#but my three hour layover has turned into a five hour layover

[looselipssinkships-x]

Trains >>>>> planes

[nordschleifes]

chapter five — inevitable

➝ trapped in imola after the torrential rains in the region, charlie and fernando are forced to cooperate with each other. however, what was supposed to be just one night in a tiny hotel in the city center becomes their moment of reckoning. and it only has one bed.

➝ word count: 9,2k

➝ warnings: panic attack, flooding, mentions of trauma, smut

➝ author's note: there is no little chapter here, as you can see. tagging @christianpulisic10, @alonsogirlie and @enaticosencantados as requested.

Leaning against the door of the white car, Charlie felt a strange feeling inside her chest as she stared at the bridge over the Santerno River, which was completely flooded. It was definitely not something she’d expected to see so close to the circuit.

— I don't think I'm going to make it through, miss — the taxi driver, a Moroccan man who spoke in heavily accented English, said.

— Is there no way across?

— I can't risk it, miss, I'm sorry.

She huffed in frustration. It was the last thing she needed that day, considering how hellish it had been so far. Charlie had left England early that morning after a battle of wills with Ron, who refused to get into his carrier to be taken to her grandparents' house. After arriving at the airport at the last minute, she had to wait for nearly two hours for the plane to take off for Zurich, where she would take another flight to Bologna.

There was another long delay from Zurich to Bologna, which turned an hour-long layover into nearly a three hour wait until her plane started boarding. Then, another hour of waiting on the runway for the plane to get takeoff clearance. It seemed like the universe was playing a bad joke on her.

It was already dusk when Charlie arrived at Imola, after spending even more time in passport control at the airport. “Thank you, Brexit”, she thought, as she put her passport in her bag and smiled at the agent who had finally stamped her entry document. However, instead of the charming city that she had visited several times, she found mud and destruction, the result of intense rains that had hit the region.

— Honestly, I don't even know if there will be a race if it keeps raining like this — the taxi driver said, as they followed the highway into the city.

It might seem like a selfish desire at the moment, but the last thing Charlie needed was for the race to be called off. She had gone through so much trouble to get to Imola that it would seem like an injustice. However, after seeing the bridge filled with water right next to the race track, the possibility seemed real.

— Miss? — the driver  asked — Would you like to go somewhere else?

Charlie sighed, trying to collect her thoughts.

— Let me check my phone, just a second — she said, as she sat back in the cab and dug through her purse for the device. However, Charlie had another unpleasant surprise when she realized that her battery was dead.

— Is everything okay?

— I'm out of battery — Charlie said, a frustrated smile on her face — Everything is great.

— Well, if you want, I can take you downtown. I know there are some hotels and hostels there. I don't know if any have vacancies, but someone will be able to offer you some help, I'm sure — the man said, giving her a sympathetic smile.

“It’s not like I have much choice”, she thought, before accepting his offer.

After reaching downtown Imola, Charlie paid the man and thanked him for his help. She walked through the streets with her backpack on her back, dragging her suitcase behind her, trying to identify on the signs something that indicated that there was a hotel there.

After walking four blocks and not understanding anything she'd been told other than "no vacancies" at two hotels she’d found, Charlie couldn't get the idea of sleeping on the streets out of her head, a daunting prospect considering how cloudy was the sky over the town.

However, Charlie’s chest filled with hope when she turned a corner.

Parked near the town square was a grey SUV that she recognized as an Aston Martin. “A DBX 707”, she thought. She walked towards the vehicle, thinking that maybe not all was lost, even when she discovered that the car was empty. Maybe the car’s owner was nearby. 

Releasing the handle of her suitcase, she walked around the car, spotting a Swiss license plate on the front bumper. “Maybe the owner speaks English”, she thought, smiling to herself.

— Charlie? — a familiar, accented voice said from behind her. As she turned around, she felt the smile fade and tension rise in her shoulders. Standing near the back of the car, wearing a dark green sweatshirt and holding a bottle of water, was Fernando Alonso — What are you doing here?

— What are you doing here? — she asked back, raising an eyebrow.

— I have a race here on Sunday, didn't you know?

— Of course I know, but — Charlie hesitated — It's Tuesday.

He smiled.

— I saw online that there could be problems getting there because of the weather so I decided to come earlier. And you, what are you doing here?

— I always come to the circuits on Tuesdays.

— Oh, I see — he said, taking a sip of his water — Are you staying around here?

— No, actually, I intended to stay close to the circuit but…

— The bridge is washed out — Fernando said — Yeah, I know.

— Were you going to stay at La Fondazza? — Charlie asked, as Fernando nodded — Did you already find another place to stay?

— I was talking to the people in the cafe about it and they told me about a place that might have a room. And you?

— I was looking for a place around here — she murmured, looking up at the sky at the sound of distant thunder. It made something tighten inside her chest — I've been to two hostels nearby but there's no room available. I don't know where to look anymore...

— Well, if they have room for me, they must have room for you. Do you want to come with me?

She couldn't hide her surprise at his offer. After feeling like she was at war with him for years, Charlie still wasn't used to him treating her with kindness. She dreaded this newer, softer Fernando disappearing any moment to make way for the Fernando she knew and hated.

— Yeah, I do.

She placed her bags next to his in the car’s lift gate and settled into the black and white leather passenger seat. As she buckled her seat belt, she couldn't help but notice the vehicle's dashboard and center console, whose design was strongly inspired by sports cars.

— Have you already seen the 707? — Fernando asked.

— Only from the outside, I've never been inside one — Charlie replied, her eyes glued to the dashboard — Which engine does it have?

— It's a four-litre twin-turbo V8, all hand-assembled. It produces 707 horsepower and more than 90 kgfm of torque. It has roller turbines and a different calibration to increase the turbocharger revs.

— Fantastic — she murmured as the driver pressed the button to start the car. The low sound of the engine made Charlie look up at him, a wide smile on her face. She was completely delighted — It goes from zero to 100 in about 3 seconds, doesn't it?

— 3.3 — he said, as he maneuvered the car out of the parking space — How do you know that?

— I calculated it in my head.

— So quickly?

— You know I have a degree in mechanical engineering and a graduate degree in automotive engineering, right?

— That doesn't mean you're necessarily good at mental calculations.

— But, I am. My grandmother was a maths teacher, so I grew up learning to love numbers. 

Fernando smiled as he made a left turn.

— So, your grandmother was a teacher and your grandfather was a mechanic?

— Well, sort of. My grandfather was in the Royal Air Force for a long time, and he worked on airplane engines. He has always been fascinated by engines and everything about them. He met my grandmother during a visit with her students to the RAF museum.

— And where do cars come into this story? — he asked.

— He always liked cars and racing. And, considering he had a wife and daughter at home to look after, once he left the military, he started taking jobs in a body shop in Birmingham. He still does that today, even though his focus is on older cars, nowadays. I help from time to time when I visit.

— And that means you know how to work with engines? — Fernando asked, looking a little surprised.

— Of course I do! — Charlie replied, indignant — Remember that I have a degree...

— Charlie, having a degree doesn't mean you know how to disassemble and assemble an engine — he said, looking both ways before passing through an intersection. The sidewalks were smeared with mud.

— The point is, I know how to work with engines. In fact, I’m comfortable with the entire drive train. It helped me a lot during secondary school, when I needed to save money for university.

— You worked in a body shop?

— No, at a kart circuit.

Fernando glanced at her, surprised.

— You fixed go-karts?

— Yes, I did. Why is that surprising?

— Because I also fixed go-karts when I was younger — he said — I needed money to race, so I took care of the younger boys' karts, since I was strong enough to tighten the wheels and adjust the engine. That’s how I met Alberto.

— Were you his mechanic?

— Yeah — Fernando replied, as he slowed down the car — I think this is the place they told me about in the cafe. Ziò, they said.

Looking out the window, Charlie saw that there was a burgundy sign with that word, along with the outline of a moon and three stars. It sure looked like a hotel.

— Yeah, I think so — she murmured as Fernando  parked the car between a Twizy and a Volvo.

They got out of the car and Fernando offered to take Charlie’s suitcase. Charlie declined, and they walked into the lobby and saw a man sitting at the wooden counter, seemingly distracted by something on the screen in front of him.

— Buonasera — Fernando said, making the man look up.

— Buonasera, mi chiamo Riccardo, como pode aiutarvi? — he said, smiling.

— Siamo del team Aston Martin e siamo venuti alla gara, ma la strada per l'hotel che abbiamo prenotato è allagata. Volevo sapere se avevi delle stanze dove stare per la notte — the driver said, in practically perfect Italian. Charlie, for a moment, wondered how he knew Italian so well until she remembered the five years he had spent at Ferrari.

The memory of seeing him for the first time, walking past her with a troop of Ferrari employees in Melbourne, made Charlie's skin tingle. “He should wear red more often”, she thought, while Fernando discussed something with the employee, the expression on his face looking less than happy with what he was hearing.

— Nessun'altra opzione, magari con due letti?

— Purtroppo ci rimane solo questa stanza — Riccardo replied.

Fernando sighed, before turning to look at her. He did not look pleased.

— They only have one room available, for two people.

Charlie pursed her lips thoughtfully. In an ideal situation, she would never consider sharing a hotel room with Fernando Alonso. However, this was far from an ideal situation. The entire region was in chaos, some hotels couldn’t take in guests, and the others were full. Most of the people due in town for the race hadn’t even arrived yet. A single room was better than none.

— Two beds? — she asked, with an almost naive hope.

— Just one — Fernando said — Look, it's not a problem for me, you can have the room and I'll find another place to sleep tonight...

— No — she said flatly — You found this place, it’s only fair that you stay here.

— Charlie, you're staying here, I'll find another place. That, or, I can sleep in my car, the seat is comfortable and…

— You're not going to sleep in your car, Fernando. You need to sleep well to perform well.

— So, what do you suggest?

Looking into Fernando’s brown eyes, Charlie hesitated for a few seconds. She knew she would regret it. “One night won't hurt anyone”, she thought.

— We can share.

He raised an eyebrow.

— Share?

— You know, when you distribute something proportionately between two people. I imagine you're not very familiar with this concept, but it's what normal people do, especially when they’re in situations like this.

Fernando rolled his eyes.

— I know what sharing is, I just didn't expect you saying you want to share a room with me. Especially after — he hesitated for a few seconds — Everything.

— So you can see the effort I'm making. 

He smirked.

— Don't worry — the driver said, before turning back to the hotel employee — Prendiamo questa stanza.

After settling into their room, a small suite with mint-colored walls and a wooden floor, they went to a nearby restaurant that Riccardo had suggested for dinner. When they returned, Charlie took a shower and put on a pair of shorts and an old t-shirt.

— Seagulls? — she heard Fernando say, looking at her t-shirt with a small smile on his face.

— Yes.

— Why?

— It's my team's symbol.

— Team? Like, football?

— Yeah. Brighton.

— Really? Aren’t you from Northampton?

— Yes, I am, but my grandfather is originally from Brighton, though, so I grew up supporting Brighton. Anyway, we’re having a good year. I think we will play in the Europa League next season. It will depend on this Sunday’s match.

— Who do they play against?

— Manchester City — she said, making him chuckle.

— Good luck to them — Fernando said, setting his phone on the bedside table — Difficult team to face.

— I know. We already lost to them this season, but we only need a draw — Charlie replied as he sat down on the bed.

— We just needed a draw too — Fernando muttered — But it was at their stadium…

— The game is at the Amex, not at the Etihad — she said she pulled the duvet up — It will be alright.

— We’ll see — Fernando said — Good night, Charlie.

— Good night — she said softly. Then, the room went dark.

Charlie thought that, with travel fatigue, it would be easy to fall asleep. However, she hadn’t factored in the weather. It had started to fall more heavily on the area by the time they had gone to dinner, which made her apprehensive. Fernando had even noticed her unease, but Charlie managed to play it down.

However, in the dark and quiet of the hotel room, the sound of the rain pelting the window glass and the thunder that made the walls shake, she felt her fear and anxiety growing. She remembered that fateful Friday morning, several years ago, when Northampton was hit by a massive flood over Easter weekend. She remembered things in flashes — the texture of her soaked clothes, the cold of the wind that stung her face, her grandmother screaming as they watched her grandfather get knocked off his feet by a rush of water and disappear beneath the muddy surface. 

“This can’t be happening again”, Charlie thought, remembering when she finally saw her grandfather in his hospital bed, covered with a thermal blanket and his hair still wet. Even though he was okay, his smile couldn’t take away the terror she’d felt from almost losing Jamie, the man who had loved her unconditionally and taken her in when Deborah decided she didn't want to be a mother anymore.

— Charlie? — she heard Fernando ask.

When she tried to open her eyes, she was blinded by the lamp turning on. After blinking a few times, Charlie felt his warm hand on her shoulder, thumb brushing against the fabric of her t-shirt. His touch made her freeze for a few seconds, her mind taking a few seconds to remember that she wasn't alone. “He can't see me like this, he can't see me like this”, she thought.

— Are you okay, Charlie? — Fernando asked her, his hand gently pulling her, making her turn to the other side, meeting his worried expression — Why are you crying?

She blinked again, her eyes feeling wet. Charlie hadn't realized that she was crying, but she couldn't answer his question either. She started crying in earnest, deep, sharp sobs that made her gasp. All she could smell was the putrid smell of floodwater churning the earth and mixing with whatever was washing out of the storm drains. She felt like a little girl, afraid of the cold, the murky water, the thunder — afraid of losing the people she loved in the water again.

Suddenly the cold dissipated. The smell of floodwater was replaced by something fresh and familiar. The sound of thunder subsided, giving way to something quiet and steady, a rhythmic pulse.

— It's okay — Charlie heard Fernando whisper — Nothing's going to happen to you.

— But… The water is rising so fast. It’s going to flood again...

— It's okay, calm down. You are safe. I’ve got you, nena.

Her fingers closed around the fabric of his shirt, and Charlie let herself be held. With the weight of his arms around her, the painful memories of the flood became distant, both in space and time. It was as if in that moment, wrapped in his body heat and in the fresh, lingering scent of his cologne, she was finally protected from all of it — from the cold, the wet, the pain of the past. She was protected from the turmoil building inside her.

She gradually managed to calm down as Fernando stroked his hand gently up and down  her back. With the soft, calming sound of his voice whispering in her ear, Charlie was finally able to fall asleep.

Daylight was streaming in through the crack in the curtain when she woke up, and rubbed her eyes. She'd slept terribly, courtesy of the awful dreams she’d had.

Charlie dreamed she was on the flooded bridge near the circuit with her grandfather. Jamie was determined to resolve the situation, especially after some kind of siren sounded through the city. Pleas for him not to leave her alone weren't enough to prevent him from jumping into the muddy water, then disappearing. She even tried to jump after him, but felt a pair of arms holding her tight, telling her that she "wasn't going anywhere".

— Good morning — she heard someone say.

 When she turned her head Charlie noticed that she was still in Fernando's arms.

— Good morning — she replied, trying to disguise the nervousness in her voice.

— Feeling better?

— A little, yeah.

— That's good — Fernando said, running his hand over her head, seeming to smooth the strands of her hair — I was worried about you.

She stayed silent for a few seconds.

— Why?

— Because you had a panic attack, Charlie, and a big one.

Charlie shifted her gaze to the lamp, trying to avoid his eyes.

— Since when has this been happening? — he asked softly, his fingers brushing her bangs out of her eyes — Is it often? Does anyone know about this? Have you talked to anyone about this?

Something his rapid-fire questions made her uneasy. It was as if Charlie had allowed Fernando to see too much of her vulnerable side, which she didn’t typically show other people in the paddock. She put a lot of effort into making sure that all anyone saw was the smart, decisive, woman, and not the scared little girl she was at her core.

But, in her terror, she’d let the mask slip.

Sitting up, Charlie tried to think of something to say. Maybe she would lie, tell him she was sleepwalking or it was a side effect of some medication. Maybe she'd say he was crazy and that she'd slept soundly all night. Maybe she...

— Charlie, are you afraid of rain?

She looked over her shoulder at him.

— Why are you asking?

— Because you said everything was going to flood again last night. That the water was rising too fast.

Charlie looked down at her feet and imagined them submerged in muddy water. 

— I'm not afraid of rain.  — she whispered — I just don’t like storms. Or floods.

— Why?

— Because I saw my grandfather almost drown in some flood water when I was nine years old — Charlie said, her voice cracking — It had rained a lot the night before. To help keep the street from flooding, he teamed up with some of our neighbors to try to clear the storm drains. But, the river near our house breached its banks and he lost his balance in the strong current, and fell into the water and got swept away. He was carried a few hundred feet before he managed to stop himself.

She had discussed the incident with Hannah a long time ago, but part of her still struggled with similar situations, like at the Belgian Grand Prix in 2021. Charlie never knew how to thank Daniel Ricciardo for lending her his headphones and distracting her with silly stories as the rain pelted down the circuit during the hours-long red flag period.

— What? — he mumbled.

— They found him holding on to a lamp post and took him to A&E. He was fine, in the end. He had hypothermia and he needed a few stitches. He was very lucky, according to the doctors. But seeing him getting swept away was enough to make me hate storms from then on — she completed.

— Is that why you asked me not to leave this morning?

Charlie turned to face him, confused.

— I didn’t ask for…

— You did. I was going to go for a run at dawn and you asked me to stay, and said that it was dangerous. So, I stayed.

— Why?

— Because you needed me.

— I — Charlie started to say, but stopped herself. She hated to admit it, but she did need him. Fernando had been her safe haven the previous night, without even questioning her or teasing her about it. Heaving a sigh, she ran a hand through her hair — I appreciate you helping me, I really do. But you didn't have to give up your plans this morning on my account.

Fernando sat back down on the bed and put a hand on Charlie’s shoulder.

— I didn't give up any plans. It’s fine.

— I imagine you have better things to do than stay here with me.

— I don't mind being here with you. In fact, I'm glad you feel comfortable with me — Fernando said, making her turn her face towards him. Charlie felt her heart race in her chest, her eyes suddenly drawn to his mouth. Maybe she should kiss him.

“No, Charlotte”, she scolded herself.

— I think I'll go brush my teeth and get dressed — Charlie finally managed to say.

— Sure — Fernando replied — Then, shall we get breakfast?

— Yeah, okay — she said, smiling a little.

The two of them went downstairs and had breakfast, mostly in silence, something Charlie appreciated, especially with the jumble of thoughts inside her head, However, towards the end of the meal, the hotel owner approached their table, looking delighted to have a Formula 1 driver there.

— Vorrei ricevere te e la tua ragazza in modo più adeguato, ma purtroppo la situazione non è delle migliori. Mi scuso per questo — the man said, smiling. Looking at Fernando, she got the impression that he was blushing.

— Nessun problema, la camera è ottima, così come tutto il servizio.

Once they got back to their room, Charlie reviewed the previous week’s sim data from Stoffel, and Fernando studied an old race. Then, he asked Charlie if she minded if he had a quick video call with Alberto. She couldn't help but watch him as he jabbered in Spanish with his friend, eyes twinkling as Alberto showed him something.

— Déjame mostrarle esto a ella, un segundo — Fernando said, showing her some drawings of some caps on his iPad  — Charlie, look at this and tell me what you think.

She smiled, glancing at the screen.

— Those are nice.

— Which one do you like best?

Charlie looked at the iPad again. Both designs were nice, but there was something about the camouflage pattern that reminded her of photos at her grandparents’ house from Jamie’s RAF days.

— This one — she said, pointing to the orange camouflage model.

— Great, thank you very much — Fernando replied, sitting back down on the bed — A ella le gusta el camuflaje, sigamos con ese, ¿de acuerdo?

They were returning to the hotel after lunch when Fernando received a call from Mike, confirming that the race had been cancelled. It wasn’t a surprise, especially after Nyck De Vries had messaged the drivers' Whatsapp group and said he was trapped in a village near Faenza, unable to reach Imola.

However, if getting there was a problem, leaving there would be too, and Charlie found that out the hard way in the afternoon. She sent a message to Sophie, the team’s travel specialist, to ask about her return to the UK. She got a response hours later, while she was watching the first episode of LOST with Fernando — he’d insisted, telling her that it was “the best series in the world”.

— Great, just what I needed — she mumbled, setting her phone in her lap.

— What’s wrong? — Fernando asked.

— Sophie said that the flights leaving from Bologna are all booked and that the best option right now is if I go to Milan and catch a connection in Frankfurt.

— Sounds reasonable — the driver said. Charlie looked back at him. He was sitting against the headboard.

— Of course it seems reasonable to you, you have a car. I don’t.

— I can take you — he replied quietly.

— The flight isn’t until tomorrow.

— And?

— You'll be leaving later today, right?

— I can stay one more night, no problem.

Charlie stared at him.

— You can?

— Of course.

— But, why?

— Because I want to, Charlie — he replied, putting one arm behind his head as he flashed one of his teasing smiles.

— That’s not an answer.

Fernando kept looking at her, seeming thoughtful, until he let out a sigh.

— Look, I’m not going to leave you alone here. What if you have some sort of trouble, and without knowing a word of Italian...

— I know some Italian, Fernando.

— Knowing how to order a spaghetti alla carbonara and water isn't knowing how to speak Italian.

— But it's something.

He huffed, sitting up in bed.

— It's not enough, and that’s not the point.

— And what is the point, exactly?

— The point is, have you forgotten what happened last time?

She blinked.

— You mean… In Jerez?

— Yes. The worst almost happened there — Fernando stopped for a few seconds — And I would never be able to forgive myself if something bad happened to you.

They remained silent for a few seconds, their eyes fixed on each other, as if searching for the right words. Charlie tried to find the courage within herself to finally ask the question that had been tormenting her for months.

— Why do you care so much about me?

Running a hand through his hair, Fernando sighed.

— Because I like you, Charlie — he said.

— Do you? But, like, do you like me as a co-worker? As a friend? You know we're far from...

— I like you as the beautiful woman you are — he said, making her heart skip a beat — I like you as the smart, extraordinary woman you are. I just like you.

— But, I thought…

— I thought I had made it clear how I feel about you in Miami.

— What, when you said I was a thorn in your side?

— When I got my hands under your skirt and squeezed your ass while you were kissing me — he smiled — By the way, you should wear that skirt more often, your legs are beautiful.

Charlie couldn't believe what she was hearing.

— Are you flirting with me? — she asked, almost naively.

— Well, you could say that. Though I’d rather be doing other things with you — he said, moving closer to her — Much more interesting things.

— And why aren't you?

— Because you haven’t asked.

A tingle raced over her skin.

— And what do I have to say?

Fernando smirked as he took one of Charlie's hands in his, examining the skin carefully before looking into her eyes.

— Just say 'please, Fer’ — he said, placing a gentle kiss on her fingers — And I'll do anything you want.

Charlie's mind was short-circuiting. Her heart was pounding.

Before she realized what she was saying, the words had already left her mouth.

— If you're going to kiss me, do it properly.

— Which are the magic words?

Charlie smiled.

— Please, Fer.

— Much better, nena — Fernando murmured, leaning gently toward her, his lips soft and warm against hers.

In Miami, their kiss had been feverish and desperate, but this one was just the opposite. There was no rush, there was no anger, there was no desire to prove the other wrong, but it was not lacking in any passion. Charlie felt Fernando's fingers slide through her hair as he guided her moves, his tongue carefully tasting her, as if he wanted to etch what she tasted like into her memory. However, she didn't have to. She remembered exactly what he tasted like.

"Sweet, salty, sour", Charlie thought, as her hands slid down his chest to the hem of his shirt. Her unsubtle hint made Fernando move back a little, throwing the shirt to some corner of the room. Then it was his turn to do the same to her, leaving her only wearing her cotton bralette.

— Hermosa — he whispered breathlessly, his hands cupping her face as he brushed his lips over hers — Tan hermosa, nena. La más hermosa.

Charlie had no idea what Fernando was saying but it excited her. She didn't know what it was about his voice that made whatever he was saying sound delicious, sublime. She pulled his body against hers and kissed him hard, because she was sure there was no better answer than that, because it was impossible to put everything she was feeling into words

Desire, happiness, relief, excitement; everything mingling wonderfully just below her navel.

Fernando leaned over her, making Charlie lie down on the mattress. She closed her eyes, and his lips began to move down her skin, kissing and nibbling, as his hands worked to get rid of her pants and underwear. The feel of the cool air against her pussy, completely wet already, made her gasp.

— Are you okay? — Fernando whispered, making her open her eyes. He was just below her sternum, the stubble on his chin brushing softly against her skin. She felt those tingles again, not from cold, but from arousal.

— Yeah, just… It's cold.

He flashed a smile, his eyes darkening with desire.

— It's okay, I'll warm you up — Fernando replied, giving her a mischievous smile before kissing the spot just above her navel. Then, he continued his trek downward.

Charlie felt butterflies in her stomach as she felt Fernando's palms on her thighs, spreading her legs further so he could have access to her pussy. She lifted herself up on her elbows and saw him staring between her legs before he raised his eyes to look at her.

— You're soaking wet, nena — he said, softly — Is this all for me?

— Yes — Charlie murmured, as she felt his fingers brush lightly over her pussy, as if he wanted to become familiar with every spot, every fold. She bit down on her lower lip and felt her legs tensing.

— I haven't even started — Fernando whispered with a smile.

She took a deep breath, her heart pounding in her chest. If he hadn't even started and Charlie was already like that, she couldn't imagine what would become of her when Fernando actually started to touch her.

— What are you waiting for? — she asked, as she felt his thumb slide easily across her labia.

— Calm down — Fernando said — What an impatient little thing you are. I'll give you what you want, don't worry. But first, I want to play a little. Can I?

— Of course…

— Then… Let's play, nena. — he murmured, before plunging between her legs, attacking her clit with his tongue.

Charlie's head fell back, her elbows collapsing under the warm wave that coursed through her body. Her eyes closed and her body tensed, the air trapped in her lungs. Then, Fernando's tongue found a more sensitive spot and she gasped, loud enough for him to chuckle. The vibration had Charlie's fingers gripping the duvet beneath her in an attempt to keep still. 

It didn't take much for her to feel like she was at her limit already, her eyes shut tightly as he licked and teased her vulva. Despite not remembering being that sensitive before, there was something about the way that Fernando stimulated her that made the sensations more potent, a certainty growing within her: he definitely knew how to use his tongue, exactly as she imagined when she noticed it peeking out of the corner of his mouth while he was focused on some activity. 

— What a well-behaved girl you are — Fernando said quietly, as he used his thumb to draw circles over her clit. It was difficult, but she opened her eyes and found him with his mouth glistening with her lubrication, his eyes dark with desire — I expected a bigger challenge coming from you...

— Fernando — Charlie whispered, as he placed kisses on the inside of her thigh, his beard brushing the sensitive skin.

— Come on, nena, tell me what you want — he said, the words drawn out in his delicious accent — Tell me and I'll give it to you.

— I want you.

— But you have me — Fernando replied, bending down slightly and giving her pussy a lick. The sudden stimulus made her let out a groan, her nails digging into her palms — I'm here to do whatever you want. Just ask me.

It took Charlie's mind a few seconds to form a coherent sentence. She didn't really know what she wanted. She wanted everything and nothing, all at once. She wanted Fernando to make her scream, but also to just stay there with her, kissing her and looking at her with his beautiful eyes.

— Make me come — she said — Please, Fer.

He smiled.

— Good girl — Fernando said. He repositioned himself on the bed, his hands resting on her hips as a way to keep her still, he started moving his tongue against her clit relentlessly.

Charlie was sure she was going to melt. She held his wrists and arched her spine with each lick, feeling like a New Year's firecracker, rising higher and higher into the sky in anticipation of the impending explosion. It was delicious and maddening, all at once. But, if she was going to be mad, let the reason be that man whose head was between her legs.

Charlie opened her eyes slightly, finding Fernando staring at her, almost as if he was intoxicated by the sight of her, squirming in the pleasure that he was giving her, and that only he could give her. And it was in that split second that the sky inside her lit up, the explosion of pleasure causing Charlie to squeal loudly, much to Fernando's delight.

— That's it — he murmured, as he moved one of his fingers over her clit, trying to prolong her pleasure as long as possible as her muscles tensed uncontrollably  — That's my girl…

If he said anything after that, Charlie didn't hear it. Her mind was completely taken over by the pleasure that made her toes curl and her spine arch. It was delicious, sublime, unlike anything she had ever experienced. She could only moan, loud enough for everyone in Imola to hear.

Then, the sensation began to slowly dissipate. She was trying to catch her breath when she felt something warm near her navel. Then between her breasts and then on her neck. Charlie only figured out what it was when she finally felt it on her lips.

Fernando.

He was kissing her gently, the taste of his own pleasure on her tongue, making it all that much more erotic. “How could I resist you?” Charlie wondered, as she threaded her fingers through Fernando’s hair, pulling him towards her.

— Are you okay? — Fernando asked softly, brushing his nose against hers.

— Yeah — she said, in a thin voice. He smiled at her.

— You're beautiful, you know that? — Fernando said, bringing one of his hands to her face, brushing a few strands of hair away. She giggled and pulled him closer to kiss her with a little more intensity, her nails scraping down the back of his neck. As she moved her hips beneath him, Fernando smiled against her mouth.

— You want more?

— Yes, Fer — she replied, nibbling on his lower lip.

— What do you want?

It was a silly question, especially when Charlie was writhing under his body, still very obviously aroused. Sliding her hands to Fernando's face, she ran her tongue over her lips, her thumb lightly touching the scar at the corner of his mouth.

— I want you to fuck me.

He smiled, one hand resting on her waist.

— I do too, Charlie. It's what I want most now — Fernando replied, but there was an unpleasant pause in his sentence.

— But?

— I need to see if I have a condom.

Charlie blinked. She was a bit surprised by his concern, but in a way, it made sense. The last thing Fernando probably wanted in life was children, especially with a career as dangerous as his, and he had to take precautions. 

— No problem — she replied — I have some.

— You do? — he asked, raising an eyebrow.

— Yeah, in my bag.

— Why?

— To use, duh — Charlie said — I like to be prepared.

— Are you always prepared to have sex?

— Maybe, but they’re of no use when the guy on top of me would rather ask stupid questions than fuck me — she said, some irritation creeping into her voice. Fernando smiled mischievously. 

— You really are an impatient little thing — he murmured, giving her a delicate peck on the lips — Wait here.

He got up and went to Charlie’s bag, finding the two red foil packets quickly. She sat up and peeled off the bralette she was still wearing, running a hand over the marks the fabric had made on her skin. A shift in the mattress made Charlie look over to Fernando as he sat back down, already naked, and started rolling the condom over his shaft. However, instead of focusing on what he was doing, her eyes were drawn to the tattoo between his shoulder blades. It was the first time she had seen it up close and she couldn’t resist the urge to lean over to get a better look. 

— A samurai? — Charlie murmured, his finger tracing over one of the dark lines that formed the sword. Seeing his skin erupt with goosebumps at her touch made her smile.

— Yes — Fernando replied, as her finger slowly followed the line of the banner that went up his neck, kanji characters in red highlighted against the dark ink — It is a symbol of Bushido, a philosophy that I study, which is based on Japanese samurai and their code of conduct. To many people, it is very similar to Western chivalry, however, I believe it is closer to our concept of honor in battle.

— It's really pretty — she said, placing her hands on his shoulder and bringing her face closer to his — Even though you sound like a nerd talking about it.

Fernando turned his head in Charlie's direction, giving her a small smile.

— A nerd, huh?

— Yes, a nerd. The biggest nerd in the world.

Fernando placed a hand on her face, tenderly.

— We’ll see, nena — he said, before repositioning himself on the bed, with his back against the wooden headboard, one hand holding his cock, stroking himself to full erectness once more. The vision made a warm wave go over her skin — Come here.

Charlie smiled and crawled towards him. She threw one leg over Fernando’s body, leaning on his shoulders and positioning herself above his dick. A shiver ran through her body as she felt him brush the head of his cock lightly against her clit, teasing her. Meeting his eyes, anticipation coursed through her body in hot waves.

— Can I? — she asked quietly.

— Yes, nena.

She lowered her hips, feeling his cock enter her slowly. The sensation caused a long sigh to escape her lips, while Fernando let out a low growl, throwing his head against the headboard. Once she was fully seated, Charlie took a second to breathe and process the sensations coursing through her body as she stretched around him. The pressure and heat that filled her felt like so much all at once and, in a way, not enough.

It was electric. Sweet. Maddening.

— All good? — he asked, his voice strained.

Charlie nodded as Fernando's hands landed on her hips, his Adam's apple bobbing  as he swallowed, his eyes locked in hers, trying to concentrate on not getting lost in the sensation himself. Seeing him like that, enraptured by her body, by her touch, by her warmth, was delicious, and she wanted more.

Lifting her hips slightly, she felt the driver's thumbs press into her skin, a hiss escaping his lips. Charlie smiled, bringing her face closer to his.

— All this for me? — she asked, her voice teasing.

— Always for you, nena — Fernando replied, before kissing her slowly as he pulled her down again.

It wasn't long before she picked up the pace, going up and down his cock as moans filled the room. With her forehead close to his, she could see in his expression that Fernando was enjoying himself, his lips half-open as Charlie bounced on his dick. And that feeling of being the one pleasuring him was something amazing, powerful.

— You're so good to me, so good — Fernando murmured, his face against hers, his hands on her ass to try and control Charlie’s pace. With her hands in his hair, she allowed herself to be guided by him, feeling the bubble of pleasure rise below her navel. His movement was precise, making her clit rub against his pubic bone.

— My God — she moaned, as a warm wave spreaded through her body — Fuck, yes, just like that…

— So you like this? — he asked in a low tone, his lips brushing hers — You like to have my cock inside as I play with your clit?

— Mhm — Charlie nodded, as her nails scraped his scalp, as she could get him to get closer to her, even closer. As if they could become one in that bed, in that room, in that city. And there was nothing she wanted more than that.

And then, Fernando stopped.

A protest escaped Charlie's lips, her hips trying to move under his hands to no avail.

— Fer — she whimpered, her face close to his.

— Lay down on the bed, nena — the driver practically ordered, causing a shiver of excitement to run across her skin. Climbing off of him, Charlie didn't have time to feel uncomfortable with the emptiness without his dick inside her before he pulled her against his body, her back flush against his chest. With one of his arms wrapped around her torso, a sigh of pleasure escaped her lips when Fernando entered her again.

His pace was slow and provocative, his thrusts were long and accompanied by kisses and nibbles on the neck. Taking his hands to the arm that wrapped around her waist, Charlie felt like putty in Fernando's hands, completely at the mercy of his desire.

— Is that what you wanted? — he whispered against her skin — Was this what you were imagining when you saw me on the balcony that day?

A low gasp escaped her throat as she felt his fingers pinch her nipple lightly, her body tensing even more. He was going to drive her crazy, she was absolutely sure of that.

— You can't imagine how much I enjoyed seeing you there, watching me, devouring me with those beautiful eyes of yours — Fernando continued, each thrust eliciting a loud moan from Charlie's throat — Well, not just your eyes. I always thought you were beautiful, Charlotte. So beautiful…

— Fer — she moaned, throwing her head against his shoulder, her entire body begging for more of him.

— Your pussy is so soft, so warm, so wet, perfect for my cock — Fernando continued, while his hand squeezed her left breast — I wish you could see how well you take me. Next time, I'll fuck you in front of a mirror, so you'll understand what I mean.

Charlie groaned. She had completely forgotten every word in the English language other than ‘Fer’, because it was the only thing she wanted at that moment, in that bed. Him, only him, thrusting hard against her pussy as his hand massaged her breasts, pinching the nipples until they became rock hard.

And, when she thought that moment couldn't get any better, Charlie felt his fingers reach her clit. A whimper escaped her lips, the muscles in her legs tensing more and more.

— Are you going to come for me, nena? — he asked, not waiting for an answer to move his fingers even faster — Come for me then, show me how good I make you feel.

Resting her hands on his arm, Charlie continued to move her hips against his fingers, desperately chasing her release. And then, without warning, it arrived.

— Fuck!

The orgasm hit her like a sudden wave. As she gasped, her body arching forward involuntarily. Her heart was pounding in her ears and her vision had gone completely black as she shut her eyes tightly. There was only pleasure, pure and raw, capable of throwing a person out of space-time, into a state of complete ecstasy.

— ¡Coño, Charlotte! — Fernando grunted from behind her. Her reaching her orgasm must have pulled him along into his. She wanted to open her eyes and turn back in order to see him reach his own climax, releasing himself into the condom, and enjoying the expression of pleasure on his face, but Charlie was too spent.

She allowed her body to relax into his, nestling her head in the crook of Fernando's neck, trying to concentrate on her own breathing, which was all she heard until Fernando until the driver started mumbling things she didn’t understand in Spanish against her neck. She didn’t have the energy to ask what he was saying.

— Eres la mujer que me volverá loco, nena — he said softly, as he caressed her torso, holding her against his body — Y te dejaré hacer eso. Vuélveme loco, por favor. No te arrepentirás de esto, te lo prometo.

They spent about ten minutes, as far as Charlie could tell from the clock on the nightstand, in the same position, still enjoined, neither of them wanting to move. Charlie thought that there was something deeply intimate about having him going gradually softer inside of her. She’d never done this with any other men she’d been with. But to her surprise, it made her feel comfortable. Safe, even. It was a mystery to her why she’d resisted this for so long.

Fernando pressed one final, soft kiss to her temple before making a move to get up.

— Stay here — he said, taking his dick out of her and getting up. She squeezed her thighs together to try to get rid of the strange emptiness that she felt without Fernando's cock inside her. “This feels awful”, she concluded, shifting to look up at the bedroom ceiling. 

The sound of running water and footsteps made her look toward the bathroom door, where Fernando was walking back to the bed. He’d put his underwear back on and had a washcloth in one hand. He sat on the edge of the bed and put a hand on her knee.

— Can I clean you up?

Charlie blinked, not realizing what he was asking for a moment. Then, she smiled.

— Oh, yeah, yes, you can — she said, opening her legs slightly.

Fernando brushed the damp part of the cloth against her inner thighs, carefully cleaning the remnants of sex from her skin. When he brushed the fabric against her pussy, Charlie hissed.

— Sensitive? — he asked, pulling his hand away.

— Yeah, a little.

— Okay, I'll be careful — Fernando said, going back to his ministrations, the gentle touch in stark contrast to the way he touched her that had made Charlie come earlier.

He stood up again, leaving Charlie alone again, but returned holding her discarded panties, and a clean t-shirt.  

— I thought you’d want to put something on… To wear to bed, you know.

Charlie stared at the clothes in his hand.

— Yes, thank you.

She took them and slipped the clothes on, only stopping when she realized that the t-shirt Fernando had given her was far too big for her. She looked down and saw a colorful logo for Kimoa, the clothing company he’d started.

Fernando smiled at her, clearly satisfied with himself.

— Did you give me one of your t-shirts?

— Yes. Is that a problem? — he asked as he grabbed a bottle of water.

— No, but I have some in my suitcase…

— But you look prettier wearing mine — Fernando replied, approaching the bed — Water?

She accepted the bottle and opened it, taking a sip as he sat back down on the bed.

— Thanks — Charlie said, handing the bottle back to him. He placed it on the bedside table and laid down on the pillow next to her, resting his hand on her back.

— Come here — he whispered.

— Why?

— Because I want to cuddle.

Charlie couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

— Since when are you such a romantic?

— Since always.

— You never struck me as the romantic type.

— But, I am. And I want to show you.

She felt her heart pounding heavily inside her chest.

— Fernando…

— Come here, nena. Please.

Sliding down onto the duvet, Charlie lay down beside him, allowing him to envelop her body in a firm embrace as his lips placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. Surrounded by the warmth that emanated from Fernando's body and feeling his fingers lightly caressing her skin, she fell into a deep and peaceful sleep.

She woke up with something warm touching her face gently, almost carefully. When she opened her eyes, Charlie saw his eyes, the soft brown blending with the green, as if they were the very image of spring, full of life and hope. “Maybe this is why he looks so good in British racing green”, she thought. 

— Good morning, Charlie — Fernando said softly.

— Good morning, Fer.

— Did you sleep well?

— Yeah, like a log —  she replied, smiling — And you?

— Yeah, for a while. But I woke up at dawn with the rain and couldn't sleep anymore.

— Why?

— I was afraid the thunder would wake you up and scare you.

Charlie couldn't hide her surprise.

— I didn't think you cared about me that much.

Fernando placed his hand on her cheek.

— But, I do. More than you can imagine.

Placing her hand over his, Charlie couldn't help but feel butterflies fluttering in her stomach. The peace and security he made her feel was strange. It was a good kind of strange, though. She moved closer to him and let Fernando embrace her. They snuggled for a bit longer, the serenity of the moment interrupted when Charlie’s phone rang, Sophie’s name flashing across the screen. The woman gave her the details of her flight from Milan, and she hung up with a sigh.

— What’s wrong?

— Sophie said that I have to be in Milan two hours before the flight, but that I might encounter problems on the road and I should leave early.

— Do you want to leave soon? We can pack up, eat something, and leave.

— Is that what you want to do?

Fernando laughed.

— You're the one with a flight to catch, not me.

Charlie shook her head.

— Okay, we can do that.

The two got up, showered — together, at his insistence — and got dressed. After packing their bags, they had breakfast together and checked out. Charlie tried to thank the staff in Italian that Fernando deemed “terrible”. After putting their bags in the car, they left Imola on the E45 toward northern Italy.

The five-hour trip was peaceful and enjoyable. Charlie and Fernando talked about a lot of things, including how he had started racing when he was three after his father had adapted a kart for his sister Lorena, who was eight at the time, decided she didn’t want to use it.

— I still have the kart today — he said, — It's in Oviedo, in my museum.

— You have a museum?

— Yeah, I decided to open one after Flavio gave me my 2005 car as a gift for winning the championship. I tried to store it in my garage, but with everyone wanting to see it, I thought I'd better create somewhere to display everything related to my career. There’s even a kart track.

— Let me guess, you designed the track layout.

— I did — Fernando smiled, glancing at Charlie — I put all my favorite corners in it. By the way, I think you would like to drive there, since you like karting so much.

— I like karting, but I’m not that good of a driver. I’m not very quick.

— I can give you lessons if you like. I like to think that I know a thing or two about racing.

Charlie rolled her eyes, laughing.

— It would be an honor — she said, sarcastically.

They arrived at the airport just under two hours before her flight, which was impressive considering the traffic on the highway, the detours caused by the rain, and the rather long stop in Verona for lunch. As Charlie got out and got her bags, Fernando nervously ran a hand through his hair.

— I think this is my stop — Charlie said, putting great effort into trying to sound calm.

— Yeah, I guess so.

— Yeah…

— Do you need help with your things?

— No, I can get it — she replied, giving him a small smile.

— Oh. Okay, then.

Silence hung over them. Charlie didn’t know what to say. Did she say goodbye and leave without another word? Did she give him a hug and wish him a safe drive home? 

“For God's sake, Charlotte, he made you come twice last night. Say something”, she thought.

— Well, I guess I'll see you soon. Monaco, right?

— Yes, Monaco — Fernando replied, looking intently into her eyes.

More silence.

— This is ridiculous, right? — she whispered, a little embarrassed.

— Well, it's different, it's not ridiculous — the driver replied, giving a little smile — You will never be ridiculous to me.

Charlie looked at him again, realizing how much things had changed between them. They definitely weren't enemies, let alone rivals. However, they had stopped being just co-workers a long time ago.

She could contemplate whatever they were on the flight home.

— Can I kiss you? — Fernando asked.

— You can — Charlie replied, smiling.

He brought his face close to hers, placing a hand on her cheek. Then their lips touched lightly, almost as if he was afraid of breaking her. A few seconds later, he pulled away, but stayed close enough so that their noses were still touching. 

— Bye, nena. I’ll miss you.

— I’ll miss you too — Charlie said, before giving him another peck on the cheek and shutting the car door.

As she walked into the terminal, pulling her suitcase behind her, her heart felt light enough to carry her all the way back to Birmingham, no airplane required.

[hockybish]

https://www.tumblr.com/hockybish/743160802329116672/nico-goes-straight-to-him-doesnt-wait

ANGST

As I finished this I realize it feels a bit Home Alone ish. And rereading it it's more drama vs angst. But I like the it. 😅

“Okay okay. Calm down miss. Let’s see here, we have a couple of flights …” she started to drone on, her fingernails clicking away on the keyboard. "Alrighty the soonest nonstop is at five."

"Five? As in pm? Three hours from now?" Nico's eyes bugged out. That was too long of a wait. She couldn't wait that long. Matthew was probably already on his way in the sky and he was probably thinking she was going to be breaking up with him over what a misunderstanding?

No. She couldn't wait those three hours. There has to be a sooner flight. "Is there anything else? I'm begging. I don't have any luggage or carry ons. I made a mistake with my boyfriend and I. Please."

"There's a flight that leave in 30 minutes there's a slight layover in Washington and it's on to Phoenix. It would get you there a bit faster than waiting for the later flight. Does that work?"

That was perfect. It kind of hit her then that she really didn't have anything on her and she was still in her short golf skirt and halter top and her wallet wasn't in her pocket.

Nonetheless she shoved her hand in the sewn in pouch. She found her license and her older brother's card, he must have slipped them in there while she was getting out of the car. Nico couldn't have been more thankful.

Settling down in the her seat, Nico started thinking about how she would apologize to her beau. Maybe she should pick up a bouquet of flowers like men do when they need to apologize for doing something wrong. Matthew would think it's funny and jokingly make a quip about how she can't buy his forgiveness with a kiss and pretty flowers.

Nico had solidified her plan by end of the short flight.

She checked her phone got off the plane, she didn't have as much time as she thought. She turned her skipping into a full on run to the gate on the opposite side of the airport, praying she would get there before-

"I'm sorry miss, you just missed the plane." The man point to the large window. Sure enough the large plane was being taxied to the right runway. Dejected, Nico turned around to start over on finding a way to Matthew.

Nico started crying as she called Trevor and explained to about the new mishap. She should have just waited for the later nonstop flight and this wouldn't have happened and she would feel stupid right now.

"Nic, remember Chili's checklist from Bluey?"

"You watch Bluey?"

"I've seen somethings on TikTok. Shut it" Of course he'd seen an episode or two or maybe the whole series, he had a lot of time on his hands, sue him. But he didn't want to expose himself completely. So he lied a little. "Checklist?"

"I have a little cry." Nico wiped her tears one final time.

"Check!

"I pick myself up." She took a deep breathe and stood a little taller.

"Check!"

"Dust myself off" She then swiped at the little bit of dirt that was on the pleat of her skirt.

"Check!" Trevor elongated the e in check.

"And keep going"

"The show must go on!" The siblings chanted to together. Nico couldn't thank Trevor enough for helping her calm and reassuring her that she would get there and everything would be okay.

Nico made her way once again to the ticket counter. She had a bit more pep in her step. Nothing was going to get in her way.

And when the man said there was nothing nonstop, but that they could only get her a flight to Vegas and she would have to hop on a flight from a different company. She didn't panic.

She remembered the checklist, going over it, hearing Trevor's voice as she checked everything off again. She would make it.

When she finally got to Phil was there waiting for her to take her to his little brother. He didn't like how moppy Matthew seemed and wanted to help anyway her could.

"The show must go on" She smiled to herself, letting herself out of Phil's car when they pulled up to their destination. Phil gave her a weird look and she promised to explain it later to the Slovak.

"Hi Matthew" She played with the new pendant hanging around her neck, the feeling of the engraved initials on the back kept her nerves at bay as she held out the bouquet of mixed flowers for the man she loved so much.

[aetherspoon]

A not-so-simple relocation, day 7/8/9/10

Last Time:

Trips to the aquarium, to my partner's home, to ikea, and to a gaming table to play Dorf Romantik. If you're still with me this far, that's impressive! Have a boat. I think it is a Ketch, but this is definitely not a boat I had seen in Sid Meier's Pirates!, so forgive my lack of boat knowledge.

Day 7 - The day everyone leaves.

Sunday was departure day.

Our friends flights were scheduled to depart at 13:10 local time. This time, everyone were on the correct flights, everyone arrived with plenty of time to spare, everything should be fine!

... yeah, not a single flight for their trips back went to plan. Folks, you might wonder why I grouped four days together on this post. That's because the last of my friends finally got home at 3:55a (my time) on day 10. Which is seven hours ago, as of the typing of this Tumblr post.

Backing up a bit, when I originally booked these flights, I asked my friends what they wanted me to book. I wouldn't be on the flight back, so from my perspective all I was doing was paying for them. The flights back consisted of two sane routes - one gave a 55m layover in Copenhagen, one gave an 8.5h layover in Copenhagen. I warned them that a 55m layover was quite short but, assuming the flights were on time, absolutely doable since you aren't going through airport security. The 8+h one would probably mean they'd get a chance to explore Copenhagen before heading back. They chose the short layover.

They chose... poorly.

The flight out of Bergen was an hour or so late in arriving, meaning their 55m layover turned into a -7m layover. Why was it so late? Because the flight was late in arriving in Bergen. Where did the flight come from? Oslo.

That's right! Oslo needs to get their shit together on Sundays! I told you it'd come back. :)

As they were in the air from Bergen to Copenhagen, I received three notifications about rebooked flights. I looked at the rebookings and realized that my friends were about to have an awful day. You see, when they rebooked their flights, they didn't put them on the later flight, no... they flew them to Stockholm, then from Stockholm to Chicago, then Chicago to Milwaukee.

Wrong direction, sure, but why was I so adamant about their bad day? Because the layover in Stockholm was eighteen hours long. They had an overnight layover. Then another five hour layover in Chicago. Then they had a 7+ hour drive back, then another one of the friends had an additional 13 hours to drive back to his home on top of that first drive. Can you see how it took him four days to get home yet? All because Oslo didn't have their shit together on a Sunday.

I, on the other hand? Didn't do all that much. I finally set up my portable desktop computer, started typing these out, and made an order for cat food and other cat supplies. I would have loved to done some grocery shopping or purchasing of other needed supplies, but I couldn't.

That's because Day 7 is a national holiday here in Norway, as is Day 8. Absolutely nothing was open outside of a couple of small kiosks downtown (and, as I later found out, a couple of restaurants for delivery).

Day 8 - Holiday doldrums.

Norway has an interesting set of national holidays. There aren't a huge number - only one more than the US, in fact - but they're all clumped up around Easter. A full half of their national holidays are latched onto Easter, likely owing to their state religion. Unfortunately, the next national holiday is Christmas Day. This is the year I get short-changed on paid holidays due to my timing of the move from US-based to Norway-based work.

Day 8 is Whit Monday, a part of the Ascension holiday. The last of the bracketed-around-Easter holidays. I'm not Christian (although I was raised in a Christian society, so I have a lot of cultural osmosis there), so the day itself is meaningless to me. Incidentally, same day as the US Memorial Day this year, but that's a complete coincidence.

I basically just cleaned up a bit around the house and attempted to make some online orders... only to fail. Everywhere.

International Banking, part 2

The other thing I said would come back at some point!

When someone from outside of a country tries to order something online inside of the country, one of four things tend to happen:

The order lets you put in an international address for billing, everything works file.

The order requires a domestic billing address, but everything still works fine because your credit card company just nods along.

The order requires a domestic billing address and adamantly fails to run on a non-domestic account.

You can't even sign up to get an order because you don't have domestic contact information.

Most times, multi-national organizations hit option 1. The place I ordered the cat supplies from, for instance, did not care one bit about the fact that my billing information was US-based. The company itself is based out of Germany, so they're used to international business anyway.

Online food ordering around here seems to hit point two. I used a credit card to pay for my food delivery for my friends while they were here; I put in my address here for my home address and away it went.

The other two though? I'm out of luck. My partner has to order things for me, which is utterly ridiculous given that I already owe them nearly 10k USD for house-related expenses anyway. It also makes me feel infantilized, given that I'm apparently not allowed to do anything. I can't repair my own desktop computer without parts, and I can't get those parts without my partner ordering them for me (as that online retailer hits #4 - you literally can't order from them without a Norwegian phone number). They won't do that right now, as they're probably freaking out over just how much money this whole thing has cost. I can't buy a chair that will let my back hurt less (as I'm using a dining room chair right now, which isn't even ours), since that's a site that hits problem number three.

Norwegian telephone numbers

And that brings us to rage target number two. Norway basically has two cell providers - Telia and Telenor. Everyone else is basically using one of those two networks, kind of like how the US basically has four providers and everyone uses one of those four. Similar to the US, there are both prepaid and postpaid options.

Unlike the US, however, Norway uses cell phones for a lot more than just calls and data. Their entire banking system relies on a cell phone number for mobile banking, for instance, and mobile banking is default.

Postpaid options, however, require you to have a two year long credit history. I do not exist according to Norwegian banks. I literally cannot get a postpaid cell phone for the next two years because of this. As far as I can tell, I can't even be added to my partner's postpaid contract as a family member (although I can't be sure on that), giving me fewer rights than a twelve year old here.

So, why not go with prepaid? Let's look at Telenor's site. This is via Google Translate, for reference, so forgive the weird grammar.

So, let's see if I get this straight. Postpaid I can't get because Noob. Prepaid I can get but can't use for BankID (which is the primary authentication method in Norway and the mobile part is used for MFA - kind of needed) or for sending any non-data communication outside of Norway (which is kind of needed to even communicate with my own company / HR departments).

Day 9/10ish - I miss the US.

I mean, given the frustrations above, this is hardly surprising. But damn is it rough right now. I feel like I'm basically trapped here and have made All The Mistakes. Again, I knew this would happen, I just didn't how what would trigger it and how.

Apparently, it is entirely based on the fact that I can't easily leave the house or feed my cats.

Leaving the house

I talked about the hill of doom before. It is 50-someodd meters of a walk uphill, rather steep for someone who grew up within a meter of sea level. I'm not out of breath so much as my legs are screaming at me with high amounts of pain. We're talking comparable-to-kidney-stones levels of pain not counting my gout. There also isn't really a way around it; my apartment is at the end of the road and almost the entire hill is on the same road. There isn't anywhere I could go that I wouldn't need to go up that same hill, even if I just wanted to stretch my legs.

This makes me feel trapped in this apartment. If I had known how steep that hill walk would be, I would have actually rejected this apartment.

My plan for this day was to go up that stupid hill again to go shopping (mall non-grocery), come back, then go up a second time with Kriatyrr to further go shopping (grocery). I've been a bit lazy in the mornings for me, but I'm still up hours earlier than Kriatyrr due to the way my brain works with times. As I was feeding my cats, I realized how low on food we were.

Cat food

We're low. Very low. Kriatyrr had bought a 1.5kg bag of cat food for me before my arrival. My cats eat a prescription food called Hill's T/D - it is for dental health and my cats have been on it for around a decade now. Weighing it right now, I have 469g of food left. Based on when I arrived, that should give me enough food for another eight days... except that my numbers are off. Remember a while back when I said Zoan wasn't eating? He certainly is now, but he didn't start eating until day five. So that information is kind of bunk, but I do have some telemetry data coming from their feeders.

Looking at their feeding history, Issun eats around 1560g per month, Zoan eats around 1450g/month, or around 100g/day combined. So I have four days of food left.

Kriatyrr informed me that the site I ordered my cat food from takes over a week to arrive. I did not realize this. I have made a terrible mistake.

Does that look like the face of a cat that will be happy when I'm out of food? No. That's the look of a creature that will eat ME if I do not feed.

So on Day 9, we went to the grocery store and also added in some supplemental wet food. We picked out a variety Kriatyrr's cats enjoy, as then any leftovers can go to them. We mixed some wet food in with their T/D and fed them last night.

This was the even-worse mistake.

After feeding time, the profuse vomiting began. Zoan threw up seven times in 40 minutes. Issun threw up four or five times in that same span. This continued on until this morning. I've since fed them T/D... only to have Issun throw it all up again, this time on top of multiple objects that aren't easy to clean.

Oh right, cleaning. Did I mention that we still don't have a washing machine? Or freezer?

What did arrive is a letter from the Norwegian Government, addressed to me. I can see it in the mailbox. The locked mailbox, the same locked mailbox we don't have a key for because the landlord never finished giving us things for the apartment.

I'm really fed up with having to rely on everyone to get anything done.

Previous post:

[thealphabetter]

1/28/23

Flight TN (Air Tahiti) 101 has stopped in Papeete for a layover on the way to Auckland. 

Last night, I departed from SFO, and transferred planes at LAX.

I will spend a moment in Papeete before boarding a flight again, toward New Zealand, and the date line.

Once in Auckland, I will make my way to the harbor, to board the Majestic Princess. 

The scheduled departure of the boat was delayed by three hours, to 10 P.M., due to weather conditions. 

There is a fair chance of rain on most of the days that I could check the forecast for in New Zealand and Australia. 

On the way here, I watched Elvis, read some of Doctor Zhivago, and listened to downloads. 

1/29/23

Arrival in Auckland is met with transportation to the Auckland harbor. 

It takes very little delay to gather myself after the flight and the change in time. 

Many of the arriving flights had been delayed or rescheduled, according to signage at the airport, due to the flooding of the runway.

I board the Majestic Princess, unpack, shower, and tour the ship’s amenities. This includes a trip to the bar, and the consumption of four Long Island Iced Teas. Shortly after, I am able to sleep, after I last woke in California, on the 27th.

1/30/23

It was past midnight when I woke up and noticed that the ship was in motion. I laid awake for a moment before deciding upon staying conscious. I ordered a veggie burger and an Americano, walked to the deck to see the ship’s wake, and then to the other side of the boat, to stop by the casino. It was closed.

The ship would broadcast the NFC Championship at 9 A.M. in the morning, after my breakfast. As the game went through the first quarter, I watched the ship turn into its port in Tauranga. I watched the game from a hot tub until half-time, at which point I changed clothes and ate on the deck, until the third quarter of the game. 

It was about a half-mile walk to the trails, the name of the mountain (a.k.a. Mount Maunganui or “The Mount”) that overlooks the peninsula and harbor of Tauranga. I hiked up one side, and saw some sheep along the way. I walked down another trail that led me to the other side of the Tauranga peninsula. 

I walked alongside the beach, into a mini-peninsula off the main beach. I did some window-shopping through the mid-peninsula before finding myself near the boat. It was simpler to board again, eat again, and fall asleep for a while. When I woke up, in the evening I ordered five plates of food to the room, and finished the meal while watching Marilyn Monroe and Jane Russell in Gentlemen Prefer Blondes. 

It was early enough, when the movie was over, to get drinks at the bar, and check out the Freddie Mercury tribute concert at the Princess Theater. 

1/31/23

The day was highlighted by a scheduled trip to the Hobbiton movie set, the filming location for the setting of the Shire in the Lord of the Rings and Hobbit trilogies. 

Before I left the ship for the drive to the set, I watched the beginning of The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey, until the moment right before Bilbo decides to embark on the journey with the dwarves. 

The set is located on a farm, past a range of mountains when traveling from Tauranga. 

The tour began highlighting areas where specific scenes from the movies were shot, and the discussion of camera techniques used in the movie. Different areas on the set were sized proportionally, to make any character appear larger or smaller in respect to it. 

I could recognize these settings, and took many photos. The tour went around the set, and ended near the Green Dragon Inn, where I was served, by our tour guide, Calen, a cup of ale.

The drive to and from the set took about an hour and 15 minutes each way. The driver discussed major exports of the area, including timber, kiwi fruit, and dairy products. I recognized the Zespri brand name as we passed by the office building for the kiwi fruit company. 

Return to the ship was followed by a meal and the next hour of the first Hobbit movie. I then went to the indoor pool for what was around two hours. Patrick McCullough performed in the Princess Theater in the evening. 

2/1/23

The journey’s first full day at sea would consist of traveling from Tauranga to Wellington. It started early, with breakfast, but with little other activity until my visit to the casino. My initial $20 AUD transfer was gone in just a few spins. I waited to eat at Alfredo’s, where I would eat three times throughout the day. I resumed gambling, maintaining a bank for the slots while losing at the tables. I eventually hit a slots bonus that brought me to $280 AUD, after I had put in $140 AUD in total. 

I watched the Maori ambassador’s presentation on traditions and mythology in the Princess Theater. This was followed by my next visit to Alfredo;’s, in the ship’s atrium. It was in the atrium that I then participated in a Haka dance with the ambassadors. Crew members began to set up a champagne waterfall, which I watched through, nearly to its completion. At 6:30 P.M., the officers of the ship were introduced at the waterfall ceremony. I took a glass of champagne from a nearby server and sat at Alfredo’s again. I began watching Alien: Covenant, but not to its conclusion, before the night ended. 

There was a musical performance in the Princess Theater. I found it happening after participating in the guessing contest for the weight of a pig-sculpture in the art studio. 

2/2/23

I have found myself waking up early, as was the case today. Upon arrival  in Wellington, I am ready to explore the city. The bus takes me near the cable car, which runs up a hill to the botanical gardens. These gardens run towards the side and down the hill, and included native NZ species of flora, and more - a herb garden, rose garden, and greenhouse with a pond full of guppies. The downhill trail ends back near the parliament building, which I detoured around. I walked closer to the harbor-coastline area to the Maritime Museum. There were a few objects of interest there. A walk along the coastline took me to the Te Papa Museum, which exhibited nature-science, a NZ WWI display, abstract art, traditional Maori pieces and more. The bus to the ship gathered passengers right behind the museum. Back on the boat, I took a moment to decide whether to watch the movie being shown on the deck, Dakota, before changing, and watching it from a hot tub. I met two, from Korea, in the tub.

I went to the atrium, alternated alcoholic and non-alcoholic drinks three times, for six drinks total, before getting two Americanos saturated with brown sugar. The live music was okay. I watched the rest of Alien: Covenant and slept. 

2/3/23

Another early day started at 5:30 A.M., until the hills around our destination port appeared around us at breakfast. The timing would allow for a load of laundry to be completed while the ship docked. In Port Shakespeare, shuttle buses took cruise-ship passengers to the town of Picton. A primary glimpse into the ocean water, from the Picton harbor beach, was very red - what I understood to be red algae. I kept walking for what was at least 2.5 hours round-trip. 

It began to rain, most heavily when I decided to turn around, at the viewpoint on the trail labeled as the viewpoint for Queen Charlotte’s Sound. My shoes were a little moist, as was my passport, when I ended up back at the harbor. The couple I had met the day prior offered a pint of beer, which I drank rather quickly, before asking where I could get some soda. There was a nearby sandwich and soda shop. I stopped by, and walked through the street full of souvenir shops and restaurants, before ending up at a store, where I bought a bottle of Lawson’s Dry Hills Reserve Pinot Noir. Ideally, I would have gone on some sort of wine tour, but I did not. I was allowed to bring the wine back on board the boat. 

The ship leaves Queen Charlotte Sound and turns right, to navigate southward on the southern island. It is picturesque, and I combine sightseeing from the lido deck with drinks from Alex and Whinn at the atrium’s Vines bar. 

2/4/23

The ship docked in Lyttleton harbor, and I was in the initial queue to go ashore. Shuttles awaited for the journey into Lyttelton or Christchurch. Notes from my booked tour instructed me to board for Lyttelton and transfer in the port-city. 

The tour bus went north around Governor’s Bay before taking the road over the mountain range that divides Christchurch from Lyttelton. Descent into Christchurch gave way to a view of the mountain-park for mountain bikers and zip-liners, and a more distant picture of Christchurch and New Zealand’s Alps. A stop was made for this moment, to observe. 

Scottie, the tour guide, drove onto the streets of Christchurch while beginning to explain the effect of the hundreds of earthquakes that struck the city between 2010 and 2012. 70% of the city was rebuilt since that time, into the present day, in which the city has been reopened to cruise-ship passengers for its first year since. A wall of names downtown commemorates those lost. 

Free time in the city would consist of walking by that memorial and along the river. This was followed by a few moments at the botanical gardens. There is much evidence of the effect that the earthquakes had still. In the more suburban areas, less so, as the “red zone” now delineates the area in which construction cannot take place due to risks, in the event of another earthquake. This zone was quite large, and took up most of the trip on our way to the beach in Brighton. 

A few more winding roads through the jagged peninsulas wold lead to the port-city where we landed. I had a moment to stop at Eruption Brewing to down a lager on the deck. 

There was a moment in the evening, at the Vines bar, as I read the next pages of Zhivago. This was followed by another moment, as I looked out the window to see three animals, apparently, jumping through the ship’s wake. I could identify the animal in the third instance as a penguin. 

I kept drinking and eating, watched Morbius on the pool deck, and checked out the late-night dance in the atrium before calling it a night. 

2/5/23

The ship docked at Port Chalmers in the early morning.

Upon entering the port-city, I walked through the main city street, up through a path by the Presbyterian Church, and to a garden that house a lookout over the harbor, the dock, and city hall. Buses were ready to take passengers to the city of Dunedin. The city center is an octagon-shaped block with a road for buses going horizontally through. It was pretty early in the morning, on a Sunday, and I would need to walk the same path twice t be there for various sites’ hours of operation. These sites included the rail station, the Toitū Otago Settlers Museum, and the Chinese Garden. I visited three churches, the First Church of Otago, St. Paul’s Cathedral, and the St. Joseph Cathedral. I attended mass at St. Paul’s until the communal prayers, then walked to the St. Joseph Cathedral, just before communal prayers. 

I walked back to the octagon, and had fish and chips at a place called Social Club. This was followed by a visit to the Dunedin Public Art Gallery. This would conclude my visit to the city, as buses to the ship departed from the octagon. 

I stayed wake into the early hours of the next morning, as the DJ took over the atrium/dance floor per usual. Midnight marked the arrival of my birthday.

2/6/23 - 2/8/23

It was a rather late night, the previous night. 

Three days were spent to cross the Tasman Sea, into Australia. 

I dined at the Crown Grill for my birthday festivities. The next day’s dinner would be in the Symphony Dining Room. On the next, dinner was at the Harmony Restaurant. The food at all three locations on the ship was delectable. 

My stateroom is located near the front of the ship, which can apparently rock with the waves, as the ship presses forward. The movement could have been worse, but it did not go unnoticed. We were quite close to Tasmania on the night before we got there, and the going was pretty easy, much of the early morning consisting of cruising through the bay and into the Hobart port. 

2/9/23

Dawn arrives as the ship arrives in the port of Hobart. I watched the ship dock in the morning light. The groups for excursions into Tasmania are assembled in the Princess Theater. Several groups prepare to board buses to the Bonorong Wildlife Sanctuary. I had looked into this excursion for an opportunity to see Tasmanian Devils. This was the first instance in which I had done so. There were several species native to Australia there as well, an abundance of kangaroos, some emus, birds, etc. We were bussed back towards the ship, stopping by the bridge for a photo-op across the bay from Hobart. 

The bus dropped us off at the port, there was still about six hours to walk through the city. I started west, towards the other side of the port, and out into the respective peninsula. The University of Tasmania is located there, and a little further is a residential area in which I found a hotel bar that poured me a Cascade, a native Tasmanian beer. The path would lead back towards but past the ship, through downtown Hobart past various athletics facilities, through a fallen soldiers’ memorial, to a track meet in progress. This path continued through to the botanical gardens. I would check the time to be back on the boat, stopping by the war memorial, the ANZAC eye. 

The Hobart Brewing Co. is located right next to the port, and I stop for a flavored beer. 

2/10/23

The last day of the cruise is a day at sea, between Tasmania and Sydney. It is a fairly good moment. I found myself on the deck at times, in the atrium as the choir sang Oklahoma!, and dining in the Allegro Dining Room that evening. I had barramundi. The Noordam cruises alongside us, I observed, as the evening continued. 

2/11/23

We arrived in the port of Sydney at around 5 A.M. I am ready to leave with my disembarkation group at 8 A.M. It’s a pretty good feeling, sunrise over the Sydney Opera House. I am not feeling any fatigue. The deal I booked online was a bus pass/hostel package, with plenty of distance to cover up the east coast of Australia. Accommodations are about a mile inland, near Town Hall. I dropped off my bags at the Nomads Hostel location and begin my first day of two in Sydney. Proceeding east past Town Hall is the ANZAC War Memorial and the botanical gardens. Along the path northward is the Art Gallery of New South Wales, made up of two separate buildings. There are a few nice pieces there, I’m not sure I recognized any in particular, maybe some artists here and there. I continued north through the gardens and past the Opera House again, towards the Sydney Harbor Bridge. At this moment in the day, I do not have any time constraints, but the walk over the bridge and back to the hostel took about 2 hours. It’s at this moment that I get ready to attend the performance of La Boheme at the opera house. This preparation includes the consumption of Somersby cider and jalapeño poppers at the hostel bar. 

2/12/23

I made the route out to take for the second and last planned day in Sydney. It was through to the west via train to to the Olympic park, and then after a walk through it, a ferry ride back to the quay. It was a pretty lengthy trek. The bus left at 7 P.M., which left me some time to visit Bondi Beach, walk around there, and take the bus and subway back to the city center where I had left my bags, and where the Greyhound bus would depart from. 

2/13/23

The bus ride has taken about 19 hours to Brisbane. This area of Australia is made up of national parks and Eucalyptus forests. I looked out the window for a good while until it was overwhelmingly dark outside, at which point I watched the last two episodes of the National Treasure series on my phone. Traffic increased as we approached the city of Brisbane. The Super Bowl was occurring, and I listened in. When I arrived, I walked to the Nomads hostel, and left my bags there before check-in at 3 P.M. The central business district is pretty nice, and it is fairly hot outside - I stopped by Starbucks for a refresher and an ice-water. The city is built alongside a river, and there’s a smaller arts part of the city as well on the other side of the river from the business district. This evening walk included three museums, a cozy park, and a ferris-wheel ride. I got a ticket for an evening concert - classical music, a chamber orchestra led by violinist Ilya Gringolts. I walked back to the hostel, checked in, showered, and got sushi. Then, I went to the concert. 

2/14/23

The Brisbane train station is one block from the hostel. I got a vending machine espresso drink from the station before departing towards the Australia Zoo. I had seen a few episodes of Crikey! It’s the Irwins before my trip started. It was a good stop to make. I went around the zoo and ended up in the middle of it, where the crocodiles were. The crocodiles were from Australia, some with backstories on display. I liked the alligators as well, and they were from the U.S.A. I got an Icee by the African savannah exhibit, where there were zebras, giraffes, and rhinos. There was a tiger feeding. I got a salad before the Crocoseum show - trained birds flying from trainer to trainer, and crocodile feeding. There was a moment to stop by the animal hospital before going back to Brisbane. I had potato gnocchi for dinner. 

2/15/23

It was a pretty nice, early morning. I got some fruit buns at Woolworth’s grocery store before my bus to Airlie Beach. This bus ride would take the rest of the day and the morning of the next. I got a long black from the station cafe. The Dallas Stars played, and I listened to that. I revisited some of my Youtube Music listening history from two or three years ago. This included “Moonshadow” by Cat Stevens., and “Let Me Go” by Alesso, Hailee Steinfeld, and Florida-Georgia Line. 

2/16/23

Once in Airlie Beach, I decided to go on a boat ride to a nearby island. This is the southern part of the Great Barrier Reef. The boat, the Camira, sailed out to Whitsunday Island. We anchored by one side of the island to snorkel, and I made use of my underwater camera in pursuit of some colorful marine life. Once anchored by another part of the island, we hiked up to a lookout over the beach, and walked down to it as well. Lunch for me was a veggie burger. I tried the Strongbow and the Great Northern Brewing Co. “Super Crisp.” In the evening would be a moment to walk through Airlie Beach - the pools, the beach, and the harbor, where I got a pizza. The hostel pool area was closed, but I sat down and almost fell asleep there.

2/17/23

The bus to Townsville departed at 9:50 A.M., by which time I had walked through the town again, to McDonalds, Woolworth’s and a pharmacy, where I got a pin with turtles on it, for my backpack. The bus ride there took about five hours. The bus station is linked to the ferry system between the town and Magnetic Island, where I planned to stay for two nights. I stopped by the hostel, but I had forgotten to make a reservation. The other hostel on the map was in Picnic Bay, about a mile away. I walked with a resident on the trail there. The island is pretty nice, not too populated, and I had a squash salad and a beer flight at Maggie Island Brewery - a fresh cucumber beer stood out - the last one on the flight. After that, I did the laundry, considering the hike to West Point, as it began to rain. 

2/18/23

Early morning, I had the cup ramen noodles I had, and waded in the pool with Louie, an Australian Shepherd. He swam across a few times, but I was preparing for my trip to Horseshoe Bay, on the other side of the island. This hike would start at the bay and go around the outer side to the north-east, down south, and towards the lookout, located closer to the center of the island, up a long flight of stairs. Adam, from the hostel, told me that I should bring carrots for the rock wallabies, if I intended on feeding them. I got these from the store at Horseshoe Bay. I walked on the trail as it presented itself, and although it was raining, I enjoyed looking at the beachfronts and flora. The informational guidepost mentioned that this island was a precautionary WWII lookout, used both by Australian and U.S.A. soldiers in that time. The lookout at the top was just two buildings. The Magnetic Island National Park entrance was nearby, where I waited for the bus. I rode to the south-eastern part of the island where the rock wallabies lived. I fed one a carrot immediately, gave one to some tourists who had scootered there, and with no other wallabies around, ate the last one. I missed the next bus back to Picnic Bay. There was a store nearby, where I got pasta, sauce, sour skittles, cheese, chips, and pineapple juice. I waited by the bus stop as the rain stopped and started again, before the next bus. I shared the pasta with some tourists from Germany. 

2/19/23

I woke up in time to swim at the Picnic Bay beach, and then again at the hostel pool with Louie. I took the 10 A.M. ferry back to Townsville, and walked through a memorial park. I got a pizza by the Townsville beach, and some ice cream after that. The bus to Cairns would be at 2:40 P.M., and I walked the beach for a bit, got some beers as UFC played on T.V., and wandered back to the station. It was nighttime in Cairns when I got there.

2/20/23

The early morning consisted of breakfast at McDonalds, by the harbor, where I boarded the Evolution to scuba-dive. The bus stopped at two different locations for diving and snorkeling. We were given some instruction on how to dive, on the way there.I opted to dive twice. The first time I dove, a fellow diver, Josephine, and I linked arms with an instructor. We descended, and some things that stood out to me were the shark, and a fish that followed me about the size of my upper body. After the dive, I snorkeled. The ship, the Evolution, moved to its next location, the North Hastings Reef. This location had more coral, and we dove in a group of five, including the instructor. We saw a few more colorful fish, a few giant clams, sea cucumbers, and two more sharks. Both dives were about 15-20 minutes. I snorkeled again, after removing the self-contained underwater breathing apparatus. I saw a turtle, a lone jellyfish, and a few fish by the boat that looked like Dory from Finding Nemo. The ship made its way back to Cairns, where I received my PADI certificate for my dive. I stopped by a restaurant for some fried seafood and a XXXX beer, then got some gelato, proceeding to walk the length of the beach and turn around towards the hostel.

2/21/23

I opted not to go to the rainforest/gondola-trip nearby, where I was aware of a koala sanctuary. I got a falafel wrap, and proceeded to the Cairns Aquarium. It was a good way to wind down the trip, looking at the fish and turtles. I looked into the Carins Turtle Rehabilitation Centre, where we saw two turtles. Carlotta was missing a left flipper, and was adjusting to swim without it. There was another turtle that had a balance issue due to one of the pressure systems in the head. I went back to Gilligan’s for the afternoon, and went to the pool. I drank a lot that evening, and got drinks for some of my roommates. 

2/22/23

My flight home would be at 6:10 P.M., and I walked all the way to the airport from the hostel, through the inner city instead of the beach, and through the Cairns Botanic Gardens and rainforest. I got there at around 2 P.M. I got some food and beer, a few mementos from the airport shop, and boarded the flight to Singapore. I would arrive there at around 11:00 P.M. 

2/23/23

Early morning, and I have gotten on a train to the city, but I mistook which stop to transfer, and was stranded, as that was the last train. I exited the station and waved down a cab. I explained what I wanted to do in Singapore, and he took me where I wanted to go. We stopped first by the Gardens by the Bay, where the park structures were unlit. I ran around the park for a bit, then we proceeded to a lookout, where the Sands, the harbor, and the dam between the river and the sea were visible. We drove through the inner city, and stopped at Little India to eat. I had seafood noodles, the driver had an egg dish. We had some coffee, and I was not allowed to pay for the meal. The driver stopped by to get gas, as we went back to the airport. My flight would leave from Terminal 3. Most of the airport was closed, but I went to the Jewel and fell asleep in there for a few hours, where the waterfall would run, but was not for the night hours. A few more hours would conclude the trip. 

[moonflower1605]

Chapter - 19

(Ella's POV)

I was reluctant to leave Percy by himself with that weird chihuahua lady. I had a really bad feeling she wasn't who she looked like.

Anyway, as soon as we reached down, we step outside the elevator & see news reporters everywhere. Grover, Annie & I share a look.

We suddenly heard the sound of an explosion from the top of the arch. But...that's where Percy was...no...

"Percy!" I screamed as I ran towards the entrance in an attempt to go back up. There were too many people. Grover & Annie catch up to me & pull me back.

They take me away from the crowd & we waited. Then I suddenly hear Grover say.

“Percy!”

He got tackled by Grover’s famous goat hug & said, “We thought you’d gone to Hades the hard way!”

"Shut up, Grover!" I said.

Annabeth tried to look angry, but even she seemed relieved to see him.

"We can’t leave you alone for five minutes! What happened?!" I asked.

"I sort of fell." He says sheepishly.

"Percy! Six hundred & thirty feet?"

Behind us, a cop shouted, "Gangway!"

The crowd parted, & a couple of paramedics hustled out, rolling a woman on a stretcher.

She was saying, "And then this huge dog, this big fire-breathing Chihuahua-"

"Okay, ma’am," the paramedic said. "Calm down. Your family’s fine. The medication is starting to kick in."

"I'm not crazy! This boy jumps off the hole & the monster disappears." Then she saw Percy.

"There he is! That’s the boy!"

He turned quickly & pulled us after him. We disappeared into the crowd.

"What’s going on?" Annie demanded.

"Was she talking about the Chihuahua on the elevator?" I asked.

He told us the whole story of the Chimera, Echidna, his high-dive act, & an underwater lady’s message.

"Whoa," said Grover. "We’ve got to get you to Santa Monica! You can’t ignore a summons from your dad."

Before Annabeth could respond, we passed another reporter doing a news break he said.

"Percy Jackson. Yes, Dan. Channel Twelve has learned that the boy who might've caused this explosion fits the description of a young man wanted by authorities for a serious New Jersey bus accident three days ago. The boy is believed to be traveling west. For all our viewers, here's a photo of Percy Jackson."

We ducked around the news van and slipped into an alley.

"First things first," He told us. "We’ve got to get out of town!"

Somehow, we made it back to the Amtrak station without getting spotted.

We got on board the train just before it pulled out for Denver. The train trundled west as darkness fell, police lights still pulsing against the St. Louis skyline behind.

I know it's a short chapter.😬

I'll upload the next one soon tho.

Link to the next chapter is here.

Link to the prev chapter is here.

Comment, like & share.

Take care my lovely readers.❤

Alice signing off.

XOXO.

[eideticmemory]

TWO GHOSTS IV | MATTHEW GUBLER

It’s been 15 years. 15 years has to be long enough . . . right? Read PART 3.

Set 15 years after the end of Ever Since New York, so give that a read first!

Word Count: 3.9k.

Warning: Usual angst, porn, and poor communication amongst characters.

SOUNDTRACK:

Love Affair - UMI

Debt - Eliza McLamb

Sometimes Sunshine - Seasalt

A nonstop flight, from New York City to Los Angeles, is three hours long. On a good day. And May 16 was supposed to be a good day. A great day. The best day of Matthew’s life. He tries not to think about it, not to reminisce too often. About the way he walked through the airport with a little jog, a little pep in his step. And the way he smiled through security, and constantly checked behind him as if you would magically appear. The roses he bought for you in a gift shop near the terminal.

See, a nonstop flight from New York City to Los Angeles is three hours long. On a good day. But Matthew wasn’t looking for three hours. He wasn’t asking you for a few hours of your time, or even a good day. He was asking you for a lifetime.

And that day, he had booked you two a connecting flight that totaled over six hours, with a two hour layover in Colorado. There was a little ice cream shop in the Denver airport, and they served blueberry ice cream. Matthew remembered it was your favorite, and saved just enough money to get your tickets and an entire pint. He couldn’t shake the thought of flying across the country with you, seeing a few small parts of it at a time. A few small parts at a time, until someday, you two had seen the whole world together.

He bought a blanket for you and, while waiting at the terminal, he sat it in the seat beside him, keeping it warm for when you would arrive. He had a little itinerary written in his notes app, and so far everything was going to plan. He had a bouquet of roses in his lap, and he killed time by looking up engagement rings online.

He didn’t start to worry until maybe, an hour, an hour and a half before the plane was set to depart. He called you, just to check in, and it went straight to voicemail. But he was still hopeful. There was very little that could destroy his peace that day. His hope. His happiness.

He tries not to think about it. The way the seconds inched by like a caterpillar moving across the limb of a tree. Slowly, painfully. The way his hope dwindled, and dwindled, and the insane amount of times he heard,

Hey, it’s [y/n]! Leave a message!

He can’t think about it anymore. The way he spents those six hours alone. Bawling his way through flight after flight, and eating a pint of blueberry ice cream by himself. He spent hours on his own. And weeks, months, hell, he spent years thinking that maybe, just maybe, you would find your way back to him.That the universe would magically correct itself.

And you’d come home.

Fifteen.

It took him fifteen years to find you again. It took fifteen years for the universe to bring you back together, and Matthew spent the first five thinking it was all some really shitty nightmare. It took him fifteen years to get close to you, to hear you say his name again, to get inside of you again.

And he managed to fuck it all up in a matter of twenty-four hours.

His body is paralyzed. His mind is moving a mile a minute, and he can’t take his eyes off the ceiling. His chest feels tight, like he can’t breathe properly. He knows he should not feel sorry for himself. That he, alone, is responsible for this wreck. But he can’t seem to shake it. He can’t seem to move.

“What the hell did I do?”

A knock at your door wakes you up. You don’t remember falling asleep, you don’t know how you were able to. But now, it’s all you want to do. You want to stay in the bed, in a state of unconsciousness and dreariness where you can’t remember your mistakes. But someone is knocking. Incessantly, loudly. And they won’t stop.

You roll out of bed, and drag your body across the floor. Zombie like, your shoulders are slouched, your eyes are hooded. Your feet shuffle along the floor like they’re weighted to the hardwood. Your footsteps are slow, hesitant. You don’t know what you’ll do if Matthew is on the other side of that door. You just . . . you don’t know. The very thought of it is making your stomach churn, and you suddenly feel very, very nauseous. The banging continues, and it’s as someone is using all their force. Like they’d break the door down if they could.

“[y/n]!”

You instantly relax at the sound of her voice. You speed up, hurry to the door, “[y/n] [y/l/n]! I know you can hear me! Open up!”

The door swings open and you catch her with her fist in the air, ready to strike the door once again. She’s pissed, doesn’t try to hide it, couldn’t hide it even if she tried.

“Good morning,” you rasp.

“It’s one in the afternoon,” she corrects you, pushing her way into your home.

“Please,” you say, shutting the door behind her. “Come on in.”

“Y’know,” Everest starts, clasping her hands in front of her as a wild look graces her face. “You’ve always been one of the good ones . . . hell, you’ve been . . . great, if that’s the word. You’re better than the others. The ones that really write my checks. But, um, you’re testing me, [y/n].”

You don’t even have to ask.

“Now, if there’s is some magical relationship blooming, or a monumental disaster about to strike, then you need to tell me now, so I can fix it. I’m a fixer, you know, that’s what I do. So, why are you making this so hard for me?”

“If it . . .” you clear your throat, cross your arms as you stare at her feet. “If it makes you feel any better, um, this is hard for me, too.” You attempt to joke. But you just sound sad.

“Yeah?” she raises her eyebrows. “So hard that you come out of his hotel in tears? And what the hell were you doing over there anyway? Was there a plan? Did he call you to come over?”

“I don’t see how any of this matters.”

“It matters because I woke up at seven in the morning — on a saturday — to all sorts of choas and speculation, and picture evidence of you doing exactly what I told you not to do!”

“Yeah, well, I’m a idiot. Don’t worry, that’s been established.”

“The internet is undefeated. Okay? People are . . . great at making up stories, making assumptions. And as your publicist, I need to know the whole story, the real story, before it gets twisted even further.”

You sigh, and walk over to the couch. As you sit down, you pull a pillow into your lap for just a little bit of comfort. “What do you mean the whole story?”

“Wrong choice of words,” Everest says. “The important parts of the whole story. Like are you dating him? Are you fucking him? If so, how long has this been going on?”

You can’t make eye contact as you speak, “I . . . fucked . . . him . . . a few times, a long time ago . . .”

She nods. She motions at you to continue, “. . . And?”

“And . . .” you breathe out. “I fucked him, again. Recently.”

“Last night? At the hotel?”

“Last night . . . not at the hotel.”

“Sooo, when? — Oh, my God,” she lowers her eyebrows at you, purses her lips. “You didn’t.”

“Oh, I did,” you nod. It’s a shameful nod. “You know they say there’s no sex like sex in a dressing room.”

“They also say polka dots are making a comeback, you believe everything you hear?”

“Sorry.”

“So you fuck him in the dressing room, and?”

“And . . . we go our seperate ways . . . again. And, then I realize that’s a lot easier said then done, so I . . . I go for him. I go for him . . .” Everest can hear the way your voice is cracking, the way the weight on your shoulder is slowly pushing the air out of your lungs. “And, uh,” you clear your throat. “Yeah. Yeah, it didn’t work out. Hence the . . . photos of me crying, I guess.”

“Mm,” she nods, crosses her arms. “And the other girl?”

You freeze, cut your head up at her. “What other girl?”

“What do you mean? The girls that came out right behind you. Same sad face? Kinda got a Natalie Portman look to her?”

“I . . .” you shake your head. “I didn’t know she came out after me, I must have left by then.”

“Who is she?”

You give her a shrug, “I don’t know.”

“His girlfriend?”

You huff, “Guess so.”

“Ah, so, some people online actually got it right. Huh, look at that.”

“Look, if the point of all of this is to keep me away from him, you can stop now. I don’t plan on seeing him ever again.”

The doorbell rings, as if on queue, and Everest instantly gives you a look. “What?” you ask. “I don’t know who it is. Your guess is as good as mine.”

She scoffs at you, and turns around, marching towards the door with a certain determination. She pulls it open, and immediately puts her hand on her hip. “You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“Oh,” Matthew gasps. “Uh, oh . . . fuck . . . sorry, I must — I must have the wrong house.”

“You sure do, Romeo.”

You stand from the couch, your face laced with shock and anger and confusion, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Don’t engage, [y/n], what the hell?” Everest interjects.

You roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest. “How the hell did you find my house?” you direct at Matthew.

“Oh, what?” he scoffs. “Like you’re the only one around here who can play stalker?”

“Go home, Matthew.”

“Five minutes. I’m asking you for five minutes. You can time me if you want.”

“Go back to California, Matthew.”

“Look, I know I fucked up. I know, but —“

“Do you?” you snap. You take slow, calculated steps towards the front door, and your voice is lowering to a rumble. “Do you know that you fucked up? Because, if you did, if you truly knew just how badly you fucked up, then you would leave. You would get on a fucking plane and leave, and you would never come back!”

The way Matthew is looking at you right now.Like he can’t fathom what’s happening. Like he is trying his very best not to feel defeated. “Can I . . . can I just —“

“No.” Everest says. “You heard her. Fuck off, string bean.”

You walk away, retiring to your kitchen. You try to keep yourself busy, but you’re trembling like mad and you can barely breathe.

Matthew leaves. You know because you hear the door close. Everest comes into the kitchen, and you feel stuck. Frozen to the spot and position you’re in. Your back is to her, and you can’t begin to imagine or guess what look is on her face right now.

She’s quiet for a moment, eyeing you with her arms crossed at her chest. She leans against the entryway and sighs, “Tell me more.”

Ramona walks up your driveway, and it isn’t until she looks up from her phone that she sees Matthew. She notices him, and he notices her, and Ramona tries to act like it didn’t happen, But when Matthew opens his mouth to speak, she blows past him, “I’m not supposed to talk to you.”

“I know,” he says instantly. He is well aware, but it doesn’t stop him from running in front of her, blocking her from your front door. “I know, I know. I’m sorry, but . . . please, can you give this [y/n]?”

Matthew holds out an envelope. It’s bright red, your name is printed on the front of it in his handwriting.

Ramona glances at it, but she quickly glances back up, “Do I look like a mailman to you?”

“She won’t take it from me. She won’t talk to me. She might take it from you.”

“Yeah, or she might fire me for even taking it from you in the first place.”

“[y/n] wouldn’t do that.”

“Yeah, yeah, she’s usually pretty amazing, except for when you’re around, or when you’re brought up, or when you’re fucking with her head. You make her a different person, dude. I want no part of it.”

He nods, looks down, “Fair enough . . . I’ll put it in her mailbox.”

“Yeah, why don’t you do that?” She shrugs, and she continues on by him.

“Damn . . .” Everest says. “You ghosted the guy at the airport?”

“Basically,” you shrug.

“Well, fuck,” she scoffs. “That is some serious great gatsby shit.”

“Yeah, we’ve always had a flair for the dramatic.”

The doorbell rings, and you both turn your heads sharply towards the entrance. “You don’t think he would come back, do you?” Everest asks as she walks to the door.

“Well, he never listens much to anything I say, but he’s probably a little scared of you.”

She laughs, and when she opens the door, she tells you it’s only Ramona, who walks in quickly, looking for you. She gives you a soft smile, and joins you in the kitchen as Everest follows close behind.

“So,” Ramona pips. “What’s the game plan?”

“You and [y/n] come to my office in the city and we’ll figure it out. Hey, did you pass him on your way out?” Everest asks her.

“Uh, who?”

“Matthew,” you tell her. “He was just here, you didn’t see him?”

“He was here?” Ramona questions, putting on a look of bewilderment. “When?”

“Just now. He left right before you got here.” Everest explains.

“Holy shit,” Ramona says. “What’d he want?”

“[y/n].”

“So,” you interrupt. “Your office? Now? We can go ahead and get going.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Everest stops you in your tracks, throwing her hands up. “Not so fast, you . . . you need to shower first.”

You look down at your outfit. You’re still dressed in Claire’s clothes and they’re completely disheveled. You haven’t showered or brushed your teeth since the last time you had sex, and the very thought makes you feel dirty. You look exactly how you feel. You sigh, “Fair enough.”

“We’ll wait in the car,” Everest nods, and motions to Ramona to follow her.

“What are we gonna do with her?” she says to Ramona as soon as they’re out of the house and walking down the driveway.

“I don’t know, she’s my boss . . . I can only help so much.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve known [y/n] for a long time now, and she’s never needed saving. But, something tells me we’re going to have to keep her away from this one.”

“From Matthew?” Ramona stops in her tracks.

“Well,” Everest stops, turns around to look at her. “She’s a grown woman. She’ll do what she wants. But, that zombie in there,” she motions to the house. “Who walks around the city in her pajamas for a man, is not [y/n]. Atleast, not the world’s [y/n]. People love her. She’s one of the few celebrities that’s kind and passionate and isn’t problematic. I’m just being proactive here.”

“Proactive?”

“She says she’s done with him. She told him she’s done with him. Now, we will just keep her on that path. Few months later, she and the rest of the world forget this ever happened and everything is back to normal.”

“You sound very sure of all of this.”

“Yeah, well, I like my schedules and I happen to like [y/n] so I better be sure. Come on, our ride’s further down the driveway,” Everest continues walking. While Ramona is stuck in place.

“Hey! Uh,” Ramona stutters, suddenly, loudly, causing Everest to turn around once again. “I think I left my water bottle in the house. I’ll meet you in the car?”

“Okay,” Everest eyes her. “It’s just around the corner. And tell [y/n] to hurry up.”

“I will!”

Ramona waits for Everest to continue down the driveway, and when she’s just far enough, Ramona turns around and acts as if she’s walking back up to your front door. When she’s positive Everest has made it to the car, she runs over to your mailbox. She opens it slowly, so it doesn’t creak as loud. The bright red envelope is the only thing in there, and she takes it out quickly. She looks at it for a moment, asks herself what the hell she’s doing. But she doesn’t have time to think right now, you could walk out at any moment. She closes your mailbox, shoves the envelope in her bag, and walks down the driveway.

Matthew Gubler, himself, is a disruption in the space-time continuum.

When you start tallying up the days, it just doesn’t make sense. Some days, every second feels like it’s crawling by. You’ll be in class, at the head of the class, and you’re surprised when your lesson plan ends atleast ten minutes early. And some days, time moves too fast. You find yourself running late for things, events, important people or things, which isn’t like you.

You call it Matthew Brain, and you keep that term to yourself. It happened fifteen years ago. And it’s happening now. It’s a slow, steady descent back to earth, back to reality. Time isn’t real with him, and you think that’s the reason you can’t remember much of your senior year. It’s a rush, a high to even be near him, and it’s the ultimate collapse when he’s gone. Really gone. Out of the life, for the second time.

Time has reset.

And what feels like one month with Matthew Gubler, only turns out to be four days.

You’re on a journey back to earth, and you haven’t even reached the bottom yet. It’s coming, but not now, you thought. You have time to prepare. And this time you’ll be ready. Ready to hit rock bottom, and spend another fifteen years digging yourself out. You have time, you’re sure of it.

Then Ramona comes into your office. She notices you crying, and you have to twirl around in your chair while you wipe the tears away. “Shit, Ro,” you try to laugh. “What’s up?”

“Uh, your afternoon class?” she reminds you. “With the girls at the community center? . . . What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

A lot. Not anything that you can really talk to Ramona about. And each day is something different. Like today, you’re feeling like a fucking idiot. You feel unbelievably stupid and lost and question why anyone in their right mind would choose to learn anything from you. You feel defeated, and you can’t get the look on that girl’s face out of your head.

You turn to Ramona with a soft smile, “I’m fine. I forgot about the class, thank you for reminding me. I just have to grab a few things before I go.”

“Well,” she sets her bag down in one of the chairs on the opposite side of your desk. She takes a seat in the other, “You’ve got some time, I haven’t even called the ride yet.”

You eye her, suspicious furrowing your eyebrows, “Oh, don’t do that.”

“Do what?” she seems genuinely confused.

“Sit there and feel sorry for me. I don’t need pity. I’m alright.”

“I’ve never seen you cry before . . . I’m just worried.”

“And I appreciate that, kid, I really do. But you don’t have to be, alright?”

“. . . okay.” she shrugs.

“Anyways,” you change the subject. “How much time do I have until I’ve gotta be out of here?”

“Um, I can call you a ride now, it should be here in about, ten minutes?” Ramona pulls her phone from her pocket, and holds it up as she dials the number.

“Sounds good,” you nod.

She leaves the room to make the call, and when she closes the door, you release a big sigh. As if you’d been holding it in the whole time she was here. You get up from your chair, and walk around the desk. Not paying attention, you stub your toe into the adjacent chair, so hard that the chair falls to the ground.

“Ow! Son of a b—“ your yelp is cut off by a painful groan, and your reach down to hold your foot. You look out in front of you, and Ramona’s entire bag has spilled out across the floor. “Fuck,” you mumble and instantly begin to clean it up.

It’s bright red. And it sticks out like a sore thumb. You reach over to grab it, but only because you recognized his hand writing. You run your fingers over your name, and your head is starting to hurt from the amount of pure confusion.

The door swings open, “Okay, they’ll be here in fifteen, but you have some wiggle room —“ Ramona stops when she sees the item in your hand.

You stand up straight, look her in the eye. She’s shaking. She’s trembling, and there are already tears in her eyes.

“I . . . can explain,” she says.

“Then explain.”

“Matthew . . . wanted me to — to give that to you.”

“When?”

“When, um, when he was at your house on Saturday.”

“You said you didn’t see him. You acted like you didn’t even know he had been there. You took this from him?” your voice goes up at slight octave. Not by much, but it stills cuts Ramona like a knife.

“No! No, I didn’t take it from him. I told him to put it in the mailbox. Which he did, but then I . . .”

“You? You what? Went into my mailbox and took it? Are you kidding?”

“It was crazy! I know! It was absolutely insane of me! But—But Everest was saying all these things about protecting your image, and being proactive, I just wanted to help. I thought —“

“Everest? Everest knew about this?”

“No. No. I took it when she wasn’t looking, and I just, I thought maybe if you didn’t know about the letter, you would be able to move on, y’know? Heal.”

“That was not your decision to make.”

“I know. [y/n], I’m so sorry. I can’t — I can’t even begin —“

“You’re right,” you interrupt her. “You can’t.”

You look down at the envelope in your hands, and shake your head. “God, Ro, I can barely look at you right now.”

“I’m sorry . . .”

You nod.

“I’ll . . . go wait for the car,” she nods, sadly and apologetically exiting the room.

You close the door behind her, and press your back against it. You slide to the floor, and bring the evelope close to your face. The day is not over, and you may need all night to take this in. You are not mentally prepared for whatever is in your hands, but, you rip it open anyway.

There’s a thin piece of paper inside. You pick it up, and it feels so frail that you worry it might rip. You set it on top of the envelope, and examine it. Your eyes dot over the page, until you realize, it’s not a letter at all.

American Airlines

[y/n] [y/l/n]

Seat: 14A

May Sixteenth, 2002

It’s a plane ticket. From fifteen years ago.

One you’ve never seen.

One you’ve never touched.

And now that it’s in your hands, you wish you never knew it existed.

[fluxofthemouth]

@gcldcnhour

“Lady Fenring, would you allow me to ask a few questions about the Bene Gesserit Sisterhood?”

Piter de Vries, court Mentat of House Harkonnen, is sitting on a drawing room floor surrounded by small mechanical parts and screws. And Lady Margot Fenring, the Bene Gesserit wife of Count Fenring of House Fenring, starts laughing at him, because he’s going to fix her coffee machine, and he’s not going to get what he wanted. Hasimir, Margot’s husband, looks up briefly and quickly returns to his book. He really was going to get the coffee machine fixed. He is keeping a low profile.

“Piter, everyone in the galaxy has a few questions about the Bene Gesserit Sisterhood,” Margot says. “Instead of engaging with this minefield of a conversation you’re trying to start, I’ll just give you this advice: if you must have dealings with one of us, put your plotting aside and follow the golden rule. Do to others as you would have them do to you. We are peaceful, but we will not stand to be provoked. Hmm. I think you’ll test my advice someday, and I think you’ll be sorry.”

Piter spends a five day layover on Arrakis on his way to the Wallach Group. The Fenrings, preferring to encourage smooth relations with the Harkonnen presence on the planet, welcomed him and his small crew as their personal guests in the historic palace in Arrakeen. And that mysterious advice is all he can get out of Lady Fenring about the Sisterhood in five days, despite three more attempts to make himself useful and two more careful questions. It’s disappointing to get so little information, but on the bright side, it gives him more of his own headspace for himself. That’s a luxury that a Mentat knows the value of all too well. He falls asleep each night amusing himself by coming up with new ways he could turn his guest room into a death trap. He could hide a little drone with a poison needle behind the ornate fish carvings at the head of the bed. Ha ha ha!

----

Piter is sitting on a bench in front of a historic monument on the Wallach homeworld.

He landed this morning in a Harkonnen frigate, which he made a gift of to Duke Wallach, with no strings attached. There was quite a commotion at his unexpected arrival, which he expected. They’ve certainly had a lot on their hands from surprise visits from McNaught ships. Exactly as he predicted, the gift of the frigate made him and his men a whole lot more popular. Exactly as he hoped, the Duke quickly accepted his proposal of a temporary alliance against House McNaught, even going so far as to offer him lodgings and invite him to an upcoming war council. What a tidy bit of diplomacy! He’s immensely pleased with himself.

It’s only been a few hours since he landed, but somehow each of those hours lasted about a week, and just twenty seconds, at the same time. What’s more, he just couldn’t justify sleeping through the flight on the Heighliner ferry, with such an important meeting to be alert for immediately upon arrival. Space flight is a bad environment for the likes of him, combining a need to sit still in a confined area with the existential danger of ramming into a star or a black hole; unpleasant fuel for a mind trained to burrow into every detail of a thing. He’s pleased, but he’s exhausted. Despite the importance of rationing his personal supply of spice, there’s about enough in his system right now to kill a rodent, or perhaps just make it immortal. Certainly enough to make a hard bench in a public space on a strange planet feel both comfortable and safe.

Piter is sitting on a bench in front of a historic monument on the Wallach homeworld. He stepped away from his personal guard for some privacy, and it will be some time before they think to look for him. He’s fast asleep.

[duelistkingdom]

you’d come back to me

chapter thirteen: meaning

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Summary: Seto Kaiba has been presumed dead for four years after the events of Dark Side of Dimensions. His return causes both unresolved feelings of grief to be brought to the surface and the past to be dragged right back up. In hopes of helping Seto move on and reintegrate back into society at large, Mokuba asks Yugi to work on Spherium II with Seto. Never one to leave a friend hanging, Yugi agrees. Over the course of the project, Seto and Yugi both come to terms with their mutual grief and grow towards a better understanding of each other.

Rating: T

Ships: Yugi Mutou/Seto Kaiba, Mokuba Kaiba/Rebecca Hopkins, Katusya Jonouchi/Mai Kujaku

Warnings: aged up characters, grief, references to suicide

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Yugi had requested months ago to be allowed to work remotely on Spherium II from the Kaiba Corp’s New York City office for Anzu’s birthday. He had planned on taking Anzu’s birthday off already but something had changed as of late. While the words “boyfriend” were never said out loud, the implication of the relationship between him and Seto felt obvious. Despite this, there was lingering doubt that perhaps they should clear the air and actually talk about it. Getting Seto to actually sit down and talk was another story, however. Yugi knew the perfect way to address their relationship, however. Yugi felt rather awkward approaching Seto after work on their way to their usual Friday night dinner. “Seto,” Yugi finally said, steeling his nerves. “You know that Anzu’s birthday is coming up and I… was wondering if you’d like to come with me to New York City.”

Seto’s stony gaze bore into Yugi and the desire to bolt was there. Yugi knew that it was simply nerves about taking a leap into asking Seto to be his and yet… “Why would I do that?”

Yugi supposed that was a fair question as he thought back over how he’d asked Kaiba. “As a date,” Yugi clarified, heat rising into his cheeks. He was somewhat grateful that Kaiba’s own cheeks began to turn red as well. He’d managed to make Seto feel just as awkward as he felt. “I mean, you don’t have to say yes. I just thought that since we’d been…”

“Why would you want me to go out with you?”

The statement threw Yugi through a loop. He didn’t expect Kaiba to question why he’d want to go out with him. He’d expected a yes or no, not a quizzing. “Because… I like you,” Yugi said simply, bewildered. Exactly what was he supposed to say that didn’t sound like an awkward teenager asking their crush out? He felt like he was sixteen again and asking out someone he’d admired from a distance rather than someone he’d already done relationship level stuff with. “And I… I was hoping maybe you felt the same way?”

It hung in the air. Yugi wondered if Seto could feel the electric tension between them too. Yugi could hear his heart beating and he wondered if Seto could hear it too. It sounded like thunder. Seto had managed to make his face unreadable. Finally, Seto responded and there was a tinge of awkwardness as he said, “Okay. I’ll attend Mazaki’s party with you.. As a date.”

Yugi let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding and grinned. “Cool,” he said, cringing internally at how he sounded just a little bit too lax. Granted, it was better than completely falling apart over asking Seto Kaiba out. “Uh, so I was going to just get a hotel, for the record.”

This opened the floodgates to discussing what would be the plans of their trip to New York City. Seto insisted on a nicer hotel than the one Yugi had planned on getting and he wound up settling for first class instead of the private jet. Yugi had refused to let Seto fly them to New York City and Seto was still a little bit salty about that. Then again, he supposed he understood Yugi’s position when they’d finally landed in New York City after three layovers. He was absolutely exhausted and it was hard enough to wind up checking into the hotel room.

He woke up in the hotel room, unable to remember how he’d wound up in bed. Yugi, for his part, was sound asleep in the clothes he’d worn on the flight. Neither of them had bothered to change, actually. Seto suddenly understood why Yugi had elected to wear pajama bottoms and a black hoodie on the plane. It wasn’t just to make it easier to hide his identity - it was in expectation of this. Seto shucked his shirt off, tossing it aside as he got up to check their luggage. His heart slammed in his chest as he realized his laptop was missing. He rushed over to Yugi, shaking him awake. “Someone stole my laptop.”

Yugi was slow to wake and it made Seto annoyed. When Yugi blinked awake, he sat up and rubbed his eyes. Seto repeated himself and Yugi rolled his eyes. “No one stole your laptop,” Yugi said, looking annoyed. “I took it out of your luggage. This isn’t a work trip.”

“You took my laptop?”

Seto was stunned at the audacity. Meanwhile, Yugi merely sleepily nodded. “What time is it,” Yugi said as he reached for the clock. He noted that it stated that it was one fifteen and looked towards the blackout currents. “Is that morning or night?”

“Wouldn’t it be night,” Seto remarked as he went back to his luggage, searching for a pair of pajamas. “One fifteen is at night.”

“No, Anzu told me that American clocks all use that twelve hour clock,” Yugi replied as he got up, pulling back the black out currents aside and blinking hard as the bright sun came in. “You had a point in this hotel room, though. This is an insane view.”

Seto shrugged, supposing it was alright. They were overlooking Central Park, the Hudson to the side of the tops of the buildings they could see over. It was certainly a view comparable to the ones he’d seen from the tops of penthouses. “When is Mazaki’s party, anyway?”

“Tonight at six,” Yugi said as he looked back at their luggage. “So we got some time to kill. What do you say we check out the city?”

It was strange to have Yugi to himself like this. Yugi had some knowledge of New York City, remarking which places Mazaki had talked about. It turns out that five hours simply was not enough time to explore New York City. He had to remember to come back with Yugi at some point. Seto didn’t know what to expect when it came to Mazaki’s birthday party. It was in a part of New York City that Seto had never stepped foot in before for starters. Mazaki had seemingly settled into her dance school well as there were people here that even Yugi hadn’t met before. At some point, however, Yugi managed to get separated from him. He scanned the abandoned warehouse, wondering why Mazaki chose to have a party here instead of some place less… wild. Whoever decorated it should be fired. Neon signs lined the walls and it had the vague feeling of a club attached to it.

Mazaki was easy for Seto to find and he felt strange about the way her eyes lit up when she saw him. “There’s Yugi’s date,” Mazaki half yelled and Seto assumed it was probably due to the fact that it was just simply so loud around them that she’d gotten used to talking louder to be heard. “How’s the date going?”

He stiffened as she threw her arm around him, forcing him to bend down to meet her height. Mazaki was stronger than she looked. She ruffled his hair and Kaiba pushed her away as she laughed. “It’s fine,” Seto said, immediately closing off. What did Yugi tell her? Did he think that he was boring? He didn’t know and that bothered him. “Have you seen Yugi?”

“Yeah, he wished me happy birthday earlier,” Mazaki said as another party-goer pulled her into a tight hug. Instantly Seto felt awkward about merely being here. This was a bad idea. Coming here had merely reminded Seto that he was always out of place and should’ve stayed missing from this world. “Then someone recognized him and well, you know. He’s too nice. Got dragged off by some people who wanted him to check out their decks.”

Well, that explained where Yugi was. Seto’s eyes narrowed and he turned off without properly ending the conversation. Mazaki would have to deal. Yugi had dragged him here and Yugi wasn’t going to get his time monopolized by some stranger. He found Yugi mere moments later at a table with haphazardly matched chairs, intently listening to something someone that Seto had never seen before was saying. There were Duel Monsters cards spread across the table and it seemed that someone had been matching out potential combos in the various cards. By Seto’s guess, there were more than enough cards here to make at least four decks.

“Oh, hi, Seto,” Yugi said as the stranger finished up their statement that Seto hadn’t bothered to listen to. He was immediately thrown by Yugi’s smile brightening upon laid eyes upon him. “Care to join us?”

Seto scoffed as he examined the cards in front of him. “Now why would I waste my time with these clear...” Seto trailed off as he noted that a card named Kuribohrn was among the cards on the table and Seto found himself sitting down next to Yugi automatically. He picked the card up, examining the effect on this new Kuriboh card. You can discard this card, then target 1 monster in the graveyard that was sent there this turn by battle and special summon it. “What is the goal of this deck?”

One of the people at the table immediately looked embarrassed. Good. They should be embarrassed about the trash they were running in this deck. “Er, I was trying to summon from the graveyard to make the new link mechanic work for me.”

“I was just pointing out that it would require graveyard setup in order to truly be effective,” Yugi said, blithely ignoring that Seto had no idea what “link mechanic” referred to. “There’s plenty of archetypes that take full advantage of link summoning and special summoning. Have you thought about the kind of monsters you’re looking to work with?”

So the “link mechanic” was referring to link summoning. Kaiba still had no idea what that meant and he had no intention of asking. Surely he could figure it out if Yugi just kept talking. Unfortunately, he didn’t know the right things to ask about link summoning and he had no idea if it was another extra deck thing (when did the fusion deck become the extra deck?) or if it was in the main deck. He supposed it would probably help if he didn’t keep ignoring everyone who wasn’t Yugi when they talked. However, he didn’t need to listen to these amateurs explain the game to him.

Eventually, Yugi began to talk again. “You can’t expect to rely on this monster,” he said, holding up a level 8 monster with stats that shocked Kaiba. It was a Black Luster Soldier monster but it was an effect monster that allowed the user to bring back one of their light or dark monsters and banish an opponent’s monster once per turn when it was normal or special summoned. Kaiba instantly could see an advantage in this card. “If you’re looking to summon out Soldier of Chaos, the top tier duelist that uses this chaos deck often uses Super Soldier and Envoy of the Beginning and a Knight card to link summon it.”

Kaiba could see no advantage in going negative three to summon a monster and that was before factoring in the fact that Super Soldier was a ritual monster. He thought it was strange that Yugi referred to another duelist using a chaos deck and didn’t bother to mention he had no idea who Yugi was referring to. “I would think Sacred Soldier would be good to keep in the deck for Trade In now that Graceful Charity is banned.”

“Graceful Charity is banned,” Kaiba remarked with surprise. “Since when?”

“It’s broken as hell,” Yugi remarked to Seto’s surprise and Yugi had a slight smirk on his face as he leaned back in his chair. “Why do you think I won almost every Duel when we could use Pot of Greed and Graceful Charity? Sure, Graceful Charity isn’t giving you any pluses but it lets you set up your graveyard and now, there’s a lot of monsters with effects that trigger upon going to the graveyard. It’s even worse in a chaos deck. When Graceful Charity was legal, Kubota was completely unstoppable.” Yugi laughed. “I remember watching her discard both her knights using Graceful and getting both Envoy of the Beginning out and then bringing out a Super Soldier. Banned the next day.”

“It was already on its way to being banned even before that combo,” one of the duelists at the table remarked and Seto noticed for the first time that everyone at the table was drinking. Even Yugi himself had a beer in front of him that was half drunk. The instinct to remark that Yugi was not old enough for that before realizing that yes, he was. “It just showed off that we were on the way to having plenty of potential OTK combos using Graceful Charity.”

“Fair enough,” Yugi said with a light laugh, his arm throwing around Seto absently. Seto’s back stiffened as he started to overthink the spirit of a law versus the letter of the law. In many ways, he was only nineteen. On his passport, however? It declared that he was twenty-three, the same age as Yugi. The letter of the law stated that legally, he could join Yugi in a drink. He’d barely noticed the conversation move on to other banned cards and the potential of them coming off the list. “Oh, Fiber Jar’s definitely never coming back,” Yugi remarked, dragging Kaiba back into focus. “The chance to reset the game by shuffling literally everything back into the deck? I’m surprised it was printed in the first place.”

“Didn’t your friend use that effect to great value prior to its banning, though?”

Jonouchi had run Fiber Jar? Seto supposed he never bothered to look into what Jonouchi’s cards had been. He’d looked over Jonouchi and never bothered to learn about what made him a top ranked Duelist. “Yeah,” Yugi said with a look of pride. “Jou’s great. Adapted well to each ban list.”

Seto pulled his phone out and finally looked into each of Jonouchi’s matches. He was surprised to discover that Jonouchi was considered one of the toughest Duelists, tiered with him and Yugi. He was even more surprised to realize that Yugi was right - Jonouchi’s main quality in each of these articles was about his adaptability. A lot of the articles discussed other Duelists whose decks had since been restructured with each new ban list.

A surprising discovery was that Yugi regularly wrote articles speculating on the future of Dueling and was considered one of the most brilliant strategists in Dueling. Well, it wasn’t surprising that he was considered that, just that Yugi actually cared to talk about Dueling still after everything that happened. It wasn’t just Jonouchi, in Seto’s opinion, that was adaptable.

“Was it true that Jonouchi was excited about Harpie’s Feather Duster being banned?”

Yugi laughed and it struck Seto how wonderful the sound was. He’d never really gotten much of a chance to hear it before. “Yeah, Jou was pretty excited to Duel Mai with Harpie’s Feather Duster banned,” Yugi remarked with a grin. “Admittedly, some of his strategy fell apart when Painful Choice was banned alongside Feather Duster.”

“What was the plan with Painful Choice,” Kaiba remarked as he remembered the effect on the card. Select five cards from one’s deck and show them to one’s opponent. The opponent would then pick one and the rest would go to the graveyard. Seto could imagine the goal would be to special summon from the graveyard unless he was missing something. He wondered what led to that card being banned, anyway. Monster Reborn was limited to one so it didn’t seem like one could get much use out of that card.

“One of his Red-Eyes cards has an effect that pops in the graveyard,” Yugi remarked. “Painful Choice would’ve gotten that card in the graveyard quickly. It also sets up a Red-Eyes in grave which a lot of cards need to make the deck work for him. He had to think quickly and restructure his deck fairly quickly to make it tournament legal.”

“You really have been out of the game for a while, huh,” one of the Duelists remarked with a smirk at Kaiba. “Almost every deck these days has cards you want to put in the graveyard, in fact.”

Yugi shrugged. “Some decks can be just fine without cards that pop in the graveyard,” Yugi said as he took a swing of his drink. Any comment that Kaiba had died on his lips as he watched Yugi. “Not only that, Kaiba’s got that White Stone of Ancients so I’m certain he’s very aware of floating graveyard effects.”

Kaiba felt himself growing bored of the conversation, if only because he was tired of sharing Yugi with the crowd of sycophants. He knew it’d be rude to demand Yugi to leave in the middle of a conversation and yet, he couldn’t find it in him to care. “You know, we should go find Mazaki,” Kaiba said, ignoring the jibe that he might not be as good as he used to be. “Tell her goodbye before we leave.”

It had the effect Kaiba wanted. Yugi was too caught off guard by Kaiba suggesting they tell Mazaki goodbye before leaving to argue. “Good point,” Yugi said. “Sorry, guys, we did just fly in here from Japan and we’re still shaking off jet lag.” Seto was surprised that this excuse worked. The group of admirers wound up letting them go with no problem as Yugi’s hand took Seto’s. “Let’s go find Anzu, yeah?”

Seto wound up in front of Anzu again, whose eyes darted down to their hands interlocked and a grin across her face. “I'm guessing you guys are ready to go back to your hotel room, huh?”

This made Yugi flush for a reason that Seto couldn’t figure out. “Sorry, Anzu,” Yugi said, sounding genuinely apologetic. “Jet lag hit us pretty hard. I’m glad to have seen you again, though. When’s the next time I’m going to get to see you?”

Anzu laughed at this. “I’ll try to make it out for winter holidays,” she promised. “You two go get some rest. We can hang out again tomorrow and I can show you guys some of the best places in New York.”

There might have been a point when hanging out with Yugi and one of his friends would have sounded insufferable to Kaiba. Instead, he actually felt like it might be a good thing to get to know Anzu better. It made him feel like he was actually part of Yugi’s life now. Seto knew that at this point, he was bound to Yugi in a way that he’d never been bound before. Regardless of what happened next, he was fully Yugi’s.

[kookie-doughs]

Y/N L/N AND THE HALFBLOODS

Percy Jackson X Reader

-Y/N L/N met Percy Jackson and everything was now ruined.

CHAPTER 13: I Have Trust Issues But Okay

We spent two days on the Amtrak train, heading west through hills, over rivers, past amber waves of grain. We weren't attacked once, but I didn't relax. I felt that we were traveling around in a display case, being watched from above and maybe from below, that something was waiting for the right opportunity. We tried to keep a low profile because Percy and I's name and picture were splattered over the front pages of several East Coast newspapers. It seemed like when they saw me with Percy they realized me and my family are gone. The Trenton Register-News showed a photo taken by a tourist as we got off the Greyhound bus. Percy had a wild look in my eyes. His sword was a metallic blur in his hands. It might've been a baseball bat or a lacrosse stick. I was holding his hand with my knife on the other hand. The picture's caption read: Twelve-year-old Percy Jackson, wanted for questioning in the Long Island disappearance of his mother two weeks ago, is shown here fleeing from the bus where he accosted several elderly female passengers. The bus exploded on an east New Jersey roadside shortly after Jackson fled the scene. Based on eyewitness accounts, police believe the boy may be traveling with three teenage accomplices. It has been found out one of which is Y/N L/N, a twelve-year-old girl who went missing with her family during a trip. Percy Jackson's stepfather, Gabe Ugliano, has offered a cash reward for information leading to his capture.

"Don't worry," Annabeth told Percy. "Mortal police could never find us." But she didn't sound so sure. The rest of the day we spent alternately pacing the length of the train (because I had a really hard time sitting still) or looking out the windows. Calm Once, I spotted a family of centaurs galloping across a wheat field, bows at the ready, as they hunted lunch. The little boy centaur, who was the size of a second-grader on a pony, caught my eye and waved. I looked around the passenger car, the adult riders all had their faces buried in laptop computers or magazines, Percy and I saw an amazed look. Another time, toward evening, Percy said he saw something huge moving through the woods. He swore it was a lion, except that lions don't live wild in America, and it was the size of a Hummer, then it leaped through the trees and was gone. I told him he might have been seeing things and Annabeth agreed. Our reward money for returning Gladiola the poodle had only been enough to purchase tickets as far as Denver. We couldn't get berths in the sleeper car, so we dozed in our seats. My neck got stiff. I sat between Percy and Annabeth. Grover kept snoring and bleating and waking Percy up. Once, he shuffled around and his fake foot fell off. Annabeth and I had to stick it back on before any of the other passengers noticed. "So," Annabeth asked me, once we'd gotten Grover's sneaker readjusted. "Who wants Percy's help?" "What do you mean?" "You heard it too didn't you? When he was asleep just now, he mumbled, 'I won't help you.' Has he told you what he's dreaming about?" "Gossiping about me?" Percy yawned. "Pretty much everyone is. So I think we'll join." I said. "Annabeth wants to know about your dream. I could tell he was reluctant to say anything. It was the second time he'd dreamed about it. Then he finally told her. Annabeth was quiet for a long time. "If you think it's Hades, that doesn't sound like Hades. He always appears on a black throne, and he never laughs." She pointed out. "He offered my mother in trade. Who else could do that?" We could. If you bring us together we could trade. "What?" Percy and Annabeth looked at me in worry. "Something on my face? Is there something close?" "Y/N, you did it again." Percy said. "Did what?" "You... Talked. Differently. Like weirdly." "Your definition of weird doesn't describe me. I did nothing wrong. I haven't even given an in put on your topic. Which we should get back on." I don't know why I had no idea what they meant by me talking weirdly, but I felt like I should stay away from that topic. "I guess ... if he meant, 'Help me rise from the Underworld.' If he wants war with the Olympians. But why ask you to bring him the master bolt if he already has it?" She explained looking at me as if I was the one that needed convincing. I shook my head, wishing I knew the answer. I thought about what Grover had told me, that the Furies on the bus seemed to have been looking for something. Where is it? Where? Maybe Grover sensed my emotions. He snorted in his sleep, muttered something about vegetables, and turned his head. Percy readjusted Grover's cap so it covered his horns. "Percy, you can't barter with Hades. You know that, right? He's deceitful, heartless, and greedy. I don't care if his Kindly Ones weren't as aggressive this time-" "This time?" I asked. "You mean you've run into them before?" Her hand crept up to her necklace. She fingered a glazed white bead painted with the image of a pine tree, one of her clay end-of-summer tokens. "Let's just say I've got no love for the Lord of the Dead. You can't be tempted to make a deal for your mom." "What would you do if it was your dad?" "That's easy," she said. "I'd leave him to rot." "You're not serious?" Annabeth's gray eyes fixed on me. She wore the same expression she'd worn in the woods at camp, the moment she drew her sword against the hellhound. "My dad's resented me since the day I was born," she said. "He never wanted a baby. When he got me, he asked Athena to take me back and raise me on Olympus because he was too busy with his work. She wasn't happy about that. She told him heroes had to be raised by their mortal parent." "But how ... I mean, I guess you weren't born in a hospital...." "I appeared on my father's doorstep, in a golden cradle, carried down from Olympus by Zephyr the West Wind. You'd think my dad would remember that as a miracle, right? Like, maybe he'd take some digital photos or something. But he always talked about my arrival as if it were the most inconvenient thing that had ever happened to him. When I was five he got married and totally forgot about Athena. He got a 'regular' mortal wife, and had two 'regular' mortal kids, and tried to pretend I didn't exist." I stared out the train window. The lights of a sleeping town were drifting by. I wanted to make Annabeth feel better. I don't know but the only way I could think of was a hug. So I wrapped and arm around her shoulders. She stiffened unsure of what I'd done. "My parents, they loved me all the same. The closet I got to talking about Gods was when they thought me. Not a single hint was dropped about me being a halfblood. I mean if you count my grandma Hestia. Which I think is just named after the goddess. I mean yeah, you had a not so wonderful life... But at least you're who you are now." I smiled at her. Eying Percy I gave him a nod towards Annabeth telling him to comfort her since he'd started it anyway. "My mom married a really awful guy," he told her. "Grover said she did it to protect me, to hide me in the scent of a human family. Maybe that's what your dad was thinking." Annabeth kept worrying at her necklace. She was pinching the gold college ring that hung with the beads. It occurred to me that the ring must be her father's. I wondered why she wore it if she hated him so much. "He doesn't care about me," she said. "His wife-my stepmom-treated me like a freak. She wouldn't let me play with her children. My dad went along with her. Whenever something dangerous happened-you know, something with monsters-they would both look at me resentfully, like, 'How dare you put our family at risk.' Finally, I took the hint. I wasn't wanted. I ran away." "How old were you?" "Same age as when I started camp. Seven." "But ... you couldn't have gotten all the way to Half-Blood Hill by yourself." "Not alone, no. Athena watched over me, guided me toward help. I made a couple of unexpected friends who took care of me, for a short time, anyway." I wanted to ask what happened, but Annabeth seemed lost in sad memories. Luke had already told me some of these part where he went here with Annabeth and Thalia. So I gazed out the train windows as the dark fields of Ohio raced by. Toward the end of our second day on the train, June 13, eight days before the summer solstice, we passed through some golden hills and over the Mississippi River into St. Louis. Annabeth craned her neck to see the Gateway Arch, which looked to me like a huge shopping bag handle stuck on the city. "I want to do that," she sighed. "What?" I asked. "Build something like that. You ever see the Parthenon, Y/N?" "Only in pictures." "Someday, I'm going to see it in person. I'm going to build the greatest monument to the gods, ever. Something that'll last a thousand years." Percy laughed. "You? An architect?" Her cheeks flushed. "Yes, an architect. Athena expects her children to create things, not just tear them down, like a certain god of earthquakes I could mention." "Percy! I think she'll be incredible." I pinched his arm. We watched the churning brown water of the Mississippi below. I took Percy's hand in fear that the water would just grab me and drag me down. "Sorry," Annabeth said. "That was mean." I nudged Percy to apologize as well, "I didn't mean to make fun of you. I'm sorry." "Can't you two work together a little?" I pleaded. "I mean, didn't Athena and Poseidon ever cooperate?" Annabeth had to think about it. "I guess ... the chariot," she said tentatively. "My mom invented it, but Poseidon created horses out of the crests of waves. So they had to work together to make it complete." "Then you two can cooperate, too. Right?" We rode into the city, Annabeth watching as the Arch disappeared behind a hotel. "I suppose," she said at last. We pulled into the Amtrak station downtown. The intercom told us we'd have a three-hour layover before departing for Denver. Grover stretched. Before he was even fully awake, he said, "Food." "Come on, goat boy," Annabeth said. "Sightseeing." "Sightseeing?" "The Gateway Arch," she said. "This may be my only chance to ride to the top. Are you coming or not?" Grover, Percy and I exchanged looks. I wanted to say no, but seeing the stars in Annabeth's as she watched, she was too adorable to say no to. Grover shrugged. "As long as there's a snack bar without monsters." The Arch was about a mile from the train station. Late in the day the lines to get in weren't that long. We threaded our way through the underground museum, looking at covered wagons and other junk from the 1800s. It wasn't all that thrilling, but Annabeth kept telling us interesting facts about how the Arch was built, and Grover kept passing me jelly beans, so I was okay. I kept looking around, though, at the other people in line. "You smell anything?" Percy murmured to Grover. He took his nose out of the jelly-bean bag long enough to sniff. "Underground," he said distastefully. "Underground air always smells like monsters. Probably doesn't mean anything." I took a peek at my knife and saw there was a very weak glow, or maybe a sunlight reflection. Somewhere in between. "Guys," I said. "You know the gods' symbols of power?" Annabeth had been in the middle of reading about the construction equipment used to build the Arch, but she looked over. "Yeah?" "Well, Hade-" Grover cleared his throat. "We're in a public place.... You mean, our friend downstairs?" "Um, right," I said. "Our friend way downstairs. Doesn't he have a hat like Annabeth's?" "You mean the Helm of Darkness," Annabeth said. "Yeah, that's his symbol of power. I saw it next to his seat during the winter solstice council meeting." "He was there?" Percy asked. She nodded. "It's the only time he's allowed to visit Olympus-the darkest day of the year. But his helm is a lot more powerful than my invisibility hat, if what I've heard is true...." "It allows him to become darkness," Grover confirmed. "He can melt into shadow or pass through walls. He can't be touched, or seen, or heard. And he can radiate fear so intense it can drive you insane or stop your heart. Why do you think all rational creatures fear the dark?" "But then ... how do we know he's not here right now, watching us?" I asked. Annabeth and Grover exchanged looks. "We don't," Grover said. "Thanks, that makes me feel a lot better," Percy said. "Got any blue jelly beans left?" Someone else could be watching. Hades isn't the only one to blend in the shadow young vessel. But worry not, all in the darkness, shall be your ally. So Hades will also be my ally? As air and water refuse, land and all there is shall be your ally. Can't I be allies with all? Hades, Zeus, Poseidon. Everyone. The three of them looked at me in surprise. "Don't say their name!" Grover whispered loudly. "Whose name? I haven't said a name!" I could talk through you young vessel. Is this the first time this happened? How can you forget about our conversation? Talk through me? Who are you? I am one of which that'll make sure you become one with yourself. "Y/N!!" Percy yelled. "What? Geez, you're too loud." "We've been calling your name for three minutes." Annabeth said. "Are you... Okay?" "Yeah why wouldn't I be?" When the tiny elevator car came. We got shoehorned into the car with this big fat lady and her dog, a Chihuahua with a rhinestone collar. I figured maybe the dog was a seeing-eye Chihuahua, because none of the guards said a word about it. We started going up, inside the Arch. I'd never been in an elevator that went in a curve, and my stomach wasn't too happy about it. "No parents?" the fat lady asked us. She had beady eyes; pointy, coffee-stained teeth; a floppy denim hat, and a denim dress that bulged so much, she looked like a blue-jean blimp. "They're below," Annabeth told her. "Scared of heights." "Oh, the poor darlings." The Chihuahua growled. The woman said, "Now, now, sonny. Behave." The dog had beady eyes like its owner, intelligent and vicious. I said, "Sonny. Is that his name?" "No," the lady told me. She smiled, as if that cleared everything up. At the top of the Arch, the observation deck reminded me of a tin can with carpeting. Rows of tiny windows looked out over the city on one side and the river on the other. The view was okay, but if there's anything I like less than a confined space, it's a confined space six hundred feet in the air. I was ready to go pretty quick. I could see Percy was too. So I took his hand and gave him a reassuring squeeze to calm him down despite my breakdown. Annabeth kept talking about structural supports, and how she would've made the windows bigger, and designed a see-through floor. She probably could've stayed up there for hours, but the park ranger announced that the observation deck would be closing in a few minutes. I steered Annabeth while Percy with Grover, toward the exit, loaded them into the elevator, and we were about to get in myself when I realized there were already two other tourists inside. No room for me. The park ranger said, "Next car, sir." "We'll get out," Annabeth said. "We'll wait with you two." But that was going to mess everybody up and take even more time, so I said, "Naw, it's okay. We'll see you guys at the bottom. I'll keep an eye on him." Grover and Annabeth both looked nervous, but they let the elevator door slide shut. Their car disappeared down the ramp. Now the only people left on the observation deck were me, a little boy with his parents, the park ranger, and the fat lady with her Chihuahua. Percy and I smiled uneasily at the fat lady. She smiled back, her forked tongue flickering between her teeth. Wait a minute. Forked tongue? Before I could decide if I'd really seen that, her Chihuahua jumped down and started yapping at Percy. "Now, now, sonny," the lady said. "Does this look like a good time? We have all these nice people here." "Doggie!" said the little boy. "Look, a doggie!" His parents pulled him back. The Chihuahua bared his teeth at me, foam dripping from his black lips. "Well, son," the fat lady sighed. "If you insist." Ice started forming in my stomach. "Urn, did you just call that Chihuahua your son?" "Chimera, dear," the fat lady corrected. "Not a Chihuahua. It's an easy mistake to make." She rolled up her denim sleeves, revealing that the skin of her arms was scaly and green. When she smiled, I saw that her teeth were fangs. The pupils of her eyes were sideways slits, like a reptile's. The Chihuahua barked louder, and with each bark, it grew. First to the size of a Doberman, then to a lion. The bark became a roar. The little boy screamed. His parents pulled him back toward the exit, straight into the park ranger, who stood, paralyzed, gaping at the monster. The Chimera was now so tall its back rubbed against the roof. It had the head of a lion with a blood-caked mane, the body and hooves of a giant goat, and a serpent for a tail, a ten-foot-long diamondback growing right out of its shaggy behind. The rhinestone dog collar still hung around its neck, and the plate-sized dog tag was now easy to read: CHIMERA-RABID, FIRE-BREATHING, POISONOUS-IF FOUND, PLEASE CALL TARTARUS-EXT. 954. I immediately pulled out my knife. And waited for the moment to jump in front of Percy who was ten feet away from the Chimera's bloody maw, and I knew that as soon as I moved, the creature would lunge. The snake lady made a hissing noise that might've been laughter. "Be honored, Percy Jackson and Y/N L/N. Lord Zeus rarely allows me to test a hero with one of my brood. For I am the Mother of Monsters, the terrible Echidna!" Percy and I stared at each other for a second stared at her. All he could think to say was: "Isn't that a kind of anteater?" She howled, her reptilian face turning brown and green with rage. "I hate it when people say that! I hate Australia! Naming that ridiculous animal after me. For that, Percy Jackson, my son shall destroy you!" The Chimera charged, its lion teeth gnashing. I managed to take Percy's arm to pull him aside and dodge the bite. We ended up next to the family and the park ranger, who were all screaming now, trying to pry open the emergency exit doors. I couldn't let them get hurt. I positioned myself able to parry any oncoming attack. Percy uncapped his sword, ran to the other side of the deck, and yelled, "Hey, Chihuahua!" The Chimera turned faster than I would've thought possible. Before he could swing my sword, it opened its mouth, emitting a stench like the world's largest barbecue pit, and shot a column of flame straight at him. Percy dove through the explosion. The carpet burst into flames; the heat was so intense, I could feel it where I stand and it was like I was in a sauna. Where Percy had been standing a moment before was a ragged hole in the side of the Arch, with melted metal steaming around the edges. Great, I thought. We just blowtorched a national monument. As the Chimera turned, Percy slashed at its neck. That was a fatal mistake. The blade sparked harmlessly off the dog collar. I saw the serpent tail lifted it whipped around and with all I could I ran and raised my knife to block it. Percy tried to jab Riptide into the Chimera's mouth, but the serpent tail wrapped around his ankles and pulled him off balance, and my blade flew out of my hand, spinning out of the hole in the Arch and down toward the Mississippi River. I pulled a weaponless Percy behind me and raised my small one. We backed into the hole in the wall. The Chimera advanced, growling, smoke curling from its lips. The snake lady, Echidna, cackled. "They don't make heroes like they used to, eh, son?" The monster growled. It seemed in no hurry to finish us off now that we were beaten. I glanced at the park ranger and the family. The little boy was hiding behind his father's legs. I had to protect these people. I couldn't just ... die. I was facing a massive, fire-breathing monster and its mother. And I was scared. There was no place else to go, so I stepped to the edge of the hole. Trust our hero. Jump with him. He had sworn to save us. Far, far below, the river glittered. Percy and I shared a reluctant and fearful look. If we died, would the monsters go away? Would they leave the humans alone? "If you are the son of Poseidon," Echidna hissed, "you would not fear water. Jump, Percy Jackson. Show me that water will not harm you. Jump and retrieve your sword. Prove your bloodline. Maybe your small friend could survive with you." We both knew the water hated me. But I trusted Percy. I'd jump if he told me. The Chimera's mouth glowed red, heating up for another blast. "Either you have no faith," Echidna told me. "You do not trust the gods. I cannot blame you, little cowards. Better you die now. The gods are faithless." Percy took my hand and backed up, he looked down at the water. Percy looked at me and smiled. I knew what he wanted. Holding his hand tighter, I got closer to him. "Die, faithless one," Echidna rasped, and the Chimera sent a column of flame toward our faces. "Father, please," I heard Percy say. "Don't hurt her. Help us." We turned and jumped. Our clothes on fire, we plummeted toward the river.

Previous |Masterlist | Next

Taglist?

@gayer-than-the-gayest-gay @the-natureofme @booknerd-3000

[blazedgraysons]

Killing Me Softly

The one where Grayson falls in love in under 12 hours

A/N: Here’s another fic inspired by literally nothing. I am pretty proud of this one though. To all the people who said nice things about Drunk Off You, just know that I read every single one of them and you own my heart and soul. Also, I know literally no one knows who I am but feel free to send asks or messages. I pinky promise to respond. ♡

Word Count: 1.7K

Pairing: Grayson Dolan x OC (Harlow)

Warnings: nothing really, it’s pretty tame minus a lil angst towards the end. 

“Are you B29?”

Harlow removes an earbud, looking up to meet big brown eyes staring back at her. It’s hard not to notice the rest of the man standing in the aisle.

Brown hair flops over his forehead as she moves her eyes down to appreciate the soft scuff lining his chin - not quite a beard, but not quite stubble. He’s dressed casually in a gym shirt that outlines every single bulging muscle paired with grey sweatpants and some Louis Vuitton slides. She nods slightly to his question, hoping the adonis of a man doesn’t notice that slight blush that’s appeared on her face. He offers her a gracious smile and effortlessly slings his carry-on into the overhead cabin.

“Looks like we’re neighbors then.” Harlow hums in acknowledgment, not sure why he’s so friendly. Most passengers would’ve just grabbed their seat and slept or occupied themselves, but this man intends on making himself known.

He slides into the neighboring seat, and Harlow is instantly overwhelmed. If she thought he looked good from afar, up close was even better. Here she could appreciate all the minute details — the dark mole on his chin, the expensive cologne, the 333 tattoo behind his ear. It took everything in her not to stare, so instead, she settles for quick glances hoping he would be too occupied by his phone to pay her any attention. If he did notice, he spared Harlow further embarrassment by not saying anything. She turns back to her magazine, a random Vogue issue she picked up in the airport convenience store to pass the time, mentally telling herself to calm down in order to get through the next three hours.

“ I’m Grayson, by the way. Just in case we crash, and you need to identify me.” He jokes, smiling widely and — oh shit, does he have a diamond in his tooth? Harlow is so screwed. 

—-

Grayson’s never been a big believer in fate until now. The idea of some external force dictating a situation in your life just seemed like bullshit. Yet, Grayson couldn’t describe meeting Harlow as anything else.

He had been irritated all the way up to that point. An overbooked plane forced him off his original flight and away from his twin brother. Ethan had offered to go with him, but Grayson didn’t see a point in delaying their trip even further and told him he’d meet him in Jersey. While the airline was over apologetic and gave him (terrible) perks, in order to make the next flight, he had to sacrifice his first-class seat for an economy red-eye flight. But at least he had a shitty hot towel to make up for it.

He scowled all the way through the check-in and tarmac, vowing to never fly with JetBlue again as he passed the first-class seats that he couldn’t help but stubbornly think, ‘That should be mine.’

It wasn’t until he reached his row that he realized what he thought was a hindrance was actually a blessing. Because there sitting in the seat next to him was a beauty that could only be described as ethereal. Her long, dark hair tumbles in tight coils down her shoulders as she sits crossed-leg, hunched over a magazine, biting her lip in furrowed concentration. She bobs her head slightly to whatever song she’s listening to as she quickly flips through the pages. She tucks her hair behind her shoulder, revealing blemished copper skin that reflects the light.

A small voice in his head (that suspiciously sounds like Ethan) tells him to stop being weird and talk to her. Before he can justify themillion reasons why he shouldn’t, an annoying cough comes from the lady behind him.

He turns around to glare at her a little and asks the mystery girl her seat number with a smile that he hopes comes off as charming and not predatory.

And fuck, he knows she has to be a blessing because she looks like she was sent straight from the gates of heaven to Grayson’s heart. Ironically, the plane’s fluorescent lights form a halo around her head (‘Or maybe you’re finally losing it.’ Ethan's voice tells him.) He blinks, once, twice, three times before realizing that the girl in front of him isn’t a sleep-deprived hallucination and is actually real. He tries to act unaffected by the slow once-over her round, onyx eyes give him. Still, when he notices her eyes lingering on his chest and thighs, he swallows hard before throwing his suitcase into the overhead and sitting down. 

The grumpy lady behind him gives him a look as she moves down the aisle, and he whips out his phone for a welcomed distraction. The girl, unaware of the havoc she was wreaking on Grayson’s mind and body, continues to sneak looks at him that were a little too obvious for Grayson to not notice. He debates whether or not to ask for her name until she turns back to her magazine and Grayson figures that she doesn’t want to be bothered anymore. It wasn’t until the voice in his head repeatedly calls him a pussy (‘Shut up, Ethan’ he thinks back) that he introduces himself. And when her plump lips turn up into a smile, Grayson pretends to not notice how screwed he is. 

—-

Conversation flows smoothly between the two of them after that. Grayson explains the situation with his original flight and his plans to surprise his mom for mother’s day while Harlow talks about her little brother and the birthday party she helped plan for him this weekend. They talk for so long that their conversation turns from typical discussion to hushed whispers to not disturb the other sleeping passengers. They finally pause for a break when the beverage attendant stops at their row.

Harlow’s honestly glad for the lull in conversation as it gives her time to reflect over what she’s learned. Grayson appears to be very humble despite being heavily involved in the influencer scene in Los Angeles, something Harlow desperately tries to stay far away from herself. Also, despite being one of the hottest guys she’s ever seen, he seems to be so shy that it’s endearing. She notices he stumbles over words, getting so excited about their conversations that he trips himself up.

“So in LA, what do you do for fun? Any friends? Boyfriend?” He asks coolly, trying not to be obvious about his intentions (which makes it so much more apparent in Harlow’s eyes) as he drinks his diet root-beer.

“I work for a high- fashion company doing PR, so I’m always there. I have a couple close friends, but since I’m working so much, I haven’t had that much time for a relationship or finding a guy worth making time for.” Harlow sighs wistfully.

“Ah, that makes sense about the magazine.” He nods, trying to hide his excitement. This situation seems to be working more and more in his favor. “And what guy would be worth making time for?”

“I don’t know honestly. It just seems that all the guys I run into in LA are beyond superficial. All my dates have just been talking about how many followers they have on Instagram or TikTok and just end in hookups. While there’s nothing wrong with that, it’s just hard when you want something more, you know?” She shrugs. And as much as Grayson hates to admit it, he does know. Hell, he’s probably been that guy once or twice in his younger years. Still, as he grows older, he craves the same things Harlow does: intimacy, connection, emotion. He takes another swallow of his drink before responding.

“Yeah, I mean hookups and one-night stands are great in the moment, but it’s hard when you just have love you want to give. It’s even harder now that my brother’s dating someone, ya know. Seeing someone you’re close with have what you want; it’s kinda hard not to be jealous.” He shares, hoping she relates and doesn’t think he’s weird for telling so much to someone he met a few hours earlier.

Harlow sits with that for a second before responding, “And what girl would you want to give your love to?” She whispers.

’Someone like you.’ Grayson thinks. But before he could make the bold confession, the plane announces its descent.

——

Grayson realizes almost immediately that he wasn’t paying that much attention to the flight details because the fact that there was a layover in Colorado flew over his head. He lets Harlow pass by him to stand in the aisle and grabs both his and her carry-on to take off the plane. As Grayson stands behind her (and tries not to stare at how incredible her ass looks in her leggings), he does what he’s best at: forming a game-plan. He realizes that a girl like Harlow is too good to let go. So, he figures he could grab a coffee with her, get her number, and plan a date for when they both are back in LA. He smiles, already thinking of the story he’ll get to tell Ethan when he gets to Jersey. As they both slowly move into the terminal, Harlow turns back to Grayson with a bright smile. He smiles back before asking —

“Do you want to get coffee?” He can’t help his heart from swelling as she bites her lip, a habit he notices she does a lot.

“Good, I thought you weren’t going to ask.” She laughs. “Wait here though, I have to run to the restroom.”

He nods, handing Harlow her carry-on. He sits down and pulls out his phone, already texting Ethan that he met his future soulmate.

Five minutes pass: He’s got the future planned out: the wedding, the kids, the farmland in Jersey and the tiny-home in Australia.

Ten minutes pass: He starts to get worried, but figures Harlow can handle herself.

Thirty minutes pass: He considers sending someone to the bathroom to check on her.

Two hours passed: He’s already cased the domestic airline terminal twice, looking for her dark curly hair. 

It’s not until the final call of flight 437-A to New Jersey that he understands: Harlow’s not coming back for him. And he can’t help it when his heart splits into two.

[persephonesinfernos]

Fic Recs (16th September 2020).

Hi! Welcome to my latest favourite fics.  And remember to take a look at my Fic Shelf Page where you can find all of them.

Incubus by @after-avenging-hours

+18/AU: When some of the best sex of your life leads to the unveiling of a world you barely even knew existed, you know you’re in a heap of trouble.  James Buchanan Barnes is the kind of man that fills your deepest and darkest fantasies, mainly because he is one.  When emotions get involved in a relationship that’s been founded on sex, there’s no turning back.  And honestly, you’re not even sure if you want to. 

Family Friend by @wiensrsoldier

+18/AU: In which your dad’s best friend is many things, being a good fuck is one of them but what happens when it turns into something more than you intended it to be?

Guys My Age by @wiensrsoldier

+18/AU: In which four years after your affair with your dad’s best friend, you find yourself back in the same situation only this time you’re not going to let him break your heart so easily. But when you find yourself back in each other’s arms, the love is rekindled and the two of you have to work through the ups and downs in your relationship

Heir by @evnscvll

AU: Bucky hurt you and so you kept one very big secret from him. the sort of secret, a CEO would want to know.

The Dark Wolf by @angryschnauzer

+18/AU: The Dark Wolf hadn't picked an Omega yet, it had been three months since the Spring Equinox and still the omegas that had been selected hadn't been successful. With your heat approaching you could only however think of the gentle Alpha that would visit you at work, distracting you from your impending heat... and you selection as the Omega for the Dark Wolf.

The Slip Up by @justkending

AU:  After a last hurrah to graduating college with a future to be a family practitioner, a little slip up happens… Seven years down the road, just when things just now seem to be going smoothly, Y/N approaches that slip up from all those years ago. 

I’m With You by @wkemeup

AU:  When two strangers meet on a layover in the Charlotte Airport, they are sent on a whirlwind weekend filled with cancelled flights, painful questions over giant checkers, an ex-boyfriend’s wedding, and a confrontational graduation. They find that a lifetime can sit in the span of three days and it doesn’t take very long at all to fall in love.

Swallow by @all1e23

AU: Swallows choose a mate for life, and will only nest with that bird and no other; they travel long distances apart only to find their way to back to each other, again and again. Bucky knew the second he met you. You’re his other half; you’re his swallow.

By Any Other Name by @wkemeup 

+18/AU: Special Agent Bucky Barnes has been known by many names. He’s used to taking on new identities and dismantling criminal enterprises from the inside. When he’s tasked with infiltrating Hydra and gathering evidence against its leader, Brock Rumlow, Bucky finds himself drawn to the woman who doesn’t seem to belong in this world of violence, the wife to the head of Hydra... you.

Take it Back by @allandoflimbo 

+18/AU: About five years ago, a one night stand with Y/N tore Bucky’s life apart. It was also the night before his wedding. Now he’s married to her sister and she needs a place to stay.

[lady-divine-writes]

Klaine Advent Drabble 2020 - “Up in the Air” (Rated PG13)

Summary: Kurt is heartbroken after his plans for a romantic Christmas with Blaine are demolished when he gets locked into a flight he'd been trying to switch. Blaine reassures him that it will be okay, that they'll have their romantic celebration when Kurt's feet are back on the ground. But is Blaine possibly hiding a secret that just might sweep Kurt off his feet? (1638 words)

Notes: Written for the @klaineadvent Drabble Challenge 2020 prompt 'join'.

Read on AO3.

“Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!” Kurt grumbles, rushing down the corridor that leads to his gate with his carry-on in tow and his heart pounding, trying to give off the impression that he’s not rushing.

Appearance is everything in the flight attendant game.

He was supposed to get an hour sit before this flight, but the one he was on was late by close to forty-five minutes! He has roughly a minute-and-a-half to reach his destination, covering the distance of two football fields, and that’s not the crappiest part of his day.

“Pick up pick up pick up pick up! Blaine! Ugh!” 

This is the fifth time he’s tried to get a hold of his boyfriend to tell him the bad news. Try his hardest, he couldn’t trade this flight out for one that leaves after the holiday.

His plans to join Blaine for a romantic Christmas have officially been canceled. 

“Pick up pick up pick up pick up,” he chants as he checks in with security and heads for the boarding area. 

“You’re late,” his friend Monica teases.

“I had three seconds to make it here from the complete other side of the airport,” he replies with a forced smile for the waiting passengers. The flight attendants can get away with making snide remarks as long as they keep a smile on their faces.

“At least you did it in flats!"

"Wah wah wah," Kurt teases back, giving Blaine’s number one last try before he'll need to turn off his phone and stow it away for the duration.

He's in for a long night - a soul-crushing series of flights, each one taking him farther and farther away from the man he loves.

Finally, Blaine picks up. 

“Hey! Kurt! I was hoping you’d call!”

He sounds eager, Kurt thinks. Shit! “Hey.”

“Are you okay? It sounds like you've been running.”

“I have.” Kurt stops in the crook of the tunnel, out of sight from both doorways, to catch his breath. He has one precious minute before he has to perform his pre-flight checks with the crew. And here he is, spending it breaking a wonderful man’s heart. “Look …” He squeezes his eyelids tight, on the verge of frustrated tears “… I’m sorry, Blaine. It’s not going to happen.”

A moment of confused silence. Then realization. “Oh, no! Shoot!”

“I warned you there was a four percent chance it actually would. It’s impossible to make plans over the holidays. It would have taken a miracle.”

“Yes, but, Christmas is the time for miracles.”

“I know, I know,” Kurt says in a shaky voice. “Don’t make me feel worse than I already do.”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Blaine says in a soothing voice. “I understand.”

“I know you do.” Kurt sniffles, pulling a handkerchief from his inside jacket pocket and dabbing under his eyes before they can get puffy. “It’s just … I know how I am. I’m the clingy, jealous type. I want to see you 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. I don’t want you to resent my work. Or me.”

“Kurt, I could never resent you! I knew what I was getting into. This is one trip you couldn’t switch, and I understand why. This is just a hiccup. That’s all.”

“A hiccup on one of the most important holidays of the year.”

“There will be plenty of time after the holiday rush for us to spend together. I’ll see you soon. We’ll lie in bed together, hold each other in our arms, and it will be better again. You’ll see.”

Kurt nods in response even though Blaine can’t see. “I’m trusting you.”

“I appreciate that.”

Kurt hears footsteps hurry down the ramp, Monica whispering, “Hurry up, Kurt! We have to go!” as she passes. He watches her disappear around the corner and onto the plane. He sighs. “I love you, Blaine.”

“I love you, too. Have a good flight.”

“I will,” Kurt chokes out, blowing a kiss into the phone. “Bye.”

“Bye.”

Kurt hangs up and shoves the phone into his pocket. He grabs the handle of his carry-on and continues on his way. Halfway down the ramp, his phone buzzes in his pocket. Before he even takes it out to check it, he knows it’s a message from Blaine.

He should have waited until he got on the plane where there’s a bathroom to duck into because it unravels him more than he is.

I love you, Kurt. And I’m pretty sure I always will.

***

Kurt doesn’t want to be here.

He doesn’t want to be flying over Miami on Christmas Eve. 

Not when he has a sexy man at home waiting to see him again.

Kurt loves his job. He really does. 

He stumbled into it unexpectedly. It was supposed to be a stop-gap while he worked his way to Broadway - something to pad his bank account, keep food in his belly, and a roof over his head while he got to experience life, hone his craft. And even though he's held on to his dreams of Broadway fame, this job stuck. He has never regretted a single flight in his entire career …

… until this one.

God, what he wouldn’t give to be at home right now, watching cheesy movies on Lifetime, snuggled in Blaine’s arms!

Kurt doesn’t pay much attention to the passengers as he maneuvers the beverage service down the aisle, dishing out Diet Cokes and mini bottles of vodka and Crown Royal. He makes eye contact, nods and smiles, but that's it. He can perform this part of his job on autopilot, has perfected the art of appearing engaged while, in his mind, he goes over notes for an audition or takes a stab at writing his memoirs. 

He knows the bare minimum about the passengers on this side of the plane from the things they let slip out of excitement or need - an older lady flying to see her daughter for the first time in ten years, an unaccompanied minor, a row of sorority sisters on a holiday excursion. Everyone is mellow, polite when he stops to ask them what they want from the cart. But there’s always one clown in the bunch.

And Kurt finds his sitting in Row 27, Seat E.

“Soda?” Kurt asks. “Coffee? Tea?”

“A medium drip, please? Or maybe a flat white?”

“A-ha. That's one coffee black for you,” Kurt says, his tone chipper, but sharp around the edges, barely glancing at the man as he hands over his drink. 

"Perfect. Thank you, Kurt."

"You're very welcome." Kurt internally groans when the man uses his name. The airline requires all customer-facing employees to wear a name tag for passenger comfort "in a time of need" (or so says the employee literature). In this age of social media, it's used more by the Karens of the world to flame what they consider 'inappropriate conduct' without impunity. All claims are thoroughly investigated, and require passenger and employee corroboration before disciplinary action is taken. But it's gotten to the point that he doesn't Google his name and the name of his airline in the same sentence anymore. 

It keeps him sane.

Kurt doesn't mind passengers knowing his name.

Just so long as they never use it.

But this man said Kurt's name like he owns it, and that Kurt doesn't appreciate. Not from strangers.

Kurt's eyes flicker up once it hits him.

He knows that voice. 

But how in the hell can it be here?

'I'm projecting,' he thinks. 'I miss my boyfriend, I wish that he was here, but he's not here. No. I'm not going to look at the occupant of this seat and see ...'

“Blaine?” Kurt stares at 27E perplexed. It is him! Unless there's been a gas leak the pilot hasn't told them about yet, Blaine is sitting right there, looking as adorable as ever! Maybe more so, his smile bright and goofy with his master plan revealed. “Blaine!”

“Well, well, well ...” Blaine turns in his seat, attempting a casual recline against the rigid armrest, masking the pain on his face when its sharp edge digs into his back. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“I didn’t know you’d be …! Wha---when did you even get a ticket?”

“A few days ago. Your friend Monica helped me with the details. I had to grease a lot of wheels, seeing as most holiday flights were already packed, but I’m on every one of your connections. I figured we can spend your layover together.”

“And what if I had managed to get the time off?”

“I would probably be out close to a few thousand bucks, but it was a chance I was willing to take.” Blaine tilts his head down so he can look coyly up at Kurt through long, thick lashes. “Are you surprised?”

“Yes! I … I don’t know what to say!”

“Say that you love me," Blaine says sincerely. "Say that you’ll have a little more faith in me.”

“I do have faith in you. It’s just sometimes … I don’t have all that much faith in myself. In my overall appeal.”

“Well, your overall appeal is so strong, I spent a small fortune to take this journey with you.” Blaine chuckles when he notices they’ve garnered attention from other passengers, wondering what happened to the drink cart but watching quietly to see the drama unfold. “So why don’t we enjoy the journey? See where it takes us?”

Kurt grins, his cheeks burning when the sorority sisters occupying the seats behind Blaine awww, and the older woman claps.

Kurt rolls his eyes when other passengers join in. 

Only at Christmas, he thinks.

Then again, isn't this what he wanted?

His cheesy Lifetime movie?

His improbable Christmas miracle?

Kurt smiles. “That sounds like a plan.”

[wkemeup]

Okay but what was Bucky saying about y/n to Steve and Peggy before they met her 😂

I’m With You - Masterlist

“You need to talk me off a ledge, Steve.”

Bucky stood in line behind a dozen angry passengers boarding a 3am flight to Atlanta, all tapping their toes incessantly and trying to peak up and over the shoulders of those ahead of them in hopes of getting on the plane faster, but Bucky would have much rather his flight have been canceled entirely.

“What’s going on?” Steve replied with a yawn.

Bucky could hear the tiredness in his friend’s voice, the soft rustle of the bed sheets and the click of the lamp. He felt a sharp stab of guilt, just realizing what hour it was, but he was sure he was going to collapse into a heap of himself if he didn’t talk to someone. This night couldn’t have possibly been real and if he didn’t tell Steve, he was sure might find a way to convince himself it was all a dream.

“Is that Bucky?” he heard a quiet voice mumble through the phone; English accent laced with sleep. “Put him on speaker, love.”

“You’ve got both of us now, punk,” Steve said and Peggy whispered a quick ‘hello.’ Bucky gritted his teeth and before he could offer an apology, Steve added, “you better start talking before we fall back asleep.”

A passenger shoved Bucky hard in the shoulder, pushing past him when he didn’t take the two steps ahead of him fast enough to keep up with the line. He let the man go without complaint.

Bucky realized then, he couldn’t talk about his sister; not with the anxiety peaking again and rushing through his veins like rapids. It only seemed to calm when you were with him and he didn’t know how that was possible, to have just met someone hours earlier and for his entire world to be dropped upside down like this.

But it was and it had been. And now, he was in trouble.

“There’s, um, there’s a girl.”

Silence. A pause, then, “a girl?”

“Yeah, Steve, a girl,” Bucky snapped. “Stop making me feel like I’m in middle school.”

“Hey you’re the one calling me at 3am over a girl, Buck!”

“Boys, stop it,” Peggy snipped, a light thump through the speaker as she swatted Steve’s arm before she let out a sigh. “Bucky hasn’t so much as mentioned a girl or anyone in three years, so give him a break, darling.” Then, to Bucky, sweetly, “tell us about her.”

Had it really been three years since he landed stateside again? It felt like longer than that and yesterday all at the same time. 

There were pieces of him could still feel the gravel under his back when he slept at night and he still found himself glancing over his shoulder for threats in shopping malls, sneaking around corners at his office building, constantly vigilant. The other half of him felt like it was a lifetime away, like he’d been this isolated, shell of himself for decades, like he hadn’t used the muscles in his cheeks in a millennium.

He swallowed, shoving a hand into his pocket and letting a family of five behind him cut the line. He wasn’t ready to get on this plane just yet. The bag of skittles in his pocket were heavy as stones.

“You remember the stupid shit I used to do with Bec in Charlotte?”

“Is that why you’re callin’ so late?” Steve asked, his voice considerably softer and Bucky wondered how much Peggy’s silent stare had to do with that. “Your flight get canceled?”

“Yeah,” Bucky sighed, pinching at the bridge of his nose, “but it’s back on. I’m boarding now.”

Another silence took over and Bucky wondered if they could hear his heart pounding through the phone.

He glanced back at the long line of people behind him and resided to simply step to the side. He was letting just about everyone pass him by anyway, might as well be the last one to board. He took a deep breath.

“The girl, Bucky,” Peggy reminded him gently.

“Right.” Bucky scratched at the back of his head, finding that his eyes kept drifting down the terminal in search of you, though he knew it was foolish. You had a flight to catch, too. How could he possibly miss you this much? It ached in his bones. It burned like a fire.

So, he told Steve and Peggy everything.

He told them about how you’d been the only other person in the terminal to smile in relief when the cancellations starting rolling in. He told them about the man in the suit who spilled your coffee all over you and how you’d been so patient and kind to the gate agent who looked to be about seconds away from tears.

He told them about how when he was faced with the possibility that you might just walk right out of his life right then and there, he’d done something he hadn’t done in years and asked to buy you coffee. He told them how adorable you’d looked because you were so surprised, shocked even, and he’d let himself flirt for the first time since he’d been home from the desert.

He told them about sitting in the coffeeshop people-watching past when the café was supposed to close and how he’d dragged you into cartwheels at midnight.

“Cartwheels?” Steve gaped. “Seriously, Buck? She must have thought you were completely insane.”

“She did,” Bucky confirmed, a slight laugh in his voice. He didn’t even realize he was smiling. He didn’t notice the nerves left his body.

“How terrible was it? You hadn’t done one of those since your layovers with Becca when you were sixteen. I bet it was awful,” Steve teased, though it was followed by a short grunt and Bucky was certain Peggy must have shoved him hard in the side for that. Bucky grinned.

“Don’t pay attention to him,” Peggy said. “Then, what happened?”

Then, Bucky told them about how you didn’t give him your name until almost an hour later and while he played it cool, it drove him impossibly insane. He told them how he took you to get snacks at the store Charlie worked at – yes, that old man is still alive, Steve! – and then, about how you’d told him the reason you were going to Atlanta in the first place.

“Oh, that poor girl,” Peggy sighed.

Bucky could still picture the look on your face; the genuine belief that you were somehow not worthy of this jerk of an ex-boyfriend and he couldn’t understand it. You were impossibly kind and funny and so stunningly beautiful; Bucky could hardly keep his heart in check around you.

He told them how he tried to explain his situation with Becca to you, how it came out as a jumbled mess, how easily you changed the subject without hesitation and the relief he felt at that.

Then, he told them about the questions over giant checkers and Steve teased him relentlessly, despite Peggy swatting him again, telling Bucky, ‘well I think it’s sweet and Steve could learn a thing from you.’

It felt like a month’s worth of time sat in the span of a few hours and Bucky found himself leaning up against the wall, watching the grumbling passengers make their way to the plane, a smile aching in his cheeks the longer he talked about you.

By the time he got to the end of the story, about how he’d just barely kissed you before the damn intercom went off, alerting you to your flights that were dangerously close to boarding, there were only a few stragglers left in the line.

“Y/n sounds lovely,” Peggy said after a moment. “So, why the ledge?”

Bucky sighed, slowly making his way to the very back of the line. “I don’t know. Maybe I was too much, you know? I don’t remember how to do this stuff. I feel like I dumped all my baggage on a woman I’ve known for a few hours and I fucked it all up.“

“Come on, man, I don’t think that’s true,” Steve said reassuringly, all tracing of the teasing nature leaving his voice. “It sounds like she likes you. I mean, who else would put up with cartwheels in the middle of the airport?”

Bucky found himself chuckling under his breath despite himself. He handed the gate agent his ticket and they pushed out a tight-lipped smile, nodding for him to continue down the gateway.

“She’s really something, Steve. I don’t know the last time I felt like myself and when I was with her… I don’t know, it was easy again, like all this stuff with Bec never happened and I never enlisted. I was laughing and smiling and telling jokes and—Jesus – I was flirting. Didn’t know I could still do that.”

He could hear their laughter in response through the speaker as he stepped into the plane. Everyone else was seated, most people already trying to close their eyes and find some rest before the plane landed in Atlanta.

“Tell me you got her number,” Steve begged and Bucky clenched his jaw, slumping down into his seat. The silence was enough of an answer. “Bucky!”

“I know, I know! But I gave her mine, at least,” Bucky replied weakly. “Just have to hope she’ll call.”

“She will,” Peggy said and the soft rustle of the sheets came like static through the phone. She yawned. “Y/n will call, Bucky. I’m sure of it.”

It was a problem for another day, he supposed. 

A flight attendant stood over Bucky’s shoulder, eyeing his phone and he muttered a quick apology.

“I gotta go. Plane’s taking off,” Bucky mumbled into the phone, nervously glancing back up at the attendant who was still watching him as he continued walking through the cabin.

“Call us tomorrow when you get settled,” Peggy requested. “I know Sunday won’t be easy but we’re here for you. Just need to keep busy on Saturday. Think you can do that?”

Bucky nodded, letting out a deep breath. “Yeah, I’m sure I’ll find something to keep me occupied.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, pal,” Steve said, the click of the bedside lamp turning off. “Anyone who willingly goes along with your ridiculous layover shenanigans has got to really like you. I’m not sure I would even do a cartwheel on that dirty floor for you, buddy.”

Bucky laughed, his cheeks muscles sore and whether it was from the lack of sleep or from smiling more in one night than he had in years, he wasn’t sure.

“You off the ledge now?” Steve asked.

“Yeah. Consider me back on solid ground,” Bucky replied. The flight attendant was making his way back down the aisle to scold him again and Bucky quickly said, “okay I really have to go now before I’m the reason this plane never makes it to Atlanta. Get some rest, guys. Thanks.”

“Always, pal.”

“Fly safe,” Peggy added.

With that, Bucky ended the call and turned off his phone, holding it up for the attendant to see. He narrowed his eyes on Bucky, almost in warning, before he retreated back to his seat for takeoff.

Bucky settled into his seat, folding his arms and letting his eyes drift closed. Despite the lumps in the back of the cushioning and the arm rest to his right completely taken over by the man next to him, Bucky felt a sense of calm, a wave of relief, for the first time in a long while.

His mind drifted back to the beautiful stranger in the airport. The woman with the coffee on her shoes and the laugh of an angel and the kindest eyes he’d ever seen.

He found you again in his dreams.

[alwaysmychoices]

Today, I had this idea for the ending of another project I’m working on, and I couldn’t sleep until I had written it out. 

Because I am nowhere near finished with this project and wanted to share it, here it is. It has absolutely nothing to do with Ethan Ramsey (sad), but it is my ending to a story I came up with that mirrors Ethan x MC. 

You may not know Ellis and Ben’s story, but here’s their happy ending. 

I thought about turning back at least a hundred times.

I imagined running through the airport during my layover, demanding an outrageous ticket back to London. I imagined catching a cab and walking back into his apartment only to find him reaching for his keys to come after me.

That image got me through the eight-hour flight, but when I landed in New York for my layover, I didn’t book another flight. Instead, I bought a cup an overpriced cup of coffee – strong, black, and secretly sprinkled with sugar, just like he liked it – and posted a picture to my Instagram story. For the rest of my layover, I checked to see if he had seen it yet.

He hadn’t.

I don’t know why I was surprised.

I gave him every opportunity for him to ask me to stay, and he never did. Instead, he wished me luck, kissed my cheek, and waved my cab off as we drove to the airport. He made it very clear that he didn’t want me to stay. Instead, he wanted me to go off and have all the adventures I could. He wanted me to remember the last year as one of those great stories you share in crowded bars, when your European escapades feel particularly exotic. He was a stamp in my passport, and I was a pleasant surprise.

Benjamin Clark didn’t mean for me to look back. He gave me no reason to hope, yet I did anyway.

I almost turned back before boarding my flight to Charlotte. I let myself have one last fond daydream of returning to him and spending the fall by his side, but at the end of the daydream, I still knew that winter would be a mystery.

Benjamin Clark wasn’t the kind of person you run out of an airport for. If you did, you would only be disappointed in the end.

We weren’t a grand romance. We were, at best, a humorous coming of age film with an exotic locale.

So, I flew home. For a few months, I lived with my parents and applied to every job I could find. While I waited, I hit up childhood friends and visited my old haunts. Sometimes, I would post photos and watch my notifications to see if he liked it.

He did once or twice.

He even viewed my story a handful of times, but he knew better than to message me.

In October, I got a job in D.C., and with two suitcases and a lively early 2000s playlist, I drove up alone. I rented a small bedroom from a friend of a friend, Jessica, in Alexandria, and as soon as I met Jessica, I decided we would be friends. She helped me unpack, and to celebrate my first night, we went to a nearby bar.

It took me four tequila shots for me to message Ben.

He didn’t reply until my sixth.

I didn’t realize it was five in the morning in his time zone. Even if I had, I don’t think I would have cared.

In the middle of a crowded bar, I told Benjamin that I was going to unfollow him and that I wanted him to unfollow me, too.

I don’t know what he felt when I did that. I like to think he was just as heartbroken as I was. Because I don’t know, I get to tell myself whatever I want. Some days, I need to think that he was devastated and enjoyed the remaining connection as much as I did. Some days, I need to think that he was just being nice.

Whatever it was, he messaged me back that he understood.

After a minute, he added that he would miss me.

I didn’t respond to that.

Instead, I unfollowed him. I deleted our DMs. I unfavorited his contact. I deleted our text thread.

I never thought about flying back to London for him after that.

I still harbored the fantasy that he would come to me, though…

I kept all the pictures. I even put one on display in my room. His back was turned to the camera, so I could tell myself that it didn’t mean anything when I taped it to my corkboard. I said I just liked the view.

Of course, Ben was an integral part of the view. Maybe even better than the view.

I lived in that apartment for a year. I went part-time at my job and started grad school. I wanted an apartment closer to campus, and Jess moved with me. I took special care of packing that photo, but when I got to my new apartment, I never displayed it. It lived at the bottom of my desk drawer, safe but out of sight.

I started dating someone that semester. His name was Daniel. He was a classmate, and everyone in my life loved him. We were together for six months, and in that time, I only posted one photo of him. When I posted it, I watched to see if Ben would like it. He never did. I took that photo down when Daniel and I went our separate ways.

In the year following, I cut four inches off my hair, repainted our kitchen, and made new friends. I started drinking gin, and I changed my coffee order. I was close to finishing my masters, and I was already looking for jobs all over the city. I even flirted with the idea of leaving DC, though I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

I didn’t think about Ben much during that time. I doubt he thought of me either.

If I was a woman who believed in fate, I might think that there was some grand plan that brought me to that dive bar in April.

But I don’t believe in fate. I believe in coincidences, and it was one grand coincidence that I accepted a friend’s offer to meet at a bar downtown. It was also a coincidence that my friend was late and that, while waiting for her, I took a seat at the crowded bar.

It was even bigger coincidence that the man trying to get around me to order a vodka tonic was Benjamin Clark.

Three years after Ben kissed me goodbye in London, he looked exactly the same…

And even more startling, he looked at me just like he had all those nights before in Sarajevo, like he was astounded how much he liked me standing beside him.

“Ellis?” he was so happy to see me that I instantly forgot the last three years I’d devoted to moving on from him. I was happy to see him, too, if just a little more wary than he.

He was thirty now, and I could see the age on his face when he stood close. Experience etched his skin around his eyes, but after years of frowning and scowling, his smile lines hadn’t been touched. He was still infuriatingly handsome, even more so now that his hair was longer.

“Ben?” I couldn’t erase the amazement from my voice, nor could I do anything other than stare at him with wide, disbelieving eyes.

He invited me back to his table, and against my better judgement, I joined him.

There was a woman waiting for him. She couldn’t have been much older than me, but she had a bronze, sultry glow I had always lacked. I immediately worried she was his girlfriend, but she was so friendly to me that I soon let the thought go. Either she wasn’t his girlfriend and didn’t care who he brough to their table, or their relationship was so strong that she wasn’t intimidated by me in the slightest. Either way, there wasn’t much I could do.

He introduced me as an old friend, one that was “one of the best” in our field. It was a complete lie, and I called him on it. He met me when I little more than an intern at an NGO he didn’t even work at. If he wanted to brag on anyone, it was himself, because he was the one who trained me.

He rolled his eyes and ordered a vodka tonic and a mojito for me.

Mojitos had been my favorite drink when we knew each other.

“You’re being too critical,” Ben corrected me with the same voice he used to use when I made a mistake at work.

“You’re being too generous.”

“You were full of potential, even when you couldn’t work a coffee maker to save your life,” Ben scoffed, and not for the first time, I was offended.

“I didn’t burn your fucking coffee,” I asserted forcefully.

The first day we met, he said I burnt his coffee, and I hadn’t.

“Yes, you did,” Ben insisted.

“No, I didn’t!”

We argued for a while.

At some point, my friend arrived, and sensing I didn’t intend to leave this table, she introduced herself and took a seat next to the beautiful tan woman. They talked among themselves as Ben and I disagreed.

He argued that I had been the one who messed up the paperwork for the festival in Belgrade. I called him a liar.

We made peace when he offered me a drink but said we had to stop fighting if I took it.

I seriously considered not accepting that mojito.

But I did.

And he asked what I was doing in D.C.

I told him my story – the job, grad school, my impending graduation, and my tiny apartment at the end of the metro line.

“And you?” I asked, already half-done with my mojito. He had hardly taken a sip of his vodka tonic. Always a slow drinker.

“Moved here a few months ago,” he explained, taking one tiny sip that made me hate him, “I took a job downtown.”

I raised my eyebrows accusatorily, “Downtown?”

“I didn’t sell out,” Benjamin stopped me before I could even suggest it.

I raised my hands innocently, “I didn’t say you did.”

“You were thinking it.”

He was right. I was.

“Well, whatever it is, I hope you’re happy,” I was telling the truth, but I also hoped he would give me every detail so I could finally decide whether or not he had actually sold out.

“I am,” Ben watched me, rightfully suspicious.

“That’s great.”

“You’re judging me,” Ben accused.

“I am,” I boldly confirmed, “I distinctly remember being warned time and time again not to sell out, but look at you…” I shook my head like I was ashamed of him. I wasn’t. I really was happy if he was happy. I just liked to torture him a bit to make up for all the times he had judged me.

As I predicted, Ben was outraged.

He spent the next hour justifying his career and his decisions.

Our friends left us at midnight. I honestly had forgotten they were even still there.

Near one am, I was convinced and gave him my approval. He knew he didn’t need it, but he seemed happy to have it.

It was surprisingly easy to be with him.

I always thought that, if I ran into him again, I would be awkward and pained. I thought that, once you loved someone like I loved Ben, you could never encounter them casually again. I was wrong about that. Sitting and talking with Ben felt like the most natural thing in the world.

I only stumbled once.

That was at 1:30 am, when he checked his watch and told me that he would need to get home soon to check on Porter.

I recognized the name. It was a name we came up with together. It had been a blisteringly cold winter day, and from the comfort of his kitchen, we dreamt up ridiculous, silly names for the dog Ben dreamed of having. At the end of the conversation, we settled on Porter, short for Portobello Mushroom. Ben poured me a second cup of coffee, and I asked him why he didn’t just get a dog if he wanted one.

He told me that he wasn’t ready. As long as he kept moving across the continent every year or so, he couldn’t take care of a dog. His career wasn’t stable enough for a dog, nor was he.

When he got a dog, he was ready to settle down.

Now, he had the dog…

I didn’t mean to, but I did it again.

I dreamed up a future with Ben. I allowed myself to hope for him. I began to long for his attention and affection.

I was scared when I realized it. One night had erased three years of work.

But I didn’t stop doing it.

When we parted that night, I wanted to ask him to come home with me, but I didn’t. He kissed my cheek, helped me in my Uber, and waved me goodbye from the pavement. It was exactly the same scene as when I last saw him in London.

I felt ridiculous for hoping for more.

He followed me on Instagram that night.

He texted me the next morning.

I met him in a coffee shop after class, and I stayed so long that I had to cancel dinner with Jessica.

I would love to say that I never saw the rest coming, but that would be a lie. I knew.

I knew that coffee would turn into dinner, and that would turn into nights in his apartment. Playful texts in the middle of the day would turn into celebrating our first anniversary. My drawer in his apartment turned into dominating half of his closet, and playing with his dog would turn into claiming Porter just as much as Ben did.

Two years after our grand coincidence, I got a job offer in New York, and I walked home slow that day. I didn’t know if our sweet little fairy tale extended beyond the District of Columbia. The first time, he hadn’t asked me to stay. But this time I asked him to come with me.

Three months later, we packed our life into a U-Haul, and from the passenger seat, I looked over at Ben and had the distinct feeling that I might just get to look at him for the rest of my life…

[definedbywhatilove]

seven months

hey taylor! this is a little story of my journey since the last time that i let you in to my inner world... its been seven months...(feels like 20 lifetimes of growth) and two months since I moved to California and one week since I left my grandest, most divine partner in L.A to continue my journey of self discovery, self awareness, self love, and self soverignty... and i wanted to mention something important to you -- a sign, an invisable string if you will. since i was a kid, your music always followed me and described my life experiences. as i began a deep journey of self understanding, i went away from the reality that i knew (much alike your time to yourself, away from the media) last oct/november. and i let myself fall deeply, and madly in love. you know the love i'm talking about. the red love. the deeply open and vulnerable heart love, despite all past burns to the heart. the one you write poetry and songs about. i know you feel deeply self worth inside. i know that you relyed on guys to help fill that void. same as me. same as so many beautiful woman out there. giving our hearts away.. loving so damn red. but loving so: fearlessly. bravely. courageously. vulnerably. openly. you can't regret a thing, can you? and the months piled up. nine months december 27 he came to Christmass dinner ten months january 27 this is... love eleven months febuary 27 this is home 1 year march 27 this is the 1 three days after, my life came crashing down. i wake up to coughing. masks. fear. my house turned into a graveyard a grounds of fear, pain, suffering sickness. not me. her. my dads partner. someone who i thought, in my own ego, i despised. in that moment, i knew i loved. two hours. it was less than two hours that i packed two suitcases, and a heavy backpack full of everything that mattered to me. i had practised this before. countless nights isoltated in my room, pretending to pack to run away. really considering running away. but never running. it was a blur. i don't remember much. a message to stay, but the knowingness that it was my time to leave. one last goodbye. no hug. a promise. with my father. knowing he would get sick. knowing that my father, my Rock, my stable Father could very evidently get sick and die. was this a goodbye forever? i didn't know but i left. i had to leave. by some greater plan from God, or whoever is orchestrating this magical universe, my partner moved to my city by chance through the winter and I went to him. i moved in; my heart afraid of moving in with somebody that i love because love had only ever hurt me. i moved in with my partner and allowed my dad the space to go through his own conscious awakening. thirteen months WILL HE DIE? i prayed everyday. i surrendered. i released the outcome. i surrendered to my partner and the relationship and accepted a deeper love than i have ever experienced during this time. i started my business. really, started my business. i started it in december but I didn't really know if I would ever get to see my dad again. through the fall and winter he provided for me whilst i recovered from being sick [reoccuring during fall/winter, peak in sept. same thing i felt during my journey in 2018]. how will i live as an adult on my own? provide for myself? what if he dies? i make my first 2k month. i surrender to love. i meet nature. fourteen months i called him for the first time. my dad. it was so painful to hear him speak. he was still sick. i began to slowly give grounded, healing advice. affirmations. colors. introduced the law of attraction. helping him know that his physical body was sick because his mind was sick of negativity. i move into my first apartment with my partner. its beautiful. he pays the rent. i get the entire room, he takes the living room. i was provided for. i continued my business. i held strong visions of travelling with my partner before the lease was up in august. it was my lifelong dream. i prayed for my dad and his partner. sitting in nights of fear and pain. letting go. trusting. rebuilding. health. NATURE. LOVE. date nights. park visits. lake visits. fifteen i saw my dad and his partner! in person! june 6, the first time since march 30. i went with my partner. i was nervous. i also get to see my cat ~~ who has always had siezures, that got even worse when they were sick... who i also had to let go of, not knowing if would survive.. but did! i gave him healing crystals. healing tips. love. hope. he opened. my dad whos heart was closed cracked open. i had never seen this mans heart open since i was a little child before my mom broke his heart. he left his job, you know. when i was a kid i was neglected for that job. one that i had to go to school too many times when i didn't feel because of. one that kept him gone late nights once a week. one that drained him. but the job that supported me physically and financially through my entire life. the job that helped give me a good life ~ his time and energy he gave into this job to provide for his daughter. he realized what it was doing to him. he realized, taylor. he realized. he got a new job. two hours away, a small county on the lake. a chance to start over. leave the karmic city he lived in. he also began to feel his emotions from what happened with the trauma of my mother. this was a miracle. a miracle. a miracle. and so, he would move away... starting his new job during the sixteenth month of this journey, july 13 i know at this point i will be travelling soon and leaving anyways, but could not leave my dad... and so the universe had him leave to set me free. i spent the rest of the month knowing he would move away, and likely i would too. but where? i saw him many times. gave him reiki too. we all went to the cottage together, him, his partner, me, and mine. summer solstice. peace. love. sixteen months i released all of my limitations. i chose love, abundance, freedom, health, bliss. i released my dad, my cat, my childhood home... [never grow up describes this situation]... a 21st birthday, really, a goodbye to my family... i booked a plane ticket. a month and a week to California. knowing, that it would be longer than that one month and a week. myself and my partner. one carry on and personal item. my self soverignty. my dreams. my abundance [first five figure month!!!] i left taylor. i left behind the city i always lived in to follow my dreams and passion. i'm living in my dream location. mountains. forests. lakes. a sacred site in Nor Cal. a childhood dream, if you will. a new life begins the night before i leave i see that you had an album out. folklore. i didn't know, because i had been going through so much stuff within my life that anything that happened online was not present in my life. i listened to caridgan for a few seconds. didn't feel right. i let you go...[knowing, like always, your music will come to me at the exact right time] i got on the plane. three layovers. an overnight train. i begin my new life on the mountain. begin again. seventeen months i am not the same. i have grown. i have healed. my time in the mountain has been the most groundbreaking, expansive, philisophical, healing time of my entire life. feeling like one month was twenty lifetimes of healing and growth. healing all of my childhood wounds, fears, pains. being of service in my business, providing healing for over 55 people. but... it was here where it started to break apart. that one last thing. i let go of the home. the cat. the family. the stuff. there was 1 more thing to let go of... eighteen months kyle, was his name you know. and of course, when we are hurt we go into the victim mindset right away. it is instinct. predetor and prey. it is conditioned into us. this time, after completing a cycle of 3 relationships of emotional manipulation, disrespect, not being loved the way i loved... i took full ownership for it. for manipulating MYSELF. for disrespecting MYSELF. for not loving MYSELF the way I love another. thats when the relationship healing and karma happens. when you take complete ownership for your own mistreatment knowing that this person was simply a mirror of the own hate, anger, and fear you have about yourself. it happened on september 2nd, under the full moon. it started, anyways. i was called to l.a out of Nor Cal. With him. and we Went. This is where the fun part starts, the intention behind this entire story but we're only getting to it right now because of course, I am a writer. The main message has to be supported by a story, right? on september 6th, we had a midnight train. i wanted to listen to music to help me release leaving the city i was living in in Nor Cal, cuz I had grown fairly attached to it. cardigan came into my life. [which i realize as i am writing this and listening to it, the version i have always listened to is the cabin one,... which I am just seeing you realeased on my birthday!!!! july 30th. how interesting] it fell into place this night. and i was meant to hear it now; your music has always been like a spirit guide to me. always a message when i need it. we had a midnight train. my partner got a nosebleed on the way...[stepping on the last train, marked me like a blood stain...] i knew in my heart we would be breaking up... the day before the flight to l.a, the day before the fires, i knew we would be breaking up in l.a. the night that invisable strings was introduced into my life, via my dear soul friend Emma. i knew that this song spoke of my memories and experiences with l.a. l.a was always a place for me to find self empowerment, bravery, and self worth. being the place that i endured my first break up in, l.a taught me self love. i knew that an invisable string was bringing me back to l.a, and really... back to [myself]. despite knowing what was to happen, i held myself through the flight to l.a. it's not like we officially broke up that day, but i knew going on this flight that since i was facing my biggest fears in real life that i would be about to experience my fear of being alone. i flew the day that san fransisco was orange. tiny little 13 row plane. deep fear of planes. in a moment of deep intuition and love, i opened my heart to hold space for the people on the plane that were also terrified of the fires and landing somewhere that was orange. holding people, holding space, through what could be seen on an Earthly scale as a trauma. moving past my own fears and negative thoughts and holding the emotions of love and safety. it was a big moment for me. i listened to invisable strings dyuring the plane ride. and two days later was when my fire happened. september 11 is when we officially broke up.. when i chose to stand up for myself, for my own love + respect, when i knew that i had to leave a toxic and co-dependent relationship... you know, i thought a tsunami was going to happen that day or something and i was going to die. i literally thought this was what was going to happen; but the death that happened was not physical, but the death of a relationship. we were in l.a until the 18th, in the same apartment, trying our best to go through our breakup while living with eachother. still getting groceries together [chasing shadows in the grocery line]... i could barely function. i know you know what co-dependent relationships can get like. beginning to function on your own without the love from them is hell. [cue. this is me trying] having a hard time adjusting!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! letting go of this love. knowing i need to leave. we were in l.a until the 18th, in the same apartment, trying our best to go through our breakup while living with eachother. still getting groceries together [chasing shadows in the grocery line]... the ocean took me down; pulled my knee out. the day after telling my partner i need to do everything on my own and we be completely separate whilst living in this apartment together for at least a week. knowing we likely would stay till oct.my bodies way of still needing to rely on him. coping mechinisms. breakdowns. [pouring my heart out to a stranger, but i didn't pour the whiskey...] (This lyric. After my first relationship, I turned to alcohol. I got very dependent on this, and this runs in my family. It took me until a significant event at a party in 2017 for me to stop, i know you know what i mean. So it was a big deal for me, despite all temptations, to not turn to alcohol). i knew i had to leave l.a our host was offering us to stay until oct 1. i was 100% sure i was, despite living in the apartment with kyle, through breakup [not your typical i hate u breakup tho, one of deep love and mutual, conscious respect and love for eachother] going to stay. esp with how my body was, and my knee. and... if i went back home to Nor Cal, I knew i'd be going alone. And I knew my partner couldn't financially sustain himself at the time to stay anywhere other than back home. I knew he would have to quarentine for 14 days. I knew that by making this decision I would be completely cut off from him. i went to cancel our flight back to Nor Cal. 34 hours before. i was going to stay and stay in a place with a man who didn't have enough self love and worth yet to be able to love me properly. and then it happened. continue to financially support him. continue to love him uncontiionally. and then... sept 16 11:30pm the last excuse. the last invalidation. the last disrespect. the last act of hatred. the last act of emotional manipulation. the last time the gas light would ever turn on. i do not cancel my flight. i walked away. i chose myself. i messaged everybody that i knew to ask for help and support. i knew that this would be the hardest thing I ever had to do. i had to walk away from whom i know on a soul level to be my husband. i know. i know. i know. i know when we have both healed we will come back together in harmonious union; our relationship was all about growing. but it was time to grow apart, in order to grow back together with a stable individual foundation. the last day was magic. it was a new moon. santa monica beach. sunset. shopping. swimming. we allowed ourself to have a night of love. we knew that this was at the basis of our connection; true, undying, eternal, uncondtional love. we will always love each other in a deeper way than can be described in words. no painting, song, piece of poetry could describe this love. and it was painful. painful to love so deeply and openly and vulnerabily, knowing that come 6am I would be headed to the airport It was the most open and vulnerable I have ever been. Allowing myself to openly love so deeply despite knowing what was to come in just some short hours. I really poured my heart out. I opened up. I was vulnerable. I was my true self. And it was one of the best nights of my life, September 17th in Santa Monica, under the New Moon. we stayed up together all night holding each other. sharing a few last kisses. talking about our favourite memories each month of our relationship [i know they said the end was near...] we didn't sleep all night. the alarm went off, 4:50am. time to go. i packed everything the night before. i tied up my lose ends. we held eachother deeply. the final alarm went off, 5:10am. the pink sunrise in the uber on the way to the airport. the way that he didn't cancel his flight to go through security with me. not getting a coffee to spend every last second with him. and we sat in the airport and cried our hearts out. holding each other. crying. in front of anyone who cared to see. knowing one hour before boarding i had to take myself to the bathroom so that i could cry and prepare myself to fly [note: hopefully the airport worker knew we were gunna be okay] 7:48am, i knew the alarm was going to go off in two minutes. i take my power back and stand up, turning the alarm off. i said i have to go now or I will not get on the flight. i tell him he needs to walk away first. i can't do it. no. i'll feel abandoned. i have to be the one. i hugged him. one time. i said goodbye. i wished him well. i told him i love him. i put my backpack on. i get my stuff together. one last hug... one last kiss... and i pulled away. i walked away from the man that i know one day will be my husband and the father to my children to follow my own path of self discovery and worth and love. of healing. walking up to the airline worker, telling her my partner would not be coming on the flight with me. "okay, Miss, i will remove him from your party and from the flight," i held myself together. i did. the best i could. good thing i didn't sleep because that kept me at least less emotional and breaking down than i thought i would be. "now boarding flight xxxx to Sacramento, boarding rows 10-13..." i got myself on the plane. i couldn't believe i was doing this. how am i doing this? i knew when i sat in my seat and the plan began to prepare for departure, that i was completing a cycle of three. a cycle of relationship karma that began with my first, where we broke up on my birthday, 2016 in l.a... completing a cycle where i base my worth on another person, depend on another person, allow myself to get walked over... it was done. i asked that when i took off into the sky from the plane, the perfect line of the perfect song was playing... when i first had my breakup in l.a 2016, i was at a play to support my friend and actress. in this play, she sang a song called brave. this song, and message, got me through my first breakup. she was my rock and i swear the reason i made it through the night of that. l.a 2018, she wrote brave for a tattoo for me. we stopped talking for a while; i learned to be brave for myself. l.a 2020, the moment the plane takes off of the ground... [wool to BRAVE the seasons...] the moment you sang brave; the plane took off. a rush of feeling so proud for myself. knowing i chose me. knowing i chose a journey of self love. knowing i chose a journey of self worth. knowing i chose a journey of self empowerment. i sit here in my soul sister's apartment whilst she is cross-country, writing this. one week after i got back to Nor Cal. One week since my entire life shifted. And I am in the journey. The journey to self love, confidence, worth, empowerment, etc is not just a destination. There is a journey behind it all. It happens to contain a lot of crying. A lot of feeling. Some music. Friends. Good food. A warm coffee from the local coffee shop. Candles. Insence. Journal(S). Rest. Yoga. Meditation. Qigong. Reiki. Fuzzy socks. Oversized fluffy sweaters. Soft blankets. Stuffed animals. Books. Singing bowls. Love. And so, this is where I am. September 25th, seven months later. Wow. Writing this journey out and putting it on paper really makes me feel some things. It makes me feel fucking empowered. It makes me feel strong. It makes me feel brave. It makes me feel fearless. It makes me feel vulnerable. It makes me feel authentic. And with all authenticity, I had to be authentic with myself when I began to write this. Your music has been that constant. I have said it before, and I will say it again. Everything has always left my life but your music has always stayed. Your music has always found me in the right time in the right place. It has always supported me. You have always supported me. I was thinking back today, in a state of elevated joy allowing myself to feel happy that I got the opportunity to meet you through my life journey so far. And that... us meeting had to mean something. There is an invisable string there. There has to be a reason that during all of this your music was there for me. There has to be a reason it came to me in the time that it did. There is a reason for everything. So I write this, with a prayer that you will see this, but a surrender to the knowingness that what is meant to happen is going to happen. Also, a surrender to if anybody actually reads this! This is who I am, raw, vulnerable, authentic. I will always speak my truth, share my journey, and love Taylor Swift. Don't we all? Taylor, if you are reading this... from my soul to yours; thank you. thank you. thank you. seriously, for what you give up to be able to spread these messages via your music in such a global way. i completely see and understand what you have given up to do this. i love you. i love you. i love you. thank you for seeing me. thank you for hearing me. thank you for acknowledging me. thank you for validating me. thank you for loving me. see you next update, your friend Sarah.