#how big is the neighborhood? how long would it take to walk a full circuit?

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

*staring very intensely at the neighborhood* what do you look like when you're not a simplified website map

[thestarkerisobvious]

Kidnapped

tw: kidnapping, off screen violence, mentions of self-harm

spoiler alert: Angst With A Happy Ending

Chapter 1: The Mona Lisa

Peter looked out through the heavy white curtains, over the walls of the courtyard to the street below. He had a very good view of the world from this window, and as long as he sat still, no one would see him.  He didn’t want anyone to see him.  If someone saw, he would be punished.

The thought of Tony punishing him gave him a shiver in the warm room.  He

 didn’t want Tony’s punishments.  Tony’s punishments could be cruel.  

But there wasn’t much to see of the world, good view or not, so Peter went back to pacing.

He had three rooms to pace through – four if you included the luxurious bathroom Tony had made for him. There was nothing else to do but pace. He thought about doing more pushups or chin-ups on the bar Tony had installed for him, but he had done all his reps for the day.  It felt petty, pacing back and forth passed the large piles of video games stacked up next to the huge monitor or the massive stacks of books opposite them, but Peter didn’t feel like addressing either pile (although he might dust them again. His rooms were all immaculate.  No mess here.)  He groaned in frustration. It was the only sound in the silent room. He gave his gaming chair a petulant kick.  He wanted his computer back.

He didn’t know why Tony had taken his computer.  He hadn’t broken any rules or earned any punishment.  Tony told him it wasn’t a punishment… but it certainly felt like one.   He had been right in the middle of a project and he was dying to get back to it.  He knew he should be grateful that Tony had piled his rooms full of the newest video games and every book he had ever asked for, but that’s not what he wanted.  

Maybe he should take Tony’s advice and write it all down – he glanced over the lovely antique writing desk that Tony had bought him, filled with expensive kinds of notebooks and journals sitting next to expensive pens.  That seemed ridiculous to Peter, the idea of expensive pens, but it seemed to mean something to Tony, so he tried to be appreciative.

But dammit, he didn’t write things down like that.  Well, not those kinds of things.  Not his grandiose plans, not his clever internet schemes.  Those weren’t things you wrote, those were things you did.  He had tried, for Tony’s sake, to do more writing, but usually it came to nothing.  He didn’t even bother sitting down at the desk now.  He went back to pacing.  

But pacing was boring too. Maybe he would go back to sitting at his view-of-the-world window.  It was deliberately kept dirty on the outside, so that no one looking at the grand house (if anyone would) would see Peter’s face through the grime, and the bars on the windows, and the curtains.  Problem was, the street in this mansion-filled-neighborhood just wasn’t very interesting at all.  Once again, Peter longed for his computer.  Of all the luxurious things Tony had stocked his hidden rooms with, that was the one thing he couldn’t live without.  He didn’t know why it was gone, and he didn’t know for how long.  He sighed, then growled in frustration.  At least Tony would be back soon.    Tony would bring information – explain why he wasn’t being punished even though it felt like he was being punished.

As he walked passed his exercise bar and leapt up to grab it, doing a few more chin-ups before resuming his pacing.  He glared at it as he walked away.  It was good for exercise, but it wasn’t good enough.  It was just too boring.  He couldn’t say why.  When he was living in Quentin Beck’s mansion he had exercise equipment and a swimming pool and a private basketball court.    It had been ages since he had played basketball.  He wondered if he’d still be any good at it.

He paced by the large mirror that stood behind the huge dresser.  He stopped for a moment and regarded himself.  He was wearing an old t-shirt and saggy sweats, like he always was. He never saw the point in getting dressed when he wasn’t allowed outside these 3 rooms (four rooms.  3 rooms and a bathroom.  The bathroom counted as a room.  It was huge – as big, if not bigger, than his childhood bedroom. He wanted to remember that.)

Seized by sudden inspiration, Peter peeled off the shirt.

Turning to put his back to the mirror, he turned around and tried to see himself from behind.  It didn’t work too well, so he backed up until he was practically sitting on the dresser.  Then he could see.

Then he could see the bruises.

Mostly bite-marks, although those were fading.  Thought they were bright and angry red just a few days ago.  There were finger-bruises around his waist, too.  Those made his breath catch… made his eyes well up with tears. There were three straight lines still visible across his back, but he was expecting those.  Problem was, the worst of the bruises were very difficult to see from this position.  He needed a second mirror – one he could look into so he could see the mirror behind him. That was the only way to see the ones right on the back of his neck.

For a moment, he turned around and looked at his own face.

There were no bruises there, and there never would be.  Tony said Peter’s face was like a work of art… like the Mona Lisa.  Too precious, to beautiful to bruise.  

Peter smiled ruefully. He was the Mona Lisa, if you thought about it.  Beautiful, like a picture.  Beautiful, and locked away.  Locked up tight and safe where no one, no matter how clever or how powerful, could steal him.  But unlike the Mona Lisa, he had been hidden away as well.  Hidden away so carefully that no one, not even the man who loved him the most, had the slightest clue where he was.

His rueful smile didn’t look good on his face, so he struggled to hide it.  His pretty face.  The only argument he had ever had with his kidnapper – the only time he had ever spoken up or raised his voice to Tony Stark – was when they argued about his face.  But Peter didn’t argue too long.  If he argued too long then he might get into trouble.  If he got into trouble, he might get punished.  Tony might take away his computer, and he didn’t want that…

(Of course he had been good, he had been very good, and lost his computer anyway...)

Peter leaned in and looked at his face closely in the mirror.  It wasn’t a very good mirror, that was for certain.  It wasn’t very good because it wasn’t really standing on the huge dresser (half of which was full of Balmain jeans and Dolce trousers and socks that cost more than his first bicycle.)  The mirror wasn’t in the room at all.  It was inside the wall, on the other side of a glass pane.  The glass was unbreakable.  Peter knew.  He had tried. At least, it wasn’t breakable by any object Peter could find in his three (four) rooms.  

Peter frowned as he looked at his chin.  Tomorrow, or maybe the next day, Tony would have to shave him again.  Peter wasn’t allowed to have razors, for the same reason he wasn’t allowed to have things that could be broken and turned into sharp objects.  He had no one to blame for that except himself – at least he hadn’t been punished for that little slipup, not really.  His only punishment was the removal of the sharp things and the installation of the mirror.  

He looked closely at his face, still frowning.  He hoped Tony would have time to shave him, otherwise… Peter shuddered.  As much as he hated looking at his “beautiful” face, he hated that pale show of stubble even more.

Sighing, Peter put his shirt back on.  As he did, he noted the faintest hint of bruises on his wrists.  Faint, and fading fast.  Barely visible.  In a day, maybe two, and they’d be gone completely.  

Not that it mattered. Tony would be back, and soon.  

Tony would put the bruises back.  All of them.

Sighing, then groaning, in frustration, Peter started pacing again.  The silence of the rooms was really getting to him.  He went to the window, and then back through the three rooms to the writing desk.  Sometimes including the bathroom in the circuit.  Then back to the window again.  He would drive himself crazy if he kept pacing – but sitting behind the curtain looking down at the boring world would just be worse.  He began to wonder if he should try to take a long luxurious bubble-bath in the huge bathtub… Tony certainly seemed to think that was a thing that people liked… maybe he could even do that and read a book at the same time.  That was a thing that people did.  But by that logic he could just take a nap.  Or maybe…

Walking back to the writing desk, Peter sat in the chair and reached for a pen.  He had considered keeping a diary (or a journal – girls kept diaries, boy’s kept journals) about the life he was living here.  Behind all the locked doors.  In the hidden rooms on the third floor of Tony’s secret house. It wouldn’t exactly be a private account – Tony would read it for certain – but it might pass the time at least. Give him something to do.  Give him a place to complain, without complaining, about how unfair it was for Tony to take away his computer when he hadn’t even broken any rules.

He was actually reaching for one of the unused leather journals when he heard something that made his heart skip a beat.

He could sound of the key in the lock, even from where he sat.  It was because of the dead silence in the room – he could never abide to have music playing when he was alone, no matter how nice a stereo system Tony had bought him, no matter how much music he had provided.  Maybe that’s why he couldn’t abide to take a bath or play a video game while he was alone.  He needed the silence.

He needed the silence so he would know when someone was coming.

And someone was coming.

Tony was home early.

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

chapter 2 coming tomorrow

ask to be tagged

warning: Not Really A Dead Dove (I try to do dark and always fail)

[rpmemesbyarat]

RP meme from Scream Queens Ep 5 "Pumpkin Patch" (Note: Offensive content, use at own discretion)

The theme was "Let Them Eat Cake," so my dad bought me this foreclosed McMansion down the street, and, like, 500 of my closest friends came dressed in 18th century attire, and, oh, the pool was filled with this, like, caviar slurry. And then at midnight, we just burnt the house down. When the firefighters came, they were actually strippers, and they put out the fire with champagne.

So walk me through this, honey.

Well, as you can see, every pumpkin in the patch is artisanal.

Then we move past the ice sculptures of demonic peeing cherubs, and yes, they will all be peeing vodka and Red Bull.

I'm sorry. Corn maze?

It's just that doing an exact replica maze from The Shining would have taken us way over budget on man power alone.

I told you money was no object.

Well, apparently, one of them died or something.

Do you have any idea what's at stake here?

Okay, well, it's not my fault that some guy died in the '70s.

I am tired of your sad-sack, I'm-a-total-downer-all-the-time schtick.

I'm over it!

Oh, my God, why are you so depressed?

Why do I have to be the homely one?

Just a second, nutbag.

God, do I have to spell it out for you?

You're a weird, psycho lunatic who's gonna end up in an asylum somewhere, staring at a wall, trying to nurse a watering can.

That's it! I can't take this anymore!

That is such a Mary Todd Lincoln thing to say.

You scream "I'm done with you" kind of a lot, and yet you're still standing here.

I think you know you have a good thing going.

You get to bask in my starlight as I do all the work and you get to grumble behind my back about how disrespected you are.

There's the door.

There's the door, bitch!

You did not deserve to be spoken to like that. Ever.

That is bollocks!

Clearly this fake kidnapping is a play to get the sympathy vote. So Gone Girl.

This is the biggest candle night of the year!

I hate you right now!

Halloween is the greatest night of the year. Greatest night. Because on this night, even kind of shy, kind of homely girls dress up like total sluts. I mean, every costume is just a slutty version of something. Slutty teacher, slutty nurse, slutty nun. I saw a girl last year dressed as slutty al-Qaeda!

See, Halloween it's a night for dudes with killer bods to walk around with our shirts off. And it's totally appropriate, as long as we call ourselves gladiators, Chippendales.

I have no idea how you got into this college.

Look, we'll just hang out and play charades!

This cannot be happening!

Hey, what about Black Hairy Tongue Disease? I mean, does nobody here care about Black Hairy Tongue?

What about my pumpkin patch?

I blame you for this.

[NAME], nice boobs.

Join me in saying you are not afraid!

Just baking some cookies for the neighborhood trick-or-treaters.

Uh, they're toenail cookies.

Pink fur coats worn in all weather, my idea. Flapper dresses made out of feathers, also my idea. Oversized sunglasses worn everywhere, my idea, my idea, my idea!

So why are you baking toenail cookies and giving them to children?

Okay, whose side are you on?

I'm gonna let you in on a little secret. I'm what you call

a "switch-hitter."

Wait, are you bisexual? Because that's what "switch-hitter" means.

Do you mean "double agent"?

What are you writing?

Do you know how big Halloween is in the candle community?

Is this an ant farm?

There's a mom ant, Deborah, who mostly just lies around and she has about 100 husband ants, who come around and give it to her good, which she really enjoys. And then there's about a million sterile daughter ants who feed her and are her slaves. So, an ideal family.

She'd win. And then I'd beg to be her second-in-command, while quietly pull the strings behind the scenes like Dick Cheney.

This plan involves a lot of circuitous logic.

Oh, my God! Those are, like, $100 each!

They're the highest quality candles that can be purchased retail.

What a brilliant and revolutionary idea.

Are you cheating?

This is a clear violation of the honor code.

You must be new here.

Who are you calling?

I'm gonna get you fired.

At least you wore something nice today.

Remember to smile for your mug shot.

I'm burping uncontrollably like Robert Durst.

They'll know I'm guilty!

I'm next in line and in charge here.

You can sum up my viewpoint on this with one word; indifference.

We are her only hope.

Sometimes, in order for a person to achieve their full potential, they have to do things on their own.

I am in charge here!

I love that you're a man.

This is the most sensual song ever written.

We need to do this right now!

I just saw her boobs.

Oh, a salad date is, it's like, it's more casual than dinner, but more formal than coffee.

Whose pants are these?

You know, you're a human being with feelings and needs, right?

Enough about me and my confusion and sad dead feeling inside.

It just really hurt my feelings.

Anyway, I'm pretty sure my so-called friends are the ones that turned me in so I'm just feeling, like, super alone right now.

Man, I am your biggest Instagram fan!

I just think you are a style genius.

I will never be able to repay you for the kindness you've shown me in here.

Besties for life, I say.

Your bail's been posted.

I knew you'd bail me out.

Can I just say what a relief it is to be able to share it with somebody and not feel judged?

You know, I mean, all my girlfriends are like, "That's immoral." "You should be ashamed of yourself!"

Ashamed? What the hell you got to be ashamed for?

You should be proud.

I could've lost my job.

I mean, it lasted, like, 45 seconds, and the whole time, it just felt like I was getting stabbed in the abdomen.

I tied him up and I kept my uniform on and proceeded

to read him his rights. My favorite being "You got the right to remain sexy."

Give me some!

You know he's sexy!

That was one of the best nights of my life.

Well, I've already contacted the police department, despite the fact that a person can't be considered "missing" until at least 72 hours has passed.

That's morbid.

I've already hired an investigator.

What, are you two a couple now?

What the hell are you doing?

You sold me down the river, bitch.

Wait, Gary Coleman's parents stole his kidneys?

I would never say that, because I'm pretty sure that never even happened.

Why does ratting me out sound like exactly something you would do?

You know, I've never thought of myself as a killer, but I am seriously considering ramming this pick into the back of your eye socket.

Maybe you'll get your head sawed off.

You have cameras in my room?

I have eyes everywhere, bitch.

The name of my future perfume is Revenge.

How is that something you just happen to know?

That is stupidest thing I've ever heard.

What's the password?

I just can't eat any more of these.

This ain't The Marriage Ref! This ain't Judge Joe Brown! We ain't on the Maury Show! We ain't standin' in line trying to get tickets to Dr. Phil! I am not Steve Harvey, people, and this ain't the Family Feud!

I'm tryin' to catch a killer.

Help me get the spy gear in the car!

How can you promise?

We're in a maze, you don't know where you're going!

I always knew it would come to this.

Why are we doing this right now?

I forgot the flashlights!

What am I supposed to do with this?

This is so creepy.

It smell like booty in here.

I'm getting a nervous feeling in my stomach.

I might start farting. If I cut some, you promise not to tell anyone?

Oh, my boob!

Stay where you are! I'll come and get you!

Ooh, this is nice.

It's really beautiful.

It looks like you just crossed some stuff out and wrote that in in marker.

Okay, can we talk about that for a second? Because it just happened a few hours ago, and I'm still really traumatized.

I need some cheering up right now.

Excuse me, darling, I'm exhausted.

Wait, we need to hear what happened to you.

Just wondering where you find a house with a pit. The market for them would be pretty limited.

Did you escape, or did you kill him?

I've always had a thing for bad boys.

That got way out of hand.

[stachmousworld]

Lie to me in my eyes

 Pairing: Stuckony and an original black (man) character 

Summary:  (No AU) Steve just got back from his first day at his Arts college. His boyfriends, Bucky and Tony, have both always been supportive. Was that the truth or an act?

Words: 2485 

“Do you think he was serious?”

That was Bucky’s voice. Steve approached silently enough. He was holding his first real canvas and tools and couldn’t wait to show them what he bought for himself. His smile was hurting so much. He hadn’t been able to wipe it off since he went to his first classes and after he bought his tools on his way back.

“Arts school?” Tony’s voice rose, dubious. “Yeah, didn’t think he’d really do it.”

Steve stopped walking. He unconsciously held his stuff closer to him. They were talking about him?

“He always was interested in arts, but it was in the 30’s. We didn’t have enough money and his little sexy drawings (Tony snickered) helped us when things were too tight. But now…” Bucky was moving around the living room. Steve who had been frozen, rush to hide behind a wall.

Normally Bucky would have been able to hear him. He could pick up any kind of noise which made him the first one to greet Tony or Steve. Tony had called him “puppy” because he’d jump onto them, nagging them about their day and wouldn’t let go until he was sure everything went well.

His fear that something could happen sometimes overrode all of his conditioning and for a few minutes the young Bucky was back.

The canvas in Steve’s arm cracked. He dropped his head hiding his face behind it. Tears threatened to spill, and at this point he’d be able to hide. He tried to sniff and wipe his eyes.

“And you were the one to offer him to pay for his tuitions as a gift,” Bucky added sarcastically. “You should have known he’d accept it.”

“Hey! Don’t put the blame on me!” Tony heard was louder than before. Steve heard his footsteps getting nearer. “If you’d told me that he was dead set on going back to university, I’d never offer.”

What? Steve blinked away the tears. Some escaped and rolled down his pale cheeks. He tiptoed to the elevator, breath shuddering so loud he was sure they’d hear him. The doors opened before he could press any button. He silently thanked JARVIS.

The last words he heard was Tony’s voice, “Captain America, in art school, I better call Pepper before the press get heard of it.”

The door closed on Steve’s trembling body.

 Steve didn’t come back. He walked in the streets, canvas and gouaches under his arms. Every time he passed by a trash bin; he felt compelled to throw everything away. The more he went and the heavier everything became. He knew that it was in his head. His tools didn’t weigh that much and there was no scientifical reasons for them to gain a significant amount of weight. Steve could almost hear Tony reasoning in his head. They may not have seen eye to eye in the beginning but even back then Steve has appreciated the way his brain worked.

Steve stopped walking and looked around. He didn’t recognize the neighborhood. It looked residential which meant he wasn’t near the Tower. He wandered a few minutes before giving up. He sat down on a bench, laying his stuff carefully next to him.

He caressed the plastic protecting his canvas and sighed.

“Guess, they are right. That was ridiculous…” he laughed, his heart breaking at the mere thought of letting his dream go. “Yeah…that-.”

“Mister Rogers?”

Steve’s head snapped on his right. His body was already tensed and prepared to tackle the – Steve shook his head and smiled.

“I knew it was you,” the man, Jonah, continued, a smile stretching his plump lips.

Steve flushed embarrassed, under the intense gaze of the man. He looked at his belonging and stopped caressing the canvas.

“Yeah, I wanted to walk.”

Jonah raised an eyebrow and walked closer.

“To walk? If I remember correctly you live in the big phallus in the middle of the city.” Steve chuckled at the coincidence. The first time he’d see the Tower he’d compare it to a penis too. He may or may have not based his private report on Tony based on the building. Something to compensate, he remembered thinking. “Here it is back.”

Steve raised a quizzical eyebrow.

“You literally shone with the brightest smile I’ve seen in a long time. Most of my students are pretty much depressed, between the tuition and the workload most of them quit before the end of the semester. But you, you seemed not to care. Although I do know you were able to pay the tuition in full, the workload didn’t faze you. And it seemed to me that you still have to save the world between classes,” he joked.

Jonah paced in front of him looking around with inquisitive eyes. Steve sputtered some words. His blush was intensifying and the man in front of him didn’t seem aware of it. Steve’s thoughts were scattered around. He hadn’t been able to formulate a single coherent thought since Jonah stood in front of him.

The purple light from the sky wrapped the man in such an ethereal way. His dark brown skin glowed as he basked under the rays. An angel. Steve blinked, shocked by his thought. He shook his head and cleared his throat.

“Thanks,” he answered.

Jonah barked a laugh, startling Steve. He had already heard the man laugh during the lecture but to witness it up close was…intense. Jonah had a deep, raspy voice which didn’t really match his body. He was tall and lean. Steve knew that he had some prominent muscles under the layers of clothes and yet his voice has shocked him to the core.

His laugh reverberated in the empty street. Steve couldn’t help but join him, although his were more contain.

“Don’t thank me kid.”

“Kid?!” Steve exclaimed, almost indignant. Didn’t Jonah know that he was from the thirties?

“I have read your story, kid.” Jonah winked at him. “You were in your late twenties when you were gone, then 70 years later, poof! Here you are. So mentally and physically you are still a twenty-something boy, compared to me.” Jonah opened his jacked and took it off. He folded the soft looking material over his forearm.

Steve’s laugh surprised him. He didn’t know where it came from, but it rattled his entire chest and left him breathless.

Jonah stood there, looking at him, with soft eyes. It took a long time before Steve stopped. And even then, he had some quick chuckles. A boy? It’s been a long time…a long time he hadn’t been called that.

“So care to tell me why you were so down? A boy like you was made to smile, not to frown, but it seems to me that you are more used of the opposite.” Jonah walked closer. He raised his hand and tapped his forefinger on Steve’s forehead. His eyes fluttered under the soft touch. His entire face scrunched before relaxing.

He had seriously thought that Bucky and Tony would be happy to see him go back to university. They never complained or tried to reason him for the last few months. Maybe that’s why it hurt so bad…to think that they certainly laughed behind his back during the entire process filled him with anguish.

“My boyfriends lied to me. I thought they were supportive of me going back to school. But they only pretended…” Steve dropped his head and closed his eyes. The presence of Jonah weirdly anchored him. “I came back earlier and eavesdrop their conversation.” He swallowed with difficulty. The words, thanks to his eidetic memory came back raging in his head. “They thought I’d eventually come to my senses and recognize how ridiculous my idea was.”

Steve crossed his arms on his chest and slowly raised his head. Jonah wasn’t looking at him but on his right, where his newly acquired tools were.

“Why did you choose arts, Mister Rogers?”

Steve looked at him perplexed. What did it have to do with what he just revealed? Before he could properly think about it, the answer spilled out of his mouth.

“I have always loved arts under all its forms. Bucky always thought it started out of pure necessity. I used to sell sexy drawings to a newspaper, and it’d help us at the end of the month. I was sick and frail, almost like a burden first to my mom, then to Bucky. But arts…arts have always been something I could do. It didn’t demand any efforts, but it’s not only that. I could take a pen and draw anything. I could reinvent the world and create smiles where they were long gone. Draw people who died…or capture the moment,” he added quickly. He should have never talked that long. Jonah was practically a stranger. And what if he talked to the press, his heartbeat rose. He grabbed his thing and stood up, wobbling dangerously due to the lack of food.

“Whoa whoa Mister Rogers, calm down,” Jonah helped him out. “I can see how your brain works and no, I’m not going to talk to the press about any of that. And I guess you only have my words, huh?”

Steve’s brain short-circuited. The warmth of the hand on the middle of his chest seemed to burn through his clothes. He took a deep breath and relaxed. Somehow.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, cheeks still flaming red.

Jonah shook his head, a small amused smile playing on his lips. “So polite,” he muttered, to himself. Jonah took a few steps away and Steve mourned the comforting feeling.

“Have you told them what you used to do, mister Rogers?”

What?

“When you talked about your past, I couldn’t help but notice how you talked about dead people, how you drew them. Why didn’t you tell your lovers...” the word coming out of Jonah’s mouth sounded sinful. “what it truly means for you to go to school and achieve your dream.”

Steve dropped his gaze to the ground. The meaning of Jonas’ words passed right over his head. He knew what he said was meaningful and supposed to help him get better. Why couldn’t he focus! Instead his thoughts were getting on a dangerous territory. Just this morning he was waking up with Bucky and Tony by his side, thinking that it was a sight he’d never get tired of, and now he was getting flustered by his teacher. Fuck…get a grip, he thought with conviction.

“I already have.”

Jonah hummed while playing with his beard, which covered what seemed to be a sharp jaw. Steve closed his legs as the phantom sensation of a soft hair bruised his inner thighs. He didn’t dare close his eyes to face the perverse images which were crossing his mind.

Had he been cursed? Maybe a lust potion? Steve scratched the back of his neck and took a deep breath.

“You know what. I’m going to give you one good advice. Go for it. If you end up not liking it or being bored then…change major. You have all your life in front of you, Mister Rogers, don’t be a secondary character to your own life. And if your lovers can’t understand that, maybe it’s time for you to move on, as painful as it is.”

Steve opened his mouth. Then closed it. The idea of losing Bucky and Tony constricted his heart. And at the same time, he didn’t imagine himself giving up on his dreams.

“Oh, no, what have I done?” Jonah exclaimed dramatically. “The frown is back.”

Steve huffed, chastised. He massaged his forehead to let go of some tension.

“Sorry,” he mumbled again.

“…the death of me,” he heard the man whisper. Steve tensed, eyes bulging and mouth agape. He wasn’t supposed to hear that, right? He cleared his throat and fidgeted with the gouaches.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say that out loud.” Jonah groaned and put his head in his hands. “I’m really sorry, Mister Rogers. How unprofessional of me.”

Steve wiped his sweaty hands on his jeans.

“We are outside the classroom. And if it is really a problem, I’ll pretend I didn’t hear anything.”

“I trust you, Mister Rogers.” Jonah winked.

“Steve,” he corrected him, without thinking.

Jonah whiskey eyes gleamed. There was something quite familiar and dangerous in his eyes. “Steve,” he repeated, tasting the word on his tongue.

Steve hid his sudden moan behind a cough. His face was not hell warm. Probably a lust potion. Someone – Clint- must have slipped something in his drink. It was the only solution. Jonah checked his watch and groaned. Steve felt instantly sorry. He hadn’t meant to talk that long to him. He must have

“I’m sorry, you must have a lot of things to do and –.”

He trailed off when Jonah got closer to him. Steve eyed him with unconcealed curiosity. Jonah extended his hand to probably shake Steve’s. As soon as both of their palms made contact, Jonah bent forward and kissed his palm. At this point, Steve’s control over his emotion crumbled. His heart went haywire. He wasn’t sure if it was healthy, but his heart missed a beat. Actually he was a 100% sure it missed at least one if not several beats.

Jonah stood straight and stared into his eyes. “You sure are going to be the death of me, Steve.”

On these last words, Jonah let go of his hand and started walking down the street. Steve stayed frozen at the same place, eyes still on the other man. As he was getting far enough, Jonah turned once back to wave at him.

 After that, Steve ran. He vaguely noted that it took him less longer to come back. Actually, he was so distracted that he almost missed the Tower.

He didn’t know what would happen. One part of him, wished it was a misunderstanding, that Bucky and Tony were genuinely happy for him. But the words…what he’s heard wouldn’t be easy to explain and he wasn’t sure to be ready to argue with his lovers.

There again time went by fast. He barely had the time to formulate a somewhat intelligible speech that he was in the penthouse.

He slowly made his way to the living room where Bucky and Tony were. Bucky jumped to his feet, as usual, when he saw him and smiled happily, arms already open to hug him.

At this moment, Steve was ready to throw any of his resolutions away. Maybe it was just misunderstanding after all. Bucky has always been with him and had his back more than he could count…

Then, Bucky eyes went to his canvas and his smiled dimmed before coming back a little too tight on the corners. Tony who just got up eyed him curiously. When his eyes found the canvas, he looked away.  

Steve smiled sadly. “We need to talk.”

 Fin

[bookenders]

Happy Storyteller Saturday~! 💖 Let's see... I'd love to learn more about your Fish Food cast, how about: If each oc had to (and I mean HAD TO. No getting out of this >.>) participate in an art exhibition of some kind, what would they make? Is it actually good? Would they enjoy making it?

Storyteller Saturday!

Ah, @quilloftheclouds, continuing your tradition of asking me questions that make my brain run off into the sunset with an army of ideas, I see. 💜

I think I’ll take this one in a few different directions. I’ll do one for them as heroes/villains and one for them as off-duty civilians. The civilian ones will be listed first. And as for them being good, that’s up to you! 

This got long, so my very fun answers are under the cut!

Iron Will: One of his powers is structure-strengthening, which is also his favorite (because it’s the most helpful without being too damaging, of course), so he’d make a big twisty metal sculpture that looks like a demolished building. But if you look at it from certain angles, it takes the form of twisted metal bird wings. At a glance, you wouldn’t be able to tell how in the hell this thing is staying together. The artist is just that good. (Nope, he’s cheating, but he doesn’t care. Might as well use what you’ve got, right?) And he does enjoy making it. It’s not often that he gets to use his powers the way he wants to.

His hero one would likely be co-opted by the Coalition and turned into a big PR stunt because the poor guy can’t catch a break. I see it involving making statues by touching a big marble/stone block and strengthening the shape of the statue within it before they smash it and the statue emerges. Every sculptor’s dream. It works to show off his powers, his skill with said powers, give the COH some positive community-based PR, and show everyone how powerful they are. Will thinks it’s dumb, difficult, boring, and needlessly complicated.

Overseer: His civilian exhibition would be something goofy like making gingerbread houses out of circuit boards.

His villain one would be a little more intense, since he has to impress the higher-ups. And he’s got one word for you: drones. Programmed aerial drone sculptures a la Superbowl Lady Gaga. Drones flying around like swarms of swallows and bats. Drones programmed to fly in the shapes of heroes who get defeated by the great villains of the council. He goes absolutely hog-wild with it.

Lithium: As a civilian, an open house of her bar with all of the hero memorabilia all over the walls specially lit for artistic viewing, accompanied by multi-media projections/holograms of life-sized heroes walking around among the patrons (she totally asks Overseer for help with this). As a hero, a black and white photo collage of her high-fiving people she’s saved interspersed with her high-fiving the villain’s she’s helped arrest. All on the scene and in costume, of course. 

The first would be social commentary on how people tend to idolize heroes while they exist as “one of us,” walking among the masses just like anyone else. The second would be commentary on how villains and civilians are one and the same, just requiring different methods of intervention. Both would get her reprimanded by Coalition HR, of course. Making Statements isn’t something the Coalition likes their employees to do. (She super duper doesn’t care though. My goofy headcanon is that she laminates her favorite reprimand letters and puts them in a photo album that she proudly displays in her living room.)

She loves making both of these because 1) she gets to show off her pride and joy and 2) she gets to stick it to the Man.

[She’d try being a human trampoline first before giving up on it after she convinces Iron Will to jump on her stomach to test it out, quickly realizing that it is a terrible idea.]

Babylon: They see this as a waste of time, but hey, there’s no getting out of it, so might as well make the most of the situation. But they wouldn’t put very much effort into it unless it’s for work.

As a civilian, they’d probably just transcribe a bunch of popular songs into the International Phonetic Alphabet and watch, very amused, as people try to read the lyrics out loud.

As a hero, they’d make sure only agents of the Coalition were invited, because their piece is a two-parter: First, a wall on which a bunch of head molds of various people are hung. Nearby are boxes of props, prosthetics, hats, wigs, glasses, makeup, etc. It’s an interactive exhibit based on disguise. Second, on the opposite wall, a neat collage of full color photographs of what appear to be 20 different people, but are all Babylon in various disguises. Is it braggy? Definitely. Do they care? Definitely not.

Nightmare: This one’s tough. Let’s see…

As a civilian, she’d do something like paint a huge mural in one of the poorer neighborhoods mocking the propaganda posters the Coalition puts out every once in a while. She’s big into satire.

As a villain… she’s practically the head of the CIIP, so it’d have to be big. Part of me says that she’d paint all the streets to mimic a Monopoly game board to make fun of the city’s not great economy, but that’s too tame. Since her power is inducing panic responses, I think she might collect blackmail material on as much people as possible and post it anonymously all over the city. No names, no identifying information, just dark, embarrassing information spread in the dead of night. That’s sure to send everyone into a panic.

Sparkplug: Her civilian art piece would be forging very cool light metal prosthetics and gifting them to veterans. She shouldn’t be the only one with a very cool and comfortable free one. Spread the love, as she says.

Her hero (or, rather, mercenary) exhibition would be hacking into large screens all over the city and showing real footage from heroes’ body cameras during big battles. Nothing too graphic, though. Just the kind of footage that shows people what it’s really like being a hero for the Coalition.

Hydrophase: Well, since I haven’t fully revealed what happened to him yet, I’ll include him for funsies. His civilian exhibition… hmm. I think he’d do something with old t-shirts. Like start a community project to collect people’s old shirts and make quilts out of them or somethin’ and donate them after the exhibition. He’s a nostalgic guy.

As a hero, I think he’d make one of those splash pad things that kids play on at malls and water parks and stuff, since his power is water-based. It’d be on an elevated platform and he’d stand under it and control all the water spouts and things and invite neighborhood kids to come play because he’s a very good dude. He has just as much fun as the kids.

There’s also a secret character who appears halfway through the story. I don’t wanna reveal who they are just yet, but what I can say is that their exhibition would be sword sculptures.

[junker-town]

Sharife Cooper is the 2021 NBA Draft’s Point God in training

How Sharife Cooper grew into the 2021 NBA Draft’s most electric playmaker.

Sharife Cooper spent the longest 72 days of his life wondering when he’d finally be able to get back on the basketball court. He had just started playing five-on-five again upon arriving at Auburn after being locked out of gyms as the pandemic swept through the country in the months following his legendary high school career. Now days before the Tigers were set to open the season, he got word the NCAA was investigating his eligibility.

Cooper sat on the sideline unable to practice as his teammates beat St. Joe’s in overtime in the opener and then got blown out by Gonzaga in a showcase game the next day. A month went by and he was still in the dark. As the calendar flipped to 2021 and Auburn began SEC play, Cooper wondered if he’d ever be cleared. Hours before Auburn was set to host Alabama, the message he was waiting for finally came through: Cooper was eligible to make his college debut.

“When I got to college, I got off to a good start, practice was flowing, and then I happened to be ineligible for something that was far out of my control,” Cooper told SB Nation. “That put a huge stop in my progress. But I think I made the most out of it.”

Cooper still hadn’t practiced, and was told he should only expect to play about 10 minutes. Instead, it became immediately evident the Tigers couldn’t afford to take him off the floor. Cooper shredded the nation’s No. 3 defense in the pick-and-roll, completed four beautiful alley-oop passes, and consistently forced his way to the foul line.

He ended the game with 26 points, nine assists, and a slew of highlight reel plays that put his incredible playmaking gifts on full display in a narrow Auburn loss. A long layoff, an elite opponent, and zero time to build chemistry with his teammates didn’t matter: Cooper still proved he could be the most dynamic creator in the country from day one.

Cooper’s college career came and went like a shooting star. He packed four years of highlights into 12 games, and ran up gaudy numbers on a young team with zero returning starters from the year before. He ended the season as one of only two freshmen in the past 30 years to average 20 points and eight assists per game, with the other being Trae Young. His 51.5 percent assist rate would have led America if he played enough games. He would have finished second in the country in fouls draw per 40 minutes if he qualified for the leaderboard.

While impressive, Cooper’s statistical profile also failed to capture the breathtaking nature of his game. This is a young point guard who plays with a raw electricity that can’t be measured. Cooper bent defenses off the dribble and broke them with his passing. His blazing quick first-step and endless combination of dribble crossovers put opposing guards into a blender all season. His panoramic vision and remarkable touch with either hand makes him an elite passer off the dribble against any competition. He seems to think a step ahead of the defense’s next adjustment, daring them with lobs to the rim and skips to the corner that feel more audacious with each attempt.

Cooper did it all while being the smallest guy on the court in almost every game he played. After one truncated year at Auburn, he’s now off to the 2021 NBA Draft. At 6’1 and 180 pounds, Cooper will immediately be one of the smaller players in the league. He also might already be one of its shiftiest ball handlers and most talented live dribble passers, too.

“I’ve played against 7-foot guys all my life,” Cooper said. “I don’t feel like it will be that much of a difference.”

Discount Cooper because of his size at your own peril. He’s been in complete control of almost every game from the moment he started in the sport.

Arden Barnes-USA TODAY Sports

Omar Cooper Sr. never had trouble finding a team for his daughter Te’a, who was recognized as one of the best players in the country from a young age and currently plays for the WNBA’s Los Angeles Sparks. Sharife was a different story. When he wasn’t competing against his twin brother Omar Jr. at the house, Sharife and his friend from down the street would pile into his dad’s car trying to find an AAU program that would take them.

Cooper took the boys to tryout after tryout around Atlanta, but they kept getting rejected by programs that already had their rosters in place. Little did they know Cooper was bringing two future NBA players with him to each stop: Sharife’s friend, one year ahead of him in school, was current Cleveland Cavaliers forward Isaac Okoro.

The elder Cooper instead coached the boys in a local rec league with other kids from the neighborhood. During halftime of a local All-Star Game, the upstart coach got desperate. Down 18 at the break to a team that featured a young Anthony ‘Ant-Man’ Edwards, Cooper issued an ultimatum.

“I told them if they win the game, I would start an AAU program with this team,” Cooper Sr. said. “They came back and won the game. I had to honor my word. That’s how Athletes of Tomorrow got started.”

Sharife and his friends finally had their own team. The majority of the group would stick together throughout their youth careers and into high school by enrolling at McEachern High. McEachern had never won a state championship when Sharife enrolled but it quickly became apparent the Powder Springs, GA school suddenly had a pair of special talents on their hands.

With Cooper at point guard and Okoro as an athletic wing who shined on the defensive end, McEachern quickly turned into an area powerhouse. In Cooper’s freshman year, with Okoro as a sophomore, McEachern didn’t suffer its first loss of the season until the Final Four of the state playoffs. The next year, the team ran up another gaudy record but was upset in the state quarterfinals. After each season, Cooper, Okoro, and most of their teammates would head to the prestigious Nike EYBL circuit playing for the same team Cooper’s father started back when they were children.

Eight of the players on Athletes of Tomorrow were from McEachern. One of the only imports was Brandon Boston Jr., a product of nearby Norcross High, who would eventually attend Kentucky as a consensus top-five recruit and possible first round pick in the 2021 NBA Draft. Atlanta’s recent basketball lineage — Jaylen Brown, Collin Sexton, and Edwards included — was suddenly getting a big boost from the same kids the rest of the city passed on.

Cooper had his coming out party on the national level after the sophomore season that ended in disappointment. He tore up the EYBL by averaging 28.2 points and 8.6 assists per game, a pair of a league-leading numbers that earned him EYBL Offensive Player of the Year honors. Suddenly, Cooper was a no doubt five-star with a growing list of offers from every important college basketball program in America.

Okoro gave his commitment to Auburn ahead of the next season to set the scene for his final year in high school. With Cooper now a junior and a talented cast of teammates maturing around them, something special was brewing at McEachern. Anything less than a state title was going to be considered a disappointment.

Despite massive expectations on their shoulders, McEachern was flawless. They beat prep powerhouses on the national level including Nevada’s Findlay Prep, Kansas’ Sunrise Christian, and California’s Rancho Christian on a team that featured Evan and Isaiah Mobley. The Indians also dominated locally. The school finished a perfect season at 32-0 in the state championship game with Cooper scoring 20 points and Okoro chipping in 16 points. McEachern had its first title.

Cooper and Okoro complemented each other perfectly as teammates, but it was the long hours guarding each other in practice that took each of their games to the next level. Okoro was the 6’6 wing with immense strength who was arguably the best defensive prospect in the country. Cooper was the tiny playmaker who kept the ball on a string, threw every pass, and consistently found a way to score. Each day, they went at each other to hone with own unique talents.

“That’s the only person that would guard me at practice,” Cooper said of Okoro. “Me and him would go at it every single day. That helped me a lot. That’s the best defender I’ve ever gone up against. Going up against someone like that gets you better.”

Cooper decided to follow Okoro once again when it was time to make his college decision. He committed to Auburn over offers from Kentucky and others. He was the highest-rated recruit in program history at the time of his commitment.

Cooper and Okoro never played together at Auburn after Okoro became a one-and-done and was eventually drafted No. 5 overall. Maybe that was the first hint Cooper’s college days would feel star-crossed and unfulfilled. If Cooper has it his way, that will only be a minor note in a much bigger story.

There are not many players in the NBA as small as Cooper. There also aren’t many who can cut up an opposing defense as ruthlessly off the dribble.

The NBA currently has 25 players listed at 6’1 or smaller by the league’s official measurements. Exactly 13 of them weigh 180 pounds or less. It’s a group that includes every walk of life in the NBA. There players on the fringes of the league (Yogi Ferrell, Mike James), change-of-pace guards who have carved out long careers off the bench (Ish Smith, Patrick Beverley), All-Star caliber starters (Kemba Walker, Mike Conley), and two players near and dear to Cooper’s heart: Chris Paul and Trae Young.

Cooper has been watching Paul in the NBA for almost his entire life — CP3 made his debut when Cooper was four years old — and credits him for helping ‘build (his) basketball mind.’ Young is more a recent favorite who followed a similar path. Both were McDonald’s All-Americans ranked outside of the top-15 in their class who rejected offers from Kentucky and other blue bloods to stay in-state before becoming a one-and-done. While Young was a freshman phenom at Oklahoma who made daily appearances on ESPN, Cooper’s long eligibility battle stopped the hype before it started.

“I feel like my whole life has revolved around basketball for so long,” Cooper said. “Whether it was playing it, watching it, or playing 2K. That’s where my basketball IQ comes from. I recognize how much thinking the game goes into it. Thinking the game is what separates good from great.”

Paul and Young each had one notable advantage over Cooper when they entered the draft: both were considered dangerous shooters. That’s still something Cooper is still looking to prove after shooting only 13-of-57 (22.8 percent) from three-point range at Auburn.

Cooper certainly isn’t lacking confidence in his shooting stroke. He was excellent from the foul line, making 82.5 percent of his free throws. There were moments when he hit nasty step-back threes, and even a few contested spot-ups. Those around him said it seemed like he didn’t have his legs under him early in the season after the long NCAA investigation kept him off the practice floor.

“I’ve always been able to shoot,” Cooper said. “I didn’t shoot it well this year, but when you come off almost a year and a half of not playing five-on-five basketball, it was tough for me to make that adjustment. I’ve proven a lot of people wrong in these workouts, and the combine. It’s going to be a long process, and I’m fine with getting it the hard way.”

If Cooper’s size and shooting are obvious shortcomings from a scouting perspective, his strengths are equally pronounced. His standstill burst and live dribble passing grade out extremely well on any scale. He sees angles other point guards would miss, and plays with a unique rhythm to his game that allows him to capitalize on his immaculate vision. For now, his best avenue for scoring the ball might be forcing his way to the foul line. He has the deception to beat his man off the dribble and fool a defender into fouling him around the basket.

Cooper may be small, but he’s never been afraid of contact.

“Growing up, I never played with fouls,” Cooper said. “We’ll play five-on-five and you can’t call a foul. I just got used to contact. I feel like the contact I get all the time in practice helps me go through it in games.”

Given his immense production during his short college career, it certainly doesn’t feel like a stretch to think there’s an alternate timeline where Cooper became a college basketball hero not dissimilar to Young at Oklahoma. Unfortunately, he was the victim of an NCAA investigation and postseason tournament ban that were completely outside of his control.

Instead, Cooper enters this draft as something of a high-upside swing in the mid-to-late first round. Every NBA team needs shot creation, and Cooper has a case that he offers more of it than any player in the class aside from presumptive top pick Cade Cunningham. Omar Cooper Sr. will represent him as the founder of LifeStyle Sports Agency, just as he represents Okoro and his daughter Te’a.

Top NBA prospects aren’t born overnight when they walk onto a college campus. Cooper has a body of work that includes spectacular offensive production and winning at a high level over the course of multiple years. His lack of size shouldn’t be so scary to a league that just watched Paul and Young thrive in the playoffs.

Cooper’s long wait is finally about over. He can’t wait to show you what comes next.

[kinetic-elaboration]

May 29: An Adventure... Outside

Today I celebrated being fully vaccinated by going out on an adventure using public transportation for the first time in 15 months. It went really well! I’m exhausted now but I’d say I had a very good day.

It felt nice to be independent again, and to go and be outside and away from my neighborhood for no particular reason other than I wanted to. It felt indulgent. And honestly, I even missed the bus. It was kinda a big part of my life and my daily routine, and then one day I rode the bus to work and didn’t ride it back and didn’t step foot on it again for over a year. It’s just so bizarre. So just following that old routine, the bus stop, the route into town, waiting for my stop, keeping track of the time to catch the bus back--it was comforting.

My original plan was to head out in time to catch the farmers market, but then I decided to take a shower in the morning and it threw off the whole thing. So I ended up heading out an hour later, which was fine. It felt like a big enough deal to have a mini-adventure out among other people without adding in something as...potentially crowded as the farmers market.

I wasn’t really sure what to expect, mask-wise, though I did know that the bus requires masks and that I was going to be outside for a lot of the day, where masks aren’t really necessary in general. At some point, I made a vague rule to myself that I’d wear one inside but not outside but also... see what other people were doing.

So I walked up to the bus stop without one (outside, by myself, not necessary), and then put it on as I saw the bus approaching. I have to say, I’m glad I didn’t ride the bus until I was fully vaccinated because it was more crowded than I expected it would be, and a lot of people were not making any effort to wear their masks correctly--they’d have them under their nose, or they’d pull them down to talk, which is just absolutely fucking baffling to me--and if I didn’t feel basically, roughly safe, I’d probably end up having a panic attack about the whole experience. As it was, I just felt like, you’re dumb but I don’t care.

I kept the mask on as I walked to the farmers market. I knew it was over by then but I wanted to make sure I did, in fact, know where it was, since it’s moved locations since the last time I went. The newer location isn’t as nice, and I’m kinda bummed about the move, tbh. The old location has been filled in with new tables and chairs to allow for more outdoor seating, which I 100% support, but it doesn’t leave room for the stalls. I wish they’d moved it down the street but idk, maybe that wasn’t possible.

Anyway, I saw the Farmers Market vendors putting their stuff away (exciting), and then I basically made a circle and headed back. I saw that even the vendors didn’t seem to be wearing masks--though Idk if that was because the patrons had gone by then and they were taking stuff down, or because they didn’t wear them at all anymore in the outdoor market--so I took mine off. I went on my usual walk, my old usual, and just enjoyed the fresh air and the casual being-in-a-crowd public-anonymity thing. There were a decent number of people around, most unmasked. Some had visible masks they weren’t wearing, most not even that. That didn’t really surprise me much, since we were outside. Seeing people go in and out of buildings unmasked was weirder. I’m not entirely sure what to make of it. On the one hand, it’s hard to believe that all of them are actually fully vaccinated, given that only 50% of the whole state is. On the other hand, again, most people I saw were outside, and it is possible this is a skewed sample--the people who are out and about, and especially out and about in a tourist-y area they might have traveled to are more likely to be vaccinated. I mean, I didn’t leave my neighborhood until I was! I dunno, maybe I’m being naive. I want to believe people though.

I was worried about the weather because it was supposed to rain literally all day, including some thunder. But actually it turned out to be really nice! For most of my walk, it was cloudy and cool but not actually raining, or there’d just be short little gusts of rain here and there. It felt like fall. I even saw a tree with orange leaves in the distance. I loved it. Nice, crisp, cool air. Great to walk in because it’s not too cold. Honestly, it felt like September--way more like September than actual Septembers around here.

It did start to rain a bit harder and more obnoxiously as I finished my circuit and got back to the shops. I had been thinking about walking a little more but I wanted to get out of the rain at that point.

Then I noticed that the Italian restaurant next to D-- S----- P-- was different. It’s still an Italian restaurant, just with a different name. So that was weird, and right after I noticed that, I noticed that my favorite tea shop was right next to it! I thought it had closed down entirely when I saw the empty store front last December. I’m not even really sure what space they took to be honest... they’re between the Italian restaurant and the Christmas shop. I don’t think there was anything there before, and the Christmas shop can’t get any smaller, really. I suspect the Italian restaurant split off a bit for the tea shop. I’ve only been there a couple times, and I don’t remember the layout very well, but it easily could have take a smaller space in the rebranding. Also the entrance to the restaurant and the tea shop is the same: you come in and go right for the restaurant, left for the tea shop.

So anyway I obviously had to go in. I put on my mask because I felt more comfortable doing that, even though I’m not personally scared and even though the sign said only unvaccinated people had to wear masks. I noticed one of the employees wasn’t wearing one and the other one was, and most (though not all) of the customers were also unmasked. It was a little weird... I was very aware of that uncertainty and discrepancy. I also felt that I was signalling something that isn’t true--that I’m unvaccinated.

The shop itself was very nice. It’s bigger than the old location and I think they have an expanded amount of stuff to go with it. They’re also selling tea to go, which I will take them up on sometime. Honestly, seeing the shop open again and better than ever just felt so good--like finally surprising news was positive, for once.

By the time I left, the rain had let up again. I crossed over to my favorite coffee shop (my beloved!!), stopping briefly at a new soap shop on my way. It’s taken the place of one of those ‘quirky gift idea’ shops and is more my thing--although I will say, I’ll miss the Ambiguously Gay Reindeer display the gift shop used to put up at Christmas.

Seeing unmasked people in the coffee shop was probably the weirdest, just because it really isn’t a big place, and people (like me) tend to set up shop there for long periods of time. Hanging out there was something I’ve missed a lot during the last year-plus, but I thought I’d have to wait a really long time to be comfortable in there again. Today, my compromise was, again, to wear my mask when I was inside ordering, but to actually sit outside to drink, where I did not wear a mask. The last time I had a coffee-shop-day, which I think was Election Day, I sat outside with a mask that I only took off to drink, because even though I was outside, the tables are fairly close together. Everyone else seemed to basically follow the same rules. Today, even though there were people near me, I felt safe enough and also...within the bounds of decency to have my mask off. (They weren’t wearing them either.)

(Literally half this entry is me obsessing about masks but that’s how it is right now!!)

It was a little chilly for sitting outside, but I didn’t mind it. I felt a little more comfortable, people and fresh air wise, and as I said I love this fall-ish weather. Sometimes the rain would pick up again, and then pass. I had a green mint mocha, which was delicious; I hadn’t had one in forever because you can’t get them anywhere else. I did some people watching, and some notebook-writing. It was really enjoyable.

When it was almost time to catch the bus, I finished up and headed toward home. I had to stop off at the Walgreens to pick up my prescription, though. I kept my mask on for the walk because by then it was actually a little too chilly to be out without a jacket--and I didn’t have a jacket, and honestly, the mask does make a noticeable difference re: warmth. The prescription was actually very easy to pick up for once, so I had an annoyingly long time to kill before the bus came around again. I’d initially thought I might just walk home--it’s a bit of a trek but I’ve done it before--but it was too cold and I was too lazy. So I walked down the street and to the Marshalls instead, because I’ve never been to this or any Marshalls, and I figured I could probably waste some time there.

At first, I was very skeptical, because I didn’t think I could find enough to do for 40-45 minutes. Then I found the clearance shelves, which were full of a whole bunch of weird stuff, including a really random Daria mug for $3, which I then became obsessed with. Like, should I buy it? Will I ever forgive myself if I don’t? Is it too random? I wandered around looking for something else I might buy with it, including this nice black dress with flowers on it... but I couldn’t try it on, and I thought the chances of me buying it, hating it, and forgetting to return it were too high. I also looked at the organizational baskets and stuff but I can’t be bringing stuff like that home with no purpose or it’ll be more trouble than it’s worth.

So in the end, I just got the mug. The lines in Marshalls are really surprisingly long! I was so sure that I’d miss the bus by 5 minutes and then end up walking home anyway, just an hour later, with a $3 mug. Luckily, the cashiers were also very efficient, and I managed to get to the bus stop with just a couple minutes to spare--basically ideal timing.

I still had my mask on, between the cold, the going in and out of stores and the bus, and Marshalls actually outright requiring masks. Tbh, I appreciated the requirement, just because it was the only time all day when I wasn’t constantly looking around me and wondering who was wearing a mask and who wasn’t, who was vaccinated and who wasn’t, if I was sticking out or not, etc. Everyone had a mask on and everyone was equal in that sense; it was a non-issue.

I kept my mask on after I got off the bus just because there were some other people getting off at the same stop. Plus, I needed to concentrate on crossing the street with its danger lights. But once I was by myself on the sidewalk, I took it off again.

I got home at about 4:30, so I was out for about 5 hours total. I chilled a little and then I made dinner. Now I’m kinda... lazy and sleepy. I didn’t get that much sleep last night, which was probably good because I need to reset that sleep schedule, and I’m tired now, so I’m hoping I can get to sleep early tonight. Maybe?? Maybe??

[zenkatki]

Pandemic Ironman 2020

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

Training

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

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

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

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

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

Travel

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

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

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

Hotel

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

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

Race Check In

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bike Check In

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

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

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

Race Morning

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

Swim

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

T1

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

Bike

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

T2

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

Run

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

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

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

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

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

Thank you for reading.

Kristen

SuperKat1029@aol.com

Instagram - @zenkatki

[keywestlou]

WIVES HAVE TO OBEY HUSBANDS IN EVERYTHING

Big day in the life 0f Amy Coney Barrett yesterday.

Big day for America, also. Though not a good one.

With her nomination to the Supreme Court, Trump has set the Court on a path unhealthy for America. She will lead the Court in destroying the basic freedoms that have taken years to attain.

She is the personification of a far right ultra conservative. Her judicial philosophy is based on rigidity rather than flexibility. Her approach to the Constitution is to read it precisely as written. From my perspective, wrong.

The Constitution was adopted in 1787. What was then is not necessarily now. There were no planes, cars, dishwashers, women voting, computers, the internet, nuclear weapons, birth control, tampons etc.

The Constitution should be read in conjunction with today’s life style. Not that of 250 years ago. The Court decided cases that way from the late 1930’s till recent years when the conservative block began taking control of the Court.

Barrett gives the Republican conservative block a 6-3 majority. It cannot lose. Since Supreme Court Justices are elected for life, a whole generation will pass before some degree of flexibility returns.

Note Barrett is only 48. She will sit for a good 30 years.

Barrett’s life style bothers me a bit. Not sure bothers is the correct word. However, it does make me uncomfortable.

She and her husband have had 5 children and adopted 2 more. Severn kids! A stay at home Mom would have her hands full with such a brood.

Barrett does not. She said yesterday she also drives the children here and there, and does everything other mothers do. Runs a house, besides.

All the while having been a full time law professor and in the past 3 years a sitting federal appellate judge.

Impressive. She’s unique. I appreciate today’s women can walk and chew gum at the same time. They are multi-faceted. Thank God because we men could not do it.

She is considered an intellect. Based on her accomplishments to date, it is obvious. Her intellect is not enough, however. Heart is required also.

Barrett is not Ruth Bader Ginsburg. A liberal. She had a major hand in opening the door for women in many ways over the years. Barrett will not. She will close the doors Ginsburg helped open and will make sure further such doors not open again.

It is generally agreed she will vote to repeal Obamacare. Roe v. Wade will be gone. What happens to the 23 million who rely on Obamacare today? How will their medical bills get paid? A woman’s right to choose will be limited to a back room and coat hanger.

A return to yesteryear.

Religion should not be a factor in how Barrett will vote. She is expected to separate her religious beliefs to what the law requires in a particular instance.

Kennedy made it clear such was the way it should be in 1960. The Republicans were saying he was Catholic and would listen to the Pope in making decisions. During the campaign, Kennedy hit the issue head on. Basically saying render to Caesar that which is Caesar’s and to God that which is God’s.

It is not going to be Barrett’s way.

She and her husband are members of a religious group known as People of Praise. Relatively small. Began in South Bend, Indiana. Seventeen hundred members in 22 cities covering the U.S., Canada, and the Caribbean.

One of the group’s covenants is that the wife must obey the husband in everything.

Wow!

What happened to the women’s rights that have been recognized in the past 50-60 years. Recall Virginia Slims cigarettes. Came out late in 1960 or early 1970’s. A woman’s cigarette. Specially designed for her. Advertised: You’ve come a long way baby!

No more advancement. The women’s movement will become a train running in reverse.

During her speech yesterday, Barrett made a comment something to the effect that every morning upon awakening, her husband asks what he could do for her today. Strange. Does anyone know of such an occurrence in other marriages. I assume the husband’s question is based on a belief of the People of Praise religious group.

Another strange thing about her “church”is that all members are assigned a personal adviser of their own sex. For Barrett, it would be a “woman leader.” Members become close to their “leaders” for many reasons. A requirement is the member and leader be in a constant ongoing relationship involving advice.

Will Barrett rely on her leader as to certain decisions she must make as a Justice?

Praise the People has been a slowly growing movement. I assume it will grow more rapidly now that a person of fame is a publicly known member.

For only 1700 members, the group has accomplished much. Praise the People has established 3 Trinity Schools. Private Christian schools. In South Bend, Indiana, Falls Church, Virginia, and Eagan, Minnesota.

In 2003, the group also established Praise Academy in Lakeside, Louisiana. A middle-high school. Built in the “poorest neighborhood.”

People of Praise members are encouraged everywhere to move into the poorest neighborhoods.

It is reported Barrett failed to disclose her religious affiliation in 2017 when she appeared before the Senate Committee as part of the acceptance process for election by the Senate to the federal Circuit Court.

Although Barrett appears sweet and tender and may very well be so, her mental machinery is not. It is prepared to return the U.S. to the country’s thinking as far back as 1787. Respectively, she is a Donald Trump in disguise as to the damage she will do.

Though I wished this to solely be an Amy Coney Barrett blog today, it cannot. I MUST speak of Syracuse’s victory over Georgia Tech yesterday. Syracuse won 37-20.

Simply stated, it was the finest game Syracuse has played in years. It performed as expected when it was expected. Another way of saying, Syracuse did what it had to do when it had to be done.

I will not bore you with the details. Again, it was not just the victory. It was the way they performed. As close to perfection as a team might.

Enjoy your Sunday!

    WIVES HAVE TO OBEY HUSBANDS IN EVERYTHING was originally published on Key West Lou

[edourado]

"I need you to scream for me. You're Karen Page he's the Punisher, he will come for you." in which Karen hurt and taken by a villain and Frank is enraged. (I was inspired by the Tarzan trailer)

Oh hey. That didn’t even take that long!

I mean, it was not fast or anything, but it was definitelly quicker than the others. So yay. Improvement. 

Now this is a combination of prompts. This one and the post by @king0fcrows, here. I thought it was a very, very nice idea, so I gave it a shot. 

This is for Day 8 of #kastleradio, inspired by Rihanna’s “Love on the Brain”. Yay. I made it!

Hope you enjoy the smutness. 

Much love.

Boss

This is, Karen supposes, starting to get old.

It’s not exactly routine for her to be taken, of course not. But, by now, she knew how to read the signs.

These guys are amateurs. Which, when you think about it, doesn’t say much about her. But she was just coming home from work, they did a pretty good job of jumping her from a dark ally, pressing a rag full of chloroform against her nose, muffling her startled scream.

But their expertise ended there.

They weren’t even keeping her somewhere hidden. Through the big panel windows, she could see the Manhattan skyline. They were somewhere in Brooklyn, by the water. Not a tall building. A warehouse.

Also, they were afraid. Bickering and snorting cocaine, twitching and walking around, mumbling their stupid plan.

“This is what he would want”, one of them kept saying under his breath, eyes bugged out, looking like he might short circuit any minute, now. “We’re doing right by him, we’re doing right.”

“Karen, right?” The one that fancied himself the boss asked. “Listen, K, it’s not personal, you got my word. But he killed our boy, see, he killed Dante.”

Oh. So it was about Frank. She had been wondering if it was because of one of her articles, Daredevil or the Punisher. Maybe Jessica, Danny or Luke.

Sighing, Karen watched as he paced from left to right.

“And what do I have to do with that?” she asked.

“Everything!” He snapped, a little bit of paranoia in his face and voice. “Everything, you see? Don’t you see?”

“How’s he gonna know?” Asked the other, practically shitting his pants, looking out the window.

“He’ll know.”

Here, he took a step towards her and bent so his face was leveled with hers.

“I want you to know that I don’t like this. My momma, she raised me right, I don’t hit women. But we need him here. Sorry.”

He must watch a lot of movies. With a soft move, the back of his hand met her cheek, his knuckles colliding with her cheekbone, and she held her breath in order to keep silent.

“Nah, nah, come on!” He said, loud, his voice echoing in the empty space and she could see he was anxious. “Don’t make me do it again!”

“What do you even want?” She asked, pulling on the knot that tied her wrists together behind her back.

“I want him to get here! He needs to pay for what he’s done!”

“And what has he done?”

“He killed Dante, you stupid bitch!” Said the one watching the window, turning back to look at them. “He killed our cousin!”

Oh.

“And how many cousins have you killed, Bob?” She asked.

“Yo, shut up!”

“What about you, Phil?”

They were stupid enough to call themselves by their own names around her. And considering that Frank had killed their cousin Dante, and Dante Arulio from the South Bronx Killers had turned up dead a week ago, Karen was pretty sure who these guys were. Low level thugs, looking to climb up the crime hierarchy by avenging the death of one of their own and, as a bonus, capturing the Punisher.

“Now I told you I don’t like to do this”, Phil told her. “But I’m gonna.”

He struck her across the face again and, again, she kept her mouth shut.

“Come on, lady. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

Pulling out a pocket knife, he moved to stand behind her, whispering in her ear, the blunt, non sharp edge of the blade against her throat. He couldn’t even threaten her life right. “I need you to scream for me. You’re Karen Page, he’s the Punisher, he’ll come for you.”

Yes, he would.

Her cheek throbbing, Karen looked out the window, towards the beautiful skyline. If she could just twist enough to undo that knot, she would be able to untie herself.

“Let’s try this one more time”, Phil said, getting ready to struck her again, this time with a closed fist, when there was a small, quick clinking sound that echoed.

“Go check that out”, he told Bob.

But Bob couldn’t. He was standing there one minute, looking towards the door behind the chair Karen was seated, and then he was dropping, first to his knees, then down to the floor, face down.

Phil got up from behind her and turned around. Karen took the opportunity to move her right shoulder down, creating the right angle for her to pull on the end of the rope tying her wrists behind her back. Even the knot, it was like he had been tying his shoes and not a hostage.

Which, she supposed, in the end, was good for her.

Phil was distracted looking at Frank’s figure at the door, it was easy enough for Karen to get up, turn around and take the knife from his hand and the gun from the back of his pants.

Honestly, SBK was getting sloppy with the recruiting. This guy, seriously?

“Ma’am”, Frank greeted her, not even bothering to point his gun at the guy.

“You killed them”, Phil was saying, pointing an accusing finger at Frank and Karen turned around to see if Bob was dead.

He wasn’t. Frank just knocked him out with a bullet to the side of his face.

“You killed them!”

“Shut up, Phil”, Karen said while the criminal broke down in sobs and fell to his knees while Frank watched. “I’m trying to think.”

She has been thinking about a story like that for a while, now. His minions might be stupid and careless, but he, Dwayne Larson, SBK boss, wasn’t. On the contrary, he was a very educated man, went to a good university on the West Coast, then came back to take over the gang of his neighborhood, with a masters in Business, no less, reclaiming the place that had belonged to his brother, killed by a rival gang when Dwayne was 13 years old.  

She wanted a story on them. Maybe even start something to help the police dismantle them. Dwayne’s greed has been getting out of control, his taxation of local business was making people declare bankruptcy, close their doors, and those who tried to challenge them ended up with dead family members and an even bigger debt.

“Glad about that tracker now?”, Frank asked her, walking past the man who now cried and mumbled on the floor. She bent to pick her phone up from Bob’s pocket.

Karen hummed an acknowledgement, not yet willing to admit that the tracker he had insisted on for months was actually useful.

“You didn’t kill him”, she observed, standing back up and turning to him, who looked mean and huge as always. He looked at her, unimpressed, almost bored.

“You might need ‘em. You know”, he motioned randomly with his gun. “For your article.”

Squinting, she looked at him.

“For my article?”

“Yeah.”

“You never cared about that before.”

He held her gaze and she realized.

“You want to get to Dwayne.”

“Point is, I didn’t kill ‘em. You can’t complain, this time.”

Karen ended up explaining to Phil - or trying to, given he was high on cocaine and adrenaline and fear - that she might be able to get a deal for him and Bob if they helped her on her story and the police on bringing SBK down. He accepted when Frank took a menacing step towards him and cried loudly while they waited for the police, Frank slipping away before the cars got there.

Brett complained - a lot - but agreed to letting Karen interview her captors. He didn’t promise a deal or anything, but was interested in the possibility of an insider’s perspective on SBK’s business.

When she got home, she heard Max’s paws running to the door.

“Hi, boy”, she said when he jumped up to greet her, petting and rubbing his head, trying to calm him down. It was not rare that Frank brought him over, but it was also not that often.

The man himself was standing in the kitchen, dismantling that big sniper gun he never even used, like he did every time he needed something to do with his hands, when he was bored, when he was anxious, when he was worried.

Putting her purse on the coffee table, she walked to him slowly, knowing he was probably in a mood, and touched his back when she reached him, running her hand from the small of his back up to the base of his neck, pulling on his shoulder so he turned to her a bit, leaning in and placing a soft, lingering kiss on his mouth.

He stood there and accepted it, and she worked her fingers in the hair on the nape of his neck, like she knew he liked, and felt him purr against her lips.

“Are you mad at me?” she asked, just to get him talking, to maybe take him from that mood she knew he was settling in.

“No”, he answered, pressing a kiss of his own and turning his head back to his gun.

“Your tracker thing worked. Why are you playing with that thing?”

“It worked”, he said, his voice careful and low, and she moved to put herself between him and the counter. “But I shouldn’t need to use it to find you.”

With her hands on his arms, she ran them up and down, from elbows to shoulders, and then again.

“Are you mad about that or are you mad because you didn’t kill them?”

“I’m mad because you got taken again”, he said, intense and, yes, mad. All serious and short temper and she raised her brows, continuing with the caressing of his arms. “And yes, ma’am, I’m mad because I didn’t get to kill the motherfuckers who took you.”

“I’m fine, though”, she said, trying to use a soothing voice, making him let go of the counter and wrap his arms around her, sneaking her own around his neck, kissing his face, along his jaw, moving sort of like a cat against him. “They weren’t even that dangerous”. A nip on the lobe of his ear, small and teasing, while she pulled his shirt from inside his pants. “I managed to get untied all by myself.”

“Congratulations”. The sarcasm and annoyance dripped from his voice, and Karen leaned back to look at his face, letting go of the hem of his shirt.

“You haven’t even kissed me properly since I walked in”, she pointed out, noticing the deep crease in his brow. “I thought you would be happy I’m not harmed”, she said, looking at her own hands as they made their way up his chest. “At least a little relieved.” His fingers twitched on her waist, almost a reflex move and he went on looking at her with that angry face. “But I guess you’re more interested in being angry that you didn’t get to kill people, so I’m just gonna leave you to it, with your gun. Have fun.”

Moving to step away from him, she did her best not to smile when he pulled her back, inspecting her face quickly before moving slowly, that way she loved loved loved, sure and confident, sweet and loving, to kiss her, big hand holding her face to his, touching his forehead to hers after a long and lazy swipe of his tongue.

“Of course I’m happy you’re ok. Don’t say shit like that”. His voice was low and measured, that sweet quality he reserved only for her. “But you know I don’t like loose ends. And when it comes to you, I like them even less.”

“I’m a big girl, Frank”, she tried and he clicked his tongue. “But I’ll be more careful. I promise.”

Arms around his neck, she moved to place a kiss on his jaw. “Thank you for not killing them”. Another one by his ear. “I know you could have shot Bob in the head, but you didn’t.”

“Bob”, he echoed, sarcastically, hand closing around her waist.

“That’s his name”, she went on, dragging kisses around his face, avoiding his lips. “The other one is Phil.”

He grunted his “I don’t care”, moving his head, chasing her mouth with his and she thought that this wasn’t really fair, seducing him into forgetting it. She really could have avoided this whole thing, but she had been putting off those self defense lessons with Colleen, and he had been insisting upon it, she didn’t want to hear an “I told you so”.

But this felt good, and she was happy to be home after being chloroformed and spending a couple of hours tied up in a warehouse.

“You’re not hungry?” he asked, right hand closing on her shirt on her back, pulling it from her skirt, and she hummed, finally letting him press a kiss on her lips.

“We’ll eat”, she decided, pulling his shirt up his chest, making him step away a second so she could pull it over his head and off him. “Later.”

Frank came back to her with a deeper, more urgent kiss. Discarding his shirt on the counter by his dismantled gun, she sighed and opened up to him, hugging him to her, letting him unzip and run his hands down her skirt, gripping her butt that way he did when he wanted to make a point, hard enough to make her wince.

With one more long, sensual kiss, Karen pushed him away from her by his chest and turned around, prompting him to follow her, hands lifting to start undoing the buttons of her shirt while she walked towards the bedroom.

“You stay, Max”, he said behind her while she stepped out of the skirt that fell down her legs, hearing as he tossed a treat towards the dog bed she had for his pitbull by the couch.

She knew he was watching her, and bit her smile in when he pulled the shirt off her when she was done with the buttons and moved it over her shoulders.

His mouth was on her neck and his arms were around her again in a second, and she walked on, pulling on his arm and making him sit on the mattress, making him lie down by kissing him and pushing on his chest.

After he was settled, his head on the pillows and his feet by the end of the bed, his eyes traveled up and down her body when she kneeled and moved to sit on top of him, one leg on each side, hands supporting her weight - and enhancing her cleavage - on his stomach.  

Karen let him touch her a bit, big hands going from soft to heavy when he alternated between caressing and squeezing. Leaning in to collect another kiss, she nipped on his bottom lip. Standing up on her knees again, she batted his hands away while maneuvering her underwear down and off.

“Hands to yourself, Frank”, she instructed and he took one more second to feel her skin, from her waist down to her thighs, uninterrupted by the panties she threw back, and lifted them to hold the iron bars of her headboard. “Stay still for me.”

This was probably her favorite view. Him, lying there under her, holding onto the bars of her bed because she told him not to touch her, his chest bare, showing her all the lines and contours of him, swells and dips of muscle and skin, she could sit there on top of him forever, just watching.

“All things considered”, she started, sitting there while his eyes traveled all over her and he moved his jaw in a way that made her skin tingle, as if he was salivating. “Today was a good day.”

“You were taken again, ma’am”, he said, not stopping with his visual inspection. “I wouldn’t say that’s good.”

“Well, I got two amazing sources for my story”, she went on, reaching up to take the pins holding her hair on top of her head. “You didn’t kill anyone”, she said, moving her head from side to side when her hair fell free, because she knew he liked the way it looked when it was down. “And now I got you under me. That’s a pretty good day in my book.” With a slow rock of her hips, she grinded on him, feeling everything, but he was still wearing his pants, so it was a little dulled for him. Still, he clenched his jaw and pressed his head further into her pillows.

That evil smile appeared and, suddenly, he bucked up, making her surge forward, hooking an arm around her waist and pulling, her knees coming to stop on each side of his head. She was about to remind him to not touch her until she told him to, when he sat up slightly, his arm lowering her, his mouth suddenly there, amazing, and she was letting out a strangled cry, her heart rate increasing at the feeling of his lips and his tongue.

He knew she was not about to move away, not while he worked his mouth on her like that. What she could do was take one hand away from the wall behind her bed and weave her fingers through his hair, trying to guide him like she wanted, even if he pretty much knew what to do to make her vision go blurry, to make her moan and her skin heat up.

Pretty soon, sooner than she would like, her vision was going dark, she was breaking out in shivers all over and trembling, crying out like some wanton thing, yanking on his hair, one of his hands still holding on to the railing, the other on her back, keeping her there for him.

Trying to get her breathing under control, she got up and scooted back down, quickly closing a hand around his neck at the smug look he had on.

“I told you to keep your hands to yourself, didn’t I?”

Frank licked his lips indecently, watching as her chest moved up and down with her deep breathing.

“Take that off”, he asked, motioning towards her bra, and she shook her head, moving a strand of hair out of her face, sitting down on top of him again, just below his hips, hands pressing on his stomach, feeling his muscles harden under her palms.

“No.”

With a challenging look, he took a hand from the railings and reached towards her. Playfully, she slapped it away and he smiled, breathing out heavily, putting his hand back where she wanted them, holding the bars above his head, making the muscles on his arm flex and jump.

Quite a figure, the Punisher cuts.

Slowly, she ran the tips of her fingers on the waist of his pants, watching as his skin broke out in shivers, just like hers had done moments ago, and fiddled with the buckle of his belt.

“You’re really mean when you want to be, you know that?” he said after she did nothing but trace the metal buckle with her fingers. “Downright cruel.”

With a grin she supposed confirmed his words, she rocked a little bit on top of him and undid his belt, unbuttoning his pants slowly, watching his face as he hissed, tightening his hold on the bars.

“Come here”, she whispered and he sat up at once, putting one arm around her and lifting a hand to caress her in a very un-Punisher way, moving her hair away from her face, looking at her with something that looked a lot like adoration.

With an open kiss to his lips, she lifted on her knees a bit and sunk down again, taking him inside her, purring at the satisfied sound he let out, arm tightening around her, the hand on her face coming down to guide her hips, slow and measured, taking control, it was so natural for him, to control everything, to guide everything, to be the boss of everything, and she let him. For a minute or two, she let herself be guided, kissing him deeply, breathing out loudly, moaning when he moved and pressed her against him, his touch so sure and so reverent at the same time, making her tremble with desire for him, her hands on his hair, his back, his face, his arms.

He moved to change the position she had her legs on, bent at the knee, her feet on his knees, but, instead, she pushed him away from her with a hand on his chest, and he groaned, holding on to her for a second, but going when she insisted, hands there on her hips, keeping her on him, making her move, grinding and pressing, nice and hard and slow.

His head touched the pillow with a little too much force, and he bucked his hips up to keep her moving, because he knew she was up to something.

Which only showed he knew her well.

He really shouldn’t have lifted his hips like that, because when he lowered them again, hands on her hips to make her follow, she leaned forward, hands on his stomach, separating them, hissing at the loss of him, missing him immediately, but he needed to learn.

“Fuck- Karen!” he complained, squeezing her hips, the muscles of his chest and abdomen tight under her hands.

“I told you to keep your hands to yourself, didn’t I, Frank?” she asked, voice low, settling on top of him, hissing at the contact, it felt so good, it would be too easy to go on, to give him what he wanted, what she wanted, but where’s the fun in that.

“You liked it, didn’t you?” he challenged, and she pinched him, grazing, rubbing so good.

“Up”, she instructed, motioning with her head, and he reached up to hold the bars again, looking so damn good, way too good, why did he look that good?

Karen spent some good 10 minutes there on top of him, letting the straps of her bra fall from her shoulders, but not removing it when he asked, she was looking for that word, that one word that meant she won.

Well. They both win in these games they play, but still.

His right hand let go of the railing and made it halfway towards her when she rolled her hips slower, allowing a particularly good friction against him, but she stopped and got up on her knees again, biting on her lower lip to control a smile when he slammed his fist on the mattress and dragged his hand back up, closing his eyes, breathing out with a groan.

“Are you in a hurry?” she teased, running her hands on him, her palms gliding easily because of the thin veil of sweat coating his skin.

“You already came once”, he said through gritted teeth.

“That was your decision”, she said, reaching his shoulder, fingers sliding around his bicep until she reached his elbow, pulling on it. “Not mine.”

She placed his hand on her belly and motioned for him to keep moving it up. Sitting there on his stomach, she bit her lip when he reached inside her bra.

“Come on”, he breathed out and she pressed down on him, away from where he wanted her, but good nonetheless.

“‘Come on’ what?” she goaded, pressing his hand with hers, the thin fabric of her bra between her palm and his knuckles.

“Come on”, he repeated, eyes closed, bucking under her, hand working her breast just like she liked, and she smiled. “Please.”

Ah, there it is.

“No”, she said again and he huffed out a breath, opening his eyes and looking at the ceiling, swallowing dry, the movement of his throat catching her eye. “Not just yet.”

He let out satisfied hum when she pulled his hand from inside her bra and lowered it below her belly button, bringing his eyes down, to inspect, and she closed her hand around his wrist, as if to guide him, but he knew just what to do. Her hand was just there to keep him in check.

It was her turn to close her eyes and throw her head back when he started on her, moving his fingers so good.

“Faster, baby”, she instructed, and he obeyed, paying close attention. “Come here.”

He sat up and she kept her hand on his wrist, the other hugging him around his shoulders, guiding his face towards her neck and he went easily, working his fingers faster, in and out, yes, just like that, mouth dragging on her throat, tongue on skin, other hand supporting his own weight behind him.

Karen was almost there, almost there, when she pulled his hand from her, pushed him down one more time and, finally, sank around him, satisfied with the loud groan he let out, putting both his hands on her hips again, trying his best not to take over, just squeezing her between his fingers, enjoying and accepting the pace she set.

“Good?” she asked, her toes curling, and he nodded. “Hmm?” she insisted.

“Fuck, yeah, yes,” he replied, eyes catching hers, and she shivered at that look, that look that asked her permission, it asked for her ok, it asked her for the thing he needed.

“What is it that you want, Frank?” Up and down, slow, dragging, rolling, just a tad faster. “Show me what you want.”

In a flash, he was sitting up again, arm circling her waist, a quick kiss on her lips - a thank you, because finally - he moved and turned them, coming to be on top of her, pulling on her leg, to lock it on his hip, moving like he wanted, like he needed, like she loved, a kiss on her lips, another, and then on her chin, teeth on her neck, and she was holding on to him, he was fast fast fast, hard and long and Karen loved it, but she pressed her leg on his hip, just to see if he would, and he slowed down, hand finding the headboard again to keep himself in check.

All she wanted was to see if he would still do as she said, and it felt so good to know that he would, but it was too good, now, she needed him to keep going, so she relaxed that hold, circling his waist with her leg instead, prompting him further and, amidst the euphoria, she smiled at the small kiss, the ‘thank you’ he pressed on her neck, and she was seeing stars in no time, untangling her arms from the bra she didn’t even feel him unhook and pull from her.

The hand on the wall behind the bars he had been holding was, now, for leverage, to allow him that movement he wanted and her scream came out silent, her toes curling again and her nails pressing on his shoulders and arms, dragging, unintentional scratches left behind while he grunted against her neck, chasing his own high, God, feels so good.

Frank kissed her slowly while she shivered, going from her mouth to her chin, dragging his lips down her throat, kissing her between her breasts, wasting time on her belly, coming back up when she pulled on him.

“Still mad?” she asked, liking the feel of his hand on her hair.

“Hmm”, he hummed. “Can’t really think.”

Moving to get away from under him, she caught his mouth on hers again and made him lie down on her place.

“You stay put”, she said, on her hands and knees above him, her kisses shallow but lingering.

“Where you goin’?” Frank asked, already so lazy, like a damn cat, too much like a cat, considering he was such a dog person.

“I’ll be right back”, she whispered against his lips, watching his eyes close and remain that way. “Don’t fall asleep!”

His brows shot up and he opened his eyes again when she got up and off the bed. Walking to the kitchen to retrieve that Nutella jar she had been saving to eat with cookies in a cold day, she peeked behind her and found him watching her walk.

“Frank”, she warned again when he stretched. “Don’t sleep.”

Her apartment is small enough that she can hear his chuckle when she gets to the kitchen.

“Yes, boss.”

I’m only now realizing, after writing and posting, that Boss is the name of one of Jon’s dogs. Oh well. 

[brosura]

memento mori (the curious case of the baker on baker street) pt. 1/4

Word Count: 3680 Rating: T probably Pairings: Prompto Argentum x Ignis Scientia Warnings: minor character death, major character death (VERY temporary)

“Ignis Scientia, young baker and private investigator’s assistant, has a peculiar gift. With a touch, he can bring the dead back to life.”

AKA the promnis pushing da*sies au no one asked for

special thanks to @danielkesslers , @schnrom , @mildlydistressedpidgeon and @tsukibeamfics for volunteering for a last minute quick read to make sure i wasn’t bein my needlessly confusin’ little self! hope y’all enjoy!!

[read part II here] [read part III here] [read part IV here] [fic on ao3]

The facts are these.

Ignis Scientia - twenty-two years, six months, three weeks and four days old, full-time baker, part-time private investigator’s assistant and generally a reasonable, logical man - is about to make the most unreasonable, illogical decision of his short and uneventfully eventful life.

To understand his peculiar circumstances, the unfortunately fortunate series of events that brought him to this moment, one must start at the beginning.

The facts were these.

Ignis Scientia - despite the oddness of his name - grew up an ordinary, average boy.

He lived in an ordinary, average house in an ordinary, average neighborhood with an ordinary, average mother. The only things not ordinary or average about him were his intelligence (“above average” as his mother liked to boast) and his choice in friends.

Friend, rather. Singular.

Prompto was the only child his age on the block and by extension, his first and dearest friend.

And as far as young Ignis was concerned, he wasn’t ordinary or average in any way.

He called him ‘Iggy,’ had a penchant for running places and climbing things, and always wore a bright yellow chocobo print kerchief around his neck. Even brighter than his accessory was his laughter, his grin as he’d drag Ignis off to do mundane things masked as noble and fantastic adventures. Together, they’d crossed the ocean (waded across a little stream), befriended a talking wolf (pet the neighbor’s dog) and raced the wind (ran together down the street).

Ignis’ favorite of these adventures was when they’d climbed the beanstalk to Neverland (scaled a tree to sit on the upper branches in the light of the setting sun). The fact that Prompto had gotten his stories mixed up, that if this was a beanstalk they should logically be in a Giant’s castle, was inconsequential, what with the way the fading light illuminated Prompto’s blond hair. Ignis wished this was some fantasy land. He wished this moment would last forever.

He didn’t realize it at the moment, but this afternoon was the first scene of the story of his first love. And if Ignis was truly an ordinary, average boy, then this first love might have grown into something bigger than the young, nervous thing it was.

Perhaps they could have grown into something more than friends, with all the ordinary, average hallmarks of a not ordinary, not average, exciting and wonderful relationship. Maybe they would have held hands longer than usual one day as teens, maybe they would have blushed. Maybe one day they would have kissed on the lips and become what people who kissed on the lips became.

Maybe.

But Ignis’ wish wasn’t granted. This wasn’t a fantasy land, and this moment had to end.

Because, after all, Ignis was less ordinary and average than he thought.

He found out how strange and extraordinary he truly was over the course of one strange and extraordinarily unfortunate night.

His mother called him in from a long day of play and they’d had a nice dinner full of light conversation before a blood vessel burst in her brain and she dropped dead on her plate.

Ignis was scared and confused, but his young brain knew what death was. His young brain didn’t know what to do in the face of it, though. So, little and alone, he did all he could think to do and touched her hand.

To his surprise, a jolt of electricity jumped between their skin and his mother sat upright, very much alive.

“Oh dear,” she’d said, wiping at the remnants of dinner that stuck to her face when she’d fallen in it. “I must have fallen asleep. Let’s get ourselves cleaned up, shall we? Your eyes are a little red, darling. Are you feeling ill? Why don’t we try to sleep early, hm?”

And so Ignis went through the night in a daze, not understanding what he’d done. He couldn’t have known what was to come.

He couldn’t have known that a minute, exactly a minute after he’d brought his mother back from the dead, Prompto’s father would take her place there. He couldn’t have known that when his mother touched him again - a kiss on the forehead to say goodnight, perhaps - there’d be another spark, like a circuit being closed, and she’d drop to the ground dead, never to be raised again.

But, unfortunately, ignorance was not bliss for young Ignis, and the fact that he couldn’t have known didn’t stop either of these things from happening.

If Ignis was an ordinary and average boy, then maybe the first time he and Prompto kissed would have been under happier circumstances. But reality found the both of them parentless and confused, found Ignis pressing his trembling lips to Prompto’s trembling forehead in a desperate attempt at comfort behind the big oak tree of the cemetery where both their parents were now buried.

That afternoon Prompto would move in with a family down the street with a last name starting with an A and Ignis’ father would send him off to boarding school.

By the time they’d said goodbye, Ignis thought he’d never see Prompto again, thought maybe he didn’t deserve to see him again.

See, it didn’t take long for him to put the pieces together, to see past the coincidence.

After all, he’d always had above average intelligence. And now, it seemed, he wasn’t average in any way at all.

The facts are these.

Ignis Scientia - now twenty-two years, six months, three weeks and three days old - has spent the better part of a decade forming as few personal attachments as possible, out of fear of what he would do when someone he loved died, out of fear of what he could do in general.

This fear had been useful in boarding school, where it had paired with his natural curiosity to ensure he’d meticulously studied the strength and range of his ability to raise the dead. The following were the fruits of his studies.

One. That he could raise the dead for sixty seconds, exactly, without consequence.

Two. That keeping anything alive past those sixty seconds would result in a nearby living being’s untimely death.

Two, subset a. That the exchange that takes place is roughly equivalent based on weight and category. (A reraised orchid only produced a dead house fern and a very tense experiment with the groundskeeper’s elderly cat yielded no dead humans, merely the demise of a particularly stubborn raccoon.)

Two, subset b. That a living thing raised by the one touch seemed to be particularly unaffected by what would be typically fatal processes. (The orchid survived a fatal fungal infection that killed all it’s brethren and to his knowledge, Sir Meow Meow lives happily to this day.)

Three. That a second touch would result in a permanent, unfixable death.

And Four. Unexpectedly, that he had a confidant and friend in another student who seemed equally reluctant on forming personal attachments.

This friendship with a certain Noctis Lucis Caelum, son of Regis Lucis Caelum of Caelum Enterprises, would result in the bakery that he owns now, a little thing on the aptly named Baker street that Noctis had helped him set up across from the Caelum Enterprises branch in this town.

A bakery where all the fruits were always fresh and full of life, having only been touched the once. The flowers on the windowsill never seemed to survive for very long, though. Ignis’ fear of what he could do with a touch may have been enough to alienate him from most of his peers, but it wasn’t enough to keep him from finding some way to use his particular set of skills. Whether the thought occurred to him in a stroke of genius or bitterness, he doesn’t know himself.

Either way, he’s not just plumping strawberries for pies anymore.

After all, this is the same bakery that finds Iris coming in with a fresh box of flowers that she sets in the windowsill before taking a seat at her usual booth. Iris had first started coming in because she had a crush on Ignis, then because she had a crush on Noctis, and now because Ignis can’t manage to keep a single flower alive and one other reason.

“Hey, so Gladdy’s coming by today,” she says as she slides into her booth. She doesn’t need to order, Ignis already has her usual - an opera cake with a single candied strawberry, stolen from the top of a vanilla profiterole - ready when he sees her walk through the door. “Just thought you should know ahead of time. This case is getting a lot of press, so he’s been kind of cranky. You know how he hates competition.”

The one other reason Iris comes by the bakery is that they share an employer; her older brother - Gladiolus Amicitia, Private Investigator - is one of the only two people who are not Ignis that know Ignis’ secret.

He’d found out one unfortunate afternoon when a “perp” he’d been chasing had slipped off the roof of the building next to where Ignis Scientia, young baker and dead-raiser, was trying to take out the garbage. Said perp had died on impact, but he also happened to bounce and impact again with Ignis, young dead-raiser and baker, which lead to a mad scramble before the sixty seconds was up.

Since that day, Gladiolus Amicitia, Private Investigator, has made it a habit to pass by The Baker on Baker Street for a profiterole (sans one candied strawberry) and a consultation. That’s what they’d started calling it for the paperwork. Iris - who was in her second year at the local high school - was on the books as ‘secretary’ and Ignis - who could raise the dead - was listed as ‘consultant.’

After all, it’s a little gruesome, but the fastest way to solve a murder is to ask the victim. Ordinary, average people can’t do this, of course.

But Ignis Scientia, young consultant and dead-raiser, most certainly can.

So when there’s a case he can’t solve on his own, Gladiolus Amicitia, Private Investigator, comes to Ignis.

“Can’t solve this one on my own,” Gladio says, after coming to Ignis. He says this between messy bites of his profiterole, looking exhausted. “Gonna need your special touch.”

“I wish you’d stop calling it that,” Ignis grumbles. “It gives the whole ordeal a… dubious kind of flavor.”

“It’s a touch. It’s special.” Gladio sounds unimpressed. “I don’t know what else to call it.”

Ignis only rolls his eyes. “And how much is my rate this time?”

“Reward money is eighty thousand gil. Don’t mind going halfsies this time.”

Forty thousand gil, and gil in general, being the main reason why Ignis continues to act as consultant. He is, after all, a practical man. A practical man who owns a bakery in a town on the smaller side, which means there are only so many birthdays and even fewer weddings, and very few young people with disposable income willing to loiter around with a slice of pie and a cup of coffee.

So forty thousand gil will most certainly go a long way in keeping The Baker on Baker Street, with all of its three regulars, afloat.

“Halfsies, then,” Ignis repeats with an amused smirk.

“What? It’s not like you’ve never said ‘halfsies’ in your life,” Gladio says, shoving the rest of the profiterole into his mouth. “I have a kid sister that I spend a lot of time with, whatever. Which reminds me, dad and Iris want me home for dinner, so let’s do this thing tomorrow.”

“Dessert before dinner, I see.”

“You know what they say about snitches,” Gladio teases, pointing a finger purposefully at Ignis, as he gets up to move towards the door.

“They end up being poked by some poor, harassed baker because a certain private investigator has decided to stop upholding the illusion that he can investigate anything.”

“Ouch,” Gladio deadpans. “Well, can I count on you to meet me tomorrow? Gonna be at the funeral home this time.”

“The one with that ugly little man who steals from all those poor dead people, I’m assuming. You really know how to show someone a good time.”

“Hey, give a guy a break,” Gladio laughs, flipping the sign on the door to closed for Ignis. “This is a work function, isn’t supposed to be fun.”

“Well then, do be sure to dress like it this time.”

“Hey, I already told you: Iris was doing the laundry.”

“Yes,” Ignis says, raising an eyebrow. “I’m sure that poor family that had to walk in on you, shirtless, while mourning their deceased loved one thought that was a perfect and acceptable explanation.”

And here is where the story truly begins.

The facts were these.

Resting in the Fun in Funeral Funeral Home on the opposite side of town was one body now known by the recently popularized moniker, The Lonely Tourist.

He was young, a twenty-one-year-old man with a boyish, innocent face that was easy for the press to get attached to. He was also found dead in the ocean, the victim of an apparent but mysterious murder on a cruise ship bound to Altissia - a cruise ship that he was traveling on alone (hence the Lonely) - all of which made it even easier for the press to get attached to him.

So it shouldn’t have been possible for Ignis Scientia, now twenty-two years, six months, three weeks and four days old, to not have seen anything about him - not a picture, not a single word of his name - in the news.

And yet, somehow, that is exactly what happened.

So when Ignis and Gladio arrive and are ushered into the room of one Argentum, P., Ignis feels his world freeze at the familiar shade of blond peeking out from inside the open coffin as the pieces fall into place at once.

Argentum, P.

Prompto had moved into a family whose last name started with an A.

He feels himself inching closer, bit by bit, until he can see the face on the body, can see that this is Prompto, that this is his Prompto. It’s been a decade, and the freckles across the bridge of his nose have multiplied in that time, but he’s familiar enough to be recognizable. Familiar enough that Ignis remembers the sunset perched in the trees, the kiss he’d pressed to that trembling forehead behind the oak tree at the cemetery back home.

“Something wrong?” he hears Gladio say. “Oughtta hurry it up, funeral party’s gonna be taking him out soon.”

“I…” Ignis breathes. “I knew him.”

“Oh, oh shit,” Gladio hisses. “Shit, I’m sorry Ignis.”  

“It’s not your fault,” Ignis says, feeling distant from himself as he stares at the pale face of his first friend and first love. “You couldn’t have known. It’s been years, I thought-”

He cuts himself because he doesn’t know what he thought. He’d tried very hard not to think about Prompto, no matter how often the nostalgia crept in whenever he missed his mother and his friend and his home. He’d only wished that Prompto was safe.

It’s too much to wish for now.

“Ignis.” Gladio cuts through his grief with a firm hand on his shoulder. “We’re gonna catch the guy that did this. That’s why we’re here, right?”

“Right,” Ignis manages to say. “Of course.”

“Listen, I’m gonna leave you alone on this one, ok?” Gladio says. Despite the gruffness of his voice, Ignis can tell he’s trying to be gentle. “You say what you need to say, but don’t forget that we gotta bring whoever did this to justice. For his sake.”

“Right, of course. Thank you.”

The words come out of his mouth but it doesn’t feel like he’s saying them, more that mindless feeling from repeating those fancy phrases from all those etiquette classes he and Noctis used to sit through.

“I’ll be out here,” he hears Gladio say, one last time, before the door closes with a gentle click.

He has to take a few breaths before he feels ready to do it, has to remind himself to set the timer on his watch to sixty seconds.

He thinks, for a moment, about where to touch.

It had never really mattered for any of the other people, it was just whatever was the most convenient. The part of him that remembers the Prompto at sunset thinks the lips, but the part of him that remembers the Prompto behind the oak tree in the cemetery thinks the forehead where you kissed him and that is the part of him that wins. It’s fitting in a way, he thinks.

But he doesn’t have time to ponder as to why because as soon as his fingers make gentle contact with Prompto’s forehead he’s punched squarely in the stomach.

It’s a good, solid hit, and one that leaves him reeling long enough that Prompto has time to climb out of the coffin and arm himself with the nearest metal folding chair.

“Listen!” Prompto’s nearly yelling, his voice cracking because of both the fear and the tears threatening to spill from his eyes. “Listen, I don’t know what you want, but-!”

“Prompto!” Ignis manages to groan. He’s keeping himself at a distance, not wanting to get hit again, but he’s got his arms up in a placating gesture. “Prompto, it’s just me!”

“Iggy?” Prompto says, his fearful expression turning into a shaky grin, tears welling up at the edges of his eyes. “Iggy, is that you?”

“It’s me,” Ignis says, smiling in spite of everything. It’s been so long since he’s heard Prompto’s voice, heard Prompto calling him Iggy. “It’s me, Prompto.”

“Iggy, holy shit!” Prompto’s grin widens, and he drops the chair to swipe furiously at his eyes. “Holy shit, you’re so tall now! What are you even doing here?” he asks, then seems to realize where he is. Or, at the very least, that it is unfamiliar. “What am I even doing here? Where am- Is that a coffin?”

“Ah,” is all Ignis can think to say, because that is very much a coffin.

“Oh man, I’m dead, aren’t I?” Prompto drags a hand through his hair as he surveys the room with wide eyes. It doesn’t seem to be a question he wants answered, more something he needs to say to himself. “I thought it was a dream. So what is this? Am I like a ghost now? Wait, Ignis, are you a ghost? Dude, what happened to-?”

“You’re alive, Prompto,” Ignis interrupts, hands raised. He flinches and amends with, “For now, that is. I can, ah, I can bring back someone who’s dead by touching them.”

“You can?!” Prompto shouts before he can finish. “Is that new? That’s gotta be new!”

“It’s not new,” Ignis says around a laugh, in spite of everything. “But it’s, well. It’s a temporary arrangement, so to speak, so, ah-”

“It’s not permanent, I get it,” Prompto finishes. He’s smiling, but it doesn’t feel right. His eyes shine too brightly. “I’m alive, but I’m not supposed to be, I get it. So, uh, how long do I have?”

“Until I touch you again, in… twenty-five seconds. Then there’s no waking you, ever,” Ignis sighs. “Prompto, I wish it didn’t have to be like this, but please, do you know who did this to you?”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t,” and he really does look sorry. As if he’s somehow to blame for this. “It all happened so fast! And someone put a plastic bag over my head? I really don’t know.”

“That’s alright, it’s fine, Prompto,” Ignis reassures. He wants to touch him, to comfort him, but he’s afraid of what will happen. He’s still not ready. “I promise you, I’ll bring them to justice.”

“That’s cool and all, but don’t push yourself, Iggy.” Prompto smiles again, but it’s all wrong now, it feels like a lie. “And thanks. I, um, I’m happy to see you again, even if it was only for a little. I’m glad that this time the last thing I see is going to be you.”

Ignis only nods. He doesn’t trust himself with words.

“So, uh, can I pick where you touch me this time?” Prompto laughs, sheepish, as he approaches Ignis. “‘Cause you know I wondered from time to time, after dad’s funeral, what a k-kiss from you would be like. Like a real one. So, like, not to pressure you or anything and you can say no, but wanna be my last kiss?”

Ignis laughs. The watch ticks away on his wrist. Five seconds. “I’d be honored.”

And that is how the final chapter of Prompto’s life is supposed to end.

But it doesn’t, because this is the precise moment that Ignis - twenty-two years, six months, three weeks and four days old, full-time baker, part-time private investigator’s assistant and generally a reasonable, logical man - makes the most unreasonable, illogical decision of his short and uneventfully eventful life.

He has three seconds as he leans in to kiss Prompto - hands folded behind his back because he has already decided what he wants, whether he knows it or not - and he uses them to hesitate. It’s only a moment, it should have been inconsequential, but he imagines a world where Prompto is alive and happy. Imagines that something as selfish as choosing Prompto over some stranger wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

It’s such a short fantasy, but it’s long enough that his three seconds are up, and the timer on his watch goes off in a series of shrill beeps.

The two of them jump apart at the noise, and Ignis feels his heart drop and jump all at once. A deep and fearful guilt, then a contradictory kind of relief. The sixty seconds were up. Someone would be dead by now anyway.

He doesn’t have to touch Prompto again.

Prompto can stay with him. Prompto can live again.

“On second thought,” he starts. Prompto blinks at him in confusion. “Want to try your hand at playing dead?”

“Oh, woops?” - Ignis

anyway, hope y’all enjoyed! pls lmk how y’all felt i love to experience emotions

[afrojonathan]

Day 6: Bogota, Colombia

🚨 Big day alert! (20K steps, 75 flights) 🚨

Waking up again to the sounds of a baby (I’m somewhat more sympathetic to these things now that I’m a Godfather, but does a baby live in the hostel? I don’t think so? So why is she here?), I did some work from the hammock at my window (what a lovely way to do it!)

Afterwards, I took a longer than expected walk through the gritty La Candeleria neighborhood, taking in the wonderful murals and street art. I took lots of photos, without being too obvious about it all (the older locals seem a bit grizzled here). At the suggestion of a local, I went to Azahar, an amazing cafe with an airy vibe and loungey tunes. One of my favorite places on this trip so far. I got a wonderful avocado toast (I even told them [jn Spanish] that I’m from NYC and avo roasts are everywhere, and this was the best I’ve ever had) and a flight of coffee. I figured, when in the coffee capital, why not try 3 different coffees? Perhaps my coffee palette isn’t refined enough...they all just tasted like coffee. I’m not the best audience for this, it turns out.

Fueled up, I headed off to the funicular station to go to the top of Monserrate, the mountain overlooking the sprawling Bogota. I found more great street art on the way, but was unaware of just how steep I would need to climb. At one point, Google Maps took me through a stadium and up its steps, which seemed odd? Everything is a route in Colombia! Walking up the hills really was killing me, which is when I Googled if Bogota had a particularly high elevation, and it does. This made me feel good about the fact it’s definitely not the fact I’ve eaten empanadas for breakfast most days. It’s not my poor life choices making me feel sluggish, it’s the elevation!

Winded and confused about my circuitous route (perhaps the only option), I got to the funicular station. Now would be a good time to ask - do you, dear reader, know what a funicular is? It’s an olde timey wooden cart that goes up a hill, and it’s counter-weighted by a cart that goes in the opposite direction. It’s a pretty cool feat of physics. I missed the last one coming down the a castle/mountain in Budapest, and was excited to funicularize here. Funiculars: the transportation of the future of the past!

Well, even though I got there before noon, they switched over to cable cars. I knew the funicular (for some reason) only ran in the mornings, but they did the ol’ bait and switch on me! It’s the same outcome (you get to the top), but I really wanted to take a funicular! Mostly because it’s fun to say. What a massive tragedy.

The ride up was quick, and the views from above breathtaking (see below). I spent maybe an hour there, walking along a steep path that seemed to lead to nowhere special (there were dweebs running it for “fun”) and taking in the vistas on both sides (city on one side, jungle-y nature on the other). Some great selfies were had!

Feeling like I couldn’t possibly take more pictures (the thought of having to cull through them was already seeming a bit stressful), I headed back down and Ubered over to the Museo de Oro (Gold Museum).

This is a highly rated attraction in Bogota. It was fine, and I could see how history buffs would love it. However, I’m more of an art museum guy, so I eventually stopped listening to the long-winded audio guide, found a few remarkable pieces I enjoyed (pics below), and moved along. I also got the “best coffee in Colombia” at the cafe here. This was a misnomer.

Afterwards, I was off to a cafe for some empanadas (something new for a change!) and a cocktail made with the Colombian specialty liquor aguadiente. It’s terrible!

I went walking through the grimy main commercial area (buying some “RayBans” for about ~$7.50) and ended up at the MAMBO Museum. While walking, I noted how the Monserrate mountain I was on earlier looms large over the city (similar to Table Mountain/Lion’s Head in Cape Town, South Africa).

The museum was full of *shudder* contemporary art. Ew. But it was free! There were a few (and I mean a few) pieces that I enjoyed, and I probably spent 45 minutes in total there.

Retracing my steps back towards La Candelaria neighborhood (and avoiding an area where cops were running with giant, muzzled dogs), I passed by the Bogota Beer Company. I had heard of this somewhere, so I popped in for a few craft brews. At one point they were playing the song Rock Lobster, and it was at this moment I realized this is one of the most annoying songs of all time (slightly more annoying than Barbie Girl, and slightly less annoying than Jingle Bells where dogs/cats bark/meow the notes).

Feeling loose after a few big beer units, I continued my walk. I stopped in a pharmacy at one point to buy some anti-inflammatory cream for my sore knee (climbing around Monserrate), and was amazed how the Colombian family in front of me handled things. They would ask the pharmacist for something, buy it, then do it again. They probably made 5 separate transactions. It was maddening to watch, and was wondering if this was normal, or if I was just a bit buzzed so not understanding what was happening. It was weird, though.

On I went, and eventually I stopped into the lobby of a fancy theater to see what was showing. It was A Streetcar Named Desire, and I almost bought tickets, but in a moment of sobriety, I killed this spontaneity (I would have understood some of it, but probably would have hated it).

Back to the hostel I went to call it another early night, cognizant on the fact I have a bachelor party in Mexico City on the horizon which will be DAMAGING, so another restful night was a good idea.

[alchemyphan-blog]

Don’t Look Through Me

word count: 8k 

style: au

desc: every time you look in a mirror, you see your soulmate for a moment instead of yourself. dan had spent his whole life waiting to meet his, and little did he know that phil had been begging to meet his as well. when dan decides he’s not just going to wait around for the universe to bring them together, a train he falls asleep on brings him somewhere he hadn’t planned on.

May 22, 7:42am

It was a Saturday in May, and Dan’s body was so adjusted to waking up before the sunrise every week of every month for school that he woke up at a respectable time. The window above his bed allowed light to bleed onto the brown walls and leave patches of brightness on the carpet.

Rolling over, he unplugged his phone from its charger, and in that small amount of time it happened, like it always does. That second before the phone screen lights up and you can see your own reflection. Of course, what you really see first is the person you’re supposed to be with. Dan never questioned this, as when he was a very young child, asking why there was a boy in the mirror who didn’t look like him at first, then slowly transitioned to his own familiar features. Light brown curls, matching dimples, big chocolate eyes. That was over a decade ago, the first time he noticed it wasn’t him in the mirror.

“Actually, when you look in the mirror or into a puddle or anything you can look into and see your reflection it’s a very special person called your soulmate,” Dan’s mother explained to him when he was six.

“But, why? How does that even work?” he questioned.

“We don’t really know, honey, but what we do know is that the world is a magical place full of magical things, where things will always end up the way they are supposed to.”

Those words followed behind him his whole life, words he always reminded himself of when he did poorly on a test, when his grandmother died, when he was bullied all through school.

He finally got out of bed half an hour later, picking out some clothes to put on after a shower. The steam fogging up the windows and the glass surrounding him were a nice escape for him in the morning, like he was finally alone. Whenever he was in the shower he thought about the person he saw in the mirror, maybe because as soon as he got out of the shower he knew his face would be staring back at him, as if this man was looking into his eyes at the same time. He remembers when he was a child the boy had bright orange hair, spotty freckles covering the top half of his body. Over time, though, the orange faded to brown, and in the last few years has turned to jet black.

“You look nice like that, it suits you well,” he said softly to the mirror, beads of condensation rolling down either side. He took off his towel and used it to wipe away the fog blurring the glass, but as soon as he put it back on his body, the boy was gone.

Letting out a quiet sigh, he resumed getting ready, brushing his teeth, drying his hair, putting on clothes. He finally wandered downstairs, smoke lightly billowing from the stovetop, the microwave beeping, the sound of coffee trickling into its pot. Dan’s father liked to think of himself as some chef extraordinaire, but his mother would say otherwise.

“Your aunt and uncle are coming over for breakfast, so your father decided to make everything in the house,” scoffed Dan’s mother.

“It’s nice to be a good host! Dan, you’re welcome to eat with us - pancakes are here, sausage is cooking, coffee’s on, cereal, anything you want.”

Before Dan could answer, there was a knock at the door. Without waiting, his mother’s sister and her husband of sixteen years entered the house, conversation growing loud over the bustle of the kitchen.

Dan decided he would join them. Lately, he’s been very interested in this whole soulmate thing. He would turn eighteen next month, and he wants, no, needs to know how this happens.

“Aunt Clara, how did you meet Denny?” Dan asks over breakfast. Dan’s parents look at each other with mutual confusion and excitement, as they realized that this was Dan’s way of saying he wanted to finally meet his soulmate.

“Well, I was in line at McDonald’s because I was on a roadtrip with a bunch of friends and it was three o'clock in the morning, we were all starving, and no other place was open. I was the last of my friends to order, and when I got to the counter, the man who I had seen everywhere was real and right in front of me ready to take my order,” his aunt replied.

“It was actually my first shift there, and two weeks later I had quit the job to go on a two month safari with your aunt.” Dan’s uncle stared into space blankly with a smile tugging at his lips, most likely reminiscing on such memory.

“Well, your mother’s is even more crazy than that, even though a safari is pretty crazy after you’ve only known the guy for two weeks,” Clara said, looking at her sister. Dan’s mother laughed, recapping the story they’d all heard many times about how she lost her shoe leaving a party and a psycho man had been going all over town trying to find whose shoe it was, eventually leading to her.

“Stupid fairy tales come to life,” Dan muttered a little too loud, which actually earned him a few laughs from the table.

Dan looked in every reflective surface he could find. Soon, he became addicted to this boy staring back at him. He began to really know him - seeing his outfit changes every few hours, his array of bright-patterned socks and pajama bottoms, his bedhead, the way he looks before he shaves. He wondered where this boy lived, if he had been living across the street or across the world from him, how they’d meet, the thoughts never stopped. This impending doom started to scare Dan, soon coming to the realization the universe knew something about the future that he didn’t. He wondered how it was possible that everyone’s soulmate had been calculated before their birth, as if someone pressed fast-forward on life itself. Sometimes he’d think far too long about it and scare himself for the entire day, so he decided it was best not to question these mystical forces that will one day bring Dan to his soulmate.

June 11, 8:18am

“Happy Birthday, Dan!” called familiar faces from every hallway he entered. It made him feel a little bit like a celebrity. His birthday and the last day of school (and his last day of high school). A smile had been plastered onto his face all day, even hearing his name on the announcements that afternoon as they announced cancellations for certain sports practices and reminders about club meetings.

“As today is your last day in this school, and soon you will go to your respective universities or what have you,” Dan’s favorite teacher, Mr. Johnson, started, “it’s time I give my yearly speech. Sometimes you’ll make great decisions, sometimes you won’t - and that’s okay. The world is a magical place full of magical things, where things will always end up the way they are supposed to.”

Dan’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. Sometimes he’d hear parts of his mother’s quote on billboards and in books, but never verbatim like this. At this exact moment, Mr. Johnson turned to Dan, winked, and looked away quickly. There’s no way that he could’ve known that, Dan thought. The wink was just a coincidence.  

He walked out of school that afternoon, turning his back to the parking lot to take one final glare at the school he’ll never have to enter again. Luckily Dan lived just down the street so he could conveniently walk to his house. As he passed the houses in his neighborhood leading up to his at the end of the road, he passed by the windows of his neighbors stopping to stare, not to intrude but to see his soulmate in the glass. As always, there he was, a huge smile on his face. He was wearing a graduation cap and gown. Did he just graduate too? Looking closer Dan could see a small logo on the tassels of his cap reading University of York. Before he could even react, the image was gone.

Dan ran into his house, threw his backpack onto the ground, raced up the stairs up to his room, and googled University of York. He saw today was their graduation ceremony. And that they were four hours away.

Well, it could be much worse, Dan thought. He could be fourteen hours away instead. He lives in this country.

Dan turns eighteen today, and his soulmate is four years older than him, and just graduated from the University of York. He started to wonder what his soulmate knew about him, if he even wanted to know him. There’s no way Dan was meant to be with someone horrible, or else they wouldn’t be meant for each other. He’d only ever thought about what he knew about his soulmate, and not what his soulmate thought of him.

June 11, 2:43pm

“Philip M. Lester,” announced the speaker, prompting Phil to walk across the stage. His nerves had short-circuited, leaving him to sweat while grabbing his diploma and apologizing to the woman whose hand he shook. Crossing to the stairs, he followed the stream of pupils getting their graduate photos taken. Bright beams of light contrasted with his forest green cap and gown, acting as a white LED background.

“Alright now, big smile!” said the cameraman. Before the flash went off, though, he noticed in the lens of the camera a small figure with a bright, beaming smile. It’s him, Phil thought. He’s watching me graduate.

When he was first born, Phil couldn’t see anyone but himself in the mirror. He’d always heard stories of his parents and brother seeing their true loves looking back at them. At first his parents were worried, thinking he wouldn’t have anyone when he got older. Phil’s father told his mother to wait, that maybe his soulmate was just younger, which ensued the deal that if by the time he was ten years old and still didn’t have a reflection, they would worry.

“You can’t just live without someone in this kind of world,” Phil’s mother would cry. “It just doesn’t happen here.”

Luckily one day when Phil was four and a half, him and his family were all watching television until the sun went down. While getting Phil’s brother ready for bed, Phil was left in the living room, looking out the window. That’s when it first happened - he saw a small infant swaddled in a white blanket wearing a blue cap. Phil screamed, thinking there was a baby outside their house. Phil’s father came into the living room, and Phil explained what happened, turning back to the window to show him what happened. His father quickly called for his wife, taking Phil to the nearest mirror to explain to him that this was the person he was supposed to spend his life with when grew up. It didn’t make much sense to Phil at the time, but when he got older he was so desperate to meet this boy that he used to pray to God every night, asking if the next day could be the day they could meet.

Now, eighteen years later, they still haven’t met. Sometimes, if it’s late and Phil is sad, he’ll pray like he used to as a child.

I can’t be expected to keep waiting like this, he’d plead. Please, make it happen soon. I haven’t even met him and I miss him like crazy.

This always left Phil thinking no one ever heard him, or that someone was just playing a cruel joke on him.

But now, Phil had graduated. He was 22. It was time he got a full-time job, got a more mature apartment, lived his life. He always felt stuck though, thinking he was putting himself further away from his love. He knew whatever money he was making from YouTube wouldn’t be enough to support an apartment, bills, groceries, and maybe one day his reflection.

That is, until one day, he was offered a deal for a year long contract with YouTube. This would pay for everything, allow him to do YouTube full-time, but he’d have to leave his family and move across the country to London.

Would this bring him away from his true love, who was all he ever thought about?

July 13, 9:09am

“I promise, everything will be fine. I’ll be fine. I’ll be home before you know it,” Dan coaxed his mother.

“I know you’ll be fine, but I’ll just miss you is all! You’re going all by yourself, it’s such a big city, I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Everything will be okay. It’s not like I’m going to be alone all the time. I mean, I’m sharing a hotel with three other people, we’re spending the whole weekend together. Plus, we’ve been to London hundreds of times, you don’t need to worry,” Dan relayed. He kissed his mother on the forehead. “Love you.”

“Love you too, honey,” she said, clutching her husband by the waist. He waved to Dan, shutting the door behind him.

The truth is though, he wasn’t going to London to have a fun weekend with friends.

He wasn’t going to let another day go by without his soulmate. He was going to university the next fall, and he wasn’t about to start a whole new chapter of his life still wondering when he’d meet his one true love.

So, pretending to go to London, Dan was actually travelling all the way up to York, where his love must live somewhere near. He knew it was a big city, that he didn’t even know if he was there, but he couldn’t just sit back and wait for nature to take its course when Dan could make it happen himself. He put his headphones on, turned up his playlist, and walked the three blocks to the subway station. Having stayed up all night making the plans, he began to doze off on the ride, missing his stop to take him north, instead taking him east.

Looks like he’d have to go to London after all.

July 12, 10:17pm

“It’s a big switch, I know. But this is what I really want to do, and this is where I have to go to do. I can visit though, all the time,” Phil admitted to his parents. He had decided to take the job in London. YouTube was his passion, what he’s supposed to do, and he just hopes that his soulmate finds him there.

Always having lived no more than ten minutes from his parents house, he knew it’d be a big change to live on his own. His parents had called a car to help take all of his things, which had just pulled up.

“We know it’s late, but somehow it costs half as much to do so in the middle of the night,” explained Phil’s father, even though he knew how much of a nightowl his son was.

“Well, I guess this is goodbye for now. I’ll call you the second I get there. I’ll miss you guys,” Phil said. He fought back the tiny urge to cry. His family was all he had growing up, and they were extremely close. The three of them embraced, his brother waiting to have his own hug with Phil. He wheeled his suitcases out the front door, waving goodbye before shutting the door behind him. He exhaled, looking up at the constellations he’d renamed as a child to keep him company on lonely nights.

In the early hours of the morning, nearly 3am, Phil’s driver kindly removed his bags from the trunk, helping him into the building and to the nearest elevator. Giving him a generous tip on top of the payments his parents made for the driver, they shook hands and Phil watched as he put the car into gear and drove away.

There was no one in the lobby, no one at the front desk, so he pressed the button up to his apartment. Walking down the corridor until getting to the door number he'd memorized beforehand, Phil noticed a bright purple key laying on the mat placed outside his door. They must really trust their tenants, he thought, noticing the obvious risk the landlord was putting himself at to leave a key to an empty apartment out in the open.

To his surprise after turning the lights on, the apartment had been furnished. Black leather sofas and matching chairs all surrounded a new flat screen TV, a bed frame and mattress awaiting bright blue and green sheets. Wandering through the house, he found a note on the bar in the kitchen.

Surprise! We didn’t actually go to a reunion, we came to London for the day! The landlord was nice enough to let us break in and furnish your apartment.

We hope you enjoy, and welcome home!

Mum and Dad

If he didn’t start to well up after leaving his parents, he surely did now. Looking around while wiping his tears, he stared out of the massive windows in the living room. It was all dark in London, most of the city lights even gone. That’s when he saw him again. His eyes were bloodshot, as if he’d been stressed over a computer screen, his hair a wavy mess. Before he could disappear, Phil pressed his fingers against the glass, only he knew he wasn’t actually touching him. He closed his eyes, leaning his head against the glass as he felt his love slip away.

He left all the luggage in the living room, only taking his bedding with him and plugging his phone in and placing it on his new wicker nightstand. His head hit the pillow, and instantly he fell fast asleep, the last image in his brain the brown-haired boy with cute dimples.

July 13, 9:16am

Sunlight poured through the obnoxiously large windows in Phil’s new bedroom. He knew he had to get up quickly, as he had about thirteen suitcases and two moving boxes filled with things needing to be unpacked.

In his two decades of living in the comfort of his family dwelling and university, he never really had to worry about a constant supply of food at his disposal. This didn’t hit him until he wandered into the kitchen, opened the fridge, and realized he had no food. Although unpacking is important, it wasn’t quite as vital as eating, since he hadn’t in over half a day. The lining of his stomach began to twinge with hunger, so he grabbed his wallet, left his empty, yet somehow slightly messy apartment to buy enough groceries to last time until the following week.

As it was his first day in this new city, he swiftly became aware of the fact that he had not prepared. At all. No maps, no research, nothing. So when Phil stepped out of his apartment building, he didn’t know his right from his left, leaving him to follow the occasional road sign to signal him in the direction of the nearest grocery store. Since there was none in walking distance, he figured he’d have to ride the underground, and wrote a mental note to himself to get out and explore his new city.

Descending down the stairs, he came to the realization that oh shit, London is really busy. Clearly he had not done enough research, as he was corralled into the train doors, barely comprehending the situation. The tube was packed - literally, another human, no matter how small, could not fit on this train car. As it was rush hour on a work day, men and women in their suits were running through the train cars as if people were invisible, shoving them left and right to be the first one out. Phil had been among the victims, and was pushed so hard by an official looking man that he fell sideways, into a (luckily unoccupied) seat.

That’s when it happened.

July 13, 9:57am

Without moving, Dan opened his eyes and noticed he had really messed up. There were hundreds of people on the train, and not to mention the fact he had no idea where he was. He assumed he had landed himself in a busy city, as everyone was wearing their nicest work clothes and acting their very snobbiest. His neck began to ache from leaning his head sideways against the glass.

He removed his headphones, as his playlist had been duly disregarded due to his nap. His ears began to pop as he looked around, stretching his neck and legs out, and accidentally kicked the person next to him who had just been rudely pushed into the seat.

“Sorry,” he started before looking up.

It happened. It was happening right now.

“Oh my God,” the boy whispered.

He just couldn’t believe just how blue his eyes were.

“Mirrors don’t do you justice,” Dan finally said. The boy laughed.

“I can’t believe this is happening right now. Oh my god.”

Dan had noticed he was kind of freaking out, so he placed a hand on the boy’s knee to signal him to look up instead of around. “Dan- Dan is my name. Daniel Howell.”

Oh my God, Phil thought to himself constantly. He remarked the fact that he hadn’t really said anything. “My name is Phil,” he said. “Lester.”

“Phil,” Dan whispered to himself. “I’m Dan.”

“You already said that.”

“Oh, sorry. I just- wow.”

“Yeah, I know.”

It just felt too unreal to be true.

Eighteen years, Dan thought.

Twenty-two years, Phil thought.

“What are you even doing here?” Dan asked. “Didn’t you graduate from the University of York, like, yesterday?”

“How do you even know that?”

Dan’s cheeks flushed pink from embarrassment. “I, uh, your cap and gown yesterday, I saw it. And the fact that it said University of York on it.”

“I thought I saw you yesterday. I was taking a photo after I walked across the stage. You were in a camera lens. Of course you were upside down and distorted, but I still knew it was you. But anyway, I got offered a job here in London for the next year and-”

Dan stopped Phil. “Wait, I’m in London? Right now?”

“Um, yes? Aldgate station, we just left it,” Phil told him. “Why?”

Dan began to laugh, leaving Phil confused.

“I was on my way to see you, actually. In York. And I told my parents I was going to London so they wouldn’t worry.” Dan shook his head in disbelief, the rosy cheeks coupled now with a smile.

Phil just stared at him. All he could think was how marvelous his soulmate was. To think that this boy who had never met him before was about to travel however many hours just to find Phil, something he didn’t think anyone else ever would. “You would do that for me?”

“I know we hadn’t actually yet, but I kept saying to myself that I missed you, and I didn’t want to start this whole new chapter of my life without knowing who you really were. I was fed up with waiting, and I wanted to take matters into my own hands and find you myself, which now I realize I didn’t have to travel very far to find you.” Dan felt a little bashful admitting to Phil that he was coming to see him, hoping he didn’t find him to be stalkerish. “But, luckily I don’t have to travel all the way up to York.”

“So what are you going to do now?” Phil asked him, hoping he could offer his home to Dan, because he was not about to let him slip away after just meeting him.

“Well, there’s not much to do now, since I found what I was looking for. I guess I should just find somewhere to be for the weekend-” Dan thought aloud, but was quickly interrupted by Phil.

“-My house!” Phil exclaimed, then realized just how loud he’d said it. “You should stay with me.”

“You really think so?” Dan couldn’t fight off the butterflies intruding his nervous system.

“Of course. Firstly who wants to pay for a hotel in the middle of London, and it’s you, and now we’re together, and I want to spend every moment possible with you.” Phil’s eyes met Dan’s, and they appreciated the moment where they could stare at each other, knowing either one won’t slip away, leaving their own reflection searching for something more.

“Obviously I’d love to stay with you.”

Dan truly couldn't believe it was actually happening, and how smoothly things were going. It was as if they had known each other their whole lives, as if they'd spent hundreds of hours together.

Then again, they sort of have.

Dan accompanied Phil to the shop, assisting in what foods to buy and what apartment essentials he knew Phil didn’t have yet. It was very clear just how idiotic they looked carrying huge bags of food and batteries and extension cords onto a compressed train car.

They made their way up to Phil’s new apartment.

“I’ve never seen an apartment so high up,” Dan said, looking around at the minimalist furniture, the suitcases in the hall, the gargantuan windows.

“I know, I get a little bit scared if I think too hard about it. But I really need some color in here and whatnot,” Phil retaliated, orchestrating a new organizational system for his food, his back to Dan. Dan wandered around, looking into the empty bedroom, bathroom, the living room with two couches. A feeling of home washed over him, even with the white walls and cream-colored carpet and the windows overlooking an intimidating city he was unfamiliar with.

Phil watched as Dan aimlessly ambled his way through the living room, into the hallway he’d barely explored himself, watched him exhale deeply in the center of the apartment and let his shoulders sink. “I can’t believe this is happening,” he heard Dan whisper to himself excitedly.

Once Phil had finished stocking the fridge and cluttering the counter, he walked across to Dan, who was staring out at the morning commuters seen from the window.

“When I look out this window tonight, and when I go into the bathroom, I'm not gonna see anymore,” Dan said sadly.

Phil hesitantly put a hand to his back. “But it's okay, because the only reason we hadn't seen each other was because we hadn't met yet. Now you're real. Now it's all real. And I think that’s a lot better than only getting to see you in a mirror, never hearing your voice, being able to see you in person.”

Dan turned away from the glass, swinging his feet to reflect Phil’s. With a shaking hand, he slowly put it against waist. From the proximity he could hear Phil’s quiet sigh, see his eyes flutter closed for a moment.

“Dan…” Phil said softly. Before he could say anything, Phil had grabbed the back of his head, strands of hair swishing between his fingers. Dan isn’t one for suspense, so he leaned in close, touching his forehead to Phil’s and connecting their lips. Dan hadn’t really ever kissed anyone, he noticed in that moment, as he decided that being kissed in the playground when he was seven and then four years later didn’t quite count.

“Phil, I haven't...I mean, I’ve never…” Dan trailed slowly against Phil’s lips. He was barely eighteen, he embarrassingly enough has never even finished a glass of alcohol let alone been on any level of intimacy with another person.

“It’s okay,” Phil whispered, bringing his lips up to Dan’s forehead, then moving sideways into his hair, kissing down his jawline then circling back to Dan’s lips. “Do you want to, um, sit?” he asked, gesturing to the nearby couch, which Phil hadn’t even sat on himself yet. Dan nodded, as Phil walked him over and sat them both down in one fluid motion, their bodies keeping in contact the whole time.

Gently, Phil placed himself overtop Dan’s body, looking down at the boy beneath him. His brown locks were tactile. The plump lips, the little chip in his tooth, it was all tangible. Phil could hear Dan’s hard palpitating over the sound of his own. He knew that Dan was young, nervous, but he could see it in his eyes - that look of pure amazement.

“Are you okay? Do you want to keep going?” Phil breathed against Dan’s skin.

“Yes.”

“It’s alright if you aren’t ready. We just met and everything.”

Dan grabbed Phil by the collar of his shirt, bringing him in close. “I have known you my whole life, Phil Lester.”

To Phil, it almost looked as if there was a sparkle in Dan’s eye. Sitting him up, he removed Dan’s thin white shirt and gulped hard, looking at every bone and inch of skin on Dan’s chest. It was remarkably beautiful. He leaned down, kissing the center of his sternum. Phil removed his top as well now, starting a pile on the floor.

“You’re beautiful,” Phil said in Dan’s ear, his hands tracing over the protrusions of his bones, the soft skin on his stomach, his arms and his shoulders and everything there is to look at. Dan stretched a hand out, grabbing onto the side of Phil’s chest, pulling him in close. It was like a magnetic field had encased them in this position, electrons around them so powerful you could see sparks when Dan touched Phil’s skin.

Phil kissed Dan, a slow kiss, the kind you melt into, the kind that speeds up gradually and turns intense and makes the sun set and the stars fill the sky. Phil had removed Dan’s jeans after taking off his own, their limbs tangled half-on-half-off the two-seater sofa. Dan wrapped his arms tight around Phil’s waist as the gentle motion of their bodies back and forth turned acute and Dan could feel Phil’s hand dip beneath the band of his boxers, a loud gasp erupting after he grabbed him lightly.

“I’ve never...I don’t know...what to…” Dan found himself saying again.

Phil reached a finger up to Dan’s lips in shushing motion. “I know. Don’t worry about anything. I’ve got you.”

With these words Dan sank deep into the couch, to where he was practically laying down. Phil used his knees to prop himself up while straddling Dan, taking his hands up to sweep the hair out of Dan’s face and kiss him hard. Hearing him moan quietly, Phil wanted more from Dan. He knew he wanted everything in this moment. Dan looked up at him, nodding.

Bit by bit Dan’s underwear made its way to the pile, and they were both naked.

“I’ve never been naked in front of someone before,” Dan said softly to Phil.

“Well, if it’s any consolation, you are extremely breathtaking. I’m so lucky to have you finally.”

Phil positioned Dan’s legs open slightly as he leaned back to align their bodies.

“Okay, are you ready?” Phil asked, a thumb stroking Dan’s thigh.

Dan, a tiny bead of sweat emerging from the side of his head, his face bright rose-colored, pupils dilated, nodded quickly. His head extended out beyond the couch as soon as Phil entered him, eyes rolling back, a moan louder this time protruding from his lips, along with the first letters of Phil’s name.

“It’s okay? You’re okay?” Phil asked immediately.

Dan grabbed him by the shoulder, bringing their bodies flush together. “I’m great, Phil. I have never been as okay as I am right now.”

“I think I love you already,” Phil said hushed, thrusting cautiously slow in and out of Dan, careful not to hurt him.

“I know I love you, too,” Dan half said, half moaned against the skin of Phil’s neck.

“I, Phil, I’m-” he started. Phil took the hint, leaning down to kiss his member before wrapping a hand around, causing Dan’s breath to hitch and his moans to occur closer together before he finished over the sound of him saying Phil’s name once more in synchrony with Phil, as if they were in a movie.

Phil pulled out, grabbing a towel and the blanket from his bedroom. Cleaning them both, he wrapped himself in the duvet and climbed on top of Dan once more, engulfing him in the warmth with both arms bringing him close to Phil’s body.

“Thank you,” Dan whispered against the skin of Phil’s chest, Phil’s fingers intertwining in his curly brown hair.

“No, thank you. For coming to find me,” he said.

“If this is what I waited eighteen years for, it was so worth it.”

July 13, 7:14pm

“What do you want for dinner?” Phil called from the kitchen. Dan had just gotten out of the shower, washing off the train and restless night and sex from his body.

“I dunno, wanna order something?” he said halfheartedly. He was more interested in the mirror, more importantly the fact that it was just him. Phil was gone. For the most part, he was thrilled. He’d never lived a life where he was the only thing he saw in a mirror, he’d begged for the day that he finally got to say he only saw himself. A small part of him missed it though - the anticipation, the beckoning late at night, wondering why he was tormented like this. It was nice to see him whenever he pleased in real time, though he knew that it meant he had never seen him in real life. This is much better, he finally decided. After all, he was looking in Phil’s mirror.

He finally left the bathroom, sporting a pair of his cartoon pajama pants and a hoodie that belonged to Phil.

As he watched Phil order takeout from his phone, he couldn’t help but notice just how nice he looked without a shirt on. He only had on a pair of sweatpants, one hand in his messy hair, the other confirming their food order.  Dan sat down at a barstool across from Phil, who was finally setting his phone down, a playlist of familiar songs softly sounding from his speaker.

“You weren’t in the mirror,” Dan said, smiling.

“You aren’t in my mirror either, you’re right here,” Phil said as he cupped Dan’s face in his hand, placing a light kiss to his lips before walking over to the TV asking Dan what he’d like to watch.

The teapot Phil put on the stove started to whistle, and Dan poured their tea into two plastic cups, since Phil still hadn’t bought mugs or plates or anything useful. He joined Phil on the couch as he channel surfed, stopped when Dan jumped at seeing the Great British Bake Off come up.  

Twenty-five minutes later, the time passed by covering one another in the large green and blue duvet and harshly judging the contestants, there was a knock at the door and a man in a red hat holding a large paper bag expecting money. Thankfully enough they wisely ordered chinese food so they wouldn’t need to use their own utensils, which they seemed to have very few of.

And all night, they spent it watching reruns of baking shows, picking at their dinners, opening each other’s fortune cookies, kissing, admiring the view from so high up where no one could find them.

July 15, 10:39

Phil sighed loudly. They’d already made breakfast, brushed their teeth, but decided to get back into bed. He was holding Dan close, sitting up and spooning him from behind.

“You have to leave today, don’t you,” he said sadly.

“...Yeah.”

Dan turned around, looking up at Phil, a hand reaching up to hold and shoulder and kissing him. “I won’t be gone for long. Promise.”

And in that moment, Dan got a great idea.

“Come with me.”

“What?” Phil asked.

“Seriously, my parents think you’re actually really cute. You can meet my family. I haven’t committed to any university yet, they know how much I wanted to meet you and whatnot, you can come home with me for a few days…” Dan rambled.

And, in that moment, Phil was the one with the great idea.

“Dan. Live with me. Go home, pack all your things, and live here with me. Go to university here. Make videos with me. Hell, start your own channel. We can make this work.”

“Phil, are you serious?”

“I am. I’m not letting another week slip by where I’m without you. I’ll come home with you, I’ll meet your family.” Dan turned bright pink again, this time with excitement. He jumped up, bouncing on the bed. “Yes!” He reached down, grabbing Phil by the hands and forcing him up too. Phil scooped him up when he was mid-jump, holding him in the bridal position before kissing him hard and falling back onto the bed with him.

“More, once more before we go home,” Dan pleaded quietly, followed quickly by Phil ripping off his and Dan’s shirts and slipping his tongue into Dan’s mouth.

They wasted no time fully undressing, but this time Phil ran out of the room and rummaged through his bags to find a small bottle of cherry lube.

“Phil, what is that?” Dan asked, looking puzzled at the small red container.

“If you thought last time was good, just wait,” Phil growled against the skin of Dan’s neck, his head bobbing down and kissing every inch of his cinnamon-colored skin until reaching his waist. Rocking back onto his knees, Dan watched in the broad daylight as Phil coated himself with the scented lube and fell back onto his thighs, head at the center of Dan’s rib cage and eyes looking down to center his aim.

He looked back up at Dan, placing a kiss on his collarbone before locking eyes with him.

“It’ll be different this time, just so you know. Ready?”

Dan nodded passionately in time with Phil thrusting in roughly once, the sensation causing Dan to claw at Phil’s back and his voice to go up two octaves.

“Oh my God, Phil- I ca-Phil,” he managed to stutter through a string of moans, his head tapping the headboard every second.

“Dan,” Phil whispered in a hungry tone.

The sound of Dan’s moans was enough to send Phil over the edge quicker than normal, pulling out and taking a hand to Dan and pumping him in a fluid motion until giving out, breaths uneven and chest heaving.

Before rightfully collapsing back onto the bed, Phil took the initiative to clean Dan up with a washcloth, miraculously not getting anything on the bed.

After climbing back into their embrace, Phil swept the hair out from behind Dan’s ear and kissed him gingerly.

“Phil, did that last like literally ten minutes?” Dan asked a few moments later.

“Yeah, it really did,” he answered, sending them both into a fit of laughter.

Eventually, though, Dan packed up some of his things and made his way to the underground with Phil to catch a ride back to Berkshire. On the hour long ride, Phil explained his career to Dan, who was impressed, to say the least, and Dan went into depth about his family tree.

As the intercom buzzed on, the man stated inaudibly that they had reached their destination. Phil grabbed Dan’s duffel bag and carried it all the way back to Dan’s house, an easy ten minute walk back to his house.

As they approached his front steps, Dan’s hand shook as he reached for the doorknob.

“You okay?” Phil asked him in an effort to calm him.

“Yeah, yeah, just a little nervous. They’re gonna be pretty shocked, you know?”

He placed a hand on Dan’s arm. “It’ll be okay, trust me.”

Dan took a sharp breath in before turning the knob slowly. No one was by the door, but he heard his mother call “Dan?” from the kitchen.

“Mum, I’ve got something to tell you,” he said nervously.

“What is it?” she asked, walking out into the living room, still sporting a pair of oven mitts. Upon seeing Phil’s face, she stopped dead in her tracks. “Well, hi there.”

She walked closer, taking off the mitts and extending a hand to Phil. “It’s very nice to finally meet you.”

Phil’s cheeks turned a light tint of red as he shook Dan’s mother’s hand, saying, “It is very nice to meet you too.”

She invited them to sit, as she was just finishing making dinner for later that evening.

“You’ll stay, won’t you?” she asked. Dan looked at Phil questionably, grabbing his hand and replying with a yes from both of them. They decided that over dinner they would confess their future plans.

“Oh, by the way,” she called, “you got some letters from the unis here on the table if you want to open them.”

Dan hadn’t planned on telling Phil all the places he applied to, as he hadn’t committed anywhere yet. However, though, he did happen to be expecting a letter from the University of East London, a short ride on the tube from their new apartment. He applied to several others around the country, including one in America, but now he knew where he was destined to go after having a terrible time deciding where to go. Of course, all the places he’d applied to were equally great - sufficient programs, nice cities, lots to offer, but with them all offering the same accommodations it made it very hard for Dan to decide.

They joined Dan’s mother in the kitchen, filing through the mail on the table to find several letters from nearby universities. He tossed aside the ones from Manchester, Plymouth, Newcastle, until he got to the final one - the one he’d hoped was there. He didn’t show Phil that he’d gotten one for London as not to get his hopes up, but after seeing the big block letters and the exclamation points he couldn’t hide the giddy feeling and started jumping up and down in place.

“London! I got into East London!” he exclaimed.

His mother and Phil joined him in his cheers, receiving hugs from both.

July 15, 6:41pm

“So, we kind of have something to tell you guys,” Dan started.

Phil grabbed his hand underneath the dinner table.

“Well, you see, when I was going to London, before I even got there, this guy got pushed into the seat next to me, and well, I think you can guess who it was. We’ve spent all this time together, actually, at his flat in London. He just moved there. So, what we decided is that instead of paying for room and board at university, I’m going to move in with Phil and commute. There’s a train station five minutes from the apartment and it’s a short ride to East London. We know it’s short notice, but I guess I didn’t really realize just how magical it really is, like how you always said.”

Phil stepped in.

“I know you really don’t know me, I mean besides seeing me for eighteen years and whatnot, but we talked about it a lot, and we really believe this is the wisest decision, as now that I finally found him I don’t want to spend a day without him. I’m sure you know what it’s like, after hearing a story like yours.”

Dan’s parents sat back, taking it all in, eyes wide.

“So you’re sure, 100%? Because if this is what you two really want, we understand,” Dan’s mother said after a moment.

Dan turned to his mother, his eyes gleaming with certainty. “We’re sure. Promise.”

“Well, what do you think?” his mother said to his father.

“I think…” he began.

“I think it’s wonderful. I’m just so glad you found each other.”

Dan was ecstatic. The smile tugging at either side of his face was pulled so tight his teeth were showing. He turned to Phil, intoxicating him with his smile.

That night, Phil helped Dan pack his things up into bags while his parents went out to buy moving boxes and call the same car service Phil had used just days ago.

“I can’t believe this is happening. It’s all happening, Dan!” Phil shouted, scooping Dan from under his arms.

“I know, Phil. I know.”

In some other universe, things may not be as perfect as here. But in this one, you fall in love with your soulmate before you even meet them. You are destined to find this person and spend every moment brightening each other’s lives. Others may not understand how this works, and Dan himself may not understand how it works, and Phil may never be able to wrap his head around how lucky he is. Luckily though, in this universe, the world is a magical place full of magical things, where things will always end up the way they are supposed to.

September 8, 7:05am

Today is Dan’s first day at the University of East London.

“You look cute,” Phil said, adjusting Dan’s collar and straightening out the straps on his backpack.

“You’d say that anyway,” Dan joked.

“Thank you for an amazing summer. I hope you have a great day,” Phil said.

Phil watched as Dan skipped up to him, kissed him on the cheek and then on the lips, told him he loved him, then closed the door behind him.

He exhaled happily.

“I love you, too, Dan.”

[airoasis]

ETHEREUM, BITCOIN SCALING BY VITALIK BUTERIN

New Post has been published on https://hititem.kr/ethereum-bitcoin-scaling-by-vitalik-buterin/

ETHEREUM, BITCOIN SCALING BY VITALIK BUTERIN

At this factor proper if I knew that there was a definitive proof that proof of stake would never possibly be made to work i might have got to relatively severely think you understand like if I desired to return to proof of work or if I desired to only stop the blockchain area all together the concept behind etherium is that it is like a smartphone one analogy for illustration that i exploit is that Bitcoin is like a pocket calculator you are aware of it has a developed in digital circuit nevertheless it’s most effective designed to do one unique thing which is including and multiplying numbers protocols like colored cash and grasp coin are variety of like Swiss army knives so that they could have like 5 or ten one-of-a-kind aspects however they can’t do anything else a smartphone you know you could have like one hundred apps or one thousand apps on your phone and in case you wants to download every other app then you don’t ought to go to the store and improve your cellphone you do not must like go to the shop and get some style of bodily Hardware extension you simply go to the internet and down load an app what I desired to do with the speculation is truly you understand i can transfer faraway from this style of older paradigm of pocket calculators and the Swiss military knives to this more moderen technique of blockchain protocol that has a constructed-in programming language and so if you happen to needs to build any kind of software then you might take the principles of that application the industry good judgment of that utility write it as a piece of code in that programming language Tim pilot add it to the blockchain after which you have an object on the blockchain that any individual can like sends transactions to engage with and the rules of that software shall be will be processed by using the identical community that runs the blockchain and it would be processed in keeping with the principles that you’d outline within the piece of code that you simply upload just writing the whole lot on code such as you do with clever phones or computers and like however you recognize seek this paradigm shift and follow it to the blockchain as good I think the Bitcoin group believes that Bitcoin is 80% finished whereas the etherium neighborhood believes that aetherium is 30% finished you recognize the blog streams roadmap for the Bitcoin blockchain they mentioned some rather marginal upgrades like you know moral ast is the simplicity a couple of privateness elements whereas on the etherium part we’re speaking about like like 1,000 factors scaling and like putting everything around tiki snarks and i’m doing a full swap to pro steak and all these other changes one more difference that I feel is particularly related to the primary one is that I consider the Bitcoin group believes that lots of the value of walk chains comes from an extraordinarily small set of very excessive price use instances basically like censorship resistance like worth storage and worth switch and they think that that’s something that humans are inclined to pay you understand even $50 a transaction for the blockchain just manages to be as at ease as possible for that detailed use case whereas the etherium community I consider Moore believes that lots of the value of watch-chain technological know-how comes from the longtail so from all of these use cases where the worth of the use case to every man or woman user or per each and every man or woman transaction is much scale down however the number of customers that you could attain is way much wider despite the fact that it can be now not providing as much price per consumer it is relatively making up for it in volume so love it’s not some thing that wholly alterations the lives of 1 million individuals however it would largely change the lives of 100 million and enormously just a few hundred million extra from that kind of core difference in principle such as you see the entire special decisions proper so for example you realize a Bitcoin neighborhood says good good enough we now have lightning however even though lightning didn’t work most commonly block sizes must not go up too much seeing that it can be the shop worth and the excessive value stuff that’s where that’s what issues whereas within the etherium group we are saying well if watchings can’t steal a thousand further useless and so we’re totally and certainly inclined to hazard breaking the entire factor to make it scale via a factor of a thousand even like proof of like proof of work forces proof of stake like you already know we talk a lot about how proof of work is fairly environmentally detrimental and we wish observing consensus to be more cost effective whereas like Bitcoin persons would say good the relatively excessive levels of security are abour stated and like this is that is warfare and this is what you have got to do and a proof of labor simply out of your factor of view has better properties you already know like I just do not feel that you recognize despite how priceless we think what we’re doing is that it’s valued at you already know after that sheer massive waste of resources that is being a created by way of all of these I imply SEC farms whereas for me like if I knew that there was once this you recognize at this factor I mean if I knew that there used to be a definitive proof that proof of stake could on no account probably be made to work I typically will in i might have to fairly critically believe you realize like if I desired to return to proof of labor or if I desired to only give up the blockchain house altogether i don’t believe the cut up was a disaster at all like I tends to be a variety of ideologically professional secession in that appreciate you absolutely wishes to have like smaller communities and smaller units that that can interact with each different more efficaciously and kind of be extra focused towards specific pursuits and within the etherium etherium traditional case like it used to be very clear that there were two communities that had very vastly one-of-a-kind expectations about what a blockchain is and what a blockchain is for and so I do exactly believe that it was economically most advantageous to you recognize acquire each community have the variety of staring at that it prefers i do know there are persons that try to say oh when a concept I used to be going to change the POS then there might be men and women who disagree and they will make one more fork i’m no longer certain so one motive why i’m now not sure is considering the fact that like like in contrast to in the DAO case within the case of proof of stake like we have been actively advertising actively signaling actively form of constructing clear the affect that if the areum’s destiny is to switch to proof of stake when we come up with a just right algorithm that is whatever that everybody within the etherium neighborhood is since 2014 has known all along if there is someone who rather just believes in type of diehard proof of work then as a substitute of going to all of the effort to make yet another break up chain I think quite a lot of them will simply migrate to a conception on traditional that is one motive why I actually do not assume that vary they are gonna have absolutely died off anytime soon due to the fact you realize if there are there just is an intersection of folks who find it irresistible the subject maybe folks name off proof of work and it’s i would say it’s even good that they have got a situation that they may be able to go to yeah without doubt am very heavily involved in study efforts i am Nick very heavily worried in charting in Casper FFG like plasma it can be only a few gigantic states the prolong state channels you understand various rough Forks quite a few the IPS that have been authorised up to now I used to do extra development however now I do less development generally given that focusing on study is just extra important so yes in the long run er commonly will continue to just be researched in verbal exchange I mean humans do mostly ask the query of fortunate am I going to proceed to have the same variety of very big position within the etherium neighborhood that I do correct now we’re historical I decrease over time I do anticipate that to slash over time and i feel you already know like even on the financial system you’ve visible it shrink fairly a bit of you have got to look at two or three years in the past right good two or three years in the past I used to be in lots of instances the one character doing like certain sorts of research and like writing the Python consumers and like talking about aetherium and like now you have got all those builders like Carl and like John choy Justin Drake you understand Elway and so on and plenty of these humans are folks that we have now just gotten within the last six months correct so like our research staff is quickly developing and our study neighborhood is swiftly developing i do know you think going to be inevitable that over time you realize the component to all the you understand study contributions that are my contributions goes to move down as good correct like the extent to which I do progress is already made the category time so scale down than it was once two years ago and at some point even in study like i’ll be simply one of the 20 men and women that’s you recognize doing very giant work like there are some persons locally that you understand like want myself to be very actively concerned in truly simply the main things for a hug for a particularly very long time unless the undertaking is finished there are humans that want signed of more indicators that the neighborhood can live to tell the tale by means of itself and would not depend on me and in I do think you realize like there may be a variety of opinions between those two I mean for myself I absolutely in my opinion need within the etherium neighborhood to develop to the aspects the place it doesn’t suggest sterile to love actively depend on me for survival and take a look at to get to that point that I bought as speedily as possible what i suppose i realized is a couple of things proper one is that I always felt that you just comprehend it’s even though the danger that blockchains and cryptocurrency would be successful is far not up to a hundred percent although it can be ten percent a ten percent threat of making whatever that unleashes and a huge paradigm shift on the complete world continues to be some thing that should be fully valued at dedicating your life to

[batterymonster2021]

ETHEREUM, BITCOIN SCALING BY VITALIK BUTERIN

New Post has been published on https://hititem.kr/ethereum-bitcoin-scaling-by-vitalik-buterin/

ETHEREUM, BITCOIN SCALING BY VITALIK BUTERIN

At this factor proper if I knew that there was a definitive proof that proof of stake would never possibly be made to work i might have got to relatively severely think you understand like if I desired to return to proof of work or if I desired to only stop the blockchain area all together the concept behind etherium is that it is like a smartphone one analogy for illustration that i exploit is that Bitcoin is like a pocket calculator you are aware of it has a developed in digital circuit nevertheless it’s most effective designed to do one unique thing which is including and multiplying numbers protocols like colored cash and grasp coin are variety of like Swiss army knives so that they could have like 5 or ten one-of-a-kind aspects however they can’t do anything else a smartphone you know you could have like one hundred apps or one thousand apps on your phone and in case you wants to download every other app then you don’t ought to go to the store and improve your cellphone you do not must like go to the shop and get some style of bodily Hardware extension you simply go to the internet and down load an app what I desired to do with the speculation is truly you understand i can transfer faraway from this style of older paradigm of pocket calculators and the Swiss military knives to this more moderen technique of blockchain protocol that has a constructed-in programming language and so if you happen to needs to build any kind of software then you might take the principles of that application the industry good judgment of that utility write it as a piece of code in that programming language Tim pilot add it to the blockchain after which you have an object on the blockchain that any individual can like sends transactions to engage with and the rules of that software shall be will be processed by using the identical community that runs the blockchain and it would be processed in keeping with the principles that you’d outline within the piece of code that you simply upload just writing the whole lot on code such as you do with clever phones or computers and like however you recognize seek this paradigm shift and follow it to the blockchain as good I think the Bitcoin group believes that Bitcoin is 80% finished whereas the etherium neighborhood believes that aetherium is 30% finished you recognize the blog streams roadmap for the Bitcoin blockchain they mentioned some rather marginal upgrades like you know moral ast is the simplicity a couple of privateness elements whereas on the etherium part we’re speaking about like like 1,000 factors scaling and like putting everything around tiki snarks and i’m doing a full swap to pro steak and all these other changes one more difference that I feel is particularly related to the primary one is that I consider the Bitcoin group believes that lots of the value of walk chains comes from an extraordinarily small set of very excessive price use instances basically like censorship resistance like worth storage and worth switch and they think that that’s something that humans are inclined to pay you understand even $50 a transaction for the blockchain just manages to be as at ease as possible for that detailed use case whereas the etherium community I consider Moore believes that lots of the value of watch-chain technological know-how comes from the longtail so from all of these use cases where the worth of the use case to every man or woman user or per each and every man or woman transaction is much scale down however the number of customers that you could attain is way much wider despite the fact that it can be now not providing as much price per consumer it is relatively making up for it in volume so love it’s not some thing that wholly alterations the lives of 1 million individuals however it would largely change the lives of 100 million and enormously just a few hundred million extra from that kind of core difference in principle such as you see the entire special decisions proper so for example you realize a Bitcoin neighborhood says good good enough we now have lightning however even though lightning didn’t work most commonly block sizes must not go up too much seeing that it can be the shop worth and the excessive value stuff that’s where that’s what issues whereas within the etherium group we are saying well if watchings can’t steal a thousand further useless and so we’re totally and certainly inclined to hazard breaking the entire factor to make it scale via a factor of a thousand even like proof of like proof of work forces proof of stake like you already know we talk a lot about how proof of work is fairly environmentally detrimental and we wish observing consensus to be more cost effective whereas like Bitcoin persons would say good the relatively excessive levels of security are abour stated and like this is that is warfare and this is what you have got to do and a proof of labor simply out of your factor of view has better properties you already know like I just do not feel that you recognize despite how priceless we think what we’re doing is that it’s valued at you already know after that sheer massive waste of resources that is being a created by way of all of these I imply SEC farms whereas for me like if I knew that there was once this you recognize at this factor I mean if I knew that there used to be a definitive proof that proof of stake could on no account probably be made to work I typically will in i might have to fairly critically believe you realize like if I desired to return to proof of labor or if I desired to only give up the blockchain house altogether i don’t believe the cut up was a disaster at all like I tends to be a variety of ideologically professional secession in that appreciate you absolutely wishes to have like smaller communities and smaller units that that can interact with each different more efficaciously and kind of be extra focused towards specific pursuits and within the etherium etherium traditional case like it used to be very clear that there were two communities that had very vastly one-of-a-kind expectations about what a blockchain is and what a blockchain is for and so I do exactly believe that it was economically most advantageous to you recognize acquire each community have the variety of staring at that it prefers i do know there are persons that try to say oh when a concept I used to be going to change the POS then there might be men and women who disagree and they will make one more fork i’m no longer certain so one motive why i’m now not sure is considering the fact that like like in contrast to in the DAO case within the case of proof of stake like we have been actively advertising actively signaling actively form of constructing clear the affect that if the areum’s destiny is to switch to proof of stake when we come up with a just right algorithm that is whatever that everybody within the etherium neighborhood is since 2014 has known all along if there is someone who rather just believes in type of diehard proof of work then as a substitute of going to all of the effort to make yet another break up chain I think quite a lot of them will simply migrate to a conception on traditional that is one motive why I actually do not assume that vary they are gonna have absolutely died off anytime soon due to the fact you realize if there are there just is an intersection of folks who find it irresistible the subject maybe folks name off proof of work and it’s i would say it’s even good that they have got a situation that they may be able to go to yeah without doubt am very heavily involved in study efforts i am Nick very heavily worried in charting in Casper FFG like plasma it can be only a few gigantic states the prolong state channels you understand various rough Forks quite a few the IPS that have been authorised up to now I used to do extra development however now I do less development generally given that focusing on study is just extra important so yes in the long run er commonly will continue to just be researched in verbal exchange I mean humans do mostly ask the query of fortunate am I going to proceed to have the same variety of very big position within the etherium neighborhood that I do correct now we’re historical I decrease over time I do anticipate that to slash over time and i feel you already know like even on the financial system you’ve visible it shrink fairly a bit of you have got to look at two or three years in the past right good two or three years in the past I used to be in lots of instances the one character doing like certain sorts of research and like writing the Python consumers and like talking about aetherium and like now you have got all those builders like Carl and like John choy Justin Drake you understand Elway and so on and plenty of these humans are folks that we have now just gotten within the last six months correct so like our research staff is quickly developing and our study neighborhood is swiftly developing i do know you think going to be inevitable that over time you realize the component to all the you understand study contributions that are my contributions goes to move down as good correct like the extent to which I do progress is already made the category time so scale down than it was once two years ago and at some point even in study like i’ll be simply one of the 20 men and women that’s you recognize doing very giant work like there are some persons locally that you understand like want myself to be very actively concerned in truly simply the main things for a hug for a particularly very long time unless the undertaking is finished there are humans that want signed of more indicators that the neighborhood can live to tell the tale by means of itself and would not depend on me and in I do think you realize like there may be a variety of opinions between those two I mean for myself I absolutely in my opinion need within the etherium neighborhood to develop to the aspects the place it doesn’t suggest sterile to love actively depend on me for survival and take a look at to get to that point that I bought as speedily as possible what i suppose i realized is a couple of things proper one is that I always felt that you just comprehend it’s even though the danger that blockchains and cryptocurrency would be successful is far not up to a hundred percent although it can be ten percent a ten percent threat of making whatever that unleashes and a huge paradigm shift on the complete world continues to be some thing that should be fully valued at dedicating your life to

[itsworn]

Shelby Original Venice Crew delivers the first G.T. 350 Competition Mustangs at Willow Springs

Debuted in 2015, The Original Venice Crew’s (OVC) continuation run of 36 Officially Ford and Shelby licensed 1964 G.T.350 Competition model Mustangs, also known as the G.T.350R, were recently track-tested at two separate private Willow Springs shakedown tests. The customer cars #001 and #004, were certified race ready by OVC and are ready to be delivered to customers.

OVC trailered two continuation G.T.350 Competitions to Willow Springs Raceway on November 27, 2018. This was the test day of the customer car #001. Championship racecar driver Rick Titus, son of Jerry Titus who won the 1965 B-Production Championship in a G.T. 350 Competition, expertly pilots the car around the corners of Willow Springs Raceway Big Willow Circuit.

OVC’s G.T. 350 Competition models are parked at the Hartman Garage at Willow Springs for their track test day.

Damon Lawner is the owner of #001, and he has been waiting for a year to finally be behind the wheel of the Wimbledon White with blue stripes G.T. 350 Competition. He first tried to buy one of the original, built-in-1964 G.T. 350 Competition models, saying, “I was looking around for a 1964 G.T. 350R, and I bid on one with Sotheby’s.” But the car sold for $600-$700,000, quite a bit more than he had planned on spending. He continues,  “I was looking around to see if I could find an unrestored one, and I and came across an article saying that some of the guys who built the original cars in ’65 were going to be building a limited run of 1965 K-code cars, and building them better than they had a chance to originally.”

After a call to Shelby American in Las Vegas, Nevada, Lawner was put in touch with the Original Venice Crew, operating out of one of Shelby’s shops in Gardena, California. They wrote up a simple contract, Lawner handed them a deposit, and unwittingly became the owner of the first car, serial #001. “I wasn’t even aware that I would receive the very first car that they built for the public, and that was about a year ago,” he says.

Rick Titus takes new 1964 G.T. 350 out on track.

Despite the fact that most of these cars will never see serious racing competition, OVC’s test driver, Titus, puts the cars out on the track and pushes them to their limits. Titus describes the experience, “The thing that amazes me about these cars is how they leave the shop, ready to go. To bring a brand-new car that is fully assembled from bare body to this kind of competition level and to leave the shop and to have it work so well on the first try off of the trailer blows me away. We don’t like to waste a bunch of laps, put a lot of time on people’s cars, we just want to know if there are any weaknesses or parts that need adjusting.”

OVC’s Jim Marietta talks about how it feels to see a new 1964 G.T. 350 Competition rolling out onto Willow Spring’s track, “It’s an incredible feeling because Ted and I, and another fellow by the name of Peter Bryant, we were the hands-on guys who built those cars [back in 1964]. We spent a lot of time testing and developing those cars. That particular car that we built 55 years ago [car #002], won the B-Production Championship in 1965 with Rick Titus’s father, Jerry Titus, driving. Now, Ted and I are building these cars again 55 years later. Peter Brock helped us redesign portions of it that he had on the drawing board at that time, so we’ve completely closed the circle. These are not replicas; these are a continuation of the original 36 cars. They only did 36, and we’re only doing 36.”

Rick Titus driving down the pit lane heading for the pits after an initial shakedown run of the G.T. 350 Competition.

Early in morning on Rodeo drive, a truck pulling a white trailer parks in front of one of that street’s exclusive, high-end shops. White cones are placed behind the trailer. The ramp lowers and car #001 rolls out onto the street. Lawner walks around the car, inspecting the car that he has so eagerly waited a year for before jumping inside. When he fires it up, the racing exhaust fills the air of this exclusive Los Angeles street with the sounds of history. Lawner pulls away, passing the trailer and taking the car out onto the intersection. A race car on the street. He drives around the block twice, savoring the moment. He even fishtails the car as he turns a corner, drifting the car in a celebration of the day. He finally pulls the car into a little-known high-end car storage facility located below street level. When Lawner backs the car into its storage spot, he jumps out and puts his hand on the hood. All of the wait, all of the dreams, the long search, and now here he is, with his car—his new “G.T. 350R”, Lawner said of that moment with his hand on the hood that “I’m feeling its soul.”

Car #004 was track tested at Willow Springs Raceway on February 7, 2019 and will be on its way to Norway within the month.

Rick Titus turns the corner in the new G.T. 350 Competition at Willow Springs Raceway.

Running at full throttle, Rick Titus pushes the G.T. 350 to the limits on the front straight away with Dane Thompson in the passenger’s seat.

Ted Sutton, Jim Marietta, and Rick Titus sign the trunk of car #004, cementing the historic moment of the first customer cars of the 1964 G.T. 350 Competition production run.

The signed trunk of OVC’s #004 G.T. 350 Competition model.

OVC backs up car #001 off of the trailer, in front of Ralph Lauren on Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills, California.

OVC’s crew prepares to deliver the car to its owner Damon Lawner.

Damon Lawner prepares to jump into his new G.T. 350 Competition.

Damon takes the car out onto the street for an exhilarating drive around the neighborhood.

Daniel Sculnick, Jim Marietta, Damon Lawner, Robert Rice Jr., and Ted Sutton pose next to the car #001, the first continuation G.T. 350 Competition delivered.

Damon Lawner “touching the soul” of his long-awaited continuation 1964 G.T. 350 Competition Mustang.

The post Shelby Original Venice Crew delivers the first G.T. 350 Competition Mustangs at Willow Springs appeared first on Hot Rod Network.

from Hot Rod Network https://www.hotrod.com/articles/shelby-original-venice-crew-delivers-first-g-t-350-competition-mustangs-willow-springs/ via IFTTT