. ‘Hi, no, too many people here, I have anxiety haha.’ So you just caved in.

“Yes,” your voice cracked a little. Jesus Christ, you winced inwardly at yourself. This was going to be a long day. 

“Is the bar alright?” Did people even have breakfast at the bar section? You were positive they didn’t, but looking quickly back at the crowded area, you guessed it was because of the capacity. Who even goes out to eat this early in the morning? you kept reminiscing, ever so slightly agitated.

“Yes,” you nodded, a bit quieter than the last time. Despite what you believed to be an awkward interaction, the waiter didn’t seem to care, grabbing a napkin wrapped snugly around some silverware and briefly telling you to follow them. You did so, rubbing your arms, surprised at how cold it was in the restaurant compared to the outside. The waiter sat you at the bar, handing you a menu and leaving you. 

Legs hanging above the ground, you leaned your elbows on the bar counter, looking briefly at the menu. Becoming disinterested fairly quickly, you took a moment to look around. To your left was a woman, body completely turned away from you conversing with her partner. On your right was an empty seat and what you were somewhat convinced was the last one available in the whole restaurant. In front of you, obviously, was the bar, with various taps of beers, other liqueurs, and whiskies stacked on the shelves on the wall. In addition, there was a TV playing some sort of morning show program. Although you took awhile to watch it and the delayed subtitles, you couldn’t recognize it or anyone hosting it. 

The menu was a typical breakfast diner’s menu. Omelettes, pancakes, toast, the usual. You became uninterested in it fairly quickly when your phone started to buzz with the sound of your face call ringtone. You should’ve guessed he would try to contact you. Looking around quickly to make sure no one would try to take your order or judge you for face chatting in public (?), you pulled your phone out of your pocket and answered it.

“Good morning,” you answered when Rowans far too close to the camera face loaded, only illuminated by the screen on the phone. It didn’t necessarily mean it was dark in your timezone, but he refused to use any other sort of light in his dark tent besides candles or lanterns. Electrical lighting “tampered with his work”, or at least that's what he insisted.

“So where are you?” he asked, becoming minimally aware of his ridiculous angle on the camera and tried to fix it a little. It didn’t do much anyways.

“Toronto,” you gave a bit of a forced smile. “But the heat makes me doubt that.”

“Ontario? Oh it's hot this time of year,” he said. “Remember my son, Jacob?”

“Yes, the author,” you did your best to quickly let him know you remembered him, lest he go on to tell you his life story from the moment he was born again. “He lives around here, right?”

“Yes, I’ve been up there a few times to see him,” he laughed a little. The glimpse of the man’s softer side helped you crack a smile. It was short as he went straight back to business. “Did you find them?”

“No,” you admitted, looking at the string. It was leading you out the entrance of the restaurant. “I needed breakfast first. I just got up.”

“You do realise you only have a day to complete your purpose?” Anxiety flooded through you, mostly in your arms that held the phone.

“Yes,” you sighed. “I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“It’s up to you if this ends up working or not,” he sipped some of his tea. Though you couldn’t see it, you heard it. Rowan made a subconscious effort to make a sound when he drank.

“I know,” you groaned. “I just don’t know how the hell I’m going to do this.” A short silence came after you, as Rowan set down his tea with a clink.

“I’ll tell you what,” he shifted himself in his seat and the camera. “This isn’t  just some stranger whose life your trying to fix.” Except that’s exactly what this is, you rebutted in your head. “This is a soul you’ve been connected to since before either of you were born. The two of you have a connection. Every person you meet this next week or two is connected with you in some way. Fate predetermined that these people could have their lives changed forever by you or that your life would be changed forever by them. Fate is going to be doing all the work for you.” He was probably right. But considering how odd and confusing the situation was for you, you didn’t know if that helped much at all.

“Well,” you paused. “I should probably get the breakfast in me and get out there as soon as possible. Time waits for no one.”

“I wish you all the best of luck,” he told you in his naturally grandiose way. You told him a soft “bye” before you hung up, just at miraculously the same time that a waiter came to take your order from behind the bar.

“Hello, welcome to-” the waiter had begun telling you a customary greeting as you put your phone back in your pocket. He paused suddenly just as he had started, making you quickly look up at him to see what he was doing. He was looking over you, a smile quickly spread on his features as he spoke somewhat louder to somebody behind you.

“Well, I’ll be, it’s Dinosaurus Rex. I thought you were supposed to be gone for the summer like everyone else!” You supposed he saw a friend and you awkwardly looked away from him and back at your menu, like you were trying to memorize all of the pancake toppings. As much as you tried to not be any part of the conversation, you couldn’t help to at least overhear.

“Please stop calling me that, that’s not even a real dinosaur,” the voice that responded was somewhat quiet with a hint of annoyance. “And I thought I mentioned that I was staying for the summer.”

“I get ya, gotta work those loans off,” the waiter seemed to shiver. In that brief moment, after you became less interested in your perusing, your attention was caught by the string. It had definitely moved in the time that you had sat down to this moment. The fact that it was moving gave you an eerie, nervous feeling. Maybe you should’ve just skipped breakfast and went after them? 

Your mangled feelings had then left just as urgently as they came, and your eyes shot back down at the string. As you held your breathe, the string rotated to your right, at a steady pace that seemed to match the sound of the footsteps as they passed behind you. You heard an airy sigh as in the corner of your eye, a silhouette appeared to hop on the bar stool next to you. After a moment of utter disbelief, you carefully tilted your sight from your ring finger to the person now next to you. Following the bright red string that only you could see, its path ended at his crossed arms. You caught sight of the end on the ring finger of his right hand, tucked beneath his left elbow. 

The revelation paralyzed you and your gaze, unable to look away. Your mind realized that if you continued to gawk at him, you would raise suspicions and give off the worst first impression ever. But your body seemed to refuse to listen, as you took in everything about the first “soulbro” you had ever met. 

The bottom layer of his dark brown hair was short. His top layer curled towards his face with a wave to it. He wore a somewhat oversized black graphic tee. His face was young and his eyes were sharp, but they had a small, kind droop to them that you could miss easily at a mere glance. As he continued his conversation that you had muted out, his smile shone not only on his lips but in his eyes. 

The amount of time that past with you looking at the boy become well over uncomfortable when you attempted to get your wits together just in time for you to look back at the waiter, looking back at you. Panicking, you supposed he had come back to you for your order.

“Oh, uh, eggs, sunnyside up, and bacon. And an orange juice.” You looked away quickly, but back at the waiter again briefly when you swear he was giving you a look drowning in suspicion. With a modest amount of shame, you looked down again, menu extended and lips pursed. You were too embarrassed to look up again as he took the menu, saying the typical “i’ll be right back with your drink blablabla”. 

“I’ll have the usual,” your soul bro told him casually after you placed your order.

The waiter left, leaving you completely stiff and nervous, the prescence of the person next to you making you incredibly uneasy. In attempt to calm yourself, you exhaled. Okay. Calm down. Like Rowan said, everything is going to be fine. There’s a reason this guy’s connected to me. I can do it. Just make small talk, get to know him. It shouldn’t be that hard, right? As your nerves returned to a healthy level, you shyly looked at him again. It appeared he still wasn’t paying much attention to you, currently you were just a person he happened to be sitting next to in a crowded restaurant. You thought of what to do, trying to think of anything casual to discuss. What did Canadians talk about?

Without any critical thinking from you whatsoever, you turned your torso towards him as you asked him:

“Hey, did you see the hockey game last night? Pretty intense, right?”

IMBECILE. COMPLETE MORON. YOU FUCKING SOUP CAN. your brain called you names as you realized how stupid you just sounded. You had successfully concocted the lie that you watched hockey while simultaneously just assuming the now bewildered looking boy watched hockey because, oh, we’re in Canada. 

He did a double-take, completely taken aback. He hadn’t realized at first that you were talking to him. Or he did, but he just took a moment to actually process the weird and confusing moment. “Uh, What?” was all he could respond with. Understandably. Petrification hit you yet again, causing your gaze to fumble around and words and thoughts jumble into a complete mess as stutters were all your mouth could formulate.

A laugh sounded from him afterwards, stopping the mess you were experiencing as you looked at him again. It wasn’t like a small “ha” or “hahaha?” laugh, he was cracking up. Maybe you should’ve felt bad like “oh, he’s laughing at me im such an idiot”, but it somehow didn’t feel like he was shaming or embarrassing you at all. As he gradually recovered to form sentences, he wiped his eyes and looked at you with a quirked brow.

“Your visiting, right?”

“Uhm, ah, yes,” you almost mumbled. 

“Well, first, welcome to Canada, and second, hockey season doesn’t start until the fall,” he informed you gently. You gave a small “oh” sound, shifting awkwardly in your seat.

“Where are you from?” he asked curiously, still smiling kindly. You told him where, which he hummed to in understanding. A very brief silence loomed over, causing the panic to set back in your body. “How long have you been here?”

“Oh, maybe a couple,” you paused, almost quickly about to say that for all you knew, you had only been there for at the most an hour. “Late last night, I haven’t gotten the chance to do anything here yet.”

Well if you couldn’t get any more suspicious than asking someone seemingly Canadian if they had seen the nonexistent hockey game the other night, you had just changed your answer for how long you had been in the country mid-sentence. If this guy was an immigration officer, you’d be fucked. 

He at least pretended that he didn’t seem to mind and nodded. You tried to ease into a conversation again by looking over your shoulder at the crowded seating. 

“Is it always this busy at 8 in the morning?”

“No,” somebody else answered. You looked back across the bar to see the waiter, setting down your iced orange juice, with an orange wedge squeezed onto the rim of the glass and a little hot pink umbrella. He then put glass of an iced dark drink which you presumed to be coffee, black, towards your “friend”. “We got a U.S. tour group stop by for breakfast this morning. Could’ve warned us about it, but they just came out of nowhere.”

“I was about to ask, its way too crowded for this time in the day,” the soulbro nodded. He looked back at you and quickly arched his brows and “oh”ed before uncomfortably putting his arms in front of him in a shy/defensive gesture.

“Excuse me, my name is Chan Lee. I forgot to introduce myself.” You swiftly told him it was okay and introduced yourself next.

“And I’m Jack. Just call that guy Dino.”

“That’s not my name,” you watched Chan roll his eyes. 

“Sure it is! You look like a dinosaur, so why not?”

“I don’t look like a dinosaur, Jack.”

“You’re not gonna admit that if you squint really really hard, you kind of look like one?”

“Jack, Table 10’s order is ready!”

“Shouldn’t you be going now?”

As he hurriedly left, he yelled back, “THIS ISN’T OVER!”

The interaction made you laugh, turning Chan’s attention back towards you. You both took sips of your drinks as the conversation steadily became more casual.

“So… Dino?” you started back up. He groaned.

“Just a name my friends call me. It’s not my favorite.”

“Well…” you squinted at him a bit. You saw it. 

“Yeah, just forget it,” he waved it off, with a skeptical face. Your grin widened and a laugh left you.

Taking a sip of your orange juice, you felt a shiver run through you. It was hot outside, but that seemed to instantly mean intense cooling inside as always. As you set your glass down, you looked back at Chan. “I thought Canada was supposed to be cold.”

“It is, in the winter. Summer gets pretty hot in Toronto though,” he explained between sips of his own drink. You nodded, Toronto wasn’t incredibly North. 

As the small talk continued, you were surprised by how easy it was to get to know him. It turned out Rowan was right after all. This wasn’t incredibly difficult. But even though it wasn’t hard to converse, you still couldn’t place exactly what you were supposed to be doing to help the guy out. You knew one of the people you were going to meet would be your soulmate, as much as that terrified you. But you couldn’t just assume everyone was going to be the “one” or whatever. You figured you had to dig deeper. But that was going to be tough, or at least you thought. How were you supposed to potentially change somebody’s life in one day?

“So, what do you do?” you asked. You were almost surprised by your own “boldness”. Well, bold for you.

“Hmm?” he seemed to momentarily leave and enter back in the discussion, setting down his coffee. “Oh, I’m a student in medicine at University of Toronto.” You nodded. 

“Medicine, eh? What do you want to be?”

He chuckled hesitantly, seeming somewhat fake. Oh? 

“Yeah, I don’t really know yet.” Oh. That’s when you thought: Maybe he’s one of those students that don’t actually know/like what they’re studying? Medicine seemed like one of those fields where students would enter to satisfy some sort of familial standard. Not necessarily because they themselves wanted it. You hesitated as you stirred your juice with your straw. Should you ask?

“Your orders!” the waiter, Jack, slipped from behind the bar with both your orders. Even though you hadn’t come together. He slid your platter towards you and then Chan’s. Your glimpse at his food showed you a stack of pancakes doused in cream and strawberries. Nice. 

Naturally, the conversation was interrupted as you had now received your food, conversation becoming relatively minimal. Thankfully, after he finished his meal first with you close behind, the conversation stayed.

“Any plans for what your doing while your here?”

“Ahh,” you paused. Maybe this was your chance to spend the rest of the day with him? But how to do so without coming on too strong and scaring him away? ‘Lmao, you’ ‘How bout YOU show me the town tonight, big boy ;)))’ ‘Greetings soulmate, allow me to follow you for the day and reveal your deepest, darkest emotions so I may heal you’ ‘I have come from afar to change your life’.

“... nothing?” before you realised it, you were taking way too long to think of an excuse and Chan had caught on to your speechlessness.

“...no, haha?” you smiled nervously. Your smile must have been contagious, as he then reflected it.

“Well, some people like to go down to the TU campus-”

“Are you here alone, though?” Jack had leaned against the bar from the other side, more liberated to socialize now that the tour group he complained about earlier had left. 

“Yeah, just me!” you nodded towards him.

“That’s no fun,” he groaned. He beamed up and leaned over the bar, towards you. “Want me to show ya around?!”

With all due respect to Jack, you had shit to do. Specifically with Chan. You tried keeping a straight face while you looked away, pretending to consider the premise. Before you could gently turn down the offer, you looked over at Chan as he spoke up. 

“I thought you said you were busy today?” he seemed annoyed.

“When did I say that?”

“When I asked if you wanted to hang out today last night,” Jack had a face that seemed like he was searching his brain for answers when he “oohhhh”ed.

“I forgot,” he seemed distraught and mildly upset. “I’m covering Wendy’s shift today while she’s at her friend’s wedding…”

You gave a small laugh, “It’s okay, I’m fine.”

“No, it’s not,” he groaned. “Sightseeing by yourself is, like, boring as fuck.” 

“Some people, believe it or not, like having that kind of time to themselves,” Chan defended.

“Blah, blah, that’s bullshit,” Jack argued back, almost like a toddler. He then gasped and yelled, “YOU CAN SHOW HER AROUND!”

“JACK,” he simply stated. 

“C’mon! Don’t you want a real local to show you around?” the question was directed at you. Chan also hesitantly looked at you, awaiting a response. 

“Uhhh, I mean,” you hesitated. “It sounds nice, but I wouldn’t want to impose on anyone-”

“Meh, Chan had nothing to do today, anyways,” he shrugged. “It’s not a problem, right?” He directed his question towards Chan.

You shyly looked at him, when he met your gaze he quickly looked away, flustered and struggling to find his words. “Uhm, well no-”

“PERFECT!” he hopped over the bar counter (who the fuck was this dude) and pulled you both up from your seats by your arms. “Chan’s been needing a date.”

“A d-date?”

“Now, GO HAVE FUN,” he dragged you out towards the entrance and pushed you both out the restaurant. 

Did you just get kicked out?

Now it was just the two of you, awkwardly standing on the sidewalk at the entrance to the restaurant, standing by the side to not impede pedestrian traffic. A brief silence filled with awkwardness, confusion, and tension swept over as you looked at him in confusion.

“We didn’t even pay?”

“Y-yeah,” he scratched his head, looking back inside. “Well, it’s coming out of his check.”

“Ah…” you awkwardly pulled at the bottom of your shirt. 

“Yeah, so…” he rubbed his hands together. “I’m so sorry, about all of this. Jack is… unusual. He means well, though. I wouldn’t want to intrude on your stay here, so you totally don’t have to do what he says, I can give you a few places to go, tips, recommendations for food, photo ops-”

You breathed deeply as you watched him talk. His looks were nothing to sneeze at, and him rambling on made you tune out as it only drew you more towards his face. He made eye contact, making you flinch, unnoticeably perhaps as he just looked away and kept talking. As much as you tried to not think about what Rowan said about the soulmate, you couldn’t help but at least wonder. Well, it was more like daydreaming. 

Before you could finish admiring him and tune back into what he was telling you, you found his mouth stop moving and his face look towards you, waiting for interaction on your part.

“Oh, uhm, ah,” you not so charismatically brainstormed to find the words you were looking for. “Actually, I was… uhm…” You folded your arms across in front of you in an instinctively defensive manner. “I would appreciate being shown Toronto by a local, kind of like what Jack said. That is, if you actually wanted to, I don’t want to force you into something you don’t want to do, after all-”

“Okay, I can do that.” You stopped dead in your sentence when he said that, trying to suppress the light fluttery feeling of happiness that welled up inside of you. You smiled wide, only slightly embarrassed by your probably red cheeks. 

“Really? Oh, thank you so much-”

“Don’t mention it,” he laughed, scratching the back of his neck. “Besides, I think we get along pretty well, anyways.”

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

To start, he took you down to University of Toronto’s campus where you could see a few people, young and old, laid out on blankets. Some were having picnics, some were just enjoying the day, all in the shade. The temperature had gotten higher from when you first woke up, to a point that you couldn’t ignore it. 

Nervously, Chan asked if you would like your picture taken there, which you said yes to. You posed cutely along a tree for a short few minutes, before the heat began to set and he proposed going to cool down in the visitor’s centre. As you did so, you thought to bring up the topic of what he was majoring in.

“Medicine, huh?”

“Hmm?” he set down his can of coke that he got from the vending machine. “Oh, yeah.”

“Do you… like it?” he didn’t make any eye contact as he just sat staring at the can, tracing the rim with his finger. 

“Can’t say,” he said. “It’s not the worst thing, I don’t hate it. I think the idea is cool, and the stuff I’m learning isn’t all that bad, but…” he took a deep breath. “I have no idea of telling if this is what I was meant to do.”

Silence overtook the both of you for awhile. You definitely understood. You didn’t know what you were going to graduate with a degree in when you first went to college, either. That part of your life was so hard, you remembered. Leaving home, living by yourself, starting your journey to the rest of your life. It was terrifying. It was lonely. No matter the amount of support you got, you still didn’t have what you thought you needed. Someone, something, anything to tell you what to do. 

Afterwards, he decided to take you to the Toronto sign with the fountain. You took the trolleys, falling in love with the idea at first and soon realizing it was still public transport and wasn’t some Cinderella carriage. It was pretty busy to, the two of you were packed in, and while the AC was doing its best to keep up, it just wasn’t made to withstand the heat. It was up to about 96 degrees, you overheard some other people saying who were complaining about it. 

“It’s so freaking hot,” he groaned as he shook his shirt, trying to create some sort of flowing air. “You came on a pretty bad day. I mean, it’s not Canada day, but still.”

“Yeah, the heat is killing me,” you laughed, fanning yourself. “At least I got to meet you, though!” You stated a little too enthusiastically. You could’ve sworn the person you were standing over looked up at the two of you, as if watching some sort of drama or crime taking place. 

Nonetheless, Chan became shy again, scratching his hair a little as he smiled and awkwardly looked out a window. As he did, his eyes shot open as he then stated “crap” and grabbed your hand as he pulled you off the trolley at the stop that the trolley was just about to leave. Once you both were out of danger of being crushed by the doors, he instantly spurted out a bunch of apologies, which you needed to quelm. 

He calmed down, and after he let go of your hand in a silly, flustered way, you headed to the fountain. Along the way, you stopped and asked if you could get some ice cream, to which he happily obliged. Hopping into a sweets shop for a moment, you both got your respective favorite flavors in cones. You paid, after much arguing on both of you insisting you would cover it, Chan threw in the towel after witnessing your aggressive assertiveness to pay.

“I’ll just have to pay next time!” he ended with, handing you your cone after holding them while you fumbled with your bag, which still seemed suspiciously prepared for whatever you could need. You smiled a little, almost solemnly. You thought about staying in contact, but you remembered the reason you were there with him in the first place. To fulfill some sort of purpose you were meant to do with him, and go on to the next one. This day was technically supposed to be the only one where you would spend time with him at all. It’s not like you could come to Toronto, or wherever your “soul bros” were whenever you felt like it. You had a busy job that worked you as hard as it could within the legal (though you had your doubts at times) limits. 

You made it to the sign, and it was crowded. And hot again. The ice cream helped minimally, and you could hardly stand the heat. The photo op was ruined quite a few times by kids who were climbing around the sign, but you did manage to get a nice picture with the second ‘T’. Someone offered to take a picture of the two of you, which Chan hesitantly complied to. You understood nearly instantly why, as the minute he stood by you, you realized how weird it was going to look. In a brave attempt to prevent the weird picture you came closer and wrapped an arm around him, posing with a peace sign. You didn’t catch his reaction, smiling at the person who was taking your picture with Chan’s phone. You heard the faint shutter click over the noise of a thousand demons (commonly known as children), as the stranger then put down the phone and came up to Chan and gave him his phone back. You said thank you, followed by a hurried one from Chan, who seemed flustered. You turned to look at him, seeing his face was flushed, maybe just due to the heat, but the rush of heat that you felt the second you came in contact made you think otherwise. 

“You guys make a nice couple!” the stranger complimented with a genuine smile before he left. Oh, boy. 

“How’d it turn out?” you asked as you tried to peak at the photo. You saw yourself smiling, fairly brightly, while leaning on a surprised Chan who was looking at you as opposed to the camera. The ‘T’ was practically illegible, as well. 

“I blame the photographic technique,” you playfully patted his shoulder. He chuckled, and then groaned. 

“I suck at posing for pictures,” he stated. “I think I have one good selfie I’ve ever taken. I had weird hair then, too.”

“Let’s take a better one, then!” you suggested.

“I’d rather be done with my complimentary sweat soak first.”

“Good point,” you giggled. “Any plans on what to do?”

“Hmm,” he seemed to think, though only for a brief second. “We could go to the aquarium. I’ve never been and I’d think it’s air conditioned.”

“Sounds like a plan!”

Oh, it was a plan. Maybe not one where you weighed the pros and cons of, but a plan. Everything was fine until you got there. It appeared as if everyone else in the city had the same plan as you did. The line for tickets was enormous, and the aquarium itself was packed. 

You stayed regardless, at least it was cool. You started by walking through some more isolated halls with fish tanks. All sorts of colorful fish from yellow, blue, and red swam aside you, back and forth. You’d point out a fish you thought looked nice every once in awhile, or one that was doing something funny. 

Chan tried to take some pictures of the fish, to which he voiced some disappointment of because the glass hindered it. As you went further in, more kids started showing up and running around, bumping into the two of  you. As minimally irritating as it was, at one point a little girl came running full speed and crashed into Chan. She fell down, and he had suddenly pushed into you a bit.

Before you could understand that was what happened yourself, Chan crouched down and asked if she was okay. You watched them as the girl got up and looked down at a scratch she got. 

“I think I hurt my knee,” the girl spoke shyly.

“Uh oh, do you want to get a band aid for it?” he asked gently. She nodded silently. You smiled at how he handled the situation with care. Several college students would be angry as all hell if a kid ran into them. You commended his patience.

“I think I have one with me,” you kneeled down to the girl and started searching your backpack. You pulled out one and took the packaging off, applying it as she let you.

“Thank you!” she beamed. She turned to run off again but paused, turning around and waving. You both waved back before getting back up on your feet.

“I see you, Doctor Lee. You’d nail the pediatrician vibe if you went that way,” you mildly teased him. He laughed, scratching the back of his head.

“Yeah, I guess that would be cool.” You hesitated a moment before you began walking further into the aquarium.

“I don’t know if my career is what I’m meant to do, either.”

He looked at you quickly enough for you to feel a minitare draft hit your face. You continued.

“Working is hard, no matter what your doing. My mother always told me to never pick your favorite hobby as your career. Then that hobby becomes your job. And I think there is some truth to that…” you stopped at a dimly lit jellyfish tank and stared at the purple tentacles.

“But I also don’t see the problem with loving your job. Yes, it becomes a job, but doesn’t that just make you love it all the more?” You took a long pause, sneaking a glance at Chan. He was staring at the tank, as if thinking about your words.

“Even if your job isn’t your favorite, why can’t you learn to love it anyway? Someone’s gotta do it. Your role matters. Medicine is so important in that regards. You get to make people’s lives better, longer, and less painful. You can give them the chance to find the meaning that we are all searching for in our little lives. Maybe some people feel that sense of what they’re meant to do. And maybe some need more time to figure that out.”

Your monologue finished, leaving you two in the silence of the one place in the aquarium that wasn’t loud and bombarded with people. For awhile you both stood there, just staring at the slow movements the jellyfish made. Something about the moment made you feel that you had done what you came to do.

“... Thanks,” Chan broke the silence. You smiled and looked over at him. 

“It’s no problem.”

After the aquarium, you realized how late it was. The evening produced the wash of orange and yellow that was starting to light up all the street lamps. It only seemed to encourage younger people out to enjoy the night on the town. Traffic seemed worse and more people were out on the streets. 

“Hey, (y/n),” Chan initiated as you slowly walked down the street together. “Today was lots of fun. Seriously. I really enjoyed it.”

“Hey, I did too!” you replied.

“I just wanted to say thanks. I thought I was gonna stay in all day and do nothing but this was so much better than that. Like, I don’t wanna be cheesy or anything, I feel like we were almost meant to meet in that stupid diner.” You chuckled to yourself. If only he knew.

“I get it, I felt the same way.”

You kept walking together like that until you came to a park and decided to sit. The two of you kept talking and talking until somehow, in your exhaustion, you managed to fall dead asleep on his shoulder. Though you didn’t notice, Chan surely did as his cheeks grew red and his lips curled into a smile, looking back up at the painted sky.

[inthenameofthebody]

Music, Meditation, Painting—and Dreaming

A conversation with Philip Glass and Fredericka Foster

Philip Glass

and

Fredericka Foster

FALL 2021

We are on the phone, freewheeling about our practices: music, art, and meditation. Another day, we are in Philip’s kitchen, sitting at a wooden table. Behind us are comfortable couches and a private outdoor space. Philip’s partner, the artist Saori Tsukada, is working with flowers in the urban garden surrounding the house.

—Fredericka Foster

Philip Glass (PG): I was talking once to Gelek Rimpoche [1938–2017] about meditation, and I asked him, “Isn’t it just paying attention?” Yes, he said, “that’s absolutely what it is.” Meditation is a nice fuzzy word that we all like to talk about—but paying attention is placing your mind and functioning in a different way.

During the few years I have practiced meditation, I have worked with a number of texts. Say I am reading texts I have read many times—I’m thinking of the first Panchen Lama’s book on guru devotion [Lama Chöpa: The Guru Puja], which is not well understood. It is not about the guru; it is about the devotion. When I decide to really pay attention, I go back in my memory and look at some of the initiations I have taken. I watch the language change from awareness to remembering. It is possible to train the mind to increase memory.

I once asked the [scholar-teacher] Demo Rinpoche how many books he had memorized, and he replied that he wasn’t doing much memorizing at all—he thought only about 19! I’m sure it is many more now, and Gelek Rimpoche had memorized a library. The Tibetan culture cultivated the idea of memorizing. The passing on of wisdom could have been very accurate, since this was their main way of sharing information. The Tibetan lamas would memorize entire books and then, looking at a particular page, include the footnotes from other books they had read to verify a particular idea or lineage in the book they were writing themselves.

Fredericka Foster (FF): And here I am, still working to memorize all the texts that I work with daily! Memorization is also a part of a visual artist’s training. When we learn to draw, we work from reality—say, at its simplest, a still life. First we draw a series of lines to establish a compositional placement on the page. Then we memorize a line, draw it, and go back to the source to check it. We keep doing that until we have trained our hand to accurately follow our eye. Another memory exercise involved going through a pile of one thousand prints in a day and then discussing what we had seen. Or we would spend hours in front of a single painting and then sketch it out later.

PG: Culture has often been passed from one generation to the other through the power of memorization. We know the Bible was written 200 years after the birth of Christianity, so we assume it was made up. But it is possible that a sharp mind could remember very clearly and pass it along to another sharp mind, so the passing along of wisdom could have actually been very accurate, maybe more accurate than you would find in books, which are subject to typographical error, bad editions, and missing pages.

FF: Tibetan Buddhism attracts a lot of visual artists, and I suspect it is because we take easily to the many visualization exercises available for practitioners. I remember your telling me that your father taught you to play mental chess, which would certainly serve to sharpen your memory.

PG: Yes, he began doing that with his brother to pass time while they were waiting for the papers to be delivered for their paper route. And he continued playing with me and my brother.

If you go back to the 15th and 16th centuries, people didn’t write down everything. Many people didn’t write at all! One memorizing trick was to visualize a bookshelf and to actually visualize the names of the books on the shelf. I tried this once to see if it would work with a dance company in Australia. There were 20 people in the company, and we worked with them for a few days. With each member, I visualized their name on a book cover and put it in a certain location on an imaginary shelf. The last day I was able to say goodbye to each one, correctly remembering their names while looking at the bookshelf I had created in my mind. And they said, “How did you do that?” Well, what I was doing was trying to see if that thing worked. It did work.

“When that intensity of attention is applied to creating, you can’t stand outside and watch it; you have to give up the witness.”

FF: And we both did a lot of memorization in school—of poetry, speeches, and so on. It’s helpful when we memorize sutras and prayers today.

PG: All that also serves to assist us with the flow of attention. I once heard someone say he didn’t understand meditation. I said, “Forget that word; just pay attention to what you are doing.” We had been talking about infinity, and my friend suggested it was the flow of eternity, and I said that is the whole idea, the process of the mind attending to what you are doing, one moment at a time.

I find that when that intensity of attention is applied to creating, you can’t stand outside and watch it; you have to give up the witness. People ask me all the time, “Where did that music come from?” I have no idea, because all my energy went into writing the music. Since I had no awareness of myself writing, I had extra energy to increase the depth of concentration. It left me without the awareness of doing the work. I discovered that being aware of myself creating was an indulgence I couldn’t afford.

FF. It sounds like you have somehow overcome dualism when you are writing music. It’s like the state we work to achieve in order to become one with the object of meditation.

PG: Actually, when I decided to explore where music lived, I found that music comes from dreaming. I noticed I would wake up with a piece of music very clear in my mind. I thought these were stray ideas, but then I became curious where these ideas came from—the dreaming function of the mind is not ordinarily available to us. So I decided to wake up and write it down.

Recently, I was considering working on King Lear, a play I don’t like very much, and I was thinking I don’t want to write music for this. I finished the play and went to sleep. Then, at 5:30 in the morning, I heard music playing, and realized it was King Lear music and that the play was all about Lear’s relationship with his daughter; everything else was distraction. I went to the piano without hesitation. I started to write words by hand to describe the idea, then I sketched the music—a few measures. I thought it was the beginning of Lear, but actually it was the end.

FF: I keep pen and paper at my bedside and write or draw ideas as they appear. I haven’t done much with these ideas, but you are inspiring me to pay closer attention to them.

PG: Dreaming is the most personal and unique function that we don’t normally share with others. In analysis, we paid a lot of attention to dreams, but I am not talking about Freudian analysis and projecting it onto everyone else. What I learned from analysis was to give up my interest in the uninteresting—all those family issues made me bored with myself, and I didn’t have to do that anymore. Maybe the analyst knows this is what is happening. I read that during the first two hours of sleep, the mind looks at the day just past and sorts out memories to be preserved and those to be put away. The mind acts as an archivist. The creative part comes close to morning, before you wake up. When I wake up, I ask myself What was I just thinking? It is probably what I was dreaming about.

FF: Are you talking about lucid dreaming?

PG: No, but I can stand at the door of my dream and look into the room, as it were. It’s not complete, but it’s enough. Before I write, I access that dreaming state. I may never understand the dream, but what is important is that the material of the dream has become available.

FF: You encouraged me once to see the Cocteau Orphic trilogy, which inspired you to write an opera triptych. Those three films explore dreams and myths and can be watched again and again. When I moved from doing paintings exploring the symbols of faith and myth to working with images of water, I felt that I moved into metaphor and closer to the dream state. I am so relaxed looking at water. It frees my mind to wander, and I get new ideas, or watch old ones come together.

PG: The challenge of any artist is to keep the fire of creativity alive. What we mostly do is, we get good at doing something, and we keep doing it and don’t change much at all. If I look at the work of Sol LeWitt [1928- 2007], it is extraordinary, but it doesn’t change much. [Josef] Albers did manage to work with a square in a square over and over, but while they might look the same, they are not the same at all because of the influence of color.

An artist like me wants radical change. I found that the engine of change was working with new people and the new ideas they brought to the conversation. It didn’t turn into a formula, but I often did this.

Bob Wilson and I did [the opera] Einstein on the Beach, and it was very successful. To avoid doing “The Son of Einstein on the Beach,” I next did the opera Satyagraha, which was completely different. That was counterintuitive. We all want to please people. Your gallery wants you to make more of the same kind of paintings because they were successful. Most people follow success with another similar one, but I wanted to keep creative thinking alive in the process.

Every time I made a big change, I would lose a lot of people, but I would get some new ones. I found 50 percent of people liked it and 50 percent didn’t.

FF: After the Fischbach Gallery [where I regularly showed] left New York and went online, I found my work changing. I’ve always had to solve a new problem with each painting, but now I feel free to change what I was doing in a more radical way.

PG: I’ve noticed your work is changing. I have turned this change idea into a mantra: I am never happier than when I don’t know what I am doing. Still, I have moments of panic. How is this going to work? It can be very stressful trying to do new things, and I am not always completely successful, but I change as much as I can.

I discovered it was impossible not to do something familiar to some degree. When working in theater, I had to have at least one person who would come with me into a new project. I had to find a compromise about what I was willing to know and not know. I found I had to take something with me. Parts of my language would have to be the same, or my task would become impossible.

FF: In your ninth symphony, I feel like you are communing with the cosmos; there seems to be a seamless interaction between art and meditative revelation.

“I have turned this change idea into a mantra: I am never happier than when I don’t know what I am doing. Still, I have moments of panic.”

PG: Our minds are working all the time, but we can’t drive thoughts into awareness. As an artist, you are distilling your thoughts all the time, or listening to music, or paying attention to images. You are probably painting very differently now than you did when you were young, and some of that will be due to the fact that you have learned how to master your attention.

Once when I was in the mountains of Mexico with friends, we had to cross a valley to where we left our car. It looked to me like we didn’t have time to get there. If it got dark and we were in the desert, we would be in trouble. We started walking in a focused-intention kind of way—they called it a walk of attention. A walk that would have normally taken 40 minutes took 10. I had that experience of being able to pay attention to my attention, to actually cross a valley in a much shorter period of time so that we got to where we needed to in the light. We’re talking about pretty hardcore reality. The only way to do it was to command my attention to the point where I was able to make that happen. You can say “Well, you just made that up.” Of course I just made it up; how else could it have happened if I hadn’t made it up? But the fact of the matter is, I got across the valley before the sun went down. I know you’ve experienced something like that in painting.

FF: Yes, and at those times it seems that the painting paints itself. Later, I think, How did I do that? I’ve also experienced the sensation of entering the consciousness of animals, or even fish, when I have been watching water; suddenly feeling the sense of hunger and of being prey at the same moment—imagination becoming compassion. Music, art, and meditation are all means of accomplishing deep mental targeting of our feelings of interdependence and compassion.

PG: Bravo!

[jordan202]

My Boys: Beyond the Horizon - Chapter 1

Hi guys!

So, it’s Saturday, and like I promised here is the first part of the new My Boys multichapter. This one follows up with the events of Bright Future, a few years after the latest installments. I won’t give any details of the plot because I think half the fun will be to slowly figure out what everyone is up to. 

Now, I have to point out that this story will be more like a multiple arc story than strictly an Omelia fanfiction. Writing about Owen and Amelia is and will always be my favorite thing to do but I am saying this in advance because my main goal with this piece is to keep the promise I made to the many readers who’ve asked me to write a sequel to the stories of Lucas and Emily, Thomas and Kate, Megan, the twins, etc. But of course Owen and Amelia will be a part of everything too, and I am going to include a lot of Omelia scenes!

Just a heads up for those who may not be familiar with sports teams: I often point out how the Hunts are fans of the Seahawks, a Seattle based American football team. The Seahawks share their stadium (and fans too) with the Sounders, which are a soccer team. I just thought I’d point that out so that people won’t get confused with the events about to unfold. 

Anyway, enough talking, let’s get to the point. Thank you @jia911 for proofreading this and everyone of you who’ve helped me somehow by suggesting prompts, supporting this sequel and taking your time to give me feedback!

Merry Christmas, everyone :)

 My Boys: Beyond the Horizon - Chapter 1

 “Are you sure you’re all set?”

“Yes, Addie, don’t worry,” Lucas flashed his most adorable smile, following his godmother to the living room of his own house. “I’ll be fine.”

“You know… How am I going to adapt to this new reality of not having you here anymore?” Addison asked, trying to contain stubborn tears from gathering in her eyes.

“I guess you’re just going to have to visit me often,” Lucas replied with a supportive expression.

Addison turned around one last time and wrapped the young man in a tight embrace before finally leaving for a work conference out of town.

As soon as she left, Lucas made his way to the back porch at the same time he took a sip from an overpriced beer. The sun was starting to set at the horizon, sending a vibrating orange shade to the full extension of the pool with an infinite border at his home. From a distance, he could hear Rachel’s excited voice, probably talking to one of her friends on the phone. He smiled to himself with satisfaction at the realization that the house wasn’t empty as he’d previously imagined and focused again on the street outside.

He watched as Addison got inside a city cab to make her way to the airport. Lucas couldn’t contain a smile when he remembered how worried about him she always was. He was really thankful that, while living distant from his mother, Addison had stepped up to play a maternal role in his life in a very natural way.

When Lucas had moved to Los Angeles, five years before, she had been fundamentally important in his adaptation away from his family and everything he knew. Back then, Lucas had been a naïve, gullible nineteen year old with a lot of promises in his heart and the innocence of a young man brought up in a household surrounded by love and support.

It didn’t take Lucas long to find out that the world wasn’t exactly that kind or generous. Outside the security of his home, he’d come to find viciousness, excessive competitiveness and even cruelty. Being a professional athlete wasn’t at all easy and he’d struggled with loneliness and unkindness during the beginning of the process. Several times, Lucas had thought about dropping everything and running back home.

But something inside of him had prevented Lucas from doing so. He couldn’t explain what it was, but there was a force within his heart that moved the boy in a way he couldn’t understand it himself. While to most people soccer was just a game, to Lucas it meant much more. Where most athletes saw consternation, he saw new possibilities. While the well established tactics were followed like the law by his coaches, Lucas had dared to question them. And when they had put his capacity to follow orders and lead into question, he’d proved to them that talent, innovation, creativity and hard work were the most basic secret to success.

At first, it had been a real struggle but now, at twenty four, Lucas was not only extremely successful as an a professional athlete, he was also charming, handsome and had more money than he would need in a lifetime, added to an indecent amount of charisma and the attractive liveliness he’d inherited from his mother, making him an irresistible combination.

“There is someone in the living room waiting for you,” Rachel went outside, distracting his thoughts. “Also, which one do you prefer?” she asked while holding a different dress with each hand.

“They look the exact same,” Lucas replied with casualty, putting the beer bottle back on the table beside the pool. “Who is there?” he asked with a puzzled expression, wondering why security hadn’t called to notify him that he had a visitor.

“They are so not the same,” Rachel followed him into the living room, wiggling the two midnight blue dresses. “This one is a Cartier and it’s made out of silky fabric,” she cheerfully explained, pointing to the piece with her eyes. “While this baby here is made entirely of satin.”

“This one,” Lucas randomly pointed to the first dress he saw. “Looks expensive,” he added, uninterested. At least he knew Rachel would like to hear that.

“You should know,” the young woman winked at him before they finally made it inside the house. “You paid for it.”

Lucas furrowed a brow, processing the information but before his mind could focus on what Rachel had said, his eyes captured the image of a young man who was almost as tall as him. The visitor’s eyes had the same shade of baby blue as Lucas’ father and his slim, athletic physique contrasted with his intelligent exterior.

“Tommy!” Lucas’ face transformed into a wide, heartfelt smile before he excitedly jumped forward, unceremoniously hugging his brother, “what are you doing here?”

Thomas hugged Lucas back just as warmly and only when the two young men pulled apart, he was finally able to explain with his usual serenity.

“I wanted to surprise you.”

“So you flew all the way from Boston to do that?” Lucas asked with a jovial grin, clearly knowing there was more to it.

“Well, not really,” Thomas confessed a bit awkwardly. His eyes went from his brother to the unknown companion in the room, the reason of his hesitation to talk more openly about his reason to be there.

“Oh,” Lucas belatedly realized how rude he was being. “Sorry. This is Rachel.”

“Hi,” Rachel leaned forward and in a clearly flirtatious manner, shook Thomas’ hand.

“That’s my brother Tom,” Lucas explained to her.

“Oh, the one who’s a doctor?” Rachel excitedly spoke, looking at Thomas with a whole new glance of interest. “Damn, Luke, you never said he was this handsome.”

“It’s the family genes,” Lucas gloated with a lazy smile.

Thomas frowned in confusion, obviously having a hard time figuring out what was going on.

“Anyways, I got to go get ready for the party tonight,” Rachel blew the two brothers a kiss and grabbed the dresses she’d left on the couch. “See you later, Tom,” She winked at him one last time before leaving.

Thomas waited until the gorgeous woman had made her exit before turning to his brother with the heaviest frown he ever remembered having.

“What the hell is going on?” he asked, torn between amusement and confusion. The woman had flirted with him in front of his brother and hadn’t even bothered hiding it. “Who is that?”

“Rachel,” Lucas replied with simplicity, going over to the mini fridge and grabbing two bottles of beer.

“Yeah but who is she?” Thomas asked, reluctantly accepting the bottle his brother was offering.

“A friend,” Lucas said like it was obvious. “She lives here.”

“Oh, she lives here?” Thomas shook his head in denial, ironically repeating Lucas’ words as if now they made sense. “So she’s not your girlfriend?”

The way Lucas mischievously smiled, without denying or confirming, made Thomas give up trying to understand his brother.

“Jesus Christ, will you ever change…” Thomas finally took a sip of his beer and sat down on the couch opposite to Lucas. “Anyway, nice place you have here.”

“I feel personally offended you haven’t come to visit me before.”

“I was in med school!” Thomas justified, not believing the act Lucas was putting. “When would I ever have time to catch a flight to Los Angeles while Harvard was whipping my ass every day?”

“Well, no one forced you to enroll in an accelerated program,” Lucas threw a couch pillow at him, clearly finding it hard to get rid of old habits. “How’s Kate?”

The silence that followed the question and his brother’s hesitation let Lucas know that something was wrong.

“She is fine, doing very well,” Thomas broke eye contact with his brother, uncomfortable with the subject.

“Why isn’t she here with you?” Lucas pushed.

“She went to London to visit a friend,” Thomas swallowed hard and took a deep breath before finally looking his brother in the eye again. “I mean, can you blame her?” He scoffed, trying to sound as natural as possible. “We spent the past years working our asses off, taking back to back courses… Now that we’ve just graduated, she wanted some time to breathe.”

Lucas studied his brother’s features, looking for the things that were left unsaid. He knew both his brother and Kate Karev had succeeded remarkably at Harvard, having just graduated at the young age of twenty-three. Lucas remembered from childhood how his brother and Kate had always been friendly competing with each other, challenging each other to do better, from kindergarten all the way through med school. Kate and Thomas’ relationship had always been steady as it could be and the fact that his brother had randomly showed up alone at his door made Lucas very alarmed.

“Anyways…” Thomas picked up on the uncomfortable lingering silence and tried his best to maintain a normal conversation. “I have news.”

“So do I,” Lucas smiled, having fun at how his brother sucked at hiding his feelings. “You go first,” he teased with a wicked smile.

Thomas took a deep breath and his eyes regained some of its usual brightness when he confessed:

“I applied for residency programs all over the country over the past year. In March I got my match results back. But yesterday I just made my final decision of where I want to go,” he saw the happiness and pride in Lucas’ eyes growing as his brother clearly reached the obvious conclusion, “I chose Grey Sloan.”

“You’re going there?” Lucas got up, excitedly celebrating. “What the hell, Tom, this is the best news!” Thomas could see how visibly happy his brother was for him. “Wait, does this mean you’re working under mom and dad now?!”

Thomas confirmed with an embarrassed head nod and Lucas had the time of his life mocking the younger one.

“Oh my God, you’re going to be mom’s little bitch!”

“Luke!”

“You are,” Lucas laughed heartily. “You’re still focused on the brain thing, right?”

“Yeah…” Thomas rolled his eyes with pretend impatience. “I still want to be a neurosurgeon.”

“That is perfect!” Lucas celebrated, making his brother wonder why he was so happy. Thomas expected Lucas to be supportive and happy for him but the oldest one’s reaction seemed a little exaggerated for what Tom’s news meant. “I haven’t told mom and dad this yet because I was going to surprise you all but…” The soccer player cheerfully confessed with a wide grin. “For the past two weeks my manager has been going back and forth with several contract proposals… Some dude flew in from Spain and offered us more money than you could possibly imagine for a two year contract.”

“Did you sign it?” Thomas’ eyes shone with excitement for his brother’s career.

“No, I did not,” Lucas swiftly turned around and opened the minibar again, trying to avoid his brother’s eyes. He didn’t want to be asked why he hadn’t signed with the prestigious Spanish team. “Instead, we got a new contract drafted. LA Galaxy can afford the difference but this time, it was me who didn’t want to sign again with them.”

“Why?” Thomas asked with interest. His brother had played there during his entire professional career. He was the biggest idol in the team and never before had Lucas mentioned anything that slightly made Thomas believe his brother wasn’t happy in Los Angeles.

“Because I got a new contract with the Sounders instead.”

It took Thomas a fraction of a second longer than usual to process the information.

“What?” he cheerfully celebrated, still finding it hard to believe. Now Lucas’s reaction made perfect sense. “You’re kidding me, right…? You’re not…?”

“I am,” Lucas interrupted him with a wide grin. The Seattle Sounders were their childhood soccer team. Lucas, Thomas and their siblings had gone to their games countless times and ever since he was a little boy, the oldest brother had dreamed of playing for them one day. “You can stick around to help me pack because I’m coming back home too, little brother.”

.

“Hey guys.”

Amelia lazily dumped her handbag on the couch and made her way to the back of the house after seeing that her husband and daughter were in the kitchen.

“Hey mom,” Megan gave her a smile at the same time Owen leaned over to give her a kiss on the head.

“Something smells good,” Amelia’s face was vivid with excitement as she went sniffing around the stove. “What is it?”

“It’s a new recipe dad and I are trying,” Megan explained with good humor, showing her mother a spoonful of the sauce but getting it out of her reach when Amelia tried to taste it. “You have to wait for dinner, no spoilers.”

Amelia laughed and left the two of them to do their usual cooking while she showered. About half an hour later, they had dinner together while casually talking about their days.

“Hey, the premiere of the new season of Jungle Survival is tonight, right?” Owen looked at Megan expectantly as Amelia got up to collect the dishes. They had always watched the show together on Friday nights since his daughter was barely a teenager. “Let’s go turn on the TV before your mom hides the remote.”

Amelia let out a chuckle at her husband’s playful attack at the same time her daughter’s smile slowly faded as she explained:

“Sorry, dad, I can’t,” the neurosurgeon noticed how the teenager looked away before adding. “I am going to the movies with my friends tonight.”

“Oh,” Owen tried not to sound too disappointed. “That’s okay,” he said with consternation but Amelia could tell how let down he was. They were in the first days of summer and it wasn’t surprising that Megan wanted to spend some time in the company of her friends after tough weeks of final exams in school, “we can save it to watch later.”

“Thanks, dad,” Megan blew him a kiss and hurried to the top floor through the kitchen stairs. “I already took Peanut for a walk earlier this afternoon and changed his bowl, so he should be good for the night.”

Amelia nodded assertively. The dog had been with them for years now and since her brothers had all left for college already, it was up to Megan to do most of the caretaking. The neurosurgeon waited a few minutes until Owen was distracted enough and followed her daughter upstairs.

“Hey,” she knocked on Megan’s room twice before entering, instantly noticing the girl was changing her outfit from yoga pants to something more appropriate to go out, “that shirt looks good on you.”

“Thank you, mom.”

“So,” Amelia stood behind her daughter, purposefully looking at her reflection in the mirror. “Now that we’ve established how good you look, will you care to tell me why you were lying to your dad?”

Megan swallowed hard, void of any reaction to be caught in the act. Slowly, she turned around and faced her mom.

“Was it that obvious?” the girl asked with an embarrassed grin.

“Well,” Amelia shrugged playfully, “not to your father, apparently,” she let out a chuckle before resuming the conversation. “So, what’s really going on?”

“I didn’t exactly lie,” Megan carefully explained, “I am going to the movies,” she reinforced, letting her mom know she hadn’t meant to break her parents’ trust. “But I’m not going with friends,” the teenager smiled with amusement before clarifying, “I’m going with a friend.”

“Megan,” Amelia tried to contain her laughter, “when will you tell your father you are going on a date with a boy?” she asked trying to keep serious. “He is a grown man, sweetheart. He can take it.”

“Can he?” Megan raised one eyebrow, obviously doubting her mother.

Amelia couldn’t help the fit of laughter that followed her daughter’s line and much to her own dismay, she agreed with Megan.

“Yeah, maybe you are right…” the neurosurgeon finally caved. “But just remember this the day you show up here with a boyfriend. It’s going to be much worse if you don’t give him at least a heads up first.”

“Don’t worry about it, mom,” Megan winked with an adorable smile. “I have a plan.”

.

Amelia waited until Megan was out to go join her husband in the living room. Owen was idly running through the channels on TV when she quickly got past him and sneakily stole the remote from his hands.

“You little…” Owen bent over her in an attempt to get it back but Amelia swiftly got it out of his reach.

“No jungle show tonight,” she interrupted him before her husband could finish his sentence. Amelia had spent the entire day in the OR and could use something to distract her mind. “Let’s watch something decent.”

“Amelia,” Owen growled, trying to regain the object from her hands, but his wife kept using all her four limbs to stay away from his reach.

Ultimately, Owen lost his patience and with a very mischievous grin easily wrapped both arms around her, keeping her tightly trapped inside his arms without any chance to free herself.

“You can hold onto the remote if you want,” he calmly told her while firmly keeping her in his grasp. “But I’ll also hold you so you can’t change the channel.”

Amelia blew her hair from her face in a clear sign of antagonism.

“You’ll tire out eventually,” she dared him.

Owen didn’t bother replying; instead he looked deeply into her eyes and suggestively raised one eyebrow. His wife still couldn’t move her arms and the way she angrily stared back at him, incapable of making any movements, was absolutely adorable. Amelia could say a lot with her eyes, especially when she was irritated.

“Oh, shut up,” she groaned after seeing the annoying smirk on his face.

“Are you ready to give me back the remote now?” Owen asked with a patronizing tone, provoking her.

“You’re not getting it back,” Amelia’s stubborn side got the best of her.

“Fine,” Owen dodged her attempt to bite him and tightened his grasp around her, leaning over to steal a kiss much to Amelia’s dismay. “We’ll just spend the rest of the night like this. Not that I’m complaining,” he looked at her with a playful grin. “I am very comfortable.”

The way her husband looked at her as if daring her to say the same annoyed Amelia more than she would imagine.

“Alright…” Amelia let out a breath through her nose, “I’ll give it back as long as you promise no football channel.”

“Fine,” he replied a little too quickly.

“Owen!” Amelia looked at him in disbelief.

“Alright, okay, I promise,” he finally gave his wife a genuine smile and slowly let go of his grasp around her.

Amelia caved and gave back the remote, settling for lying back on the couch with her feet propped on his lap while they watched the news. She thought about suggesting they put on the jungle survival show, but she knew that for Owen, watching it without their daughter wouldn’t be the same.

While the reporter went on about the most important news of the day, Amelia thought back about Megan and with a curious smile on her face, wondered how Owen would react when he finally found out that the teenager had gone out on a date with a guy.

.

Emily Spencer heard the buzz of her cell phone at the same time her notebook beeped with notifications. Reaching out, the young woman checked the small screen and dismissed the few emails she had yet to read.

Her mind was racing with the big change that was about to happen. Looking out the window, Emily caught a glimpse of the Central Park lawn, where tourists walked back and forth enjoying a carefree, fun afternoon. For a minute, she envied them but quickly the scattered objects around her brought Emily back to reality and she focused on the open bag on the bed.

She was going to miss New York. The vibration, the liveliness, the way the city never slept and how rushed life there always was. In New York, every new minute brought new information, countless opportunities and there was never time for distractions. Each day came with a new challenge and the crazy rhythm made Emily feel more alive than she could put in words.

But now, after two years of working for The Wall Street Journal, the Yale graduated journalist was finally leaving the city.

Shaking her head to clear those depressing thoughts, Emily heard the click of the front door and moments later, her fiancé walked into the room.

“Hey, you ready to go?”

“Yeah, I am just double checking if I got everything,” Emily coyly smiled.

Turning around, she took one last look through the window of the apartment she’d come to love and then left, hoping with all her heart that this wasn’t goodbye. Maybe someday soon, she would be able to come back. But right now, it was time to go. Thinking about her career and the fiancé she adored, Emily was sure that her entire future was there in that city, but sadly, for now it was going to stay on hold. Because at that moment, her past needed her the most.

And after so many years of staying away, it was finally time to go back to Seattle.

--

[ylla]

Green Isn’t Your Color

Series: JJBA Characters: Josuke Higashikata, Okuyasu Nijimura, polnareff is kinda there Pairing: Josuyasu Tags: modern AU, jotakak mentioned one whole time, josuke is protective and okuyasu is a culinary student who’s working his ass off Rating:

AO3 tag

I farted this out in record time today. I’ve been trying to bang out fics before school starts back up and all my free time is eaten up by it. If I manage to get into the flow of writing, I’ll keep writing, but if I fall out of it, then I just stop and never write again for like, a million years.

Please enjoy Polnareff’s advice and Josuke shitting all over someone’s life because they picked the wrong person to fuck with.

Josuke didn’t believe in getting jealous. Why would he? He knew he’s a good looking guy; has the best taste in fashion, music, and men (better than the rest of these chucklefucks on campus at least). Heads turned wherever he went, girls fell over themselves to just be near him; hell, people even offered him modeling jobs. He was always showered with compliments, but he really didn’t give a shit about other people’s opinions of him (unless it was about his hair, then he would go to war over that).

He only cared what Okuyasu thought. Josuke knew he wasn’t just a handsome dude, but also an incredibly lucky one at that. No one could find a better boyfriend than Okuyasu Nijimura. It was impossible. Oku was the piece he never realized he was missing. And as long as Oku thought he was sexy, then that was all he needed.

So yeah, why would Josuke Higashikata be jealous of anyone?

That was question he asked himself, as he once again found himself grinding his teeth down to nothing at the sight of a pack of girls flirting with his boyfriend.

His classes for the day had been cancelled; he had the same professor all day and she had informed them that she was very ill and wouldn’t be in for the rest of the week. So, he decided to surprise Okuyasu, but lo and behold, his boyfriend was slammed with legit customers and a horde of females, and didn’t even notice when Josuke walked in.

Okuyasu was one of three freshmen that was accepted into the very prestigious, only accepts 5 students every other year, culinary program at their university. He busted so much ass and worked so goddamn hard to get in, and Josuke was so fucking proud of him.

A bonus to getting into the program (or a curse, depending on who you asked) was working in the culinary program’s café. It was completely ran by students, with only some oversight from the department, so students got carte blanche on the menu. Typically about 3 to 4 students were assigned together in a group, and the schedule rotated who took orders and who cooked. And every single time Okuyasu was manning the cash register, the same pack of girls would hog up all the seats at the counter to talk to him.

Josuke knew that Okuyasu loved him more than anything. And he could plainly see how uncomfortable his boyfriend was, surrounded by a fawning crowd of women who kept trying to touch him.

If he was honest, he couldn’t blame them and he wondered if Okuyasu felt the same way he did when Josuke was accosted by girls.

Okuyasu didn’t really do his hair up like normal due to food reasons, so he wore a snapback turned backwards to keep his shorthairs from falling out of his ponytail. If it was anyone else, it would look bad, but Oku was so cute in it. Tomoko had nagged him into going to the eye doctor after learning that he had never been to one in all of his 19 years of living. So it turned out he needed glasses, and now wore thick, black square-shaped frames whenever he had to do a lot of reading or writing. Work didn’t require a uniform, but he had to wear plain, solid color t-shirts, which was paired with nice skinny jeans and he usually wore Converse low-tops with it. To top it off, Josuke had went with him a few weeks ago to get his ears pierced.

He was every hipster’s wet dream. Which was the exact type of girls he was attracting: girls with piercings, multicolored hair, and tattoos who talked to him like he was this unemotional hardass, when in reality, he was the softest person Josuke had ever met. Gruff on the outside, gooey on the inside (a good example of this is like how Okuyasu always bawled his eyes out when Josuke brought him home sunflowers, then called him a sappy little shithead before giving him a kiss).

They had talked about this flirting problem before. Oku had made it very clear from the beginning that he had a boyfriend, whom he was madly in love with. This did help some, but the biggest, thirstiest offenders only became more aggressive in their flirting. He was too nervous to ask them to leave, in fear that they would kick up a big fuss and he would lose his job and thus, his place in the program. Most of the upperclassmen just teased him about it, rather than actually help. The only ones who cared was the other two freshmen, and they ran interference when they could.

Josuke didn’t want to jeopardize anything, so he had to suck it up and watch from afar as the ring leader, who was super-duper thirsty, stroked Oku’s arm. He immediately felt his blood pressure rise and decided he needed to have a smoke before he lost his damn mind.

The only good thing about a cold ass February morning was that the frozen wind did wonders in calming someone down. Mostly because your thought process devolves from “I’m so goddamned mad” to “JESUS CHRIST, IT’S COLD”. Unfortunately, it was only slightly working with Josuke. He paced in front of the entrance of the building, muttering cusswords to himself, feeling like a real McAsshole for being so pissy.

He needed to talk to someone, he needed some honest to god advice.

Josuke pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts: not Koichi, definitely not Jotaro or his husband Noriaki, not his mother because she would personally come to campus to wreak havoc, not Johnny or Gyro, not…

Well it’s not like he had many options after this.

He placed his call, feeling like a bastard because it was probably about 1 am in France.

The phone picked up on the second ring, “Bonjour, Josuke. This is a surprise.” Polnareff sounded wide awake.

“Hey man, uh, I didn’t wake you up, right?”

“No, you actually caught me at a good time,” there was an inhale, then exhale of breath, “I was just having my post-sex cigarette.”

Josuke groaned, “Gross, I didn’t need to know that.”

“Well, you are the one who called me at 1 in the morning, so forgive me.” Polnareff spoke in rapid French to someone in the background, “Anyways, what is on your mind, my pompadoured friend?”

This was a mistake, but it was too late. He had to soldier on, “I need…advice.”

There was a sharp, pleased squeal on the other end, “Really?? I’m so touched. I should have this moment bronzed so I can always remember this—“

“I’m hanging up.”

“Non non non, don’t be like that,” Polnareff said, trying to be placating, “Tell me, what’s wrong? Surely, you’re not after love advice?”

“Well…”

Josuke relayed the problem with Oku’s aggressive fan club. Polnareff listened without interrupting, only speaking when he was done, “So let me get this straight. You are upset that Okuyasu has all these fangirls after him, and he can’t get them to go away, in fear that he will lose his job?”

“Yeah.”

“And you don’t want to do say anything that could get him in trouble?”

“Pretty much.”

He heard Polnareff light up another cigarette, “And you also feel bad for feeling, as you put it, jealous over all the attention he’s getting?”

“It’s not because he’s getting attention,” Josuke was working on his second cigarette, “It’s that these harpies won’t leave him alone and keep flirting when he’s clearly uninterested.”

“Worried about competition?” Polnareff chuckled.

“No! I mean—I guess? I’ve never had to deal with this before,” Josuke said, frustrated that he felt unable to articulate how he felt without sounding like a complete toolbag, “Oku’s never had a lot of attention paid to him, which is a travesty—“

“Clearly not that big of a travesty, considering how you’re feeling right now—“

“He’s just such a sweet, good person! And so good to me! Not to mention, he’s hot as fuck, and stacked like a brick shithouse. It’s fucked that I’ve been the only person to see that…“

Polnareff made some assenting noises, before speaking in rapid French to whomever was there with him again. He turned his attention back to the phone, “Your colorful description aside. Are you worried that he’s going to find someone better and move on, now that he has all this new found attention?”

Josuke took to pacing again, “…I guess. But I mean, who could be better than me, am I right?” His laugh was hollow sounding.

“If it makes you feel better, you’re not jealous, you’re just being territorial.”

“Isn’t that like, bad?”

The Frenchman tutted, “A little possessiveness is fine, as long as it isn’t abusive or damaging. You’re also naturally protective over people you care about, so it feels worse when you notice that Oku’s uncomfortable.”

“Damn, that’s true,” Josuke sighed, finishing his cigarette.

“Also, he’s head over heels in love with you, kid. You don’t have anything to worry about as far as him ‘finding someone better’. He lives and breathes for you.”

Josuke glanced down at the bracelet on his right wrist. On their 1 year anniversary, Okuyasu had bought him a delicate little gold bracelet that had 3 small golden stars linked together. You’re the stars in my sky, and I love you is what Oku whispered to him when he clipped it on; Josuke may or may not have cried a disgusting amount of tears.

“I know. Just…feeling insecure I guess…” Josuke paused, “If you tell anyone what I just said, I will fly to France and shave you bald.”

“Yeesh, no need for threats. I have no plans on repeating this to anyone.” Polnareff sounded like he was wincing, nothing hurt him like threats to the hair, “Everyone feels insecure at some point in their life, even us beautiful people.”

“Just making sure.” Josuke sat back down, and fought the urge to smoke a third cigarette, “So, how do I deal with all this…” he made a gesture, but remembered Polnareff couldn’t see him, “all this horse shit?”

“My advice? Stake your claim. You don’t have to be a total dick. You don’t have to get loud or aggressive. All you need to do is get one of those seats at that counter, and mark your territory in front of all those girls.”

“What if they get pushy?”

He could hear the grin in Polnareff’s voice, “Just be your sweet self. Do everything I would do.”

“Don’t think I’m gonna get that adventurous, but I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks Pol, I owe you one.”

“You sure do, but that’s a conversation for another time. Goodnight, kiddo.”

“Night, man.” With that Josuke hung up, already scheming.

When he reentered the café, it was still earlier than he normally did, but the rush had died down considerably. All of the girls were gone save for the ring leader, who was sitting in the second nearest seat to the cash register. Josuke made a beeline for the one right beside it. Oku had looked to the door with a faint scowl, clearly not had having a good day until he saw it was Josuke that had walked in. His scowl melted away into that bright, sunny grin that had earned him his pet name, “Look who it is. Did class end early?”

Josuke took a seat and just made himself right at home, “Hey sunshine,” he smirked at the color that flooded his boyfriend’s face and pointedly ignored the death glare he was getting from the girl beside him, “No, my classes with Professor Kuhn got cancelled for the week, so I decided to stop in early. How’s your day been?”

“Bad, but now that you’re here, it’s a million times better.” Oku put his elbows on the counter, laced his fingers together, and rested his chin on them, “What do you want?” His glasses were slightly sliding down his nose; he was so cute.

“Hmmm, I dunno…” Josuke looked up at the ceiling, tapped his chin, pretending to think really hard before looking directly into Oku’s eyes, “Are you on the menu?”

If Oku went any redder, Josuke would be slightly concerned, “M-Maybe later…” Josuke heard a huff beside him but ignored it, “Uhm, how about for now though?”

“Well, I guess I can settle for my usual.” He slid Oku’s glasses back up into place for him.

“Gotcha. You want any fruit with it?”

“Hmmm, gimme strawberries, with a chocolate drizzle.”

“Aye aye. Hey guys,” He hollered into the open window, “I need a plate of crepes, with strawberries and chocolate drizzle, please and thank you.”

“Is it for your maaaaan?” called out what appeared to be a sentient high ponytail, since that was all Josuke could see in the back.

“Yeeeahhh…” Oku answered, blushing hard.

A buff, surly looking dude walked into view, “I suppose you’ll want to cut the strawberries to arrange them in a heart? Or sprinkle the confectioners’ sugar on with love?” he teased, light French accent coloring his voice.

Okuyasu sputtered, “S-s-shut your mouth!! Maybe I do, what’s it to you??” The buff guy winked at Josuke before walking out of view again. Looked like Josuke wasn’t the only one who had put up with an obnoxious Frenchman today. “Bastard,” huffed Okuyasu, still smiling and flushed despite the insult, “I’m gonna go cut the strawberries and shit. Holler for me if anyone walks up front, okay?”

“Go do work, sunshine, I’ll be waiting.” Josuke blew an obnoxious kiss at him. Okuyasu’s ears and neck were blood red as he skittered to the back.

Now that Oku was out of earshot, Josuke finally peeked at the girl beside him. She had gorgeous lime green colored hair; nose and lip rings, with a tattoo of some kind of dragon snaking up her arm. Very pretty, but her face was twisted into a sour glare, determinedly not looking at Josuke.

“I’m a lucky guy…” He sighed dreamily. Greenie didn’t even spare him a glance. “Hey,” he said, as if he was realizing for the first time he had seen her before, “You come in here a lot, right?”

“Yep.” She didn’t even look at him, pretending to be very interested in her phone.

Josuke turned his head towards her, resting it in his right hand, “Don’t you think Okuyasu’s the greatest?”

“Yeah, he’s cool.” She grunted, clearly not wanting to have this conversation.

“You know, my mom always told me to find someone who knew how to cook, was cute, and could kick ass. Never imagined I’d find all of that in one person.”

Greenie finally turned towards him, a thin, insincere smile on her face, “Must be nice.”

Josuke gave her a shit-eating grin, “Hell yeah it is… Hey, between you, me, and this counter,” he leaned in closer, speaking softer, “No one ever flirted with Okuyasu or pursued him except for me. Most people don’t realize how wonderful he is until they get to know him.” Josuke faced forward, watching Oku work in the kitchen, laughing at something the girl with the ponytail was saying. “He never had fangirls until…” Josuke’s eyes slid back over to her, “He started working here.”

She had the decency to look guilty, but it snapped into a sneer, “What, you wising up and realizin’ you got some competition?”

Unable to help himself, Josuke threw his head back and guffawed, “Oh honey, like you even stood a chance.” He looked back down at her, “There isn’t a chance in hell you could ever get with him. You’re not even his type.”

“You’re only saying that because you’re scared I’m gonna steal him away—“

Josuke started cackling again, “That’s too funny, you think you are remotely close to my level.” He leaned over again, going for the kill, “Green really isn’t your color, especially with your complexion. It washes you out and brings out those bags under your eyes.”

Honestly, Josuke expected her to either: A) start throwing punches or B) start crying. He got option C, which was her looking ready to murder him, but instead of acting on it, she threw all of her shit into her bag, and stormed off without paying.

“Don’t let the door hit your sad, flat ass on the way out,” Josuke called after her.

Okuyasu came back out carrying his food, “Did she leave without paying?”

“Looks like it. Can I get some water, babe?”

“Thank god,” Okuyasu sighed in relief, “She’ll be banned from coming here again. No more havin’ to deal with that shit anymore.” He slid Josuke the cup of water, “Tell me what you think.”

Josuke took a bite out of his lunch: fabulous, as usual. “You made these, didn’t you?”

“Maaaaybe. Do you like it?” Oku looked into his eyes, searching for a lie he assumed was coming.

“It’s amazing,” Josuke smiled up at him, “You’re amazing, and I love you.” He picked up one of Oku’s hands and kissed it, “Mine.”

His boyfriend went bright red, “Yours.” Oku pulled out his phone, “Alright I gotta clock out and get to class, I’ll be done around noon. You wanna go back to your place after I’m done?”

“Yeah babe, sounds like a plan. I’ll be waiting right here for you.”

Okuyasu walked into the back to get his stuff. When he returned he kissed Josuke’s forehead, “Enjoy lunch, I love you.”

“Love you too.”

There was a chorus of OOOOO’s from the kitchen; Oku flipped them the bird and kept walking. Josuke chuckled to himself as he finished his food.

“Oku’s got it baaad~” sang ponytail girl.

“Good job on getting rid of that girl,” The French guy was hanging out of the window, “Never thought we’d be able to get her out of here.”

Josuke held up three fingers, “There’s three things in in my life you don’t fuck with,” he started ticking down digits as he spoke, “My hair, my mother, and Okuyasu. If you fuck with them, I will ruin your whole day.”

“Sounded like you shat all over that girl’s life.”

He sniffed, “Wasn’t the worst thing I could’ve said to her.”

Like a good boyfriend, Josuke did homework and waited patiently for Okuyasu. He didn’t even realize how much time had passed until Oku plopped down beside him, “I hate math. I don’t get that algebra shit.”

Josuke patted his shoulder before putting his books into his bag, “You’ll do great in business math next semester.”

“If you say so.”

“I do say so, and I’m right all the time.” Josuke hopped up, “Let’s go home.”

Okuyasu sighed and heaved himself up, “Only if we stop and get ice cream on the way, I’ll pay.”

“You spoil me…” Josuke gave him a smooch on the cheek before intertwining their fingers. He pulled his boyfriend close so he could whisper in his ear, “And I’ll spoil you when we get to my place.”

Josuke could feel the heat radiating off of Oku’s ear, “O-oh? You…you got anything in mind?”

“A lot of things, actually. But that’s all dependent on whether or not you’ve been a good boy—EEEE!” Josuke didn’t expect Okuyasu to pick him up like a bride to haul ass home.

They ended up saving ice cream for later.

[barlow-wigiimschmeir-blog]

Vermont

On May 11th, I packed a colorful woven bag from Peru with clothes, an extra pair of shoes, watercolors, a hygiene bag full of makeup and condoms, and my traveling vest. The evening I left my dad bought me a pack of yellow American spirits with 40 bucks tucked inside the plastic cover and said, “Have fun in Vermont.” I got into Boston at 6:30 A.M. My right red heeled boot was broken from Louie chewing on it and wouldn't zip up.  I never am able to sleep on planes and the two hour time jump had me especially groggy after a night of no sleep. Walking out of gate A, I shifted my anxiety onto focusing on not tripping with my broken boot, a lopsided stride to match the anxiety mounting over my decision to visit Dan. When I saw him though, standing next to the elevator with a sheepish half grin on his face, I completely forgot about my worry and lack of sleep.  He was visibly excited to see me as he grabbed my bag and threw it over his shoulder. His piercing bright baby blues were mischievously and adoringly taking me in, and I remembered that look. He's looked at me in the exact same way ever since the first day we met. I don't remember what our first words were after 2 drawn-out years of much absence but we talked fast as we walked to the car.

Two scruffy looking guys were in the front seat. The driver's name was kyle, he talked with a slow stoner drawl. The passenger's name was Austin. He had a trucker hat with a psychedelic looking mother Mary on the front. He was tall and seemed completely uninterested in being there. The boys had driven the 3 hour drive from Rochester, Vermont last night. They partied in Boston together and then crashed in the car in the airport car garage waiting for my plane to get in. Dan had paid Kyle 50 bucks to come pick me up. He had also paid for my ticket to Boston from Salt Lake.  It felt very natural to see him, it didn't feel like nearly 3 years had passed since we last spoke tenderly towards each other. He had his pursed lip impish smile on  while his bright eyes sparkled. “It's so fucking good to see you lady.” I laughed as I took a large pull from the JackDaniels in the backseat and  curled up onto his chest, I couldn't be next to him and not touch him. He smelled like tobacco and beer,  his arms easily and urgently wrapped themselves around me. His beard was scruffy and though he looked aged, his countenance was worlds better than the last time I saw him. When he came through Portland a year ½ prior I let him and Rudie pup crash at the house I was living. It  broke my heart to see him so hard out. His legs and arms were distended, his whole body swelling. his face was sunken in and his eyes looked like empty gaps in his face. He looked exhausted and sallow.  We met at a late night donut shop near my house on Alberta. His body couldn't handle coffee and he had a hard time eating the donut I bought him, but he sat with me while I tried not to stare too hard at the stranger in front of me. He wasn't a stranger though, He wanted to know how my father was. Was he sober? Were we talking again? What where my days like now? And many, “remember when...”. He regretfully apologized for the way he had treated me on the road and explained to me that his kidneys were failing due to his heavy drug use. He was ready to quite using he said. He was scared he said. It was a 20 minute walk back to my home and he walked slowly with his head down as he struggled to  trudge on next to me on the sidewalk, attempting to pull rudie a long and regularly adjusting his lumpy backpack back and forth. He looked so pathetic.  When we got back to my place I introduced him to my then partner. We all sat down for a couple beers, Dan was nodding off on the  couch the whole time. I was livid at how obvious he was being after inviting him into my home. I retreated to the basement and sobbed.

This time around he was lively and talkative, making everyone in the car laugh with his dry sense of humor and sharp wit. His face was flushed with color and playfulness.  He was the Dan I remembered. He was the man I fell in love with again. The 3 hour drive back was filled with conversation of astrology, bouts of  bitching between the boys of the freeloading hippies that lived on the communal property they all were a part of, and talk of the land surrounding their home; the psychic energy of the heavy woods and rolling mountains. Neither one of us was able to go very long without stealing a long look at the other.  I was relatively drunk by the time 10 A.M rolled around, dozing on his chest as we pulled into the property. His Cabin was dirty and dusty and it smelled of sage and cigarettes. Beer cans littered the porch he had recently built and jackdaniel bottles lined the window-seal in the tiny room off shooting the kitchen. Before he went to work he showed me the library. Up a set of steep stairs was a small room, you had to duck into it and the ceiling dramatically slanted. Books lined the walls with a tiny vintage record player in the corner. I laid down on the floor and he laid besides me, laying my head on his chest he wrapped his arms around me, holding me tightly as he played with my hair. There was a dense yet comfortable silence in the room until he said “awh.. fuck it.”  He softly grabbed my hair with one hand and placed his other hand on my cheek. His rough hands pulled my face up to his. His lips were like pillows and I softly moaned as his tongue slipped into my mouth. His thigh quickly found a place between mine and he easily shifted my body back and forth so my pussy was lightly rubbing against his thigh. His lips were on my neck and his fingers gently pinching my nipples.  I was dazed from his touch, the whiskey, and no sleep. The moment felt easy to lean into, but too soon after such a long time apart.  I stopped him from unzipping my jeans and he somewhat regretfully rolled back over so my head could find a place again on his chest.  Again he said, “It's so fucking good to see you.” again, I laughed and my laugh sounded like bells in the room.

The week that followed was a roller coaster of crushed ideals, regrowth in emotion, and endearing car rides with a boy it breaks my heart to love. The love I feel for him is like none I've ever experienced. He's more than a lover, more than a friend, more than a boyfriend. He's family. A full circle of care. A full circle of love. A shape that leaves me running in circles trying to catch all the wishes he has to promise. My net is intact but his butterflies dart quick and before I get to them they morph into air.  He was very scattered the entire week, he lost his phone for 3 days, lost his food stamp card, constantly was forgetting his money, and though he was sober from meth and heroine he was drinking like a fish. I didn't care, I can drink like one too. I was starry eyed to see him alive and physically well.  My cat man. My con man. My rough and tumble train man. . . my junkie love. I hate to think of Dan as a junkie, I know that's something he is, but he's always been so much more to me than that. He's smart, adventurous, hopeful, resilient, strong, thoughtful, kind. Though, he runs so fast that it leaves me spinning. Admittedly I’ve always found it quite fun to try and keep up.

The entire time I was there he was trying at every angle to get me to stay in Vermont instead of going to Alaska.  there were several points where I was worried I was going to get unintentionally trapped there, but I trusted him. I trusted that despite his deep wells of incapability he had an ability to  care for me.

We slept on his couch most nights. His strong and tattooed arms wrapped tightly around me I fell asleep easily and I woke up with a desire to fall back asleep, with a desire to fall into him. The 4th day we woke he told me he had a proposition. “ would you like to jump freight for you first time while you’re here?” it felt special that the first time I would jump freight was with him. My reply was a resounding yes. We drove from Rochester to Burlington early that afternoon in hopes that I would find a good pair of boots at one of the thrift stores along the way. In Burlington we stopped to get pizza, outside of the shop was a small group of dirty travelers. Dan asked if they had mushrooms, which they did. Instead of hopping freight out we took the mushrooms. Beforehand we got into an argument in the pizza shop. I was frustrated with how much he had been talking about other women the entire day.

As we left the thrift shop there was a thin rich girl engrossed in a conversation on the phone parked next to us.

“ that women is so attractive, she seems so involved in her yuppie life. I can tell that she needs a good fuck.”

after sitting in the passenger seat for an hour listening to him go on and on about Arice, the girl who had brought him out to Vermont I was vexed at his inability to be present with me. I didn't articulate or even try to communicate this but at the pizza shop, after I was tipsy I got angry with him. Our argument ended with us sitting on a ledge of the side of the building next to the sidewalk. I was emotional  and he reassured me, reminding me how much he had changed. “imagine if this was years ago. I would of handled this differently.”

“yea, you would of fucking left as soon as the conversation held you accountable. You would have been   a quarter up the sidewalk right now. You would of left me here just like you left me in Tacoma when we were traveling and just like you left me in Arcadia.”

“Oh come on lady, I didn't do that. .. o wait, I did...”

My anger towards him for everything has always been easily replaced by a deep and irritating love. So, like many other past nights, we made up and took mushrooms. The windows were down the whole drive back, it was dark and his presence intoxicated me, it always has. About half way back I unzipped his jeans and gave him road head.  He pulled over to the side of the highway and we split the mushrooms. Washing it down with beer. Parked and relaxed he leaned in with a smile. I was elated to kiss him. To have him kiss me. I was in love with the moment. And the moments with him, I've been in love with all of them. His presence induces a rush through my veins. Pumps me full of serotonin and though iv'e never done heroine, being next to him feels like it could be just as addicting. Laughing, we crawled into the backseat and I took off my shirt. We made out in the backseat and somewhat drunkenly attempted to fuck. He was absent and uncomfortable. I was present but impatient, after a while we decided to bag the sex and drove the rest of the way back to his cabin. Upon returning the mushrooms were starting to hit. We went to the farmhouse and sat on the couch, I started giggling and he was laughing back at my cuteness. The giggles took over and I relaxed. Falling off the couch I was laughing hard. He grabbed a blanket and got down on the floor with me, pulling the blanket over our heads we were in our own universe. It was just what I wanted, to be in our universe. To be in a universe no one else could touch. To be in a universe with him where nothing could touch us. To be somewhere where heroine didn't exist, where the lack that drove a wedge between us was nonexistent, our fairy tale. We were us, us against the world under a cloud. We laughed and kissed and the patterns were starting to impede themselves through my eyes. It was good in that moment and it would of lasted longer if one of the men at the commune hadn't sternly walked in glaring at us. We quickly retreated back to his cabin where a level of hell started. Dan told me when I arrived that he had been temporarily diagnosed with bipolar and schizophrenia disorder. 3 months clean and while his body was healthier, the heavy years of drug use had sent his mind for a spin. He seemed more confident, more sure of himself. More able. but also more Wingy. more scattered. Doing mushrooms with him scared me. I have done several fistfuls of psychedelics with Dan, but with his his new-found declaration of self responsibility and discipline there was a new darkness. A wing fluttering his mind.   He began screaming at inanimate objects. He was screaming at me. He was angry when I tired to leave. The mushroom trip for me brought my mind back to the age of 7. I felt that I was out of my body in a room I was in at that age. I felt very vulnerable. There were toys around me and there was daylight shining in from the windows. Sexual  trauma was coming up for me. I was crying and asking him to come sit next to me. I needed to be touched. Touched in an nonsexual way. He viewed this as weakness and became more agitated.

He's told me before that he thought of us as twin souls. Two people endlessly vexed by the intense variations of our emotions, though my hurt shows as sadness and his hurt shows as anger. The perplexity of the sexes. The dichotomy that patriarchy imparts on us all. Our conversations often lead us back to topics like this. Our enjoyable conversations set aside, the mushroom trip brought to my attention the weight of our difference. Our different places in life, our different ways of loving and communicating. Our different paths.

Spending a week with Dan was a whirlwind for me. He talked about marrying me, he talked about other women, he talked about how I was the only girl for him, he talked about how much better he was now, he talked about how if I went to Alaska I would loose him forever. But we also had a slew of meaningful and heartfelt conversations. He told me he wanted to see me bloom, he told me that no matter what my decision was, he would support it. He apologized for the past, he wanted to spend a different future together. We spoke of what it meant to wet one's fire. Of how we were both guilty of doing so. I bled into it all. My heart ached that all the wishes blowing into the wind could be a reality that was ours. My flight from Boston back to SL took off at 8:30 pm. We spent the day walking around Rochester. The day was muggy and sunny. Everyone in the small town seemed to be out and about. We walked through the quaint country town, stopping into the bakery to get coffee. Stepping into Sandy's, the used book store and spending some time looking at all the books, taking in the smell used books have. The smell of hundreds of hands handling them. We walked up and down the small town, talking to locals that Dan knew and worked with. We walked into the white library that looked like a small steeple. Leaving our coffees at the door we went up the stairs to where there was a mini museum in a open room. The floor was a light wood and the room smelled of it. There were 7 large windows in the room, all stain glass. The room was filled with antiques from town. Dresses worn by ladies in the 1900's. Vintage pictures of parades led by horses and carriages. Women with hooked umbrellas and puffy dresses. Paintings done by locals of the small town throughout the years. It was beautiful, but Dan was enjoying it more than I. It was clear how proud he was of his home. His home, a cabin in a quaint town. His home, a place he had a job, a place he could take pride in. somewhere to call his own. We took the back road back to his cabin at the commune. It was like driving through a time warp.  There were large red barns easily spotted far into the hills, small farm houses that looked like they were built 50 years ago, yet maintained and being lived in. The country was beautiful. Vermont reminded me of the country in Washington just more woodsy, more colorful.

Though we both soaked up our last day together as much as possible, I was in a hurry to leave the property. The anxiety that had mounted and released over several occasions during my stay had me worn out. Dan drove me from the rural country side to the heart of Boston without a drivers license in a car that wasn't registered or insured. The plates were expired and didn't match. He had found them on the property. He was nervous to make the drive but I assured him I had a good feeling about it all working out without incident and it did. It was exciting and I loved him for his pure enjoyment of fucking the system. I loved him for risking another warrant just to get me to where I needed to go, and I understand how much he loved me. We listened to modest mouse, tom waits, and lost dog street band on the drive to Boston. His hand on my bare leg and my hand resting on the back of his neck. Like most everything between us, it felt natural and magical. Even still, the drive was relatively tense with us both on the look out for cops. I wanted him to park in the parking garage so we could have sex one last time but there were so many cops at the airport that our goodbye was him telling me to grab my bags fast and get out. He jumped out of the car and grabbed me for a kiss. In a flash he was back in the car and driving away. I luckily found a few empty airport alcohol bottles in the period trash can attached to the side of each woman bathroom and filled them with the remainder of my whiskey. After I made it past security I b-lined it to the nearest airport bathroom. Closing the door behind me I dropped my bag and started to shake. Fat tears fell fast out of my eyes and I had to focus all of my attention on my breath to keep from sobbing. I gave myself 5 minutes to sit in my grief for what Dan and I would never be. Then I wiped away off my tears, took a few shots of whiskey, picked up my bag and walked to my gate with my head up. I was back in salt lake from Vermont for 3 weeks before I boarded a plane to Alaska, and in that time I would find myself searching for him. In my dreams I would find myself on his property in hopes to find him, each time I would get lost in the farm house instead.In my waking I would find myself thinking I was at his cabin, opening my eyes was a disappointment. It’s been a month and as with everything, time wanes the ache