#i passed by a dunkin the other day and somehow my first thought was that i had to get u

[134340am]

have a good day yuna!!

oh!!! you too, dearest val (*^▽^*)

[toadallytickles]

NEST 2023

NEST 2023 was absolutely amazing for me! Originally I thought I couldn’t go because Clay couldn’t and he’s usually my ride! I ended up being able to go because our friend Timmi @DynamicUno was attending too! So I got a ride with him, redeemed my free NEST ticket, and signed up to volunteer as a DM to share a volunteer suite!

I was really anxious about not attending with Clay this year; NEST is the largest tickle gathering and I don’t do well approaching people. I’ve been attending NEST and other tickle gatherings since 2019, though I haven’t felt really established in those in-person communities. Clay is usually my safety-net person. I surprisingly ended up doing extremely well, talking to a whole bunch of new and familiar people, and deepening connections I’ve made in the past! I somehow had like 8 sessions.. that is not like of me; one was pick-up with someone I just met at NEST, another I’ve seen a little at gatherings earlier this year. The rest were people I’ve known from previous gatherings for some years, and play just aligned at NEST this time!

I also had to make a boundary leading up to NEST that Clay couldn’t tickle me as I wanted to be ripe and ready for planned sessions! Sucked, but also fun as I easily get ghost-tickled when Clay wiggles his fingers at me, but whatever honestly~ (〃^▽^〃)ゞ

We’ve always arrived at NEST on Friday, mostly a chill day with orientation. It was a luxury to drive down on Thursday, and have all day Friday to catch up and hangout with people! The border security guy was super nice to us, he said he likes to have his back tickled, but that’s it lmao~. I went into my first Dunkin’ Donuts too (didn’t order anything) and they have Timbit-like treats called Munchkins.. also the Tim Hortons’ as you go south are so different from Canada’s, it’s so weird.. alternate universe Tim’s…

Friday morning I get to go on a Target run with Nate @Sensualswitch10 as I wanted to pick up snacks for the weekend! Then we get McDonald’s for breakfast! We had a bit of a secret project going on in his room too~. 🤫 I really appreciated hanging out with Nate casually as for play and making connections I really need time to physically acclimate, and he understood I needed that and made himself a safe space while I didn’t have Clay. I was supposed to reserve my ticklishness for a session, but we ended up casually playing on his bed, just a tickle massage that turned to pinning~!

I finally get to play with Sam @WickedSensations & Frecks @Fiona_Red (@WickedCaress on Instagram)! I knew of their content before NEST ‘22, and when we finally met last year, we had an instant mutual connection and attraction! NEST ‘22 didn’t work out for us play-wise, though we stayed in-touch online and negotiated play for NEST ‘23! It finally happened and it was super fun and flustering! To be gang tickled by a couple~ (≧ω≦ ʃƪ)💕. Thank you for the pretty bruises, Sam! And thank you Frecks for being my first wlw tickle session!

I FINALLY got tickled by Jeff @sptfrtkl in his Blue Brat! We’d see each other at past gatherings and chat, and have been fans of each other's content; this time playing aligned! Such an honour to finally play with him + sign the Blue Brat afterwards! Jeff has an insane amount of tools to use too, hopefully next time we’ll session longer and experiment with every tool~ 😊

I generally do not pick-up play, and consider NSFW acts intimate and something I would reserve for closer relationships, though I met @Mark_Diamond while at NEST, and when he was showing me his many pleasure tools, we discovered we both love David Mack’s style of play.. like clit-focused, edging, denial, and forced orgasms.. I couldn’t pass on the opportunity of reliving my biggest fantasy so I let him tie me spread eagle, naked, and torture me~ 🥰🤤. It was dreamy and felt amazing aah~ wish I could always have a session like that~ (〃˘▽˘ʃƪ) *:・ﾟ✧♡.

So I Ler’d for my first CNC session..~ thanks to Steve @DaddyMilkBoss, who’s been teaching me for years all about his favourite way to play~. He had no safeword.. or maybe I ignored their safeword, who knows~. But it was so so much fun, loved how much he begged for me to stop, and how desperate he got.. and I just continued to play with him… 😍🤤. It was too much fun really.. I shouldn’t have that much power lol, already craving to do that to him again~. Yeah I love being a bully~ 🖤. All those years of taunting me and talking to me all about CNC.. it’s like I was trained to ruin him~ 🤭.

During my session with Steve where I lee’d, I learned that I can make eye contact if my mouth is duct-taped shut~. Usually when I lee, I like to wear a blindfold because seeing the Ler/s makes me so shy and stiff, and that hinders my ticklishness. Our session, I had multiple duct-tape strips over my mouth without a blindfold on and I was very surprised at how comfortable I was making eye contact with him.. it was really hot.. I love the idea of talking with big, pleading eyes~ I also have very pretty eyes~

If you’re on Fetlife, Twitter or in certain Discord Servers, you may have seen Liger @LewdLigu’s feather wheel + stocks… I also don’t usually public play, though he was doing mini trials in the public play area.. and perhaps I was a bit intrigued..~ 👉👈. It’s a super cool invention, and I had a lot of fun giving it a try, bEing wATCHED-! and having those claws and feather vibrators on me .. 😵‍💫.

My last session at NEST was with Nate, this time I was stretched out bound in his under-the-mattress stocks, and arms up at the corners of the bed… I also got high for this session~. 🥴 I just want to say.. Nate knows what he’s doing.. like when you think of the definition of a Ler, or what to expect during a session, Nate is that, Nate knows how to session omg, he’s so good at tickling~. (No he did not make me say this LOL that’s just all I can say and it’s true.) So much fun to hang out with and play with! I miss him!! Nate, thank you for taking care of me throughout NEST!! I already said it but it was so much appreciated when I didn’t have Clay!! 🥹💕

Despite like 8 sessions and depleting my ticklishness, I was super excited to go home to Clay and have a session with him. He knows all my spots and exactly how to wreck me, and I was craving that~ 😆. It was wonderful to reconnect and take all the energy from NEST and share it with him!

AND I TRIED CHIPOTLE FOR THE FIRST TIME IT WAS SOOO GOOOOOD!! 😫💦

Super cool that I got to meet some Tumblr people too! @ticklishadventure @queerswitch-tickles @ticklishposts-sideblog @minotaurvo !! So happy you all got to attend NEST for the very first time! That’s a huge step and I hope you all had a great time!! ❤️

I was fortunate to film a bunch of content too with all the new people I played with!! So!! Gifsets and maybe clips soon! 🤩

I got asked a lot how long I’ve been modelling lol.. and I don’t get that question really!! It was really flattering, though it is super amateur modelling / a hobby to me!!

Crossing the border on the way home, again we share with the border guard that we went to a tickle convention, and the guard wanted to know what happens at a tickle convention.. so I had to be the one to explain what happens as Timmi was looking for a document on his phone…. UUGHH!! 💀🪦

Anyway to wrap this up, this was personally the best NEST for me~. I’ve been navigating my local kink community without Clay a lot as he works, such as going to munches and parties alone, attending kink classes, and hanging out with new friends! I was really nervous to be attending NEST without Clay, though I feel I was capable to navigate NEST with what I’ve learned from our local community. I remember being really anxious Thursday and early Friday, though everything was going really well, I had good interactions, great sessions, and met a lot of new people, and that just made me more confident in myself! I did a lot of new things I didn’t think I was capable of or ready for yet, though I did it, and survived, and very much enjoyed. I can pick-up play with the right people, I can accept more intimate touching and play and not feel wrong after. Those compliments Clay and my local friends give me all the time, I can start to believe them. I was really reassured this weekend of who I am, what I’m capable of, and that my presence is wanted. I feel much more established in the in-person tickle community. There was so much growth and experience for me at NEST ‘23, and I am so looking forward to carrying it all into future kink events. ❤️

Thank you so much to everyone who makes NEST possible, and to those who volunteer their time to keep it organized and going!! And thank you so much to everyone who was involved in my experience this year!! It was awesome because of you!! ❤️

[arieswrites2023]

Entry 2

On January 2nd 2024, my grandfather Bruce passed away from a heart attack. It was sudden, and he went quickly. However, I have reason to believe that something may have been wrong with him. A few days before my mother returned to Florida with him, Jason and I met them for lunch at our local Applebee's Bar and Grill. During that time, he seemed out of it and almost distant. His gaze was turned out the window, and I could tell that his mind was far away.

Even Jason had noted that something seemed off about him. He just seemed physically unwell. Neither one of us really thought much of it though. We talked about it for a minute, but then we went on our way. Thinking about it now, I should have said something. A few days later, I received a phone call from my mother about what had happened. I was devastated and heartbroken. I still am, and have not fully dealt with how I feel.

Every now and again, I remember little things about him, or times I had spent with him and still get sad. I can still remember the first time I met him and my grandmother. My adoptive parents Kimberly and Dale had just adopted me and my two younger sisters Taylor and Deanna. My grandparents had given me a teddy bear upon our first meeting and I instantly fell in love with it. It was not much, but it was all I had. I quickly grew emotionally attached to it. My adoptive mother Kimberly is holding onto it for me, along with some baby clothes for my daughter Charlotte until I can come by and pick them up.

I can still remember a few other memories of time I spent with my grandfather. Like the Sunday mornings when we got Dunkin Donuts before going to Apple Hill Golf Club in Greenland New Hampshire to drive some golf balls. Or the times during the summer when he took me and my sisters to to Joe's Playland Arcade on Hampton BEach because his friend owned the place.

I was very close with my grandfather. At least...I was until my relationship with Anthony. I loved my grandfather and I feel his loss very deeply. It is like an irreparable hole has been ripped into my soul. Somehow, I doubt that will ever change. I just wish that he had lived long enough to meet his great-grnddaughter.

I love you grandpa, you will be dearly missed.

[allsassnoclass]

you could bring down my level of concern

Michael is having a bad night.  Ashton picks him up for ice cream

read on ao3

It’s just after one in the morning, and Michael doesn’t trust his ability to keep it together.  He’s felt like his skin has been pressed too tightly the entire day, and that was before he realized that there’s an entire book he was supposed to read for his contemporary literature class, sitting untouched on his dresser.  He’s got so many tabs open on his computer of assignments that he needs to finish, and he keeps forgetting that he has to email the financial aid office or he’s going to get a late fee on his bills but he can’t exactly email them now at one in the morning because they’re going to think he can’t get his life together on top of being an idiot for forgetting for so long.  He’s been restlessly switching between different social media platforms and opening up Netflix only to close it again when nothing seems to fit, steadfastly ignoring the book, the articles he’s supposed to read with it, and all of the other homework for his music classes.

Shit. He didn’t practice today, and his professor is going to be able to tell when he has his lesson tomorrow.

Michael shifts and unlocks his phone again, but nothing has changed in the three seconds he’s been gone.  He stares at his home screen for a moment, a picture of him and Ashton from before they got back to campus this year, smiles wide and tucked close together.

He saw Ashton two days ago, but he hasn’t really seen him for at least two weeks.  With the new university policies, they’re not allowed to hang out in Ashton’s dorm room or Michael’s apartment anymore, nor be outside together without masks.  This wouldn’t be such a big deal if they both were off campus and could sneak around, but Ashton is an RA.  He’ll get immediately fired if they get caught, and if he somehow does manage to get the virus his entire floor will be put into official quarantine.  It’s not just them who are at risk, and Ashton is too much of a bleeding heart to put all of his residents through that.

As such, Michael has eaten lunch outside with Ashton and facetimed him and spent a lot of time cuddled up to Calum to make up for the fact that he’s technically not allowed to touch Ashton (although no one has noticed them holding hands across the table, or a quick hug before they part for classes).

It’s getting chillier.  When snow starts to fall, Ashton is going to need to concede to hanging out in Michael and Calum’s apartment, because they’re both going to go crazy without it.

Michael already feels like he’s going crazy.  He has assignments and his dishes are dirty and he has no money and everything absolutely sucks and he misses his boyfriend, so he pulls out his phone and sends can you pick me up.

After a moment, he adds please.

Ashton could be asleep already, because he’s been trying really hard to seem well-adjusted for his senior year, and the thought makes panic bubble uncomfortably in Michael’s gut.  He can’t get himself to start his tasks, and he can’t stop picking at his cuticles, a bad habit that everyone has been trying to help him break, and he’s been missing Ashton vaguely since they got back on campus but thinks he’s going to cry if he doesn’t get to see him tonight.

What if Ashton doesn’t want to see him?

Ashton wants you around, Michael says to himself, trying to remember everything his therapist has told him for when he feels like this.  Just because outside circumstances are making it difficult doesn’t mean that he suddenly hates you.

His internal voice doesn’t sound very convincing.  With the way everything has been going lately, Michael wouldn’t be surprised if Ashton suddenly dumped him and Calum moved out and Luke and the girls stopped talking to him so he was miserable and alone.  That’s just about the only way things could get even worse, right?

He doesn’t want to jinx it.

His phone buzzes in his hand, and Michael glances down to see Ashton’s name pop up with the message be there in 5.

Everything snaps into focus when Ashton is near.  This strange crawling sensation under his skin might not fully go away, but maybe it’ll lessen, and maybe Michael will be able to think about school without wanting to throw up.

He slips on a hoodie, shoves on some shoes, and barely remembers to grab his wallet and keys before he’s slipping on a mask and out the door, rushing down the stairs to get out of the apartment building.  The night air does nothing to sooth him, feeling dense and muggy through his mask rather than light and crisp like he wants.  Still, he looks up at the sky and tries to let the slight breeze he can feel against his forehead calm him a little, just enough to hold him over until he can get in Ashton’s car and hopefully breathe properly again.

He’s still trying in vain to find a star that hasn’t been drowned out by light pollution or clouds when Ashton’s car arrives, engine squeaking in a familiar way when he pulls up to the curb a bit too fast, as always.  Michael makes his way to the passenger door and gets in.

“Hey, stranger.  Need a ride?” Ashton quips, and Michael crumples.  Ashton looks soft, wearing pajama pants and a large sweatshirt, hair messy and eyes tired but smile intact.  Michael wants to cry, but instead he just feels uncomfortable, like Ashton is a stranger again and he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do.

“Hey,” Ashton says gently, “what’s wrong?”

Michael shrugs.

“Okay,” Ashton says.  “Do you want to take off your mask?”

He does, putting it in the pocket of his hoodie, and Ashton smiles.

“There he is,” he says, bringing a hand up to Michael’s cheek, and Michael leans into it, chasing the feeling of Ashton’s hands on his skin.

He’s missed this.  Ashton seems to understand, shifting so he can thread his fingers through the hair at the back of Michael’s neck, then drawing him forward into a kiss.  Michael’s hands come up to grip Ashton’s sweatshirt at the first brush of lips, pressing into it like he’s been drowning and Ashton is his first breath of fresh hair.  Ashton makes a startled noise in the back of his throat, but responds in kind, opening his mouth when prompted and licking into Michael’s, taking control in the way they both like best.  When they part for air a minute later, they don’t go far, pressing their foreheads together while Michael tries to make his fingers loosen their grip.

“Is there anything I can do?” Ashton asks eventually.

“No,” Michael says.  “I don’t know. You’re doing it, I guess.”

He starts to pull away, and Ashton pecks him quickly on the lips again before he lets him.

“Where do you want to go?” Ashton asks.

“Away from campus,” Michael says.

“Ice cream?”

Michael nods, and Ashton starts the car.

The drive is quiet.  Michael makes no move to turn on the radio or get the aux cord, and Ashton lets it be.  Michael stares out the window, letting the houses and street lights pass by on the familiar route.  There’s a Baskin Robbins attached to a Dunkin with 24-hour drive through, and they’ve made a lot of midnight runs there since they started dating.  Some of Michael’s favorite memories from last year include sitting in the parking lot together, talking and laughing and sharing bites of ice cream when one of them got an unusual flavor.  They managed to fit in two trips during the first weeks of the semester, but haven’t been able to go recently due to the campus lockdown.

About halfway there, Ashton reaches over and takes Michael’s hand, thumb rubbing soothing circles on it.  Michael tries to focus on that, rather than the stretched-out feeling still present under his skin.

They pull up to the drive through and Ashton shifts the car into park.  Despite the place not being busy at all, it has astoundingly slow service this late at night.

“Do you want your usual?” Ashton asks, and Michael nods.  When they do eventually order, Ashton gets one scoop of cherry and one scoop of vanilla, and he gets Michael the chocolatiest thing on the menu.  Ashton pays, and once they get their items he pulls into their usual parking space in the corner and turns the car off.

“So,” Ashton says when they’re a few bites in, “I really think you should tell me what’s wrong.”

Michael takes another bite of his ice cream and considers if he knows who to articulate this.

“I feel… bad,” he starts.  “Just--like my skin is too tight, or something, and I can’t focus on anything but I also can’t not focus on anything.  I’m tired but can’t sleep, the world is basically fucking ending and I’m somehow expected to read an entire book by tomorrow. I have so much I’m supposed to do and can’t make myself do any of it, and it’s not even that I don’t have the time, because nothing is happening!  I hate trying to do music classes online, I can’t fucking see my friends, and I miss--”

He stops.  Ashton waits patiently, letting the silence stretch out until Michael is ready to break it again.

“I miss you.  I know we’re doing our best with what we can right now, but it still sucks.”

Ashton reaches out again, gentle hand landing on his arm.  That makes Michael feel the closest he has to crying all night, but it’s still not quite enough.  He wishes this were the type of upset that could be solved with a long hug and a cathartic cry, but it’s not.  This discomfort is the type that gets into his bones and stays for a while.

Michael wishes the gear shift wasn’t in the way, so he could tuck himself against Ashton and hide there until this entire thing is over.

“Going to school right now fucking sucks, and I’m proud of you for handling it as well as you have been,” Ashton says.  It’s a nice thing to say, but it’s useless right now.  Michael knows that going to school right now sucks, and Ashton is always proud of him for doing the bare minimum.  He hums anyway, because Ashton’s trying to help.

“Let’s eat our ice cream and make a plan for the rest of tonight and tomorrow,” Ashton says.  “We’ll figure out the homework stuff, at least, and get to spend time together properly.”

“Can we sit on the hood?” he asks, and thankfully Ashton nods.  The night air is crisper without his mask, or maybe it’s because they’re a bit further from the heart of the city.  Either way, Michael presses close, not willing to forfeit time spent touching Ashton.

Luke is the clingiest out of all of them, but Michael hadn’t realized just how much he enjoyed touch until the virus hit and it was taken away from him.  He was craving Ashton’s long before he wasn’t allowed to have it, and if he didn’t know that Ashton needs the money being an RA provides he would have begged him to quit and move in with him and Calum.

They talk about easy things as they eat, like the shift to Michael’s favorite type of weather that had happened recently and Ashton’s floor programs that he’s planning.  Michael tells him about how Calum almost burnt the apartment down and they just barely avoided having the alarms go off, and Ashton gives an anecdote about residents trying to smuggle two of the campus lawn chairs into their rooms while he was on security.

“They’re just so stupid sometimes,” he says.  “It really is not hard to get away with stuff like that if you put your mind to it, but they obviously didn’t.”  He turns the story into an entire bit, complete with a funny imitation of their bad excuses when he caught them, and it makes Michael laugh.  Some of the weird feeling dissipates.

Ashton gets out his notes app when they finish eating, and Michael leans his head on his shoulder to watch him type up the plan.

Michael will do his music theory homework tonight, but he’s going to stop once it hits three in the morning to go to bed regardless of how much is or is not done.  Ashton will type up a detailed summary of the book he was supposed to read, since apparently it was his favorite when he took the class last semester as part of his major requirement, and have it emailed to Michael by the time his alarm goes off at 8 the next morning.  Hopefully that will be enough for Michael to do the forum posts he’s supposed to, and he should still have time to do his ear training before class.  They can meet up for lunch, then Michael can go to his other two classes, take a break until dinner, spend a bit of time in the practice room, and do his homework for the next day in the evening.

Calum has a study group then, and Michael likes working in the living room while he zooms the others.  It’s easier to stay focused when Calum is, as well, and they’ve gotten into a routine of playing two rounds of Fifa, Smash, or MarioKart during well-timed breaks.

Marked out like this, the tasks look less overwhelming.

“Can you write that I need to email the student fees office during lunch?” he asks.  Ashton nods and adds it to the list.  “And dishes after dinner.”

It’s not too bad when it’s notated like this, and if he doesn’t get his theory homework done tonight he won’t completely fail the class as long as he does all of the other work, although he knows that letting himself slip with one assignment always makes it easier to neglect them in the future, to near-disastrous results.  His lesson might be less-than-stellar tomorrow, but at least Dr. O is nice about it.  He’ll be disappointed, and Michael might cry because he hates falling short of his expectations, but he won’t be mean.

“Doable?” Ashton asks.  Michael nods.  Ashton takes a screenshot of the note and texts it to Michael, then grabs his hand as they sit in silence for a few more minutes.

“We should get back,” Michael says eventually.

“We can stay a bit longer,” Ashton says.  He tightens his grip on Michael’s hand, and maybe

Ashton has been missing him just as much.  Michael presses a kiss to his shoulder.

“I have to do my theory homework, and you’re ready for bed,” he says.

“Wait,” Ashton says as he starts to shift away.  Michael pauses, and Ashton’s hands shift to his waist, leaning in for a deep kiss.  He melts into it, toes curling at the single-minded focus Ashton dedicates to it.  They shift for a better angle, Ashton leaning against the windshield and Michael following him down, and it takes all of Michael’s self-control to pull away before things become too heated.

“I don’t want to give the Baskin Robbins employee a free show,” he says.  Ashton’s fingers dip under his hoodie and shirt, chilly from either the ice cream or the fall air.  Michael shivers at the light brush at the small of his back, and Ashton gives him a lopsided smile.

“It’d be the most interesting thing they’ll see tonight,” he says.

“It’ll also get the police called on us for public indecency,” Michael says.  “Can’t believe I’m having to be the responsible one about this, Mr. I-Am-A-Mature-Resident-Advisor-Who-Will-Do-No-Wrong.”

“You make me feel adventurous,” Ashton says.  Michael hums and kisses him again, and Ashton doesn’t try to escalate it.

“Okay,” Ashton says.  “Let’s go back.”

They get in the car, and Michael pulls up a gentle playlist for the ride back.  Ashton hums along to the first song, and something else in Michael’s gut dissipates.  He still feels a bit weird, but he thinks it’s manageable now.  He has a plan, and he has Ashton, and if previous experience is any indicator he should feel okay by the time he wakes up tomorrow morning.

Michael watches Ashton tap out an easy beat on the steering wheel with his thumbs, and takes another deep breath.

Things are kind of fucked now, but it won’t be like this forever.  He’ll be okay.

[whatisthisidefk]

The River, the Sea, and the Stars Part 2 (SFW version)

Panic clawed at Therien, dragging him down to the floor beside the bed. He clutched at his head and struggled to breathe. Tried to reconcile what he'd seen, what he'd heard, the fear in Andros's voice as he was pulled into darkness. The entreaty to stay away.

Don't look for me. The taste of Andros still lingered on his lips.

Normally, Andros would be the one to ground him, help him through his panic attacks, but Andros wasn't there this time. Therien had to get through it on his own. There wasn't anyone else to hold his hand or say the right things. There was only Therien, alone, alone, alone…

No. There was one other he could turn to. Someone who, despite everything, would help. At least, he hoped she would. She'd understand. She had to. Therien couldn't let himself chase the what-if, what-if that spiraled through his brain. He had to believe in their friendship, however distant it may have grown. Without Andros there, she was the only person he trusted enough to ask.

With shaking fingers, he groped for his phone and didn't bother trying to search the contact list. He knew the number by heart, even if he hadn't dialed it in over two years.

Therien begged it to connect. It was late for him, so it would be hours later where he was calling, but he didn't think he had the strength to try again if it didn't pick up.

It rang three times, then, "Hey." Her voice was rough with sleep, but it was her. "Hey, sweetheart. You okay?"

He stifled a sob, poorly. "N-non. Je suis désolé. Je suis désolé, Dra. Andros...il a disparu. M'aidez…"

"In English, Therien. Try to focus. French isn't my strong suit and I can't help you if I don't understand you."

English felt impossible, but he tried. "Je--I don't know what to do. He--he's gone."

"Who's gone? Talk to me, hon."

He angrily wiped at the tears on his face with the heel of his hand. "Andros. Ah, uh, he disappeared! He was there. Here, with me, and then...something took him?" How was he supposed to explain any of it to her when he didn't understand it himself? "Dra, I--I need help. I need to find him."

He heard her sharp intake of breath, and her gentle concern became more focused. With a note he couldn't identify, she said, "Therien, tell me--what exactly happened to Andros?"

Something broke inside him. "There were chains. They dragged him away with no warning. He was there and then he wasn't. And I don't know what to do. Help me," he finished weakly. "Dra...I'm sorry. For everything."

"There's nothing to be sorry for," she said, and somehow, that got through to him. Dra never lied. It was a constant in his universe. His breathing slowed as she went on. "This is what you're going to do, okay? You're going to pack up everything and check out of the hotel. Get on your plane back here, and text me when you land. I will pick you up. I...I think I can help. But you're going to have to trust me. Can you do that?"

"Anything," he said. "Dra...thank you."

"You know I'll always be here for you. Right?"

"I know. I love you for it."

"You okay now?" The motherly note he always associated with her came through the phone like a hug. "Do you need me to stay on with you?"

"I'm okay. I'll be okay. I'm...I'm going to get dressed and get out of here. I can't stay anymore." He kept seeing those chains, over and over, every time he looked at the shadows. "See you in a few hours."

"I'll be ready. Love you." The call ended, leaving Therien alone in the room once more. He stared at his hands for a moment and concentrated on his breathing.

In, out. In, out. He could do this. Pack up everything, call a car, check out. He'd sleep in the airport, if he could manage sleep at all, and then he'd be home. Dra said she could help, which meant she would do everything in her power to aid him.

***

A miraculously earlier red-eye flight and three cups of coffee later, the wheels touched down in Boston and Therien retrieved his luggage. He texted Dra the moment he was able to, so by the time he exited the airport, a familiar black Mini Cooper waited by the curb. She waved at him from beside it.

Therien dragged the suitcases across the other lanes of cars picking up passengers and heaved them into the open trunk. Then, before he could say anything, his tiny friend opened her arms to hug him.

Therien found himself kneeling to hug her back. She wore a massively oversized sweater (black) over a long, rumpled peasant skirt (also black), and even in her heeled boots, she barely stood over four feet tall. Still, she managed to envelop him in a fierce, warm hug that negated the chill of autumn.

He didn't realize he was crying until his vision blurred. "I missed you," he said into her shoulder as she stroked his hair. "I'm so sorry."

"Nonsense," she said firmly, reluctantly disengaging from the embrace. "Now let's get moving before that airport cop decides to yell at me for parking here too long, hmm? We'll stop for Dunkin' and you can tell me everything back at the shop."

"Okay."

***

The drive back from Boston to Northampton passed in a blur. Therien nibbled at a glazed donut and sipped the hot, familiar coffee, but he let himself be lulled by the monotony of the Mass Pike. He wasn't ready to talk yet, and he knew Dra wouldn't push him to. He still felt wrung out and dazed by the past eight hours--had it only been that long? He went over the litany of events in his mind, not for the first time, and decided that it was perfectly acceptable to feel the way he did.

Above--and underneath, and all throughout--his thoughts, the one bright thing that he clung to was the memory of how happy Andros had been. That whatever happened, Therien knew his feelings were returned after all.

They left the highway and turned toward downtown Northampton, following Main Street into the heart of the Five Colleges area. Therien had spent enough time wandering around town that he felt a wave of nostalgia at the familiar brick and stone shops, the Hotel Northampton, the Calvin Theater, the town hall. It was the kind of place that didn't change on the face very often, making it easy to picture across years with very little difference.

Dra pulled down a side street on a hill and parked at the curb. The lawn rose up at a steep angle to the right, with steps cut into the earth that led to a standalone wood and brick building. Above the porch, a hand-painted sign read, The Tea Dragon's Hoard. "Here we are. Same old shop."

"It looks exactly as I recall." Therien smiled down at her. "It's good to be back."

"This place agrees with you," she said, with a peculiar emphasis on place. "You shouldn't have left."

"It was a professional decision, Dra."

"You belonged here!" She stopped herself. "Sorry. I was this close to saying 'I told you so' but that would have been cruel. And wrong.You had to pursue your career."

He hefted the two suitcases--his and Andros's--from the back of the car. "Considering last night...maybe not so wrong."

"Don't." Dra sent him a worried glare. "Come on. We have a lot to discuss, and I'm not going to start until I have a proper pot of tea."

A handwritten sign on the door said, "Closed Due to Emergency. Visit us online!" It made a small curl of warmth in Therien's chest, that Dra would sacrifice a full day of business for him. He felt the close, homey atmosphere of the Hoard settle around him as they walked through the empty shop to a private stairwell at the back. Crystals and semiprecious stones twinkled at them as they passed, and the multitude of dried herbs and oils along the wall behind the apothecary counter merged into one complex scent that meant comfort to Therien. Dra unclipped the "do not enter" chain and let him precede her up to the apartment on the next floor.

"In here." She led him through a tiny kitchen, equally tiny living room, and to a short hallway with three doors. "Spare closet, I mean, guest room." She winked and opened the leftmost door. It reminded Therien of the attic room he'd had in his house in Provence, when he was a child.

"It's perfect," he said, and meant it. There was only room for a single bed, a low, square nightstand, and a braided rug. Two walls held out-of-season coats and dresses (all in black), and a small window let in the afternoon light. The clothes made the space feel even smaller, but also cozier. "I don't remember you having this set up like this before."

"I had a friend stay with me for a few months. It was the best solution for her, and now I have a guest bed. Now, put your things down and collect yourself, and I'm gonna make some tea. Come out in like, ten minutes. Okay?"

***

"I need to hear what happened in its entirety," she said with no preamble when he emerged from the room after the short break. She did not comment on the fresh tear tracks on his cheeks, though she did get up to fetch a damp washcloth that she handed him wordlessly. It was warm and felt soothing on his skin.

"Everything? Are you sure?"

She rolled her eyes and settled back on the couch with her tea. "Everything, but leave out the gory details. I don't need to know about each grope and kiss, if that's what you mean."

His face warmed, and suddenly the cloth felt cool in comparison. "Ah. So...I decided last night that I was going to tell Andros how I felt."

"Good for you!"

"This is hard, Dra."

"Sorry. But still. Good for you. I knew you'd work up the courage one day."

He closed his eyes and counted backward from five in French. "We went back to the room and, ah, we were intimate together. It was...beautiful. Dra, he told me he loved me."

She gazed softly at him. "Of course he did. He's been head over heels for you for years."

"How--are you joking?" he demanded. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Sweetheart, it wasn't my place to say. He told me in confidence, as you told me the same kinds of things and I kept them from him. I'm not a meddler, I'm a confidant."

"What an oblivious fool I've been," he mourned, head in his hands. Dra tsked and pulled her feet up beneath her on the couch.

"None of that, now. Tell me the rest."

He sighed. The knot that hadn't left his belly seemed to grow tighter. "After--afterward, we were just talking. We both felt so happy. Things were going to work out. And then...I heard the sound of chains. They just appeared out of nowhere and then they--I don't know how they did it, they just clasped themselves around him."

Her fingers tightened on the teacup. "What did they look like? Did you see them clearly?"

"Gold," he said, and shuddered. "He seemed to know what they meant."

"What did he say?"

"He told me not to look for him. That he loved me." The tears were back, but he didn't care. "He was afraid. He tried to struggle but then--he was gone! They just pulled him away. I didn't see where. He was just...gone."

Therien broke down again. With Dra, it was okay. She was safe.

She was at his side at once, arms around him, holding him close in a protective embrace. "Hush, now. I know you're worried, and scared, and you have every right to be." Dra pulled up an embroidered ottoman and sat on it so she could look up into Therien's eyes. "Now, love, I need for you to pay attention and believe what I say, for this is the truth, as much as any one thing can be Truth."

Therien hugged his arms to himself, but he nodded, confused but willing.

"I know how to find him. But!" she held up her hands to keep him in his seat; he was already halfway to his feet. "But! We cannot just go there. I need to prepare both of us for whatever we will encounter. And before I even do that...I need to know something."

"Anything." The word came out breathlessly.

Her green eyes seemed to glow under her short auburn bangs. "What would you give up to see him safe?"

"I--I don't have much money, but there's the sponsorship--"

"No," she said more sternly. "What would you, Therien, give up of your own, in order to save Andros?"

"Whatever it takes."

"Think about this. You don't know what the cost will be. Your left eye? Your ability to swim? A memory? What would you sacrifice in order to see Andros go free?"

"I will do whatever I must," he said; the words seemed almost pithy but there was a weight behind them that even startled Therien. "I will set him free, no matter who or what has him, and I will do anything to make it so."

"Would you give up your freedom? Your life?"

"Yes," he said slowly, and realized he meant it. "Why, though? What do you know about this?"

"That resolve will be tested, sweetheart," she said, standing. She laid a hand on his shoulder. "Now, go. Sleep. I have things to ready and you must rest."

"I don't think I could sleep--"

"Drink this." She produced a small vial and tipped a few drops into his teacup. "It will help."

"What is it?"

Dra shrugged. "A little of this, a little of that. Nothing toxic. It will give you dreams, though. Shut your door so I don't have to listen to them." She winked, and her quiet humor convinced him to down the potion, whatever it was.

He trusted Dra.

Next he knew, he was being eased down to his borrowed bed. Dra tucked the blanket around him; somewhere along the way, his shoes had been removed, and his sweatshirt lay folded on the nightstand. "Rest," she said, voice distant. "I'll come get you when I'm ready to go."

He tried to respond, but his mouth was full of flowers and he was falling, falling, falling.

[pinnithin-writes]

Good Jokes

Chapter 12

Tommy knew it was only a matter of time before Benrey reappeared, but when the team rounded a corner in the testing sector and encountered two of him, staring back eerily as perfect mirrors, it was sooner than he’d anticipated. 

Gordon ground to a halt in the stark white hallway, uttering a fearful “nononononono” like it was a mantra at the disquieting spectacle. Tommy moved to take a protective step in front of him when Bubby shouldered aggressively past them.

“Look out, Gordon!” he shouted. “It’s Benrey!”

He unloaded an entire clip into the entity without hesitation. Blood sprayed the walls, the ceiling, the men present.

Bubby whooped. “I got him!”

Dr. Coomer clapped a heavy hand on Bubby’s shoulder. “Fine shooting!”

Tommy wiped crimson from his face and watched in surprise as Benrey’s double, full of lead, dropped to the floor. Okay, maybe Bubby could win back some points after all. He sent the scientist an appreciative look while Gordon swayed deliriously in the wake of the gunfire, murmuring repetitions to soothe himself.

“We can’t kill him. We can’t kill him. We can’t kill him,” he droned. He raised his exhausted gaze to the entity’s face. “Why won’t you die? Please?”

The other Benrey, fully manifested, was pocked with holes but seemed unbothered. He passed a lazy look between the members of the Science Team, landing with a smug raise of his eyebrows on Tommy. Miss me?

Tommy glared back. He didn’t.

“Gordon,” Coomer said, pointing at the double, “he’s right here on the floor, dead as a doornail.”

Benrey took a casual step forward, making Gordon bristle visibly. “Hey, um, you got one of these?” he asked, reaching into his back pocket and drawing out a very familiar document.

The passport thing again? Tommy tensed, narrowing his eyes and clocking every move the entity made as he unfolded the license to reveal his identification. The words BENRYBENRYBENRYBENRY marched across the line for his name. Tommy fought the urge to roll his eyes. Asinine. Utterly pointless.

He would ignore the being entirely if Gordon wasn’t on the verge of a nervous breakdown next to him, drawing in thin, shallow breaths as he was confronted with the document. Tommy blinked. This was… really getting to him, huh? He glanced at Bubby and Coomer, who were poised to act, waiting on a cue. Benrey was gloating as he drank in the attention.

Okay. Fine. Tommy knew how to defuse this.

“Here you go, sir,” he intoned sarcastically, producing his own passport from the pocket of his slacks and flipping it open.

The other scientists followed his lead, showing the entity their identification. Gordon, flummoxed, stared numbly between the passports, squinting to read them through his fractured glasses.

“I don’t believe it,” he said. “Were you given those?”

To Tommy’s amusement, Bubby and Dr. Coomer were hamming it up. “Just as requested,” Bubby declared loudly, while Coomer brightly added, “I believe all the paperwork is in order!”

“Please show it now,” Benrey urged.

Gordon was still studying the passports somewhat hazily. “Bubby…” he murmured aloud. “Dr. Coomer, Ph.D…” his gaze swung to Tommy’s ID, eyes tracking across the letters, brow furrowed in incomprehension. Then his expression cleared suddenly and that laugh Tommy had been waiting for came tumbling out of him. “Tommy Coolatta?” he shrilled, ignoring Benrey entirely to give Tommy a look of confused delight. “That’s your last name?”

Tommy grinned back in full force. “Yeah, I’m an orphan,” he explained. “They let me pick my first - my own - my - my last name.” In truth, he’d gotten to pick all of them, but that was beside the point. “But it was - I wa - I was in a Dunkin’ Donuts and I just looked around.”

Gordon nearly doubled over with breathless laughter, and Tommy, still smiling, caught him with a steadying hand under his arm before he collapsed to the floor completely.

“Oh, how inspiring!” Bubby remarked, humor touching his words.

Dr. Coomer got in on it, too. “It’s important to find small beauty every day.”

Tommy flipped his passport shut with his free hand and slid it back into his pocket. He couldn’t help giving Benrey a challenging smirk as he did. He could try and knock Gordon out of orbit all he wanted; Tommy would pull him back with laughter every time.

Gordon eventually recovered enough from the sucker punch of Tommy’s last name to stand upright. He fixed Benrey with a defeated stare, still uncomfortable with his presence but no longer electric with panic. Tommy unslung his rifle as Gordon addressed the entity again.

“Benrey, I don’t have a passport,” he began. “I don’t-”

“Oh, hey, yo, what hap - oh, man, look,” Benrey cut him off, his tone maddeningly neutral as he flicked a look at Gordon’s injury. “You fucked up.”

Gordon’s mouth hung open in stunned outrage. “Shut - shut - shut up!” he barked.

Benrey only stooped to insult. “What did - what didja do, write your name too many times on the blackboard, idiot?”

Gordon let out a strangled noise, half rage and half disbelief, as he took a staggering step back. “You’re gonna g - you’re gonna kill me. You’re gonna kill me, talk-” his tone dipped and he lost his footing. “I can’t stand up straight.”

Tommy quickly switched his rifle to one arm so he could support Gordon with the other. The symptoms of blood loss were hitting him in waves, and he lurched against Tommy as his bearings left him all at once.

“We gotta get to the cybernetics lab fast,” he groaned, his head lolling on Tommy’s shoulder.

Benrey had a nauseated look on his face as he shifted his gaze between the two of them. “Calm down, man,” he muttered. “Jeez.”

Gordon shook his head weakly, raising the grievous wound in accusation. “‘Calm down,’ he says. ‘Calm down,’ he says.” his tone was laced with loathing.

Tommy had to admit he was impressed at how spiteful the man could sound even when he was barely conscious. Benrey schooled his features and ignored him, while Dr. Coomer tucked away his passport and gave Gordon a worried look.

“Gordon, you seem to be losing a lot of blood,” he said. “This can cause things such as,” he began counting off on his fingers seriously, “delirium, exhaustion, death.”

Tommy felt Gordon chuckle weakly against him. “Death,” he repeated, not entirely present.

Coomer exchanged a look with Tommy and grimaced. “Perhaps we should get a move on.”

Perhaps. They were gradually able to coax Gordon into standing on his own two feet. After a few moments to regain his bearings, he was able to push on. Tommy was once again struck by the sheer resiliency of the man - so weak and so breakably human - still moving forward as he walked at the edge of death. He was going to make it out of here, in spite of everything. He deserved that much, at least.

---

Benrey fell in line with the rest of the team, his hunger for mischief satiated for now. Tommy caught Gordon eyeing the entity jealously as his bullet wounds miraculously healed over and felt a pang on his behalf. All he could do to help was keep him from getting shot and keep him moving. And pray that there was someone still at the cybernetics department who could fix the mess of bone and tissue that was Gordon’s right arm.

They traced the hallways, laid out like graph paper, through the testing facility. Gordon’s condition was worsening as he stumbled after them, sing-songing his words in a delirious lilt. At least in this state he was already too far gone for Benrey’s presence to be much detriment - every time he tried to aggravate him, Gordon just responded by politely asking him to die.

Turns out this sector wasn’t as abandoned as they initially thought. Bubby located a scientist who had somehow evaded both evisceration from aliens and annihilation from infantrymen, which was a miracle in itself, and then the team solicited his help without shooting him on the spot, which surprised Tommy even further. Gordon wearily complimented his companions on their personal growth while they followed the man to the facility door.

“Gordon, I’m learning,” Dr. Coomer declared proudly, which made Tommy giggle silently through his nose.

As their newest ally punched in the code to release the bolt on the exit door, he cautioned the team about the dangers they faced on the other side: most of it military in origin, but the manifested creatures had undoubtedly found their way to the surface, as well. Tommy gripped his weapon in resolve as hot desert wind blew his hair back. He’d already been through three days of hell. He wouldn’t flinch away from more of it if salvation lay on the other side.

The scientist was midsentence when he froze. Dead stop. Tommy paused, puzzled, until he lifted his gaze and saw the rest of the team standing motionless in their own right. All except Gordon, who had raised his eyebrows in alarm as he noticed the change.

His mouth was halfway open to ask Gordon if he was okay, but the words died in his throat as a cool, rippling wave engulfed Tommy. It bound his muscles tight. Halted the breath in his lungs. It was a sudden, powerful energy, and it felt…

Familiar.

He sensed his father’s presence more than he saw it. Tommy was fixated on Gordon - he alone had been left untouched, and dismay flickered across his face as Tommy froze before his eyes. Don’t panic, it’s okay, he wanted to tell him, but wasn’t even sure if he’d believe it, himself. He had no idea what his father had come to do, gripping the team’s mobility as he did.

“Gordon Freeman.” His voice was smooth as glass, as always.

Gordon tore his gaze away from Tommy and studied the clean-pressed suit of a man in front of him. His expression was wary, but he was too weakened to consider fleeing in any capacity. Tommy, meanwhile, felt like he’d been punched in the stomach - the tethers in his sinews made him think of blackened hallways and broken cries for help and blood thick on his hands and-

His father’s dress shoes snapped across the tile as he approached. He slid Tomy a glance of acknowledgement, but his attention was primarily on Gordon. “It is good to see you and your companions in such good spirits,” he said. “I’d offer to shake your hand but it seems you’re a little… lacking in that department now, hm?”

As an afterthought, he raised a casual index finger in a near imperceptible gesture. The blood leaking out of Gordon’s wound abruptly stopped.

A current of complicated emotion ran through Tommy at the observation. Why couldn’t he do that? Why had his dad waited until Gordon was on the edge of death to pull on the collar of his mortality? Most disquieting, why had he allowed the incident to happen at all? He agonized, motionless, while Gordon gave his arm an unsettled look and said nothing.

His father went on. “I realize the indiscretion of having a conversation at a time like this, but I felt it was important to... talk to you properly before you go any further.”

Only the man in the suit would consider playing space and time like a harp a “proper” conversation, and Tommy could only sit in his frustration while his dad awaited an answer.

Gordon eventually found his voice. “Oka - okay?” he ventured, darting his eyes to his petrified companions. “What have you d - what is happening?”

Tommy’s father cleared his throat delicately. “The Resonance Cascade and its repercussions are merely the prelude to a scheme of events much… grander than you could comprehend,” he explained, maddeningly vague. “You’ve already faced impossible odds, and your prospects going forward will only grow slimmer and slimmer.”

Good one, dad. Real encouraging. Gordon’s shoulders sagged and he uttered a resigned, “Yeah,” that made Tommy’s heart ache.

“Perhaps things would have gone a bit better if you’d remembered to bring your… pass-port, hm?” He flicked an interested look at the entity, standing stock-still at the doorway.

Gordon sucked in a breath. He didn’t respond.

The lecture marched on. “There are some who would say that surrender is your only choice at this point, but I have a vested interest in seeing you succeed, Mr. Freeman. Which is why I will continue to offer my support, as will my,” he paused, giving Tommy another glance, “associates.” His galaxy eyes returned to Gordon. “But the onus of survival ultimately rests upon you.”

That didn’t make the weight of Gordon’s life sit any lighter on Tommy’s shoulders. Yes, the man was bold as a brass band with the tirelessness to match, but he was still human. His reserve of sheer willpower would run dry eventually.

“We’ll talk again soon enough but, until then, I wish you the best of luck in these… dire circumstances.” His father turned to leave, pausing at the last second to cast a somewhat bemused glance between Tommy and Gordon. “Oh, and make sure no harm comes to my... progeny, will you?” he added.

Really? Tommy would give his father an offended look if his face could move. Gordon slid his gaze to Tommy and then back to the man in the suit, a bit too delirious, perhaps, to fully follow. Well, at least the blood loss was good for something.

His father smiled like a wolf, showing his eyeteeth. “You have a long way to go, Mr. Freeman,” he warned him. “As for me, this is where I get off.”

He warped out of the room, breaking the spell that had settled over them. Tommy sucked in a breath and leaned back against the wall, chest rising and falling in the wake of what he’d just learned, while the remainder of the group woke from their stupor, unaffected. Gordon was staring numbly at the place where Tommy’s father had been only moments ago, a disoriented frown tugging at his face.

Bubby fidgeted at the open door. “Why are you just standing there?” he asked.

“I know it’s dangerous ahead, Gordon,” Coomer reasoned, a step behind Bubby, “but we do need to get a move on.”

As Gordon turned to answer them, his dark eyes snagged on Tommy. There was a question on his face, a series of half-expressions following in rapid succession as he parsed through whatever was going on in his head. The man looked so utterly lost that Tommy wanted to reach out and cup his face with both hands, like Gordon had done to him on the day this had all started, and tell him, eyes locked: We’re gonna make it. It’ll be okay. I’m gonna get you out of here.

Coward as he was, he didn’t. He could only stare helplessly back.

Gordon pulled enough resolve into himself in that moment to break eye contact and face the desert. “Okay,” he sighed to the team. “Yeah.”

As they stepped into the searing light of day, hypoxia overtook the scientist who’d opened the door for them and he collapsed onto the floor. Tommy winced. Thanks, dad.

Chapter 11 <-----> Chapter 13

[overthelillies]

fic recs for my friends

yeah okay so most/all of these are davekat im sorry!! arranged in no particular order also some of them are second person I Am Sorry.

Your Interpersonal, Intergalactic Relationship: A Beginner's Guide (8,400-something words)

A beginner's guide to playing hopscotch, overcoming internalized homophobia, and falling in love with your alien best friend.

friends to lovers! p cute

So It Goes (56,845 words)

They managed to win the game somehow. He's not really sure of the details, but it's not all it's cracked up to be. He's stuck in an unfamiliar body with a thirteen year old little brother who's terrified of him.

Somehow, he is sure this is his fault.

// i have not read this one. but strider angst and davekat yes please

Red Converse (26,648 words)

Due to a seizure, Karkat Vantas now has to learn how to live his life with two speech aphasia. He goes to therapy three times a week, suffers from awful headaches, and tries to avoid people as much as possible.

Due to a traumatic experience, Dave Strider refuses to use his words, preferring to relay his snarky comments and witty banter through sign language and typing on his phone.

They meet in a waiting room.

//THIS IS REALLY GOOD Altho they do have sex just skip it dw i promise it’s worth it

how...did you tell your friends (7,906 words)

Unfortunately, you don't fancy your brother's suggestion on how to break the news to John...

There's no other way out of it, you're going to have to just tell him.

//set after homestuck, dave tries to tell the most oblivious person in the world and also his best friend (john) that he and karkat are dating and it’s literally so good

Dave Strider’s Stupid Fucking Jawline (11,607 words)

Generic high school AU. Dave's jawline is really distracting and Karkat does NOT have a crush on him (shut up, Kanaya).

//high school au. lovely. good eating.

Gray and Red (16,084 words)

In which you only see color once you meet your soulmate, and the first color you see is the same as your soulmate's eyes.

//SOULMATE AU SOULMATE AU this is kinda very Angsty (Karkat do be pining doe) it’s p good

We’re All Friends & Family Here (And Frankly, We’re Sick Of Your Shit) (68,000 somethin words)

It's been about a year since the big Fast Forward, and sure, things on Earth C aren't perfect for everyone. But they're fine. Really. It's fine. Everything is super fuckin' swell, and that's that.

It's not like one night is going to change anything.

//post homestuck GOD THIS. IS SO GOOD okay so this fic is mainly dirkjake being fucking stupid with rosemary and davekat and also a lil roxy/calliope in the bg and it’s long but!!!! so very good

Red Ties (10,705 words)

Dave Strider's eyes never turned the color of his soulmates. With his rare eye-color, there's next to no chance they simply share an eye color.

One day he meets Karkat Vantas.

//another cute soulmate au! again. love the soulmate aus what can i say

i’m at the combination dunkin donuts & urgent care (3,920 words)

Karkat Vantas is convinced beyond a doubt that his neighbor is some variety of murderer, until they actually meet in person. Highlights include blood at the laundromat, Dave's weird obsession with candles, and a box of shitty swords.

//this is SO FUNNY short n sweet i promise

the calculation (2,481 words)

the fic in which Dave gets the flu for the first time since before the game and Karkat takes care of him.

//this fic is really funny and also sweet

Start At The Beginning (9,304)

//post-homestuck, Dave and karkat falling in love. the ending to thsi made me cry

I Love Cheap Thrills (4,773 words)

You’ve been trading memes with an international pop sensation, and your drunk ass had no idea.

Classic.

//this one is verrie funnie

Locked Up (9,272 words)

Dave had always been the one best prepared for the game. He was able to handle the shit it threw at them and push it down a lot better than everyone else could.

It might have fucked up everything else about him, but that didn't matter.

He was fine.

He was always fucking fine.

//angst. very nice

I’d Tap That (oh fuck i didn’t mean to tap that) (17,041 words)

Karkat finds his old school bully on Grindr. Dave doesn't know how to shut up.

// really funny!! sorry if these are getting redundant i don’t remember the details about some of these

Pale as Bone, Pale as Water (5,305 words)

//another davekat sickfic

Apple Juice, Chips, and Bandages (5,335 words)

Every time he comes in he gets the same three things. A bottle of apple juice, a bag of chips, and bandages.

//really cute!! they’re liddol and they’re friends it’s nice

The Land of Blood and Childhood Trauma (8,242 words)

When two dreambubbles collide, two anti-social assholes are forced to help each other through it.

//not quite as Angsty as it sounds! it’s good

ecdysis (6,077 words)

Karkat goes through his adult molt. Dave does his best to take it in stride.

//so i actually haven’t read this thought I did but Uh have it anyway it looks good

Self Sabotage and Other Symptoms of a Damaged Soul (10,698 words)

//basically dave grapples with his internalized homophobia, etc. very good

turntechGodhead is offline (36,999 words)

//I’ve already ranted to you guys enough about this you know what it’s abt it’s SO FREAKING GOOD

A Ten Step Plan For Wooing Karkat Vantas, Featuring A Multitude Of Illustrations By Your Esteemed Authors, As Well As Tips For The Aforementioned Wooing (11,261 words)

Kanaya, because she's a saint, makes you a list.

The list is entitled "A Ten Step Plan For Wooing Karkat Vantas" and features a multitude of illustrations in purple pen.

"So we're doing this," you say. Your mouth threatens to twitch into something dangerously smile-shaped.

"Yes," says Kanaya. "We are making this happen."

"Hell yes."

//dave n karkat! they go on a date. stuff happens. it’s really good

Catching Colds on a Rock in the Middle of Space (15,887)

Rose catches a bad cold and it slowly spreads to the rest of the meteor crew. None of them are particularly good at admitting they're sick, let alone looking after themselves, but at least they're decent at caring for each other.

//rosemary and davekat! VERY sweet

Dave’s Girl (2,527 words)

The thing is no one knew anything more about "Kitty" other than her delicious cooking (Dave obviously doesn't want to share – ever) but the guys are more or less already in love with her. Drew insists she's probably this blond bombshell with big, blue eyes, all curves with legs that go on forever and a great rack... Practically everyone in the team has their own opinion.

//this is so funny and also im a sucker for these kinds of tropes so it’s great

Songs Made on the Meteor (27,762 words)

Dave makes music and they fall in love.

//on my to-read list! it looks good

Looks Just Like The Sun (12,231 words)

“Holy shit,” you whisper. Dave joins you at the window.

There are no stars left in the sky. Nothing but blackness and a faint soap bubble sheen.

“Is that a dream bubble?” Dave says.

And then it swallows you.

//okay. does this have explicit sex? yes. does it have a very explicit image? yes. HOWEVER (hear me out here) I firmly believe that if you whizz pass those parts, this is a very good fic with great characterization and fun banter. send tweet

aight happy reading

[highfivecalum]

Dark In Your Heart {CEO!CH} 3

Previous Chapters: One Two

◈◈◈

Calum had a love-hate relationship with his job. Sure, he loved being the boss and loved being in charge, but his dream job wasn’t being the CEO of the most well known book editing and publishing company. Calum always wanted to be a singer, always wanted to be something more than he was, but his dream never panned out. Instead, he took over his grandfather’s company after he passed away six years ago. And there he was.

He loved a lot about it, but he absolutely hated the fact that his new assistant, Madeline Thompson, the green eyed beauty, was the one woman he was not able to stop thinking about. All he thought about since she stepped into his office and into his life one week ago was her.

It was maddening, really. Madeline was maddening.

“Good morning, Mr. Hood.” Her sweet, angelic voice brought Calum back to reality. He looked up from his phone and at his new assistant, sitting so perfectly at her desk in front of his office, and smiled that smile that caught his attention from across the bar just a week prior.

“Mornin’.” Calum barely spared her another glance before heading straight for his office. He noticed the two cups of coffee on her desk and waited for her to bring it to him.

Maddie did just that, standing up and grabbing his black coffee before pushing his office door open and setting it on his desk. She licked her lips nervously and moved her hair over her shoulder, finally being able to show off her neck without worrying about the hickeys showing. It had taken a while, but they had finally faded.

Maddie knew she had no reason to be nervous around him, he assured her everything was fine between them, but she still was. He was intimidating, confident, and sexy. He made her nervous, that much was obvious.

“Do you, uh, do you need anything else?”

“No, Maddie. That’s all.”

She nodded her head silently and Calum listened to her heels click against the floor as she exited his office. He looked up through his eyelashes and bit his lip to suppress the groan that threatened to leave his lips at the sight of her ass looking incredibly amazing in the dress she was wearing.

Calum was fucked.

◈◈◈

“Hi welcome to Hood Publishing.” Maddie grinned up at the two, tall, handsome men in front of her, Luke and Ashton, two of Calum’s best friends. They were tall and handsome just like him, Maddie thought. “What can I do for you?”

“We’re here to see Cal. He in?” Luke asked, shoving his hands in the pocket of the leather jacket he had on. He checked her out, not even trying to be smooth about it, and his smiled widened as she smiled up at them.

Cal. Maddie could only guess that he was referring to Calum. She smiled up at the them and nodded her head. “Uh, yeah. He’s here. Go on in.”

“Thanks, ma’am.” Luke winked at her and he and Ashton made their way into his office like they had multiple times before. They always showed up out of the blue, mostly when they knew that Calum wasn’t that busy. They hated interrupting him, but they rarely saw him, so they took every chance they could to see their best friend. “Cal! My man!”

Luke and Ashton sat down, kicking their feet up on his desk, making him scowl, and making themselves at home. Luke pulled out his phone, mindlessly looking through social media and replying to some texts and emails while Calum and Ashton talked and caught up. Luke showed up at Calum’s building more often than Ashton did. Calum wasn’t telling Ashton anything that Luke didn’t already know.

“Why’s your assistant look so familiar?” Ashton pointed his thumb behind him, motioning to Maddie sitting at her desk since they had left the door open, much to Calum’s dismay. Calum always preferred to have his door shut for privacy, especially when his friends were there, since they- mostly Luke, were loud and ignorant.

Calum dropped his pen, hiding his face in his hands, and letting out the loud groan he had been holding in since he saw Maddie this morning looking just as good as ever. Luke and Ashton exchanged looks with each other, eyebrows raised and amused smiles on their faces. They knew Calum to be stressed about work, but work was not what seemed to be stressing him out that day.

“You good, brother?” Ashton asked worriedly.

“It’s the girl. She, Maddie, is the girl.”

“Um,” Luke chuckled. “Not sure what that means.”

“The girl from the bar last week. The one who came home with me?” Calum spoke, jogging his friends memories. Their faces said it all. They knew exactly what he was talking about and they almost couldn’t believe it. “The one I told you about? Yep. She’s my fucking assistant.”

“Okay, wow.” Ashton exhaled a breath. Now he was stressed and so was Luke. They knew that Calum hated mixing business with pleasure, and even though it wasn’t intentional, it had still happened. And they knew Calum had been struggling internally with it, not being able to talk to anyone about it since he hadn’t seen any of his friends since that night. “Wasn’t expecting that.”

“Well, you’re fucked.” Luke didn’t try to sugarcoat it.

“No shit, Hemmings.”

“Why don’t you just fire her?”

Calum sighed. He had debated that once he first saw her in his office, but she was such a good assistant so far, he couldn’t afford to lose her and try to find another. “I thought about it, but I can’t. She’s actually good at her job, you know? She’s on time, she’s super detailed with everything, she gets my coffee from Dunkin Donuts instead of Starbucks, and gets me and sausage biscuit instead of bacon like everybody else did-“

“And she’s a complete fucking stunner.” Luke added, interrupting him with a shrug of his shoulders. Ashton snorted, although it wasn’t all that funny, but couldn’t help but laugh at Luke’s bluntness. Luke Hemmings was the most blunt out of all of Calum’s friends and sometimes it was good, sometimes it was bad.

“Yeah. There’s that, too.” Calum wanted to scream.

“Welllll,” Luke dragged on. “If you’re not hittin’ that anymore, can I?”

Calum could have killed him for saying that. If he couldn’t have her, no matter how badly he wanted her, his friends definitely could not. Call it selfish, call it possessive, call it whatever you wanted; Calum wasn’t letting that happen.

“Get the fuck out of my office, Luke.” Calum glared at him, chucking his pen at him and staining his white t-shirt he had on.

“Hey!” Luke frowned, hands held up in surrender. “I was kidding.”

◈◈◈

Calum flagged down the bartender, ordering a much needed whiskey and downed it in one gulp, acting as if it was a shot rather than a full drink. He ordered another, and another, before joining his friends at the table they found in the middle of the crowded bar. Friday night life night in Seattle was always fun, and although Calum was getting older- approaching twenty-seven in a few months, he still enjoyed going out and enjoying the night with his friends.

“What’s up his ass today?” Michael Clifford, Calum’s other best friend, asked Luke and Ashton.

Calum was in his own world; bobbing his head up and down to the music playing, looking around for a girl that would meet his needs for the night (and help get his mind off of his assistant that he had been constantly thinking about), and chugging down drink after drink.

“It’s my assistant,” Calum finally spoke up before Luke or Ashton could.

“What about her?” Michael furrowed his eyebrows. “She tryin’ to get into your pants?”

At that, Luke, Ashton, and even Calum laughed. Laughed at the irony of the situation and how clueless Michael was, but still somehow had a clue. “Doesn’t need to try to. She already did.” Calum grumbled.

Ashton saw the confused expression on Michael’s face and before he had the chance to ask, Ashton told him the situation Calum was stuck in. “She’s the girl Cal had a one night stand with last week. The same morning he got to work and there she was. Hungover, covered in hickeys from him, in all her glory.”

“No!” Michael gasped, always being the one to love gossip. “You’re fucking with me.”

Calum scoffed into his glass and tilted it back, squeezing his eyes shut as the familiar taste of whiskey burned his throat as he swallowed it. “Wish I was, Mike. Wish I fuckin’ was.”

Calum tuned his friends out as they talked about it, about Maddie, and his eyes locked on a girl across the bar; blonde hair, brown eyes- the opposite of Maddie. Calum slammed his glass down on the table, causing his friends to flinch, and he cracked his neck while he stood up.

“Gonna go fuck someone else to get her out of my mind. See y’all later.”

Calum tried. He went back  to the girls house, the girl whose name he didn’t bother to ask for, and tried to fuck the memory of Maddie out of his head. He tried to keep his eyes open the whole time, tried to stare at the girl who looked nothing like Maddie and engrave her in his brain instead, but it didn’t work. He didn’t even bother to stay the night.

To say Calum was fucked would be the understatement of the century.

◈◈◈

Taglist: @novacanecalum @cosmocalum @roselukes @kinglyhood @cantbehandled-ever @hereforlukescruff @astroashtonio @monsteramongmikey @gosh-im-short @emma070900 @youmaycallmemrshemmings @cakesunflower @asht0ns-world @singt0mecalum @lockthisheartinchains @cheyenne-in-wonderland @babyurart @blahehblah @inlovehoodx @softboycal @hopelessxcynic @ashtoniwir @calumsmermaid @curly-cal @callllumhood @rexorangecouny @kurtsflowergirl @cocktail-calum @lukewarmwoda @meganmisc @neonweeknds @kenopsia-falcon @blue-sunset-oreo-lover @foolishcal @ayee-style @itsmeempar @outofmylimitcal @mariellelovescupcakes-blog @post-traumatic-mess @damselindistressanu @tapolesarebabyturtles @noswagswag @scarapoison @sugarcoatedcalum @notsooperfect @trustmeimawhalebiologist @klb967 @pettybassists @littlebear1353 @cal-king @kinglyhemmings @cthoodsthetic @melanindarling @5saucewho @marghood @manicpanicbaby @colormekaykay @omgitsclarice @geeksareunique 

[graequeen]

La Mia Ragazza Rockey Chapter 4

"Well that one was a no…" I said to myself as I crossed out the tutor position off of my list. It had been a week since I emailed my resume to them, and I had only received a response back from them earlier today. It was a formal response, or as formal as it could be, as it questioned the nerve I had applying to a job I didn't qualify for. They ended up hiring a college student a few days earlier, and had simply forgotten to notify the other applicants. 

          I've been running between job interviews, and the only thing I've accomplished was a well deserved work out. After all of the food and booze I've consumed over the past few weeks, I would still need to continue walking for another couple of miles. 

          At the current moment, I was sitting outside a Dunkin Donuts, enjoying my third cup of Iceed Coffee, which I knew I was going to regret later. My interview list had gotten shorter, with only two interviews left; both of which were at the mall. 

          "I thought I've past that point in my life where I would need to find work at a mall?" I asked myself depressingly. I figured I would be at a different part of my life at this age. The fact that I was currently considering working at the GAP, meant that I had hit a new low in my life. But money was money, and I needed a lot of it. 

          I felt my phone vibrate in my pant suit pocket; my short break was over. In order to make it to my next interview, I would need to walk 45 minutes. Thankfully I was wearing something comfortable: a dark grey pant suit with a pink blouse. I had on flats, and my hair was let loose into large curls. When this was done, I am going to buy Tony the biggest bottle of wine.

          I got up, and began making my way down Broad St. For the first few minutes, I remained focused. By the time I made it to the next block, I got distracted. I began looking through shop windows, and began to buy small snacks. I'm such a mess…

          As I crossed to the next block, I noticed a small child walking by himself. He had on a private school uniform: navy blue pants, grey jacket, white button up shirt with a navy blue bowtie. His reddish-brown hair was disheveled, as if he had just woke up. But it was his face that concerned me. His face had lost all color, and there was a blank expression in his eyes. There seemed to be something wet covering most of his head, and the top half of his uniform. It was as if something was poured over him. 

          'Was he being bullied?' I asked myself. The thought alone triggered back a flood of painful memories. By the end of the day, I was going to end up drunk and binge eating again. 'FUCKING GREAT!'

          This kid was gaining the attention of everyone around him. Some were concerned, but for the most part, they kept to themselves. Though I knew I had to go to the next interview, I couldn't help but follow him. I wanted to make sure he was ok.

          Once he hit the corner of the street, he turned to his right, and continued walking. It was a quiet street; not many shops, other than one pizzeria. I continued following him, making sure nothing happened to him. 'But how long can I follow this kid for…?'

          I began walking right next to him, hoping he would notice my presence. But I quickly realized I could have worn a space suit clown outfit; I was never going to get noticed by this kid. 

          "Hey kid, are you ok?" I asked softly. I guess I startled him, because he stopped and turned to stare at me with wide eyes. Before he could answer me, we were interrupted by a small group of boys. 

          "There goes the little bastard immigrant!" A boy yelled from behind us. There were four of them, looking as if they were in their last year of middle school. They were the definition of pretty boy, rich kids that ran their school. 

          The look on the other boy never went away; in fact, it looked like it got worse. His attention turned to his abusers. He began to shake at the sight of them. A large knot began forming at the bottom of my stomach. 

          The main bully began to waltz over to us; he didn't even bother looking at me. He figured I was not going to do anything. He was a brunette pretty boy, who came to my shoulders. There was an arrogant, cocky manner in the way he walked; it bothered the shit out of me. 

          "Who the fuck do you kids think you are?" I asked, stepping in front of the small child. The other boy looked at me, as if just realizing I was there the whole time. 

          "Move bitch!" The main kid said as he attempted to push me out of the way. Without thinking I grabbed his arm, twisted it, and pushed him back to his group. Apparently I used too much force, cause there were tears in his eyes. The other three boys had a look of fear as they saw their ringleader reduced to tears.

          "They don't make bullies the same way anymore, huh?" I asked out loud. "Why don't you punk ass kids get out of here before I show you some old school bullying." The group of kids looked at each other, back to me, before turning around. 

         "This isn't over tomato-face little bitch!" The ringleader said, before leaving with his cronies. They raced towards the end of the street before jumping into a black town car. I didn't get a chance to write down the license plate.   

          "I don't need your damn help!" The boy behind me grunted angrily with a heavy Italian accent. I turned around with a weird, annoyed face. I was not going to let this brat talk to me like that after I saved him.

          "Look here kid, I don't give a flying rat's ass if you asked for help, or not. I'm not going to let anyone get bullied in front of me." I said as I crossed my arms, giving him my best adult look. 

          "Wipe that look off your face grandma! I could've handled my own! I don't need help from other bullies!" He said as he attempted to walk away from me. I should've just left it as us, but for some reason, I couldn't help but interfere more. 

          "Look here you piece of slimy poop!" I said, grabbing the kid on the shoulder and redirecting him to a small table outside the pizzeria. Before he had a chance to protest, I forced him to sit. I looked at him eye to eye, making sure he understood how serious I was. 

          "I never said I was a bully...I just know how to deal with them." My voice began to shake a little as I repressed violent memories. "I just know how bullies work." 

          I grabbed a few napkins off of my small handbag, and drenched it with some water from my water bottle. I carefully began to wipe his face, trying to be as gentle as possible. He was clearly not happy about me touching him. His eyes showed a huge distrust in me, and if I was not careful of what I did or said, I'd lose him. 

          "One time, my bully kept me inside the girl's bathroom for the entire day. She kept beating my ass, and dunking my head into the toilet. I swear to this day, I cannot pass a public bathroom without feeling like there is still shit and piss in my hair. I think I got all of it out…"

          He laughed for a split second, before returning to a serious face. I broke through somehow, and I needed to make sure I kept it up. 

          After a few minutes of silence, he asked, "H-how old were you?" 

          "I was 16." I admitted in defeat. "My name is Jaz, but you can call me Rockey." I said, extending my hand. He took it with his after much hesitation. 

          "My name is Matteo." he said. 

[korstudies]

College And Anxiety

When I was in high school, I had a friend who went absolutely everywhere with me. We would sit in the morning and wait for classes to start together, we would meet up between every class. She would skip into my class and I would skip into hers and this kind of mutual co-dependency can be scary but for someone who has severe social anxiety, it was actually pretty comforting. Somehow we kept up this act of class-dodging, teacher-fooling acrobatics for nearly four years without being caught and still managed to graduate with 3.5 GPAs. This ill-advised scheme we had developed between the two of us kept us from being overwhelmed by schoolwork, the school itself, and the people in it. While I have moved around a lot, somehow, I always found another companion with the same issues of being alone in public as I had and that made the struggle somewhat easier.

However, we ended up going to different colleges so there I was on the first week of school facing a few facts that I had avoided for 19 years of my life:

I did not know how to make friends and I had held myself back from ever developing this skill through chronic shyness and awkward platonic attachments along with the near agile aptitude that I had developed for never having to speak unless it was utterly necessary.

I had no idea how to go places alone. (My over-protective family had this social handicap covered entirely.)

It is not so easy to find an anchor when you are dropped in a place with thousands of other people who don’t know you and have absolutely no motivation to talk to you.

I had gotten through school by barely forming any lasting social bonds.

Fortunately for me, I am only 19 and so I took it upon myself to correct these inadequacies before I reached an age where they would be irreversible. I looked at social interaction in the same way I look at posture: If you can fix it before you're thirty, then you're not too late. Some people never catch themselves on this. When I asked my grandma, for example, “how do you make friends?” she promptly replied to me with “I don’t.” and while her response was met with a ton of laughs from myself, I was slightly worried that I would find myself in the same place at her age. That being said, Here are my top 3 tips for making friends in college (when you know no one and just don't want to be alone):

No one cares. Okay, so this tip may seem counter-intuitive to begin with since one of the main worries of anxiety for some people is that you're alone and no one cares about you or no one likes you, however, I mean this in the best way possible. During my first week of college, I saw a boy wipe out on his skateboard on the wet breeze-way just after a light shower. While I remember this happening, I have absolutely no recollection of who the boy was or what he looked like. If he were to walk up to me today, I would have no idea that was him. This is one of the big differences between high school and college. Unless someone knows you personally or you do something like commit murder  (don't commit murder for notoriety. I've gathered that it typically doesn't go as planned.) no one is ever going to know that you tripped over the third step in front of the library and spilled your dunkin' donuts or that you dance in the elevator on your way to class when you're alone or that you locked yourself out of your dorm room once when you went to take a shower before a talent show. (all of these things have happened to me and a cute boy saw me doing the last one but team #noshame) In high school, things were majorly a popularity contest and while you will encounter this same primary, predatory hierarchy somewhere else in life, college probably won't be that place. At least, not during your first year. The thing about college is that while high school was about being better than everyone else, college is just about being the best you that you can be. In high school, everyone was worried about being pretty or cool or...whatever the kids want these days but in college, people are mainly just worried about getting their shit done on time and well and graduating. Whether or not some dorky girl dances on her way to do her laundry, doesn't matter to them. In college, no one cares and everyone minds their own business and it is beautiful. Sure, every now and then you will come across with spiteful people who will go out of their way to be awful but it's rare and they should be given no merit since they are simply being spiteful because of their own issues. Pull an old lady move and offer them some hard candy and move along.

Join a club. This one seems like a no-brainer but it can be a pretty daunting task. If you have social anxiety, walking into a room full of people who are probably close to each other and don't know you, at all, can be utterly terrifying, however, joining a club will help. In high school, people make friends due to obligation and proximity, but in college, there's no obligation to spend time with anyone unless they're in a club with you. This may seem to defeat the purpose of making lasting friends in college but it isn't. If you choose the right club with something you genuinely care about or are interested in then you're more likely to make lasting friends with them. Another factor that will help you make friends is the fact that friendship tends to be a chain reaction. If you make friends with people, you will most likely make friends with their friends and so on and so forth.

Live On Campus. There’s two reasons for this. Partially because you can't be late to class if you're already there and partially because everyone loves those apartment building cute-meets and that's exactly what a dorm building is, a slightly smaller apartment building. Now, I’m not saying that you’re gonna meet the love of your life or your future maid-of-honor here since it’s (like I mentioned before) a friend of circumstance situation but you’ll definitely meet some pretty good people here, especially if your school has a roommate matching service. Since international students most likely live on campus, you’re also more likely to meet some new and unique people here that aren’t necessarily from your country or area which is really nice because new things are great! (This also means you won’t be late to class and will bump into people in your classes more but that’s less of a focus.)

Show Up To Class Early. Showing up to class early can put you in some different situations. In high school, you had less than ten minutes between each class every day. College is not like that, at all, the time between classes varies but normally, colleges won’t schedule two classes in the same room back to back and even if they did, your classmates will be outside. Something important to remember is that college is costing everyone there money, so people will normally be on-time to class or they won’t show up at all. While the few minutes before class where you may have passing conversations with your classmates seems super insignificant and like it doesn’t matter, I assure you, that’s probably not the case. These small conversations can lead to other things and you may even have more than one class together (this is more likely if you’re an undergrad).

Be open about your interests. This one is a little difficult. It can be trecherous territory trying to balance talking about yourself and finding more out about the other person but this is the only way that people find common interests. A good way to think about it is to tackle every conversation like the popular improve game: Yes and? This is a good thought to use when you try reciprocating most things. Basically, when someone asks you a question, you respond with your answer + a little something extra as your “Yes” then ask them something about themselves as your “and?” Here’s an example conversation:

A Person you just met: What classes are you taking?

You: Oh, Basic Philosophy. I was really inspired by a book I read called Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe. Do you read a lot?

Obviously, you don’t want to do this for a long time and in every conversation, but it should be enough to get you started!

These tips are just something to get you started in your journey to making more friends and exploring adult life! Until next time, signing off!

[bts-love-sweat-tears]

Julie��s Love Yourself Concert Diary

Concert Date: September 29, 2018

Written: September 30, 2018

Warnings: I curse more than I should?

Words: 3,330ish-added a few  things at the last minute (phew!)

A/N:

[Update: Tumblr couldn’t upload all my photos that I spent awhile choosing and placing, so I’m going to have to pare it down. Sorry bbs! I opted to cut my personal & merch photos in favor of the boys]

So I have one thousand and one things I should be working on-for school, for work, for my eventual job hunt. But instead I am going to write about last night’s experience while it was still fresh in my mind. I was thinking of doing a song-by-song play-by-play, but you can look up the setlist on Wikipedia, so instead I am going to talk about the things that jumped out at me. WARNING: This is essentially one giant spoiler, so I will try to put a “Read More” cut, though it’s been being weird for me lately. So scroll carefully if you’re going to a later date and don’t want to know. All photos taken on my (now ancient) iPhone 6, so I tried to choose the best ones). Will edit as I see typos I made.

I’m a little nervous since I usually write fiction instead of sharing my personal experience. Anyway, full disclosure that this is just my perspective, and I’m (always) happy to discuss things (civilly) if you disagree with me.  <3  Photos and opinions are mine.- please don’t re-post anywhere else.

The Background/ Pulling a Namjoon and Leaving my Ticket at Home

Even though I was going to the Saturday show, I flew into LaGuardia using frequent flyer miles on Friday morning. I was staying with a friend in Queens, so I went straight to her apartment. I’m a grad student as most of you probably know at this point, so I spent most of Friday working on a paper that was due. I had two friends I met at last year’s concert going to the Friday concert, and they went for merch promptly at 9, but I had just arrived and had a deadline to meet for school.  Around 4:30PM, I decided that I was done for the day and opened Ticketmaster to print my ticket for the next day’s show. When I logged in, I saw the notice that the ticket had been mailed to me. I remembered having seen that when I bought the ticket in May, but in my defense I was jet-lagged and ill on that day. Furthermore, I moved to and from NYC in that time for a summer internship, and SO MUCH HAD HAPPENED. The tickets had been mailed while I was living here and I had never seen them, so somehow it slipped my mind. Obviously I lived too far away, but I didn’t know if I could express overnight them, but I think when I called Ticketmaster, the old ones were deactivated when the guy tried to send me the link.

Anyway, print at home was not an option, so I called Ticketmaster and in a panic explained my situation. They said it happened all the time and offered to send me a link. Luckily I kept the rep on the line, because it turned out that even they couldn’t email a link because of the anti-scalpers/fraud/whatever.

Then the rep said that I could show the credit card, but I had literally cut it up the week prior since the Vendor (e.g. the store that the card was through) had switched their card to a different bank (e.g. Visa to Mastercard), so I seemed shady af, even though I was telling the truth. He said as long as I had a login to a statement showing the transaction (I didn’t, since they had opted to close the account at an institutional level).  So I called my mom frantically, and luckily she is the hyper-organized type who keeps paper copies of everything and sent them to me. Seriously, Mom for the win!  I run to this print shop as it’s closing and print everything out.  I had the Ticketmaster receipt & order #, and two photo ID’s confirming my address. The guy said it should be fine, but I was on the verge of a mental breakdown. This was my one birthday gift and something I had been looking forward to for months. Anyway, my friend and I went out to a local bar near the Halsey (yes, the singer took her name from the station) stop on the L line, and I was super anti-social because I was so upset. I also burst a blood vessel in my eye  (it will heal, no worries) because of too much birthday partying the prior weekend, so I’m sure I was a (sour) sight to behold.

I slept poorly for obvious reasons, and left the apartment around 7AM, and arrived to Prudential center around 8:30ish. There were only a few people outside of will call, but the GA line was already wrapped around the building. I made small talk with people outside of the box office, and one woman told me she had gotten soundcheck both days. Seriously, what kind of karma do I need for that to happen to me? She and her friends had been camping out since Thursday, and they were SUPER organized: while she waited in line, one was at merch, and someone else was holding their GA site. I almost wondered if they were a fansite or something. ARMY are a truly organized bunch (except for me, clearly).

Anyway, after another half hour of pure anxiety, they opened up will call and I was panicking, but they were really helpful and gave me my ticket after I verified the order number, showed my id and confirmed some other personal data. I decided then and there that nothing else mattered and I was just happy to be there and be in.

Waiting in line/Logistics/Staff

I left the box office, and got into the GA line. It was probably around 9:15, and the line had already doubled-back on itself all the way around the building. The woman from earlier told me that her friend had got #1000 and was only 3 rows back, so I still had some hope. Basically, you line up to get your spot in line- though it’s kinda dumb that you have to line up twice, it makes security go faster and guarantees that there isn’t a huge surge/stronger people cutting  in line later.

I wore what I thought were my most comfortable shoes, but after standing on concrete for hours, I don’t think it makes a difference. People were so friendly though-  I never once felt awkward even though I was by myself. The same was true last year- the friends who had gone up for merch on Friday I met while in line at last years’ Wings concert. I chatted with people around me, drank the two bottles of water I had, and looked at my phone. Bring an umbrella for shade and sunscreen though-I didn’t and am rocking a nice farmers burn/tan today.  It wasn’t humid though, and it wasn’t raining, so it could have been so much worse.

Even though there were tons of people, everyone was well-behaved. I didn’t see any altercations, though as the day went on the staff seemed a bit overwhelmed with crowd control.  I didn’t see too many people selling unofficial merch like last year, though I did buy a few necklaces (Joon and Chim, ofc).

After 3.5 hours, I finally got my wristband. They told us to be back by 2pm to line up for real, as they were going to try to open the doors at 3 instead of 3:30 (didn’t end up happening).

Merch

I then ran to merch, but there wasn’t much left. The fans/pickets were selling out as I got in line, and people were basically yelling “NOOOOOOOO” everytime the staff put up a “SOLD OUT” sticker. I bought what I could that was left, including a bracelet, which I’m actually in love with, the eco-tote (super overpriced tbh, $50 for a canvas bag), but the shopper bags were gone and I needed something to carry the box and batteries V3 ARMY Bomb I bought. I had one from last year that I also forgot, but I think the new version was cool because they are synced up with the music so you can change colors and patterns along with everyone else. Overall, it’s EXPEN$$$$IVE, but if anyone’s worth it, it’s Bangtan.

Newark

I was getting super tired after this, so I kinda passed on the photo studio table, big poster, and UNICEF stuff. I tried to go to Starbucks, but even though it was the middle of the day, I didn’t feel that safe, even though it was like 11:45 in the middle of the day. I’m a 27 year old who’s lived in Latin America (which is generally stereotyped for violence), solo traveled around the world, and I’m from the Rust Belt (aka home of true urban decay), but that part of Newark sketched me the heck out. Probably it would have been fine, but I opted for caution, and went to a Dunkin Donuts and empanada place right around the corner. The timing was actually good since we had to get back pretty quickly to line back up.

The second line was where the staff struggled, telling people to back up and get in order, but it seemed like staff were doing different things. Plus, if they wanted people to back up, they should have created room at the back first, before telling the front to basically “back that ass up” on the people behind them.

GA vs. Seated

I can say this- if you are short, you probably want a seat. Or if you have any kind of knee, back, or joint problems- I stood for approximately 14 straight hours on concrete yesterday. I am just under 5”5” but I was probably one of the taller people in the crowd, so I had a pretty good view. Even though they asked people to not take videos or record, you WILL be looking through a sea of cell phones. I could see pretty well, but sometimes when they were on the main stage I had a hard time seeing around other people’s arms.

Last time I had P2 seated, and the view was wonderful. I went to the bathroom, charged my phone, and ate nachos (lol), so it was generally a more chill experience. I was still super close but up a little higher and could see absolutely everything. But last night I was SO close I could see Joon’s dimples irl, and got splashed by both Jungkook and J-Hope when they threw the water bottles.  Probably 100 people think this, but I’m also pretty sure Yoongi  (and maybeeee Jimin) saw me jumping and singing along like crazy since I was one of the taller people. At the very least, Yoongi keep looking in the general direction I was in. Ofc I looked gross af with my messed up eye and crazy hair, but what I loved about the concert is that I was 100% able to forget all the insecurities I carry around with me on a day to day basis and have an AMAZING time.

Of course the whole place is crazy high energy, but I feel like last night was INSANELY high. I’m not sure if it was the overall vibe or if that was the GA influencing my opinion.  It just depends on what kind of experience you want to have. Also, if you are claustrophobic, you should probably pass on GA. The guards kept forcing people to back up, at one point even coming in with a flashlight, and people would surge forward whenever a member came close. But someone said the night before was chill, so maybe it’s just luck of the draw.

The Show

The show was absolutely amazing. They opened with IDOL, which got people hyped from the get-go. Their dancing was ON POINT as always. People were chanting during the intro videos and chatting as it filled in, so it was a great vibe once again- just super happy feeling. The audio visual part was AMAZING, though I’m no pro, and I loved all of the concert outfits, especially Jimin’s super sparkly sweater. Lots of jumping, and lots of screams. I didn’t have earplugs and was fine, but if you’re sensitive to loud sounds I definitely recommend them. ISTG I remembered hearing a mashup of FIRE, but maybe not? Wikipedia seems to think not. But they played a few older ones too, which made me so soft and nostalgic.

More on the members during the concert

Kim Namjoon

Ok, this is so so so biased, let me start with that. If you’ve followed me for any amount of time, you know how much I love this man. Seeing him smiling and happy was amazing. And they had a professional translator for this concert, so I felt like Joon was able to relax a little and enjoy himself instead of worrying about translating for everyone else.  He is just as tall and proportional as everyone says he is.  Everyone talks about how soft he is these days (and I love it), but he has undeniable charisma when he raps. Plus him in sunglasses, ddaeng. Seeing him so close was akin to something spiritual for me (I SAW THE DIMPLES WITH MY OWN EYES), as were people shouting along with him to “Love.” At the end, he commented how we were all sharing the same air, and hearing him think the way (I know at least some of ) us think was so heartwarming.  

Also during some of the videos, there were some NOT AT ALL subtle Minjoon moments.  

Kim Seokjin

The crowd last night ADORED Jin and gave him all the attention he deserves to have all the time. People were chanting his name SO LOUDLY during instrumental breaks in Epiphany. His voice was phenomenal, particularly the high notes. it’s clear how hard he’s worked to make it sound so effortless.  I noticed that people weren’t moving as much during some of his notes and I can only think it’s because we were literally transfixed. It’s well established, but I don’t think this man has any bad angles. Even in the still pictures I took while dancing, he DOESN’T look awkward in any of them. #impossible.

Min Yoongi

Suga was clearly happy about something last night- he was SO cute and happy. Other ARMY on the train back to the city agreed with me. His rapping was fire (duh), but he was really smiley and took out his earpiece a number of times to hear us screaming. “Seesaw” starts with him laying on a couch and I can think of no better way to capture his true soul (lol). He was extra attentive to fans, and  I feel like what Tae mentioned in Burn the Stage, he was trying to memorize ARMY’s faces and live in the moment. I felt bad because there were clearly parts where he wanted us to sing along, but we couldn’t necessarily keep up with his tongue technology :P  But people definitely tried their best.  

Jung Hoseok

Idk what I can say here that’s new. J-Hope is one of the most charismatic members on the stage. And there’s something in the American air that turns him into Jay Hope. Seriously, he’s hard to move your eyes away from. “Just Dance” was the first solo track if I remember correctly and he did not disappoint. His glasses at the end were adorable, and one of the other members called him a “happy grandfather” or something like that.  Seriously, if you’re still sleeping on Hobi, we can’t be friends.  

Park Jimin

Jimin was ethereal as always, and the choreography for Serendipity was…..salacious, to say the least. Like if you thought the “Take Me Down” cover from last year’s Festa was too much, then idk what to tell you. Bring holy water or something. Despite  the free water that fans were providing to others (ARMY are seriously the best) there was a different kind of thirst occurring, if you smell what I’m stepping in. Jimin is pure charisma, like J-Hope. Obviously their styles are totally different, but when they move, you stop whatever you’re doing and watch. Again, I didn’t even see many ARMY bombs moving during Serendipity- I think we were too entranced. I personally thought that he killed his vocals and did great, but he seemed a little tired or like he was working hard at it. Jimin was also the one (at least that I saw from my angle) that got the closest to the fans, crouching down and leaning over the teleprompters/fans/lights/ whatever the black boxes were at the edge of the stage.

Similar to Tae and Yoongi, I saw him looking at fans A LOT during the show. He was exactly how he seems in V Lives and cameras, and I’m fairly certain I would spontaneously combust if I ever ran into him irl (even if I didn’t know who he was)- he just radiates warmth and friendliness. Seriously, if I believed in magic, I feel like he would be able to influence people’s emotions.

Kim Taehyung

So many fic writers have this ultra primal (for lack of a better word?) for Tae, but all I see is a cute sweetheart. Obviously I’ve never seen someone create as much tension with their own arm as he does during Singularity, but when he’s not dancing, I just got a super innocent, cutesy vibe from him. His voice was so smooth last night. I mean, I knew, but now I KNOW.  He actually was shooting hearts at one fan (how lucky they are), and pretended to fall down when they shot him back! They were further back in P2 as well so he really does work hard at paying attention to everyone. He actually called over another member (maybe Yoongi or Jimin? I was too busy trying to remember how to breathe, to see whatever he was seeing).

At the end he whipped a heart out of his beanie (how I pray to god someone got that moment on camera) a la Jin. He just seemed really comfortable in his own skin last night, and I was so grateful for it.  

Jeon Jungkook

I had a hard time seeing most of his Euphoria performance as it was relatively early on and people were taking a shit ton of videos. He also stayed mostly on the main stage, rather than come out to the extension area near where I was. His abs are just as great in person, and the screams were (as is to be expected), absolutely deafening. They’ve talked about it in shows, but his voice is  SO stable. Obviously they stopped at times and don’t use too much backing vocals, but it sounded EXACTLY how it does on the album. He threw something into the crowd  (I think a banner) at the end, and it FLEW so far-back to P2 or further. They’re not kidding when they talk about how strong he is.  

Final thoughts

At first, I was a little exhausted after my emotional trauma of the prior day, and from standing for so long but the minute it started I forgot everything else. I was salty when I couldn’t see that much bc of people recording (esp when they asked us not to), but I understand the specialness of the moment and wanting to have some tangible evidence that you were there. By the time the concert was over, I realized how special GA was, even if it’s more difficult logistically (since I went solo and didn’t have parents or friends to stand in). I still don’t know if it’s hit me that I was like 10 feet away from them, max. It reaffirmed how important they are to me. I didn’t write this to brag, but to hopefully share my perspective and let others live vicariously through my experience. If you want clarification or anything else, write to me!  

[kitwilsonsass]

Since I’ve been putting it off due to lingering sicky feels, etc.

Here’s the far too long and far too unedited and written at 4am vacation rundown NO ONE ASKED FOR! (huzzah!)

So, yeah. I arrived at the new Amtrak station in the city which is a major upgrade from the trailer park reject of station the old one was. Way roomier. Could use a coffee stand or something but yeah. Improvement. Had to go underground under the tracks and back up to get to the very cold surface, it must suck in the winter.

About an hour, hour and a half into the trip I quickly realized that a.) all I wanted to do was sleep, and b.) that my throat was burning. I assumed this was due to the absurdly cold, non-stop dry ass air conditioning, but no. This bitch got sick for her entire trip. On the plus side I had the seats to myself for the majority of the trip, but still. I barely watched any CR or anything because I was miserable the entire time. Ya don’t wanna be miserable for 10+ hours on a train.

Got to Boston, to @conniecorleone‘s frightening apartment stairs. My bag was way too heavy and she troopered through taking it up them for me without dying. So if you ever need a tank in battle, call Rachel.

Hung out a little. Ordered some Five Guys. Watched a couple episodes of the first season of American Horror Story. I get the appeal but also never needed to see Dermot Mulroney’s ass.

Rach was busy with work stuff a lot early in the week, not helped by some dumbass school shooting threat the week before and kept apologizing while still going above and beyond as a hostess while I just felt guilty for getting snot on her sheets.

Day two I colored a bit. I can do a wicked water gradient with erasable colored pencils, for the record. Hung out. Relaxed. Used a lot of Zicam and Advil. Then we were on way to The Middle East for her conehead space boyfriend.

We waited like, an hour? In the chilly mist outside? The show started like AN HOUR LATE after that. The venue was nice but man, the mood was getting close to dead at points, especially since, again, FUCKIN SICK. But Planet Booty came on and while, a little on the bordering too raunchy side, put on a fucking amazing live show. Dylan has an absurd amount of energy that should be bottled and sold, but if it were it might result in the orgypocalypse. I saw a youtube comment that said he’s ‘very touchy lol’ and truer words never spoken. That man will grind on you and sing directly in your earlobe with his tongue if you are front row and happily, I was not. Yet somehow I still ended up with his sweat on my sweater sleeve thanks to someone being a dumbass and high fiving him after their set and not being able to handle the consequences. Ahem.

THEN TWRP TOOK LIKE ANOTHER GODDAMN HALF HOUR???

But I FORGIVE THEM because they were GREAT and played Daft Punk’s Celebrate in honor of motherfuckin Canadian Thanksgiving so... fine... I guess. My only complaint is they didn’t do The Perfect Product even though I get that’s probably a weird thing to do live. Also minimal keytar and Sung almost decapitated himself but you know... it happens. They DID do Tactile Sensation though which is a fucking jam. And Atomic Karate, ofc. And Meouch broke his fucking bass string which is like? Fucking hardcore? He came down like a foot away from us at one point. It was dope. They’re amazing live and have no right to be for dudes in ridiculous robot costumes playing synth in the year 2018 and rolling around stage on a hoverboard. Sadly I brought minimal memory cardage this year and didn’t get a lot of good video of them.

Afterwards, despite *someone* almost passing out, we hung out in the merch lines and did NOT accidentally cut ahead this time. I got a free signed poster because it was my birthday vacation ayyyyy and bought a couple EPs and the Together Through Time album. Then hopped over the PB’s line and got two hugs from Dylan who hung out and talked to/hugged/got selfies with every single person who got into line there and just? Good dude. Pure dude. Awful stache but... thumbs up human being. I got their Naked album and we headed out back to the apartment and some delivered Dominos (which was the only good Dominos I’ve ever had in my life.)

Day three I accidentally slept until like 4pm. Literally what else did we do that day? I cannot remember for the life of me. We might have went to Dunkin at like 9pm and she showed me a weird omnipotent plastic ear hanging on an electric wire? Was that this day? I have no fucking idea. Her Netflix and supply of Puffs tissues were my best friends this trip okay.

Day four she went to class and I relaxed and intended to walk to the mall. Unfortunately, my sick bleh hit and I didn’t feel up to going until about ten minutes before she got back. So we ended up heading over there together. I made her try Baja Blast, as is customary in my nation, and got her to try some green matte lipstick. Success. I was highkey hoping they would have a Build-A-Bear in the joint but they didn’t. They did have a Newbury though, that had the six-inch Roadhog pop which I’ve had a hard time finding locally, so I said fuck it and bought it.

That night was MST3k live! The theater was old as dirt. The kind of old as dirt where the flooring is bowing in. They had real strict rules on cameras and shit, which I get for the sake of spoilers but c’mon.... c’mon. Their merch sucked unfortunately though, so I didn’t waste any money on anything (for some reason they had 2017 tour stuff? It’s... not 2017?). The show itself was good, though I was wondering before it started how sick they must get of doing the same movie in different towns almost every other night. Pretty quickly realized oh, yeah, a lot of this show was likely pre-riffed. They did pull a kid from the stage at one point so he could guest riff off a script from Joel, which I’m thinking was a clever little insert fraction of the riff they did live between segments. I could be wrong, but on that front, it felt a little cheap. But it was still fun to see the boys and the bots live and have jokes cracked about not being able to afford the villains for the tour. And The Brain itself was........ I don’t know what I was expecting but..... it sure was.... something. The novelty was worth it and I will still gladly marry Crow T. Robot.

We went across the street to a little pub stop that was I think called Rock Bottom after that and got some much needed late night food. For some reason my brain was like “man, I could go for chicken fried steak right now” and don’t you know IT WAS ON THE FUCKIN MENU? WITH GARLIC CHEDDER MASHED POTATOES? Boston, much like with wings, does not know what country gravy is, but it was still everything I fucking wanted and did not expect to find, so A+. Also I was wearing a dress with shorts underneath it and stuck to the goddamn stool. Such is life.

Day five was rainy and miserable. I tagged along to university with Rach and it sucked, honestly. Being on a campus makes me feel awkward and the whole still being sick thing didn’t help. I ended up taking a walk way around the block to a Starbucks and getting the worst fucking frap I’ve ever paid too much money for. Went back around. Sat in the library. Felt even shittier. Started googling food places. Yard House wasn’t far but I didn’t want to deal with crossing a lot of traffic, especially if the rain started back up (it did, with a vengeance). So I ended up back around the block at some Olive Garden-esque fake Italian place with not an Italian in sight called Bertucci’s for some bland chicken-less fettuchini alfredo (because, as I’d reasoned with myself, I had chicken three times the day before). It was dimly lit, I had a booth to myself, and the water had the sweet skullet and braided beard combo I had liveblogged. People kept complimenting my tattoo. It was nice and no one seemed overly bothered that I was clearly killing time until I spent probably way too long in the restroom after trying to look alive. I tipped the dude ten bucks and left in the pouring rain with my umbrella.

From her school we took the world’s longest Uber to Parts Fucking Unknown in awful traffic and rain to find a Double Tree where @freakishlytallaustralian‘s parents were staying for a hot minute during their brief little US tour on their way to Europe. I’ve never met Mandi in person, but I’ve now met her parents who say she’s gotten to know a good bloke. She looks exactly like her mom. They were sweet. Anxious but sweet. And I am a freak who doesn’t talk and was sick trying to seem presentable at the bare minimum capacity.

Back ~home~ we ordered some JP Licks ice cream (BROWNIE BROWNIE BATTER!!! BROWNIE. BROWNIE. BATTER.), I watched CR and some stupid videos on the internet with her. Got some sleep. Sort of. Barely.

Despite Matt Mercer nearly succeeding at lulling me to sleep and eating my dreams, it didn’t happen, and I could not get comfortable for the life of me. The “coughing every five seconds in bed” started this night and was not having mercy. So I opted out of another day of hanging around campus to try and get some more rest. It didn’t really work, but I did eventually get a solid three hours or so, so it was something.

As the day progressed it was onward to the Science Museum to meet Ron the T-Rex. There was a wedding happening. How appropriate, for Bravier funko pops to have come along on the day of a blessed union. Coincidence? I think not. A turtle kept falling off a branch when he was trying to nap. There was some space stuff. It wasn’t great. But I got a little stuffed dinosaur and that’s Important.

From there we hit up the same movie theater we went to the year before and saw Bad Times At The El Royale. Do recommend. Chris Hemsworth as a Charles Manson was not something I ever thought I’d see, and I still don’t understand it, but it rather predictably works for me, so we’ll leave it at that. Good movie, good performances, good pacing and editing that could have easily not been. See it, it’s fun. Not perfect, but fun.

It was COLD AS BALLS after the movie and neither of us brought jackets or sweaters, so the walk to the train station and back ~home~ was a chilly one. We stopped in, got some warmth, and headed down the road past her old place to a bar. If we didn’t appreciate TWRP and PB enough already, the band she had to pay cover for us to get in for just to pick up food were about 8 upper middle aged men playing every instrument in the book. Afropunk, they said. No, we said. Offkey, we said. This place was dark as shit and loud as shit but you know what? They KNEW WHAT REAL, HOT CHICKEN WINGS WERE and for that, I am appreciative dammit.

Went back, got some more Dominos, and was finally introduced to John Mulaney’s (or two of) comedy specials. He’s genius and I *understand* it now, tumblr. I get it. We ate way too much and did my laundry.

The week had come and gone way too soon and I felt robbed of my good time by how shitty I felt. Hopping on the train the next day (after a godawful uber ride) was just as depressing as the time before. And even though I didn’t feel as miserable as the trip there, and once again had a window seat to myself, I found myself curled up against my hoodie crying trying to fall asleep again knowing I was already headed back home.

Once the initial depression passed, the trip wasn’t bad. The iced latte was good. The Albany stop not as confusing the second time around. The WiFi kept me company. Eventually my aunt texted me asking if I wanted to hit up Stevie T’s on the way home because they were 24hr and neither of us had eaten all night. It was a plan. Get off, get food, come home, faceplant on my own big comfy bed, vow to deal with my dad’s drama in the morning and call it a night.

Then *that* happened. Yeah. Last year? Every stop, regardless of time of night, they made announcements. They came by, checked the marker above your seat, and if you were due off at the next stop told you it was coming up, would help with luggage if needed, and directed you to the correct door to exit the train. This year? Nothing. They decided to stop making announcements right before the Rochester stop, and no one came by in our car to tell us where to get off. Stopped, myself and the other person due off at that stop, a late-teens girl, went to the door at the front of our car where every other stop had gotten off before us. We assumed since no one said differently, and no attendants were around, that must be it. We were idiots. Because by the time we realized hey, they’re not going to open this door and we should go to the far other end of the train, it was already moving again en route to Buffalo.

We found ourselves in the dining booths by the cafe car while the staff made vague remarks and the conductor acted like it wasn’t his problem. My aunt on the phone talked to the Rochester station, we tried to claim I didn’t even have a reservation until about two other people looked up my ticket. They said it was up to the conductor to get us a cab home, he laughed at us, claimed to know nothing about any of that, and asked if were were going to buy the bus tickets the other girl was looking up. The bus for 3am, in downtown Buffalo, nowhere near the station. When we got off the staff at the Depew station was a lot more sympathetic, and said since nothing else was being offered he would put us on the next train back home, but since it was a Sunday morning there was no train to Rochester until roughly 7:45am. It was about 1:30 at this point. I felt awful for encouraging the other girl not to pay for two ubers and a bus ticket with the only alternative being offered to sit alone in an empty, unstaffed station in the middle of the night for hours. And between the situation, being tired and still sick, and dealing with my aunt calling hotels only to get put on hold and lose the room she was trying to reserve - I put my bags in a corner, found the restroom, and had a panic attack. I don’t know why, but those tend to be stupid like that. It’s not even like I was scared, or confused, or that worried myself. I started out very ‘whatever, I’ll just get a room or stay in the station, I’m pissed but whatever’. But something about the constant calls and texts and my battery nearing 0 had me stressed and I was crying like a bitch. I just wanted to fucking sleep, and I knew that wouldn’t happen in a train station with nothing but some benches, a restroom, and a vending machine.

Rach suggested an alternative I felt guilty about taking but ended up going for: Get to her parents house just outside Buffalo, get their spare key, and sleep on their couch while they’re out of town with their blessing. So I called an Uber, and the first one passed me by, with the gps fucking up and saying I should be picked up ON THE TRAIN TRACKS. The second guy was smart enough to come to the cab pickup out front and was really cool. He said he was just thankful I wasn’t a fucked up drunk college party kid and the first all night. He didn’t comment on how I probably definitely looked like I’d just been broken up with in the world’s worst romcom. It was over 20 bucks and I tipped him the max. Found my way inside, set up the couch, and continued my momentarily on hold panic until I eventually passed out. My Aunt came to pick me up in the morning, I got carsick, we had mediocre diner breakfast and what’s after that isn’t news worth talking about. Isn’t it bad enough the tail end of the trip took up like a third of this post?

All in all... it felt like a disaster. I’m not gonna lie. In weird ways the stars aligned that TWRP would end up on Conan the night of their show and have to reschedule to the day I came to town, but I paid for it with otherwise bad timing and my body deciding against me having a good time. Fun was had, don’t get me wrong. The good was good and any chance to get away from... this, is appreciated, but it just seemed like everything went awry. 

Mucho thanks to @conniecorleone again, for letting me crash on the futon and be my usual bland self, even blander while ill, and also buying me expensive cold syrup and a-many ubers.

We’ll see if Massachusetts and I ever cross paths again.

[12-99-30]

October

For so long, I was told by my parents that my body wasn’t built to run. It sounds comical to think someone’s parents would discourage their kid to be active, but when you’re painted as the “unathletic daughter” who grew up with asthma and somehow always got injured in sports, it makes sense. For so long, I believed them. I liked the idea of running and being active, but I never thought my body could mechanically handle it. It was a mental block that told me I physically wasn’t capable; a belief slowly built for years. 

In February, I signed up for a half-marathon in March, which got postponed to October, which eventually got cancelled and turned into a virtual race by August. I made the goal to complete my first half-marathon at the start of 2020, when the year was still full of hope and I was high off the adrenaline of being fresh in my 20s. I was determined to keep this goal, whether the race was in-person or not. With the emotional weight of the events that happened in Jan-Feb., I wanted to prove to myself that my mind was stronger than my body. If I could convince my mind to run 13.1 miles without stopping, then I knew I would be able to pull myself away from the situation and the people that made me feel stuck. 

The “Beginner Half-Marathon Training Schedule” I promised myself to follow became futile after I realized I was 3 weeks away from the day I was expected to run, and I had barely ran more than 6 miles. My procrastination led me to commit myself to 21 days of clean eating and consistent running in order to be at my prime on race day; minimizing injury and maximizing performance. Weeks building up, I was excited for the day I knew I would be able to complete something off my bucket list. But 1 week out, I began to have a tingling sensation in my foot that traveled up to my calf. It forced my body composition to compensate, causing my joints and ankle to swell up after each run. Then, my running partner got sick. He wasn’t able to recover in time to run with me, or leave the house to watch me cross the invisible finish line. By the day before, plans had come up that prevented my friends from showing up. I wasn’t upset in the slightest, but rather extremely discouraged and doubtful of myself to finish the race. My bubble of thrill was instantly popped, and I was more scared at the idea of running 13 miles alone with no one to meet at the end of the finish line. I was scared that that my body was going to give out, and I would be forced to walk back to the starting position. I was just scared I would be a failure. 

Nonetheless, I woke up at 6:30AM, and J-- said he was going to pick me up to drive me to D.C.. Though I assured him that I would be okay going solo, he insisted, saying, “Bro, stop. I’m going to be there.” He refused to let me be alone. He ended up driving me to Dunkin Donuts for pre-race bagels, parked at the starting point at Chesapeake and Ohio Canal, and RAN THE WHOLE DAMN RACE WITH ME (mind you, he has never ran more than 2 miles in his entire life). Every time I looked back, he was there. 6.5 miles in, we cheered together that we were halfway done. Well, until he lost his keys and had to retrace his steps.  

I can only praise God for pushing me through that race. I didn’t care about the time. My only goal was to not stop. I prayed to God during my run, asking him to subside any tingles, joint pain, or muscle tears just until the race is over. I asked him to help me get through one mile at a time. I thanked Him for the body that was told it wasn’t built to run. It was through His faithfulness I was able to get through 13.1 miles with minimum pain. At the times I felt like there were no air in my lungs and my hips began to strain, I told myself I would not stop. I refused. My body will always obey my mind -- and it did. 

In that last quarter mile, I kept pushing. I pushed and defied every muscle in my body that begged me to quit. And within 2 hours, 12 minutes, and 45 seconds -- I completed my first half marathon. I finished alone, staring at the river who kept me company through it all. I stared at the passing bikers and fellow runners who had no idea what I just accomplished. No posters or ceremonial cheers. I completed something I thought I could never do. I finished with God by my side (and eventually Jake who came 5 minutes after me). In times like these, I realize you don’t need much. Just a few good people who will show up and support you. People who will run the race with you. A God who will push you through. You don’t need anything more or anything less.

--- 

In the last days of October, I was able to experience more fun days. More days that make me grateful for life here. 

- A much needed mental break led my cousin, sister, and I exploring the National Gallery of Art, the Capital, and the streets of Georgetown. Eating tacos under a tree by the Potomac, I remembered what it was like to just enjoy being present with people you care about. Talking to the family I’ve known all my life but somehow just finally getting to know them. 

- A day of painting with E-- and N--. Note to self: stop trying to paint trees. It never works out right

- Sitting at UMall, eating Halal Guys with E-- and S--, because I can’t remember exactly what we did or talked about, but I just remember feeling comfortable with good friends. 

Servants Retreat pushed me forward to embrace the present. Pastor D.L. said that we are called to remember. We remember in order to move forward, but sometimes we forget the most important things. We forget the fundamentals. We forget that love is the thing that pushes us to take steps in the right direction. To love God with all your heart, soul, and mind is to love God with every ounce of your being. And if you are capable of doing that, then you’ll be able to love your neighbor, even the worst kinds. In the days of nursing school that leave me feeling drowned, I’m reminded He gives me enough every day. Nothing more. Nothing less. I’m learning to try to maximize each day, but understanding each day I’m provided enough. 

---

I’m reflecting on the relationships I have with some people. The ones that lie vacant, the ones that are hyperactive, the ones that lie in the in-between. All of these kind of friendships exist in my life. I’ve always struggled to feel important to people, especially people who are important to me. I’d rather be loved by few than liked by many. I’ve questioned my role in people’s lives, and feel some form of embarrassment to think I’ve held someone so highly only to know I am nothing but a trophy in their assortment of token friends (LOL, hi J.C.). The concept of outgrowing relationships is a Tumblr cliche that I’ve tried manipulating to make it less angsty, but I don’t think theres any other way around it. I justify their shitty lack-of action by trying to think of what they’ve done before or wondering if this is what “good friends” do. I hold onto the past to keep fueling potential in the future. Guilt sweeps over me when I take steps to separate myself from people who make me question myself. I hold onto their loyal moments, the funny moments, the conversations. I think of what we were before, hoping maybe it could be like that again. But the more we try to recreate feelings and memories, the more likely we are to tarnish them. I’m accepting things change and some things are better left said as, “It is what it is.” That was then, this is now. 

Sometimes you have to force yourself to say “No”. Not necessarily to that friend, but to yourself. Force yourself to stop sacrificing your time for those who take advantage of it. 

“If you want to be a really good friend, you don't have to say yes to everything they ask you, you just have to be there when it matters.”

Be a good friend to others by being a good friend to yourself. Loyalty does not need to be compromised by taking a break from friendships that make you feel like a choice. We’re all growing into different things and some of us are called to watch from a distance. If you’re lucky, a friendship is dynamic and active. Two separate beings navigating life side-by-side. Sometimes friendships lie dormant, and there should be no guilt for choosing to keep to yourself. You should never force to claim importance in someone’s life who does not deem you as important. I’m relieving myself of the pressure to be there all the time. To invite people to come into my space if they need me or want to hear from me. To be present when it matters, but trusting that the friendships that matter will uphold. 

[wordcharming]

Thursday In September

There are those who watch Jeopardy and those who watch Wheel of Fortune. (I know, some people watch both…just humor me for a second.) It could be said that one group of spectators is high-brow, educated, intellectual—the folks who peruse The New Yorker and The Economist whilst sipping on their Counter Culture pour-over. While the other tends to be made of up yokels who might not have much to offer in the brains department—those who thumb through People while gulping down Dunkin’s finest. 

Regardless of the target demographic, both shows seem to welcome jolly contestants who proudly exclaim that they’re married and, without fail, mention how wonderful, beautiful and lovely their spouses and children are. But what if they spoke the truth?

“I’m Ted. A yokel from a small town in Alabama who’s married to a whiny woman named Sarah who’s only with me for my money. We have two spoiled, bratty kids, Tessa and Jimmy. I’m currently having a mid-life crisis and I hate my job. Can’t wait to spin the wheel, Pat.” 

These are the things that went through Emily’s head while munching on pretzels with onion hummus, which tasted a lot like heart attack in a can, aka Lay’s French Onion dip, that she once couldn’t get enough of in the ’90s. She was a game show fanatic.

She wasn’t one of those ladies who had dreamt of the perfect wedding day, her Prince Charming, wealth, a career. Despite her old age, she was a lifelong spinster and she’d always preferred career hopping rather than being chained to the same desk for years and years. Since first seeing Supermarket Sweep during its original 1965 airing, all she’d ever really wanted was to be a contestant. She had been an audience member for one episode in 1997, but she never got chosen to compete. 

Each time she was at the ShopRite checkout and she heard the beep, she thought of the fun she could have on the game show. Running down the aisles of the empty grocery store, hurling turkeys and hams into her cart, tearing a clue off a giant inflatable banana, getting into a tug-of-war over with fellow contestants over the diapers, grinding coffee for bonus points! Oh, the joy! Who would accompany her on the show? Would it be her brother, a fellow longtime fan of the game show, or her best friend, Phyllis? She hadn’t thought that far into it. All she knew was that she wanted it. And she wanted it badly.  

Unfortunately for Emily that ship had sailed, for the show had gone off the air entirely in 2003. But all these years later still it was fun to fantasize about sharing the stage with David Ruprecht, his colorful sweaters and his treasure trove of corny jokes. She could only hope that if somehow in some other lifetime she got on the show, she wouldn’t get swept up in the excitement or ever have the chance to ram into David with a cart, which had happened on at least one occasion that she recalled.

These days Emily was a part-time hermit crab peddler at a mall kiosk, working the night shift three days a week and mostly living off her hefty retirement savings. Certainly not the most glamorous job, but she did like it. There was something about her crustacean companions that thoroughly amused her. They each had their own little personalities—Dragon the jerk, lovable Fiona, curious Ian—and their unofficial names, by which she called them. Even though she didn’t really support pet stores and the kiosk owner had a strict don’t ask, don’t tell policy when it came to replenishing the stock, she had fallen in love with these little creatures one morning while mall walking with her frenemies, Gertrude and Penelope, two sisters she’d known since childhood.

The trio had trekked the mall every morning just as the gates cranked open one by one at the storefronts, soft rock music throbbed through what seemed to be invisible speakers, and the smell of hot pretzels began to permeate the stuffy air. They wore matching white t-shirts with My Three Mall Walkers embroidered over the left breast—a Penelope creation. She was never shy to brag about how she’d named the girl gang after her favorite childhood TV show, My Three Sons, how long it had taken her to weave the thick pink thread through the cotton tee, and how fabulous they had turned out. “Right, my lovelies? I did such a beautiful job.” 

Each morning was the same, meet at the double doors of the southwest entrance, the first to be unlocked, adjacent to JCPenney. Almost every time she approached, Emily’s frenemies snickered and then made a quip about her hairpiece, messy turquoise eyeshadow, or “old lady sneakers” followed by a, “Hun, we love you. You know we’re kidding, right?” Some days, when Samuel was working security, the Bobbsey Twins would flash him little coy, yet devilish, grins in synch whilst batting their mascara-slathered eyelashes and he would unlock the door a few minutes early. Though they were octogenarians, they never underestimated the power of flirtation.

This particular Thursday in September had started off just like any other and Samuel had in fact unlocked the doors two minutes before official opening time. The women passed the food court and movie theatre, Kay Jewelers, then H & M, made a right towards Victoria’s Secret, and turned to walk the perimeter of Macy’s. Penelope and Gertrude dominated the conversation as usual while Emily chimed in every now and then. Time flew by and even though it had been nearly an hour, it sure didn’t feel that way. Instead of continuing to the JCPenney finish line, Gertrude and Penelope suddenly bee-lined for the ice skating rink. 

“Emily! C’mon, darling. There’s no one on the ice right now and we feel like causing a wee bit of trouble,” Gertrude exclaimed, her veneers sparkling under the bright fluorescent light almost as if they were winking at Emily. 

Not one to bend the rules, Emily stayed behind and as her two friends giggled like schoolgirls and danced on the ice. Their fun was cut short when seemingly from out of a nowhere a Zamboni shaped like a shopping cart came barreling through.

“Gertrude! Penelope! Watch out for that Zamboni ,” Emily screamed while pointing her finger. “Please get out of the way!”

Before she could warn them any further and before they could take action, the Zamboni took them out like bowling pins. First Gertrude went down, and Penelope immediately followed. 

“…it’s a…but…I thought those things could only go 9 miles per hour…” Emily muttered to herself while sobbing and attempting to run towards the scene. She was of course halted once she crossed the threshold from the polka dot carpet onto the ice, and though it was an interesting struggle, she eventually made her way to the scene.

Her two friends lay there like ragdolls. At some point in the time it took her to get to the middle of the rink the Zamboni had stopped and the driver had gotten out to check on the women. 

“Are you with them? I-I-I-I am just so incredibly sorry. It appears they have no pulse, ma’am. Let me call 9-1-1.” 

Emily stood in the middle of the ice rink shaking uncontrollably and sobbing until the paramedics came and confirmed the passing of her friends. The Zamboni driver tried to console her by softly apologizing and placing a hand on her upper back but, shocked, Emily sat in silence.

Samuel soon arrived with two policewomen in tow, both of whom stood side by side looking down at Emily. 

“This is a crime scene. Everyone off the ice,” barked the brunette on the left. The blonde glanced angrily at the brunette, then smiled as she turned to face Emily, adding, “Sorry for your loss, ma’am. Would you please come with me to tell me what happened?” while extending her hand to help Emily up. “If Samuel would be so kind to escort you to the carpeted area, you can just wait for me at the picnic table,” she added with a smile.

The sly Zamboni driver pivoted toward the exit and the brunette immediately shook her head and exclaimed, “Not you, Mr. Zamboni. Samuel here tells us you were the driver. So stay put because I have a few questions for you.”

Arm in arm with Samuel, Emily slowly made her way off the ice as she heard the conversation fading, “It all started because I needed extra money to feed my ninth child. So I created my Tricked Out Zamboni channel on YouTube—which, by the way already has 2 million fans—” 

“Get to the point already!” the brunette interjected.

“…so after months of dedication I had finally gotten this fine specimen up to 65 mph! Unfortunately these two little old ladies decided to trespass just as I was taking it for a spin. I had no idea they were here. In fact, we don’t even open for another thirty-four minutes. Cheryl must’ve just lifted the gate moments prior so she could go get her morning coffee…”

While listening to Mr. Zamboni’s explanation, Emily was jolted by the thought of what Gertrude and Penelope’s passing really meant: no more having to wake up early and listen to them bicker, brag or complain—they’d seemed to be doing more of all three lately and she was just about at the end of her rope. Not to mention, they had never really been kind to her and they did spend a lot of time making her the butt of their jokes. Between her sniffles and cutting through two salty streams of tears, a smile formed on her face. 

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sight in the distance of the policewomen cuffing Mr. Zamboni and the three of them approaching. Two male backup officers had now gotten to the scene and were promptly instructed to take Mr. Zamboni to the station. The female officers jotted down a witness statement from Emily and said they’d call her if they needed any follow-up information. 

Still shaken, though admittedly not exactly sad anymore, Emily was free to go. She stepped back out into the mall corridor, passing Aldo, Boscov’s, Express, Game Stop and making her way to the exit near JCPenney. She took a few moments to relax and collect her thoughts once she reached Beryl, her blue BMW convertible. She put the top down, cranked up the radio and headed home.

The next morning, to her relief, Emily puttered around the house in her pajamas and rainbow slippers, read The New York Times while sipping her coffee and munching on a toasted English muffin with butter, relishing the unforeseen me time her friends’ deaths had gifted her. Once she was finished, she got up from the table and plopped down in front of the TV. Commercials, commercials, commercials, on every channel. She got so sick of channel surfing that she stopped on a random one on ABC, catching the tail end of another ad for a new incontinence drug. What came next took her by surprise—three people in bright colored t-shirts racing down an aisle with shopping carts. 

“Could this be what I think it is?” she quietly asked herself. 

“Sunday, October 18, it’s a rrrrace against time, to grab the priciest items you can find…the return of the classic game show…” a voiceover purposefully shouted as if directly at Emily. 

She was instantly flooded with jumbled thoughts, images of her two friends’ scowling faces, the odd shopping cart-shaped Zamboni, the sisters’ limp bodies on the ice, and all those times she’d told her friends and relatives about her game show dream.

[whatisthisidefk]

The River, the Sea, and the Stars part 3 (SFW version)

Panic clawed at Therien, dragging him down to the floor beside the bed. He clutched at his head and struggled to breathe. Tried to reconcile what he'd seen, what he'd heard, the fear in Andros's voice as he was pulled into darkness. The entreaty to stay away.

Don't look for me. The taste of Andros still lingered on his lips.

Normally, Andros would be the one to ground him, help him through his panic attacks, but Andros wasn't there this time. Therien had to get through it on his own. There wasn't anyone else to hold his hand or say the right things. There was only Therien, alone, alone, alone…

No. There was one other he could turn to. Someone who, despite everything, would help. At least, he hoped she would. She'd understand. She had to. Therien couldn't let himself chase the what-if, what-if that spiraled through his brain. He had to believe in their friendship, however distant it may have grown. Without Andros there, she was the only person he trusted enough to ask.

With shaking fingers, he groped for his phone and didn't bother trying to search the contact list. He knew the number by heart, even if he hadn't dialed it in over two years.

Therien begged it to connect. It was late for him, so it would be hours later where he was calling, but he didn't think he had the strength to try again if it didn't pick up.

It rang three times, then, "Hey." Her voice was rough with sleep, but it was her. "Hey, sweetheart. You okay?"

He stifled a sob, poorly. "N-non. Je suis désolé. Je suis désolé, Dra. Andros...il a disparu. M'aidez…"

"In English, Therien. Try to focus. French isn't my strong suit and I can't help you if I don't understand you."

English felt impossible, but he tried. "Je--I don't know what to do. He--he's gone."

"Who's gone? Talk to me, hon."

He angrily wiped at the tears on his face with the heel of his hand. "Andros. Ah, uh, he disappeared! He was there. Here, with me, and then...something took him?" How was he supposed to explain any of it to her when he didn't understand it himself? "Dra, I--I need help. I need to find him."

He heard her sharp intake of breath, and her gentle concern became more focused. With a note he couldn't identify, she said, "Therien, tell me--what exactly happened to Andros?"

Something broke inside him. "There were chains. They dragged him away with no warning. He was there and then he wasn't. And I don't know what to do. Help me," he finished weakly. "Dra...I'm sorry. For everything."

"There's nothing to be sorry for," she said, and somehow, that got through to him. Dra never lied. It was a constant in his universe. His breathing slowed as she went on. "This is what you're going to do, okay? You're going to pack up everything and check out of the hotel. Get on your plane back here, and text me when you land. I will pick you up. I...I think I can help. But you're going to have to trust me. Can you do that?"

"Anything," he said. "Dra...thank you."

"You know I'll always be here for you. Right?"

"I know. I love you for it."

"You okay now?" The motherly note he always associated with her came through the phone like a hug. "Do you need me to stay on with you?"

"I'm okay. I'll be okay. I'm...I'm going to get dressed and get out of here. I can't stay anymore." He kept seeing those chains, over and over, every time he looked at the shadows. "See you in a few hours."

"I'll be ready. Love you." The call ended, leaving Therien alone in the room once more. He stared at his hands for a moment and concentrated on his breathing.

In, out. In, out. He could do this. Pack up everything, call a car, check out. He'd sleep in the airport, if he could manage sleep at all, and then he'd be home. Dra said she could help, which meant she would do everything in her power to aid him.

***

A miraculously earlier red-eye flight and three cups of coffee later, the wheels touched down in Boston and Therien retrieved his luggage. He texted Dra the moment he was able to, so by the time he exited the airport, a familiar black Mini Cooper waited by the curb. She waved at him from beside it, her extremely red, short-cropped hair glowing copper under the morning sun.

Therien dragged the suitcases across the other lanes of cars picking up passengers and heaved them into the open trunk. Then, before he could say anything, his tiny friend opened her arms to hug him.

Therien found himself kneeling to hug her back. She wore a massively oversized sweater (black) over a long, rumpled peasant skirt (also black), and even in her heeled boots, she barely stood over four feet tall. Still, she managed to envelop him in a fierce, warm hug that negated the chill of autumn.

He didn't realize he was crying until his vision blurred. "I missed you," he said into her shoulder as she stroked his hair. "I'm so sorry."

"Nonsense," she said firmly, reluctantly disengaging from the embrace. "Now let's get moving before that airport cop decides to yell at me for parking here too long, hmm? We'll stop for Dunkin' and you can tell me everything back at the shop."

"Okay."

***

The drive back from Boston to Northampton passed in a blur. Therien nibbled at a glazed donut and sipped the hot, familiar coffee, but he let himself be lulled by the monotony of the Mass Pike. He wasn't ready to talk yet, and he knew Dra wouldn't push him to. He still felt wrung out and dazed by the past eight hours--had it only been that long? He went over the litany of events in his mind, not for the first time, and decided that it was perfectly acceptable to feel the way he did.

Above--and underneath, and all throughout--his thoughts, the one bright thing that he clung to was the memory of how happy Andros had been. That whatever happened, Therien knew his feelings were returned after all.

They left the highway and turned toward downtown Northampton, following Main Street into the heart of the Five Colleges area. Therien had spent enough time wandering around town that he felt a wave of nostalgia at the familiar brick and stone shops, the Hotel Northampton, the Calvin Theater, the town hall. It was the kind of place that didn't change on the face very often, making it easy to picture across years with very little difference.

Dra pulled down a side street on a hill and parked at the curb. The lawn rose up at a steep angle to the right, with steps cut into the earth that led to a standalone wood and brick building. Above the porch, a hand-painted sign read, The Tea Dragon's Hoard. "Here we are. Same old shop."

"It looks exactly as I recall." Therien smiled down at her. "It's good to be back."

"This place agrees with you," she said, with a peculiar emphasis on place. "You shouldn't have left."

"It was a professional decision, Dra."

"You belonged here!" She stopped herself. "Sorry. I was this close to saying 'I told you so' but that would have been cruel. And wrong.You had to pursue your career."

He hefted the two suitcases--his and Andros's--from the back of the car. "Considering last night...maybe not so wrong."

"Don't." Dra sent him a worried glare. "Come on. We have a lot to discuss, and I'm not going to start until I have a proper pot of tea."

A handwritten sign on the door said, "Closed Due to Emergency. Visit us online!" It made a small curl of warmth in Therien's chest, that Dra would sacrifice a full day of business for him. He felt the close, homey atmosphere of the Hoard settle around him as they walked through the empty shop to a private stairwell at the back. Crystals and semiprecious stones twinkled at them as they passed, and the multitude of dried herbs and oils along the wall behind the apothecary counter merged into one complex scent that meant comfort to Therien. Dra unclipped the "do not enter" chain and let him precede her up to the apartment on the next floor.

"In here." She led him through a tiny kitchen, equally tiny living room, and to a short hallway with three doors. "Spare closet, I mean, guest room." She winked and opened the leftmost door. It reminded Therien of the attic room he'd had in his house in Provence, when he was a child.

"It's perfect," he said, and meant it. There was only room for a single bed, a low, square nightstand, and a braided rug. Two walls held out-of-season coats and dresses (all in black), and a small window let in the afternoon light. The clothes made the space feel even smaller, but also cozier. "I don't remember you having this set up like this before."

"I had a friend stay with me for a few months. It was the best solution for her, and now I have a guest bed. Now, put your things down and collect yourself, and I'm gonna make some tea. Come out in like, ten minutes. Okay?"

***

"I need to hear what happened in its entirety," she said with no preamble when he emerged from the room after the short break. She did not comment on the fresh tear tracks on his cheeks, though she did get up to fetch a damp washcloth that she handed him wordlessly. It was warm and felt soothing on his skin.

"Everything? Are you sure?"

She rolled her eyes and settled back on the couch with her tea. "Everything, but leave out the gory details. I don't need to know about each grope and kiss, if that's what you mean."

His face warmed, and suddenly the cloth felt cool in comparison. "Ah. So...I decided last night that I was going to tell Andros how I felt."

"Good for you!"

"This is hard, Dra."

"Sorry. But still. Good for you. I knew you'd work up the courage one day."

He closed his eyes and counted backward from five in French. "We went back to the room and, ah, we were intimate together. It was...beautiful. Dra, he told me he loved me."

She gazed softly at him. "Of course he did. He's been head over heels for you for years."

"How--are you joking?" he demanded. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Sweetheart, it wasn't my place to say. He told me in confidence, as you told me the same kinds of things and I kept them from him. I'm not a meddler, I'm a confidant."

"What an oblivious fool I've been," he mourned, head in his hands. Dra tsked and pulled her feet up beneath her on the couch.

"None of that, now. Tell me the rest."

He sighed. The knot that hadn't left his belly seemed to grow tighter. "After--afterward, we were just talking. We both felt so happy. Things were going to work out. And then...I heard the sound of chains. They just appeared out of nowhere and then they--I don't know how they did it, they just clasped themselves around him."

Her fingers tightened on the teacup. "What did they look like? Did you see them clearly?"

"Gold," he said, and shuddered. "He seemed to know what they meant."

"What did he say?"

"He told me not to look for him. That he loved me." The tears were back, but he didn't care. "He was afraid. He tried to struggle but then--he was gone! They just pulled him away. I didn't see where. He was just...gone."

Therien broke down again. With Dra, it was okay. She was safe.

She was at his side at once, arms around him, holding him close in a protective embrace. "Hush, now. I know you're worried, and scared, and you have every right to be." Dra pulled up an embroidered ottoman and sat on it so she could look up into Therien's eyes. "Now, love, I need for you to pay attention and believe what I say, for this is the truth, as much as any one thing can be Truth."

Therien hugged his arms to himself, but he nodded, confused but willing.

"I know how to find him. But!" she held up her hands to keep him in his seat; he was already halfway to his feet. "But! We cannot just go there. I need to prepare both of us for whatever we will encounter. And before I even do that...I need to know something."

"Anything." The word came out breathlessly.

Her green eyes seemed to glow under her short auburn bangs. "What would you give up to see him safe?"

"I--I don't have much money, but there's the sponsorship--"

"No," she said more sternly. "What would you, Therien, give up of your own, in order to save Andros?"

"Whatever it takes."

"Think about this. You don't know what the cost will be. Your left eye? Your ability to swim? A memory? What would you sacrifice in order to see Andros go free?"

"I will do whatever I must," he said; the words seemed almost pithy but there was a weight behind them that even startled Therien. "I will set him free, no matter who or what has him, and I will do anything to make it so."

"Would you give up your freedom? Your life?"

"Yes," he said slowly, and realized he meant it. "Why, though? What do you know about this?"

"That resolve will be tested, sweetheart," she said, standing. She laid a hand on his shoulder. "Now, go. Sleep. I have things to ready and you must rest."

"I don't think I could sleep--"

"Drink this." She produced a small vial and tipped a few drops into his teacup. "It will help."

"What is it?"

Dra shrugged. "A little of this, a little of that. Nothing toxic. It will give you dreams, though. Shut your door so I don't have to listen to them." She winked, and her quiet humor convinced him to down the potion, whatever it was.

He trusted Dra.

Next he knew, he was being eased down to his borrowed bed. Dra tucked the blanket around him; somewhere along the way, his shoes had been removed, and his sweatshirt lay folded on the nightstand. "Rest," she said, voice distant. "I'll come get you when I'm ready to go."

He tried to respond, but his mouth was full of flowers and he was falling, falling, falling.

[roving-rabbit]

The start of a new journey and random airport thoughts: 7/28/17 3:26 A.M., Somerville, MA

It is far too early in the morning to be awake.

Or, for those of us who can't fall asleep before 1AM, it is far too late. As a night owl, the prospect of having to go to bed before midnight always greets me with trepidation; I know that I will not be able to sleep. Tonight was no exception, as the pitiful hour and a half I managed to eek out before my departure seems woefully inadequate for the length of today's journey.

This was not aided by sleeping in a bed that was not my own; in anticipation of my early departure, some friends have graciously allowed me to crash at their place, so that I do not have to drive all the way to Boston from New Hampshire. I now stand in their kitchen awaiting the start of my journey.

It is far too early in the morning to be awake, and I have just received notification that my Uber is 4 minutes away. Somehow, we are both right on time.

The Uber arrives. Amir, my driver, is nice. He confirms my name, and then doesn't say much at this late hour. That's nice too.

I can only imagine he has 4.8 stars instead of 5 because one talkative passenger decided to leave a bad review because Amir didn't say anything back. His silence makes it quite clear that I don't need to continue engaging in small talk.

I let the friend whom I am visiting know that I am on the way to the airport. He is on the West Coast, so for him, it is not too early. He comments that he has never taken an Uber before.

Neither have I. This is my maiden voyage.

I think back to a joke I recently came across. In the 1990s we were cautioned not to talk to strangers on the internet, nor to get into the cars of people we didn't know. 20 years later, I have just contacted a stranger on the internet for the sole purpose of being able to ride in his car. This is so Anti-90s. (Insert laugh track here.)

As far as traveling to the airport at 3:30 AM goes, the back of a stranger's very clean Prius beats out the back of a cab anyday. Cheaper too. Taxis are a dying breed.

It sure as hell definitely beats out having to drive myself. I've made this trip too many times picking up friends (and flying out of Boston) with my own car. I never get to not drive. And in the back of a stranger's Prius, this is luxury at its finest.

It is far too early in the morning to be awake, but the haze of almost-sleep is gone, and I find myself looking out the window to occupy the time. As I recognize that we are driving past a former workplace, I realize something vaguely terrifying; despite using 2 GPS systems, my driver is lost.

I realize his rookie mistake immediately: he got off an exit too early. Anyone could have done it, but it tells me that he probably doesn't make many airport runs. Unfortunately, in Boston, getting off early means having to loop back through alleyways to get back to the underground highway that is the Big Dig.

He eventually makes his way back on track, and we end up at the airport after about a 10 minute detour.

I am asked to rate Amir's performance. I consider giving him 4 stars, seeing that I can cite navigation as a potential issue. I know that he got lost, and he probably knows that I know that he got lost. I let him off the hook with 5 stars and a $2 tip. He has to work harder to earn $5.

I check my bags to make sure everything is in order, pull out one copy of my boarding pass, and use the deodorant from my day bag one last time before throwing it away. It had a good run, but as it was starting to get low anyway, I have no regrets from having to toss it.

Security was the usual 3-ring circus. Apparently everyone has to use the scattered scanner (or whatever it's called) now. Apparently there is no longer a concern about the ill-effects of being exposed to such radiation.

I am finally in the terminal.

It is far too early in the morning for Starbucks to open its gates, but of course Dunkin Donuts is open. I'm hungry, but I really don't care for anything from DD, so I get a breakfast burrito on the other side of the terninal.

A six minute walk with 2 bags on no sleep feels a lot longer when you're hungry. Especially when you're told the restaurant is cash only after you get there.

I finally sit. There are too many people for the air conditioning to keep up with, and the moisture from yesterday's rain still lingers in the air.

Full of breakfast burrito and the rather acidic orange juice that only seems to come in the small bottles they sell at airport and mall kiosks, I sit in the balmy air of the airport as fatigue sets in. I will (hopefully) sleep through this first leg of the trip.

A large man and his wife or girlfriend complain just as loudly about the loud "special offer" credit card that plays over the airport PA moments after sitting uncomfortably close enough to hit my elbow every time they shift or turn the page on their magazone. There is more than enough bench space to spread out on the other side.

They mysteriously disappear when I am not looking. I use the opportunity to refill my orange juice bottle with water from the water fountain. My bags are still in sight but I hope no one thinks they're unattended.

We board.

The flight attendant is petite and mousey, but you can see in her eyes that she's a seasoned veteran, and knows what she's doing. It instills confidence in the other passengers.

I am eyeing the two empty seats across the way from me. The gentleman next to me is perfectly fine non-company but more space is a premium on an aircraft. 2 minutes before the doors close, a pair of women make a beeline for the two empty seats. My hopes of a trip with enough elbow room are dashed.

The woman two rows up in the same situation has much better luck, and enjoys her elbow and leg room with impunity.

They are starting the pre-flight announcement, so I'm going to get some shut-eye and miss takeoff entirely. More to come later!

Keep on Roving!

-Rourkie