#i say late autumn because i live in one of those areas where in early to mid autumn theres about a swarm of 60 little bugs every 2 feet

[thueenz]

i looove late autumn. when the air is crisp and its nice and cool. heaven

[causeiwanttoandican]

The Times

Prince William’s close friends on what makes him tick — and why he’s not trapped

March 20 2021, 6:00pm

As the world devours the Harry and Meghan interview, what’s going on with the brother who was left behind? He’s embracing his destiny, William’s close friends tell the Sunday Times royal correspondent, Roya Nikkhah

Next month Prince William will celebrate his tenth wedding anniversary — the day he became a duke and embarked on the most formative decade of his life. Back then, the tentative 28-year-old newlywed was not ready to devote himself entirely to royal duties. A decade on, he is in a very different position.

The job of being the heir to the heir to the throne, of finding a balance between life and duty, is difficult at the best of times. These are not the best of times. In their bombshell interview with Oprah Winfrey this month the Duke and Duchess of Sussex accused the royal family and the institution around it of racism and callous disregard for a suicidal newcomer, among many other damning charges. Harry the spare also declared that William was trapped within “the system … My brother can’t leave that system, but I have.”

In the immediate aftermath of the interview William was “reeling”, a source close to the duke says. “His head is all over the place on it.” Four days after the Sussexes had their say, he hit back during an engagement with the Duchess of Cambridge at a school in east London. Asked about accusations of racism, William retorted with restrained fury: “We’re very much not a racist family.” He also confirmed that he hadn’t spoken to Harry yet, “but will do”. By the weekend it emerged they had “been in contact”.

William is thought to have been less than thrilled a few days later when that conversation made global headlines after the American presenter Gayle King, a close friend of the Sussexes, revealed live on air that it had not been an easy chat: “I did actually call them to see how they were feeling,” she told viewers. “Harry has talked to his brother and he had talked to his father too. The word I was given was that those conversations were not productive.” The intervention prompted a senior royal source to say that “none of the households will be giving a running commentary on private conversations”.

A close friend of both brothers says Harry’s “trapped” comment was “way off the mark”, insisting that William does not see it that way. “He has a path set for him and he’s completely accepting of his role. He is very much his grandmother’s grandson in that respect of duty and service.”

When the Queen turned 90 nearly five years ago William admitted “the challenge” that “occupies a lot of thinking space” is how to “modernise and develop” the royal family, and make it “relevant in the next 20 years’ time”. Twenty years now seems like a very long time. In the hours and days after the Oprah broadcast, William was at the heart of all discussions with the Queen and the Prince of Wales about how to respond to the Sussexes. He was keen that the issue of race should be acknowledged in the Queen’s statement as an area of particular concern that “will be addressed”.

William has always railed against being a “ribbon-cutter royal” and the issues he champions — mental health, battling racism in football, homelessness and his ramped-up eco-warrior role — are a window into where the future King William V will take the House of Windsor. A friend says: “He’s a small-c conservative. He values tradition and the need to go around the country, but he realises he can make a difference beyond traditional royal duties.”

Today royal popularity is, to put it mildly, in a state of flux, but William’s strategy has been working. Post-Oprah, he ranks just below the Queen at the top of a YouGov poll of royals. Not so long ago such a position looked like a long shot, when the “workshy Wills” and “reluctant royal” tags plagued him and he was clocking up fewer days of royal work than his nonagenarian grandparents. Pictures of him hitting the ski slopes and clubs of Swiss resort Verbier in March 2017, missing a Commonwealth service that even the Duke of York flew back for, didn’t help.

After the lasting PR gold dust of the Cambridges’ 2011 wedding and the births of Prince George and Princess Charlotte, it was the first public nosedive for William, who was still working as an air ambulance pilot. “That pissed him off,” a friend says. “He was leaving home at 5.30am, getting home after dark and saving lives in between, but people were still being critical of his commitment to his [other] job.” William was based at Cambridge airport with East Anglian Air Ambulance for two years, where he was on call for “some very sad, dark moments”, often working “on very traumatic jobs involving children”. He later acknowledged that “after I had my own children … the relation between the job and the personal life was what really took me over the edge, and I started feeling things that I have never felt before”. But it was a job he loved, because of “working in a team … that’s something that my other job doesn’t necessarily do. You are more out there on your own.”

A former royal aide says: “Immediately after their wedding he had a very clear idea of the pace at which he wanted to take things.” William was adamant he wouldn’t curtail his day jobs, first as an RAF search and rescue helicopter pilot in Anglesey and then with the air ambulance. “If you’re not careful, duty can weigh you down an awful lot at an early age,” he said, insisting he didn’t “lie awake waiting or hoping” to be king. He delayed full-time royal duties until the autumn of 2017, when, acknowledging the Cambridges’ future required more time at “monarchy HQ”, they moved from Norfolk to London and George started school.

He’d had to fight his corner for the air ambulance role. A source close to William reveals “there were lots of raised eyebrows in the Palace when he wanted to do that. While the Queen and his father backed him, some senior courtiers questioned whether it was becoming of a future king to be doing a middle-class role, hanging out with ordinary people. They thought he wouldn’t stick it out, he’d find it boring, or was doing it out of stubbornness to put off royal duties. He was pretty bloody-minded about it, and determined that other people’s expectations in the media or the system shouldn’t get in the way of his own values.” In the wake of Harry and Meghan’s interview much has been speculated about the extent to which royal life is dictated by Palace officials, but it is clear that William has managed to forge his own path. Who knows how high those senior courtiers’ eyebrows rose in 2019, when William spent three weeks shadowing the spooks of MI5, MI6 and GCHQ to learn how they combat terrorism. He insisted on being called “Will” and lunching in the canteen every day.

Those closest to the duke say his resistance to the idea of full-time royal duties stemmed not only from a desire to achieve something for himself but also from a fear of the impact on his family life. Miguel Head worked alongside the prince for ten years until 2018, as William, Kate and Harry’s communications secretary and later as William’s private secretary. “In his role everyone’s going to tell you you’re marvellous,” Head says. “The RAF and air ambulance jobs were about knowing what his abilities were, what he was good at in his own right. Without that he’d still be hankering for something that was his own.” After children came along he says William developed a “visceral determination to give them a life of consistency and privacy that were missing for large parts of his own childhood”.

Another close aide says the plan enabling the Cambridges to have a few years of “normal” married life, away from the full-time glare of the royal spotlight, paid dividends: “For years, the battles around privacy and paparazzi intrusion were all-consuming. He wanted to know, could we build them a credible plan allowing them a family life while slowly increasing the profile of official life? It took years to get there, but the success of that plan allowed him to be confident and content in his role. He’s not worried about his kids’ privacy any more and he has been able to be the kind of dad he wants to be.”

“Marriage maketh the man,” a friend says. “Catherine’s groundedness has been the critical anchor. And where his relationship with the media was once all fury and frustration, he now understands using the power of modern media, so the public feel they’re getting enough access.”

The children’s birthdays are marked with photographs — often taken by the Duchess of Cambridge — and there has been a noticeable increase in their public appearances of late. While not “officially” staged, William was happy to let George and Charlotte be photographed at their first Aston Villa match with Mum and Dad in 2019. Pandemic set pieces have shown the family clapping for the NHS on the steps of Anmer Hall, their Norfolk home, and, before Christmas, their first red-carpet appearance together for an evening at the panto with key workers and their children.

As they celebrate their anniversary on April 29, friends who joined the Cambridges on their wedding day tell me the partnership’s equal footing is key to its success. “They’ve got a solid relationship and she gives him confidence,” one says. “There is no jealousy, no friction, they are happy for each other’s successes.” In private William talks as passionately about Kate’s work as his own campaigns, and takes pride in her growing confidence on the public stage.

William has said his grandmother’s approach to being head of state is to take “more of a passive role. She’s above politics and is very much away from it.” He doesn’t plan to meddle in party politics, but he was not happy about the unenviable position the government put the Queen in with the 2019 proroguing of parliament, which was later ruled to be unlawful and forced an apology from Boris Johnson to the monarch. Constitutionally the Queen had no alternative other than to act on the advice of her government, but in William’s reign there will be “more private, robust challenging of advice”. His last three private secretaries — Christian Jones, Simon Case, now the cabinet secretary, and Head — had all worked in government departments, helping William to keep his finger on the political pulse. The new incumbent, the Whitehall heavyweight Jean-Christophe Gray, who served as David Cameron’s spokesman, continues in that vein.

The former Conservative leader Lord Hague of Richmond was last year appointed as chairman of the Royal Foundation to develop William’s work on mental health, the environment and a raft of new support programmes for key workers. “People internationally and nationally respect his credibility and knowledge on these issues,” Hague says. “He’s very persuasive. You only see that behind the scenes. He knows what he wants and he goes out to get it.”

Charlie Mayhew, chief executive of the conservation charity Tusk, has known William since he was 20. In 2005 Tusk and Centrepoint, the homelessness charity championed by Princess Diana, were the first patronages William took on. “In those early years I kept having to pinch myself to remember how young he was,” Mayhew says. “He was much more mature than his age and very aware of his destiny coming down the track. He had a sincerity, but never without wicked humour. His teasing is merciless.”

William knows some people see his passion for conservation as a posh man’s part-time hobby, but Mayhew says the duke’s “genuine and huge knowledge” undermines that view. “He’ll call and WhatsApp to flag up something that I haven’t even seen in the conservation space. He can be impatient to get things done.” Last year William launched the Earthshot prize, a £50 million Nobel-style environmental award to galvanise solutions to global problems over the next decade. He believes “conservation and the environment … shouldn’t be a luxury, it’s a necessity”, Mayhew says. “That’s the drum he wants to beat. He’s got a megaphone and wants to use it in the most constructive way. He speaks for that next generation and I think they can relate to it.”

A turning point for William was his 2015 official visit to China, one of the world’s largest consumers of ivory, where he met President Xi and condemned the illegal wildlife trade as a “vicious form of criminality”. Unlike his father, who has refused to visit the People’s Republic over its human rights record and treatment of Tibet, William’s view was that despite the UK’s fractious relationship with China, “we’ve got to engage”.

“It was very political, raising the illegal wildlife trade in China. I’m sure the diplomats were having all sort of nightmares in advance,” says Mayhew, who joined the duke in China. “But he was gathering greater confidence that he had the ability to be a mouthpiece for the issue.” Mayhew reveals that while William was visiting Japan before China, he still hadn’t secured a meeting with Xi. “But when the Chinese saw all the high-level meetings he was having in Japan, they changed their minds and Xi made time for him.” Later that year, as Xi began a UK state visit, William appeared on Chinese television condemning the ivory trade. Two years later China banned the trade.

In 2018 he spent months prepping for his most high-stakes overseas visit yet, to Israel and the occupied Palestinian territories that summer. Navigating the diplomatic tightrope walk between Jerusalem and the West Bank, he visited a Palestinian refugee camp in Ramallah. As he travelled back to Jerusalem, he changed his speech for a reception with young Israelis and Palestinians to strengthen his solidarity with the latter: “My message tonight is that you have not been forgotten … The United Kingdom stands with you.” It was a bold move, but both sides hailed his visit a success and the officials breathed a sigh of relief. To the delight of the travelling press pack, William’s engagements on the final day were brought forward, allowing the diplomat duke and president of the Football Association to land back in the UK in time to watch England’s World Cup tie.

Ask him if he’s a peacemaker and William will laugh, saying Kate is the mediator. But according to a source close to William and Harry, his bridge-building skills were deployed in the lead-up to Harry and Meghan’s wedding in 2018, when tensions in the Kensington Palace household, then still shared by the brothers, were running high: “Every time there was a drama, or a member of staff on the verge of quitting, William would personally try and sort it out.”

As the brothers clashed more over the substance and style of their work, and the family hierarchy that William is a stickler for but Harry is less keen on, a split was inevitable. When they finally divided their households in March 2019, it had been a long time coming. But he never thought that a year later his brother would up sticks for America.

The pair went for a long walk to clear the air after the “Sandringham summit” when the Megxit deal was hammered out, but did not part shores as friends. What upset William the most was Harry and Meghan’s surprise launch of their “Sussex Royal” website before the summit, which featured their blueprint wish list of a part-time, commercial royal future. Later, when the Queen decreed they could no longer use “royal” in their future ventures, their website hit back with this bold statement: “While there is not any jurisdiction by The Monarchy … over the use of the word ‘Royal’ overseas, the Duke and Duchess of Sussex do not intend to use ‘Sussex Royal’ … or … ‘Royal’ …” Both “the content and that it’s still online is staggering”, a senior royal source says. “That was it for William, he felt they’d blindsided the Queen in such an insulting and disrespectful way,” says a source close to him, who reveals it was still at the forefront of William’s mind at the Commonwealth Day service one year ago. It was the Sussexes’ final engagement as working royals, and the froideur between them and the rest of the family was unmistakable.

It is a year since the Sussexes left for California and William misses Harry. “Once he got over the anger of how things happened, he was left with the absence of his brother,” an aide says. “They shared everything about their lives, an office, a foundation, meetings together most days and there was a lot of fun along the way. He’ll miss it for ever.” A close friend says William “definitely feels the pressure now it’s all on him — his future looks different because of his brother’s choices, it’s not easy.” Another friend says: “It’s still raw. He’s very upset by what’s happened, though absolutely intent that he and Harry’s relationship will heal in time.”

After lobbing bombs in his Oprah interview, Harry said: “I love William to bits … We’ve been through hell together … we have a shared experience … The relationship is space at the moment, and time heals all things, hopefully.” Harry would be wise not to set his stopwatch.

The first test will come this summer, when the brothers could be reunited for a series of family engagements including the Duke of Edinburgh’s 100th birthday and the Queen’s birthday parade in June. In July they are scheduled to unveil a statue of their mother at Kensington Palace, marking what would have been Diana’s 60th birthday, an emotionally charged occasion with the world watching.

While a chasm has opened up between the brothers, William has grown closer to the Queen and Prince Charles. He has helped them to navigate their way through Megxit, Prince Andrew’s removal from public life following the Jeffrey Epstein scandal and, now, the Oprah controversy. “That has changed the way the Queen sees him and values his input,” a courtier says. William also feels his relationship with his grandmother has “massively improved” in recent years and their views are “more aligned than ever”.

Friends say there has also been a “renaissance” in William and Charles’s relationship. “As the years passed there were strains imposed by the system — money, work, competition, Diana,” one says. “Part of William’s evolution is that as he has become closer to his father, he sees their similarities. At William’s wedding there was a gag in one of the speeches that he was more like his father than he’d ever admit, which made a lot of us laugh. As their respective destinies get closer, it weighs more heavily on them and strengthens the bond. The rift with Harry has also brought them closer.”

William is said to hate “flummery”, though the role of future king comes with plenty of bowing and scraping. But in 2017, for the first time publicly, he didn’t get his way. As a new parent worried about rising teenage suicide rates, he had spent a year convening a Cyberbullying Taskforce with big cheeses from tech and social media giants including Facebook, Snapchat, Apple, Google and Twitter. He wanted them to adopt industry-wide guidelines creating safer online spaces for children. According to William the meetings at Kensington Palace got “fruity” and the tech giants didn’t come close to the change he wanted. He was furious.

Tessy Ojo, chief executive of the Diana Award youth charity, sat on the taskforce. “He was deeply disappointed,” she says. “He didn’t come into it as ‘the duke’, he gave emotional pleas as a father.” William has since publicly condemned social media giants for their “false choice of profits over values” and privately offered support to the family of Molly Russell, who took her life at 14 after viewing images of self-harm online. Ojo believes it is William’s “lived experience of the fragility of life that guides the work he does”.

It also shapes the way he and Kate are raising their family. William has said he is determined that the grandchildren Diana never knew should “know who she was and that she existed”. He “constantly” talks to his children “about Granny Diana” at bedtime, so that they know “there are two grandmothers in their lives”. Earlier this month on Mother’s Day, Kensington Palace’s social media feeds published George, Charlotte and Louis’s cards paying tribute to “Granny Diana”, revealing it is an annual ritual for the Cambridge children. After a difficult few weeks for William, a line in Charlotte’s card provided poignant insight into how he is feeling: “Papa is missing you.”

He is on course to be a more modern monarch than any before him, but William is still a creature of habit at heart. He has the same tight circle of friends from his schooldays, one of whom says that, with William, “it’s all about trust and loyalty”. He plays five-a-side football in his Villa socks when he can, goes to the Chelsea Harbour Club gym he went to as a child with his mother and has a “smart casual” public uniform of chinos, jacket, blue shirt and no tie.

“William’s not trying to be down with the kids,” a friend says. “He never wants to be painted as irrelevant or dull, though he’s allergic to being compared to celebrities. The public doesn’t always get to see his funny side, but otherwise he’s the same in private as in public. He once said, ‘I’ll be in the public eye all my life. I can’t hide who I am because I’ll be found out.’ ”

In 2019, during a visit to a youth homelessness charity supporting LGBT people, William was asked how he would feel if one of his children was gay. “Absolutely fine,” he replied. “I fully support whatever decision they make, but it does worry me from a parent’s point of view how many barriers, hateful words, persecution and discrimination might come.” Such a personal exchange was a radical departure from royal engagement small talk. But William, the first in his family to be photographed for the cover of a gay magazine, had personally put the issue on the agenda.

As president of Bafta he gave the academy a diplomatic dressing down in his speech at last year’s ceremony, expressing his “frustration” over the lack of diversity: “In 2020, and not for the first time in the last few years, we find ourselves talking again about the need to do more to ensure diversity in the sector and in the awards process — that simply cannot be right in this day and age.” The 2021 nominees announced this month suggest his words hit home.

William “thinks the public look to him to keep royal work looking modern”, a confidante says. “The Queen and Prince of Wales are providing continuity and stability. He’s carving out his own relationship with diverse communities. He sees it all as a way of doing things now that will help a smooth transition when the time comes.”

Since the start of the coronavirus pandemic, as a former frontline worker himself, William has led the royal charge supporting key workers. “Now, more than ever, he knows what his role in public life is, and he sees the value in it,” a close aide says. Chatting to NHS workers in January, William said: “Something that I noticed from my brief spell flying the air ambulance … is that when you see so much death and so much bereavement, it does impact how you see the world … as a … darker, blacker place.” Soon after the first lockdown was announced, the Cambridges’ Royal Foundation launched Our Frontline, a round-the-clock mental health and bereavement service for key workers.

Miguel Head says the future King William will continue to campaign on his big issues: “I can’t see him backing away from causes he’s passionate about. And while he’s not someone who loves ceremony, he knows the importance of it. When he gets the top job he won’t do away with it all. He’s mindful the monarchy represents something timeless that’s above all of us, and many people like the magic and theatre of it.”

Roya Nikkhah

Roya is royal correspondent at The Sunday Times. Over more than a decade she has covered royal events for the BBC, interviewed the Prince of Wales and Prince Harry and presented the films Prince William, Monarch in the Making and Meghan and Harry: The Baby Years.

[kpop-stan23-writes]

cowboy like me

group: the boyz member: q (ji changmin) genre: fluff word count: 1.9k warnings: implied sex, but only very very very; a couple swear words pairing: q x gn!reader

part of the playlist series

note: the lyrics are out of song-order, but i pieced them together based on how i thought it best fit the flow of the story. also, since i do quote the lyrics, it's obviously being sung from a woman's perspective, but it definitely doesn't have to apply to the story itself

hustling for the good life

as a child, you had nothing

but you saw the glittering, beautiful, luxurious things that were always so far out of reach

and you decided at a young age that you would someday achieve those glittering, beautiful, luxurious heights

you watched your mother turn tricks growing up, charming her lovers into extra cash or little gifts

you watched your father pick pockets and work as a con artist on the streets, betting unsuspecting passersby he could beat them at games of chance

it taught you how powerful words can be

and that is the only lesson you bother to take away from your childhood

you're a young adult now and since leaving home years before, you haven't looked back

perched in the dark/telling all the rich folks anything they wanna hear like it could be love/i could be the way forward only if they pay for it

with your good looks and silver tongue, you quickly find yourself charming the riches out of the rich

it doesn't matter who they are, what their occupation or reputation, young or old

you sit back and watch your potential lover from afar, figuring how much you can milk and planning the perfect approach

then you charm your way into their lives and eventually into their bank accounts

and with their eyes full of stars, they're none the wiser

your most recent love affair, though, a man who is finally ready to settle down, is getting to be too...much

so you slip out in the middle of the night, taking a few knickknacks and jewels along the way

it's time for you to move on

and the tennis court was covered up with some tent-like thing

it's a beautiful day in early autumn

the trees are various shades of red and your path to the country club is paved with golden leaves that crunch just slightly under your feet

you show your expensive creme-colored invitation to the tall man who guards the elite from the plebians and are waved inside without a second glance

the charity event is taking place on the country club's multiple tennis courts

despite the weakening sun's rays, the rich want to protect their lily-white skin by covering the courts with lily-white cloth tents

you wouldn't mind the sun, but as you've learned during your rise from the bottom, the elite will do anything to protect their fair skin

you float around the crowd, sharing smiles and greetings with the other guests

you eventually find yourself at the open bar, where of course the only drinks being served are fancy cocktails, expensive wines, and top-shelf liquors

as you're waiting for your fancy expensive top-shelf drink, you spot a new face in the crowd

he looks to be your age, and is absolutely beautiful

strong eyebrows, soft cheekbones, full lips, and the most captivating cat-like eyes you've ever seen

he smiles at you and then politely excuses himself from the woman giggling girlishly at something he must have said

the woman watches him as he walks away and when she sees where he is headed, her eyes narrow at you

you just raise your just-served drink with a quirk of your lip and the young man striding toward you chuckles

"would you like to dance?" he asks you as soon as he reaches you

a string quartet is playing on a small stage and there's an area clear of tall tables made for standing

a few couples dance already

but you just sip your drink and say "i don't know...dancing is a dangerous game"

"doesn't make it any less fun, though, does it?"

you can't help but smile at his response and against your better judgement, you accept his hand

oh, i thought/this is gonna be one of those things

it's quiet once you reach the small dance floor

just the gentle string music and quiet hum of conversation

"i'm changmin, by the way. ji changmin."

you glance at him through your eyelashes and after a beat, you introduce yourself

he smiles once more and silence settles over you two again

you part once the quartet changes pieces

the rich flock to you and changmin, regardless of age or marital status

each of your attentions are occupied for the rest of the evening

but glances are spared throughout the night

the shared glances grow longer and heavier until you finally find yourself in a fancy hotel room without feeling like you need a shower first thing in the morning

you disappear before dawn, allowing yourself one brief moment to venerate changmin's lithe naked back which still bare evidence of your rather enjoyable evening together

you think that's that

i've got some tricks up my sleeve

your steps are as light as the pre-dawn autumn air

a small smile graces your lips and you admire the little trinket you slipped out of the hotel room: a tiger's eye-tipped tie pin

but as you're holding it up to watch the early-morning sunrays sparkle off the warm brown gem, you realize something

you're missing your silver pinky ring

you had some tricks up your sleeve

it's the only piece of your childhood you carry into adulthood and perhaps the only real item you've assigned sentimental value

you turn on your heel and march back toward the hotel entrance, intent on sneaking back into the hotel room to find that damn ring

but you hear someone call your name from above you

you look up and see changmin leaning out from a window, still bare-chested

something small is pinched between his fingers

you can't tell what it is from the ground

but the knowing smirk on his lips tells you all you need to know

takes one to know one

you consider turning your back to him

but that ring means a stupid amount to you

so you straighten your shoulders, hold you head high, and stride purposefully into the hotel lobby

because no way are you going to back down from someone like ji changmin

yo expect him to make you knock on the door, make you wait for him to answer

but the door is already propped open by the time you reach the room and you step inside to find him sitting on the couch in the in-suite living room (this time with a shirt), your small silver ring resting on the coffee table

you slowly sink into the chair across from him and silently place his tie pin on the table beside your ring

it's silent for a moment, you and changmin simply observing each other

"aren't you full of surprises" you finally say with a small quirk of your lips

changmin chuckles and pushes your ring toward you and you do the same with his pin

you each take your returned items and for a moment simply stare at them in your hands

you're uncertain what to do, and so is changmin

because this has never happened to either of you before

a con artist trying to pull one over another con artist

you glance up and catch his eye and you both can't help but laugh a little

because how ridiculous!

the silence returns and so does the uncertainty

changmin finally looks at the expansive, flashy watch on his wrist

you expect him to make some excuse about running late for some bullshit appointment

but instead he says "it's early. would you like to eat breakfast with me?"

much like the evening before, you find yourself nodding against your better judgement

you're a cowboy like me/never wanted love just a fancy car

and thus starts the most unexpected love affair of your life

because who knew ji changmin would turn out to be just like you

a suave, silver-tongued tempest who lives lover to lover, acquiring a small fortune in the process

he grew up poor, like you

he grew up resenting what his parents had to resort to in order to put food on the table, like you

he grew up deciding fancy things would be worth more than love in the long run

just like you

you laugh over that first shared breakfast about all the similarities you seem to share

all the similarities that led you to that moment

in that hotel room

with a fellow con artist

sharing a past you thought would stay firmly behind you

now i'm waiting by the phone like i'm waiting in an airport bar

you find yourself falling into a pattern with changmin

a pattern you've never had before

a pattern you never expected

it's new and exciting but also kinda scary because you never thought you'd feel this way about another person

more and more you find your evenings carrying over into the next morning

and then those next mornings turning into the next day

and then those next days melting into the next evening

soon, it's rarer to be without changmin than to be with him

and you hate that you find yourself wishing he was with you

because the L word was never supposed to be part of your vocabulary

of course what you don't realize is that changmin is feeling just as unexpectedly enamored by you

you're a bandit like me/eyes full of stars

you wake up one morning a tangle of limbs, changmin wrapped around you warmer than any of the numerous fur coats in your closet

his face is tucked into the crook of your neck and with each warm breath that ghosts across your skin, you feel your heart melt just a little more

there's a small mirror on the beside table and you happen to catch your reflection

the stars that you had always seen in your target's lover's eyes now fill your own

you bite your lip uncertainly because is this what love looks like?

you feel changmin's arm tighten around your waist as he begins to wake and you turn in his arms to face him

his eyes open slowly and when his gaze settles on you, a soft smile pulls at his lips and you feel his thumb stroke your lower back

"good morning" he says sleepily, his eyelids already dropping shut again

but you catch something in his dark eyes before they close that makes your heart skip a beat

because the stars you had seen in your reflection

you see the same stars in changmin's eyes

those stars in both your eyes remain

and you begin to grow used to them

you begin to grow to love them

we could be the way forward and i know i'll pay for it

you're waiting for the moment for it all to explode in your face

you're dreading that moment

you steel yourself for that inevitable ka-boom

you prepare yourself for life after changmin

in your weaker moments, you wonder if it was worth it

if loving changmin is worth what you know will be the greatest loss you have ever suffered

but you just have to take one look at his beautiful smile and those thoughts melt away

because no matter what happens, it will have been worth it

loving changmin will always be worth it

with your boots beneath my bed, forever is the sweetest con

but it never comes

and you find yourself relieved

because could you really have any sort of relationship after changmin, fake or not?

you don't think you ever want to find out

spoiler alert: you never have to

and i'm never gonna love again

note: i didn't even get to use some my favorite lyrics from the song ☹️ but i just couldn't find a way to fit into the flow of the story 😭 maybe i'll post another part that contains those lyrics?

[a3hastakenovermylife]

Ok, I really, really want some quality interaction between Kazunari and Taichi.

Like I know that we all joke about them because they’re our energetic, adorable, puppy pair, and yes, that is who they are on the surface. But, when you simplify their whole character arcs down to just that, you’re flattening their characters and you lose the depth that the game hints at for the both of them.

The game did a really great job at letting Taichi flush out a decent sized character arc, and concluded that story in a satisfying way during the Autumn Troupe arc. We see our sunshine boy upset, withdrawn, and separating himself from the others out of guilt. Then we see him distraught over the things he’s done and being comforted by Omi (honestly my favorite interaction in the whole series, second only to Juza and Banri high-fiving). Then we see him confessing to the others, and they all retell their portraits to one another, and Taichi finally gets to accept that he’s been forgiven, and more than that, that he’s been truly accepted into the troupe. For the first time, he gets to understand that he will get to act, he’s going to have the opportunity to do what he loves and he’s going to be able to do it with people he’s come to care so much about.

Taichi is in a much better place at the end of the Autumn Troupe arc, and we can see the potential for that to grow in the future.  However, I do not feel like we get to nearly the same place with Kazunari.

With Kazunari, we begin to understand that he puts on a front with other people, that he acts all happy and tends to agree with everyone as to not ruffle any feathers.  He’s never had a group of real friends before the Summer Troupe, and when confronted with the fact that he not only doesn’t have to pretend to be neutral, that his friends don't want him to be.  Kazunari made some real progress here, he did stand tall and give his opinion, but he isn’t shown to make any other significant changes.  Nor, can we tell whether this was a permanent change.  

He’s still the same energetic Kazunari, friendly and fun-loving as always.  I can’t help but feel like his character arc was left mostly incomplete, we know there's a problem, but we haven't taken many steps to fix it, nor does it seem like Kazu has had any change in attitude.  He’s still bottling most of his emotions up, refusing to show anything other than his cheery smile.  

Here’s where we get into some of my own characterization here, because as a freshmen art major myself, I know, I know, that college isn't easy.  On top of all of that, trying to pretend that everything is fine, is like putting a band-aid on a stab wound.  The longer you hold everything in, the more mentally isolated you make yourself.  Even surrounded by kind, loving, caring people, you can feel totally alone.  On top of that, place his pre-existing tendency to hide any and all of his real opinions and feelings, which isn't the kind of mental behavior you can fix overnight.  

What you’re left with is a ticking time bomb.

No human being can be happy all the time.  It's just not possible.  

When a human being is upset, they will need help eventually.  Especially, a college student, stepping out into the world for the first time on their own, a pseudo-adult who likes to pretend they've grown up already.  

Kazunari needs that character arc of his to be finished, because right now, he's sitting in a limbo within which he can never truly be happy, or relaxed.  Simply because he hasn’t taken the time to learn how to open up to his friends. 

Now, here's where my Taichi and Kazu interaction comes in.  

(Ok, I started this just as an idea post and lo and behold it became almost as long as a fic. This is literally just my word vomit, so I apologize in advance for any poor grammar, spelling mistakes, and unclear transitions that occur, but please enjoy and tell me if you want me to make this a proper fic)

Taichi has for the most part evolved through his character arc, he's in a good place now and is growing closer to everyone in the company.  Meanwhile, Kazu seems to be falling out of sync with everyone, he’s way less chatty, he spends most of his time by himself, and while when he's actually in the room with them he is acting relatively normal.  Every single time anybody asks him if something is bothering him, he laughs and brushes the concern off easily.  However, his troupe mates can hear how forced the laugh sounds.

It’s something that happens over a few months, but Summer Troupe is very worried.  They’ve taken to having weekly meetings in the common area while Kazu is doing his homework to try and puzzle out what’s been going on with him.  The others share their concern as well, the point is that now the whole company is determined to get to the bottom of whatever is up with him. 

I bet you anything that Omi notices the similarities right away.  This is way to eerily similar to the way Taichi was acting during those last few weeks before everything came to light.  He probably approaches Kazu to talk several times but is shut down at every turn by a forced laugh, or an easy excuse like ‘I’m just a bit tired.’ or ‘Just been super busy lately, that's all.’.

Taichi, himself, probably notices too, but he really doesn't want to stick his nose into something that felt so incredibly personal.  He lets it go because he knows how helpful it was when his troupe mates let him talk out his troubles, and listened, and accepted him for all his faults.  He feels if he buts in now, he’ll just take that opportunity from Kazu, and he’d never do something that.

The Summer Troupe keeps trying, and one night they all approach him at once, determined not to let this go until he fesses up.  They all corner him in his room and start to ask questions, and Tenma and Yuki are almost certainly going to be coming off as being a bit harsh, but who can blame them Kazu has been worrying the both of them senseless for months, and neither of them are the type to mince their words.  

Muku is especially emotional throughout the whole thing, he’s had a front row seat to this slow motion train-wreck this whole time, living in the same room as Kazu.  He sees how late he stays up, and how often he gets no sleep at all, he's the one who sees the cracks beginning to form in the persona Kazu has built up for himself.  He even mentions one particularly horrible night when Kazu was crying in his sleep.  By that point though, Muku is relatively incomprehensible through his own crying.  

Misumi is mostly watching, agreeing with the others, saying supportive words, but mostly standing aside, looking and feeling a little helpless.  

This is Kazu’s breaking point.  Kazu has been spiraling for months.  It started with feeling horrible and stressed about his classes, then evolved to worrying about how he always hid that fact from the others, then to feeling guilty about being so dishonest about his feelings, then to feeling even more guilty about pushing them away when they were clearly worried and not being able to reciprocate their kindness with even the most basic courtesy of honesty.

Seeing all of them like this, pouring their hearts out to reach him, it just made him feel worse.  He wanted them to understand, but some part of him was certain that they never could.  That even if he could speak right then, that none of it could make them understand.  There was also a traitorous part of his mind that heard Tenma’s frustrated shout and Yuki’s sarcastic drawl, and only hear accusation and condemnation.

He knew it was stupid, that his friends would never actually feel that way about him.  He knew that.

That didn’t stop that little traitorous voice in his head from taking the steering wheel though, it didn’t stop it from completely taking over.  He was on his feet and pushing past them out of the room before he even knew what he was doing.  He vaguely recognized the feeling of someone grabbing a hold of his shoulder and he forcefully pulls away, running faster than he even knew he was capable of out of the dorm.

The voices calling for him to come back, concerned, worried, crying.  Concern for him, and he can't even turn around to look at them, he can barely even hear them.  He keeps running, longer than his body should have been able to run, faster than he ever thought possible.  He tripped more than once and was left with scrapes from each time.  The others tried to follow him, but in the darkness, it seems that none of them had succeeded.  

Or maybe, the same voice whispered. They’ve just decided to give up on you.

Meanwhile, the Summer troupe meets back at the dorm, and they get the others to come help them look for Kazunari.  To say the least, Summer Troupe is pretty distraught, all things considered.  Muku is an even worse than he’d been earlier, having given up entirely on trying to talk, Yuki has made it his responsibility to keep Muku from falling over, having to prop him up through most of their search, and he’s become oddly quiet as he does so.  

Misumi actually does cry for a few minuites for Kazu, he's so incredibly sad that he can’t seem to do anything to help.  However, he doesn't let it keep him down.  It's no more than five minutes before he stands up with a half-smile to help search for him again. 

Tenma, is just oddly quiet, like way too quiet, more quiet than even Yuki.  Only speaking in clipped one-word sentences, and mostly even then, only answering questions addressed to him.  He's clearly frustrated, but more than that, he almost seems remorseful.  By this point, he’s feeling pretty guilty and useless himself.  He is the leader of this troupe after all, and it is his responsibility to take care of stuff like this isn’t it?  

It’s early in the morning, and the whole company has been searching for hours when it starts to rain.  It's at this point that the director just says that they should head back and get some sleep.  Tenma does not take that order well. After a very loud and long argument with Tenma, the most that he’s spoken all night, he finally gives in when he sees the state the rest of his troupe is in,  Muku has practically fainted already, Yuki was on the verge of tears himself and Misumi was just staring blankly into space dejectedly.  

So, with that everyone heads back to the dorm to go to sleep.

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

It’s only after they're back inside, dried off, and the lights are off that Taichi realizes that he can’t sleep.  He was close with Kazu, they’d always meshed really well together and got along really well.  When he’d seen a reflection of himself in Kazu, he'd let it go, and now he was really starting to regret it.  He should have realized, that just because Taichi had had Omi to help him work up the courage to confess what he’d done to the rest of the troupe, and to help him sort out his feelings.  Omi was practically an adult, he was so mature and always seemed to know what to do.  

Summer Troupe didn't really have an Omi.  Kazu was actually the oldest of the bunch of them.  He should have spoken up sooner, tried to help Kazu through it, if he’d just said something earlier, the situation might not have gotten this far out of control.  Taichi had desperately needed someone to give him the courage to speak up when he’d been in such a dark place and, something told him that Kazu needed the same thing, and that nothing would change at all until he got that much.

He might have school in a few hours, and it might still be raining, but Taichi honestly didn't care.  He couldn't sit still any longer.  He got up from the covers, and grabbed his jacket and was about to open the door to their room when he heard Omi sit up.

“You’re going to go look for Kazunari aren’t you?” He asked.

Taichi blinked and stammered, trying to come up with some other excuse, and epically failing.  It was too hard to lie to Omi though, especially after everything that had happened between them.  Omi just chuckled, and told him not to worry so much.  Omi stood and opened his own closet, pulling out a spare backpack, and placing a large towel, an oversized poncho, and an umbrella in the bag, then handed it to Taichi.  Then silently lead Taichi along to the kitchen, where he pulled out a large thurmace and heated up some hot cocoa to put inside, then handed that to Taichi as well.  

“I think that you might be one of the only people who can get through to Kazunari, you realize that too don’t you?”  Omi said softly, as to not wake the others.  Taichi nodded emphatically, a little stunned that Omi was just letting him go no matter how irresponsible of an idea it was. “Alright, then.  Good luck, and bring him home.”

Taichi nodded and just as soon as he had gotten outside he started running.  It was still dark and rainy, but at least there were plenty of streetlights.  He called out to Kazunari and he called and called.  Mostly though, Taichi was looking, looking for any sign of a person, anywhere.  By now, he was pretty sure that Kazu wasn’t going to reply to the call, but he did it anyway, just in case.

Eventually, about an hour in, his voice got raw and he needed to take a break.  He stopped talking, and sat down on just some random street corner, not caring one bit that his pants were now wet.

It wasn't any good, he wasn't going to find him was he?

He sat dejectedly on the concrete, just listening to the rain and feeling his pants begin to get soggy.  He didn't know how long he sat there before he heard it.

It was faint, so incredibly quiet, that even the light sound of raindrops nearly drowned it out entirely.

Yet, if he listened hard enough he heard crying.  He hoped he wasn't just his desperation getting to him, making him hear things.  He stood up eagerly anyway, staying silent and trying to follow the sound before it stopped.  It was hard, really hard, and the sky was starting to lighten just a minuscule shade when he finally made it to the mouth of the alley.

There Kazu was, Taichi could just barely make out the top of his head poking out from behind a stack of abandoned boxes.  He was absolutely drenched to the bone, there was no way he wasn't going to get sick after this.  He was crying softly, his head ducked and his arms hugging himself.

Taichi carefully approached Kazu and found himself at a loss for a moment.  The very last thing he wanted was for him to run off again, and he really didn't want to startle him either.  What he settled on was taking the umbrella and the towel out, and holding the umbrella with one arm, while he dried Kazu’s head off to the best of his ability with only one arm to work with.  Kazu stiffened but didn't move, his crying coming to an abrupt halt as he held his breath. 

“Hey, Kazu.  It’s just me, Taichi.”

Kazunari gave a shaky sigh of relief at his voice. “Damn, Tai-chan don’t scare me like that ok?  Thought you were gonna mug me or something...”  It was clear that Kazu was trying to put up his barriers again, and not quite managing it.  

“Sorry, about that.”  Taichi apologized, more than a little relieved that Kazunari had actually spoken to him right off the bat.  That was farther than the rest of Summer Troupe had gotten.  Taichi fumbled a bit before he decided to sit next to Kazu, after it seemed clear that he wasn’t too keen on moving.

Silence settled between the two of them, Kazu seemed to be trying desperately to reign his emotions back under control.  Taichi was just trying to think of how to start this, what to say.  He thought about how Omi had approached him, but something told Taichi that Kazu wouldn't connect well with that.  

It didn't help that he had no idea why Kazu was so upset, or what had caused this, or if anything really had caused it.  There might not be one cause.  It was more than a little overwhelming, Taichi really really really didn't want to mess this up.

He couldn’t do nothing again though, that wasn't an option, he had to say something, anything.

He decided, to just say whatever came to mind.  To say how he felt, and hope to every god out there that it reached him.

“You know, it’s impossible for a person to be happy all the time, don't you?”  Taichi asked.  Kazunari didn't respond, and Taichi decided that was ok.  He’d just keep talking for now.  “I won’t pretend that I know why you’re so upset, because I don’t.  It’s ok if you don't really want to talk about it right now, I get it.  Though, if you’re up to it, I would really appreciate it if you listened to my story.”

Taichi waited until he saw Kazunari nod, the other teen seemingly relaxing a bit beside him.   Taichi smiled at the sight, and began to speak.

(Authors note: in this story only Autumn troupe and Yuki (+ the director)  know about the fact that Taichi was a mole.  Not because they're keeping secrets, just because the others never asked and nobody thought to tell them.  Mostly, I don't know for sure if any of the others know, and I like to imagine that they don't know, or at least not the full story.)

Taichi essentially performed his portrait for Kazunari, by the end the other teen was actually looking up at him.  Taichi continued though, even after his story normally ended.  

“You see, whatever you feel so upset about, guilty about even, I doubt it'll be worse than the things I've done.  Even if it is, I know that your troupe mates would listen and try their best to understand why.  No matter what it is, no matter what might have happened.  They care a lot about you, and the only reason they got so frustrated is because they hate seeing you hurting like this, they were only trying to help, you know...”

“Yeah, I know that...”  Kazu looked away again.  Though, this time he didn't curl in on himself like before, he leaned back and looked to the sky, which was already beginning to lighten in color. “How did you know I was feeling guilty?”

“I guess, I can just tell?  I don't know, it's a bit freaky actually.” Taichi gave a nervous chuckle, then his expression softened a bit to match the sincerity in hie voice.   “I saw your expression, and it was almost like I was looking in the mirror, I got this weird sense of de ja vu, and I could just tell.   That probably doesn’t make any sense does it...”

“Never experienced it myself, but I get what you're talking about.”  Kazu replied with a sigh, closing his eyes.  The two of them stay quiet for a minute, Taichi got the feeling that Kazunari was just on the verge of telling him something, so he was patient, giving the other teen the chance to gather his thoughts. 

“You know, hearing all that you just said, it almost makes me feel a bit silly.  This is such a stupid thing to get so worked up over, ‘ya know.”  Kazu shook his head at himself. “It’s always been stupid, and I’ve always known that but I can't help it.  I’m always terrified of what others will think, if I don't keep a smile on my face.  More than that, I’m so used to pushing all of my worries aside that I don’t even know how to face them anymore.  I just ignore them, until I can’t anymore.”  Kazu swallowed thickly, leaning forward again and running a hand through his still, thoroughly damp hair.  “I don’t want to keep hiding my real feelings, it's just that each time I get even slightly uncomfortable, it's easier to just put the mask back on.  I can’t help it, and that’s terrifying, ya know.  I want the others to know when I’m stressed or upset, its not like I want to keep hiding it from them, but it never seems like the right time to let the facade fall.  They're so used to me being happy, that I don't think they understand how much of it is fake.  What happens when I let everything out, and they realize that I've been lying to them?  Will they even be able to stand me, as I am now?  They’re friends with the energetic, fun-loving Kazunari Miyoshi, not me.  I don’t know if any of them have ever even met this side of me, I'm hardly even the same person.  I really don’t want to ruin this place, I really really love it here.  I’m happier living here than I've ever been in my life, I don’t know what I'd do if everything fell apart...”  Kazu trailed off.

“I don’t think anything is going to fall apart, Kazu. Things’ll change a bunch, but nothing will be ruined. You don’t even need to do anything more than just explain this to your troupe.  Even if they don’t get it at first, they’ll do everything they’re capable of to help you, I just know it. Also, I think that you’re more likely to push them away continuing on as you are, than you are if you just tried to explain.” “You don’t have to try and handle this all by yourself. Please, try and explain this to them. Trust me when I say that you’ll feel better afterwards.”

“You really think it’ll turn out alright?”

“I know it will.”

Kazunari gave a breathy chuckle. “How can you be so sure?”

Taichi smiled wanly and thought about earlier that evening...

“’The hell?  How can you even say that?!  You really expect me to just go back to the dorm when Kazunari is out here somewhere, all by himself!  If we don't find him soon, who knows what’ll happen!  Who know’s what’s already happened?  He could have been mugged in an alley somewhere by now, and we’d have no idea!”

“Tenma...”

“I’m not going back.”

“Tenma, please stop and listen for a second.  Everyone is exhausted, we aren’t going to make any progress like this.  If we sleep for even an hour or two and get back to it, we’re more likely to find him, ok?”

“There’s nothing ‘ok’ about any of this!”

“Alright, maybe ‘ok’ wasn’t the right word for this situation, but Tenma...”  The director leaned in to whisper something into Tenma’s ear.  Immediately the teen star glanced over his shoulder and saw the state of his troupe mates and his stiff angered posture melted. Tenma silently nodded and sighed.

“I really fucked up this whole ‘troupe leader’ thing, didn’t I?”

“Kazu, your entire troupe is convinced that they've failed you in some way or another, especially Tenma-kun.  He was so upset earlier that he actually started yelling at the director, like a real argument and not his usual antics.  They want to help you more than anything else, and the entire company feels the same way.  This isn’t because they want they want you to go back to how you were, its because you’re in pain and they want to help you.  Whether that means that you stop putting on that mask entirely, or just start by learning not to rely on it too much, I know they'll be willing to support you no matter what you decide to do, so long as you’re beginning to get better.”  

“I’m here too, if you ever want to talk to somebody who gets it a little better.  It's hard being yourself, and it's easy to hide so you won't get hurt when someone rejects you. I get that, Kazu, and I do it too sometimes.  So, if you need to talk to someone outside of your Troupe, and maybe even get advice on how to make them understand, I’m here too.” 

“Kazu, you’ve got so many people waiting for you at home who want to help you, all you have to do is open up and let them.  Try and help them understand, and let them do the rest.  That’s all you can do, and I guarantee you, that nobody will be upset if you admit that you’re only human, that you can't be happy all the time.  Nobody in the troupe has ever expected that of you, even if they’ve gotten used to your antics, they won't judge you for the fact that you can’t keep them up.  The only thing, that you have to decide to do for them to accept you as you are, is to explain this to them.  That’s all, and nobody can take that first step other than you.”  Taichi said seriously.  

“I also happen to know how hard it is to take that first step, by yourself.  I had Omi to help me along, he pushed me to tell the others what I’d done, even when I was convinced they could never forgive me, and even that I didn't deserve to be forgiven.  He’s the one that helped me take that first step, and I’d like to do that too, for you.”  Taichi looked up at the sky which was rapidly changing to a much brighter shade of blue.  

“The others will probably wake up again soon, if we head back now, we might catch them before they leave the dorm again.  Please, let me take you home, so we can talk to your troupe mates and sort this all out.  I know that probably sounds impossible right now, but I know you can do it, and I’ll be right by your side while you do it.  So, what do you say?”

Kazunari sighed shakily and nodded, looking absolutely exhausted. “I think I can do it, if it's just my troupe and you I think I can try and explain all of this.  I just hope they understand.”  

Taichi grinned brightly, feeling a wash of relief rush over him.  “Really?!  Wow, thank you for trusting me Kazu!”  He let out a short bark of laughter.  “I’ll be honest, was really floundering there for a while.  I didn't know what so say at all, I’m so glad I didn’t make things even worse...”  Taichi let out a sigh of relief. “Sorry about that, I ended up just spewing my feelings all over you there....”

“You said all the right things Tai-chan, at least I think so.  I feel a lot better, if you'll really be with me I think I can manage this.  Even if I still don't know if this’ll turn out alright, I'm going to trust your judgement over mine on this one, because clearly my judgement is all out of wack, today...”. Kazunari paused and shook his head to himself. “Actually my judgment has been out of commission for a while now, I think. The point is, I cant really trust myself right now, so I'm going to trust you, ok?” Kazunari’s voice was a bit shaky, but he put some effort into sounding reassuring for Taichi’s sake.

———————— ok POV switch heh

Taichi blinked and stared blankly at Kazunari for a solid minute before he seemed to gather himself, the words finally having settled in. With a mighty sniff Taichi wiped his eyes and dashed away the tears that hadn’t even had the chance to fall. “Thanks Kazunari, that means a lot. I won’t let you down, I promise.” Taichi grinned brightly, his voice gaining a steelly determination behind it. Taichi then, handed Kazunari the umbrella to hold and turned to pull something from the backpack he’d been carrying. Kazunari stared as Taichi placed a thick plastic poncho on his lap and a large thurmace in his other hand and took the umbrella from Kazunari once again.

“You actually managed to run pretty far away from the dorm, so you should put that poncho on, and there’s hot cocoa that Omi made in there. Even if you don’t want to drink it, just open it and hold it. At least the heat will warm you up a bit.” Taichi said, and he almost sounded like director, the way he was fussing over him.

Kazunari was certain that his cheeks were flushed red, but he was equally sure that was only because he was freezing. It definitely wasn’t because he was embarrassed or anything.

“Hey do you want me to call us a ride? I think that might be better than walking all the way back. Plus, it’ll give them a heads up so nobody leaves to look for us.” Taichi asked, and Kazunari almost immediately shook his head.

“I’m soaked to the bone and I seriously don’t need a lecture from Sakyo for ruining the apoulstry of his car, right now.” Kazunari laughed at his own joke, too bad the joke was too close to the truth. He really didn’t want to soak up and ruin anyone’s car by getting inside it the way he was.

Taichi’s smile wavered, he didn’t laugh. Then he took out his phone and was engrossed in typing for a minute, before Kazu realized what he was doing. He propped himself up against the wall and stood, and was shocked to see how hard it was to do so. His vision almost immediately started blurring and darkening as Kazunari leaned against the wall for support.

“Hey, wait! I can walk I swear, don’t call anybody here, I’m fine!” Kazunari blurted just as he heard the message send.

“Sakyo isn’t the only adult in our troupe with a car, you know.” Taichi replied, a little softly. Then, he nervously tapped his foot for a moment before he made eye contact with Kazu again, and spoke. “You said that you were going to trust me earlier, didn’t you? You can’t get all the way home like you are now, and unfortunately, I’m not strong enough to carry you all the way back.”

Kazunari blinked, and sighed.

He did ask for this after all.

He however, refused to sit down. He was gonna lean right against that wall until the ride came, whoever they were. That thought didn’t last more than five minutes though. Kazunari blinked furiously to clear the spots from his vision to no avail. Then, sighed in defeat and leaned against the wall to slide back down to the asphalt.

Taichi gave him a concerned look and Kazunari tried to ignore it, it was just then he was saved by the appearance of a vehicle, and almost immediately Kazu recognized it as Itaru’s. The car parked and Itaru opened got out of the car to join them.

Kazunari had to look away, because a part of him still couldn’t stand the wave of guilt when he saw the worry in his gaze. So, he fiddled with the hem of his shirt, like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

“Thanks, Itaru, for coming to pick us up.” Taichi said extra cheerily, though there was a dash of genuine grstitude hidden in there.

“It’s no problem. I’m glad you asked me, the others were already waking up and getting restless. They were almost about to start searching for you again when you texted me.” Itaru said with a wan smile of his own. “So, let’s get you two back to the dorm. Do you need a hand there Kazunari?”

“Nah’ I’m fi-“. Kazunari was about to say when Taichi pulled him up and propped him up.

“Yeah, Kazu, my buddy, nobody is gonna fall for that.”

“Alright, ok!” Kazunari sighed, and said “I’m super woozy and can barely stand up, yes I’d love some help.” He was too tired to keep up with this. Let the others do what they want, he’s taking a nap when he gets in that car.

Kazunari could hear Itaru let out a relieved chuckle, Taichi did the same not long afterward. When did he close his eyes?

“Happy to help, then.” Itaru idly commented as Kazu heard a car door open, he was gently shuffled into what he assumed was the back seat and his head was definitely resting on Taichi’s shoulder.

Someone strapped his seatbelt on, he assumed it was Taichi, and he heard the drivers door open and admit someone as well, probably Itaru getting in.

Kazunari was definitely getting sleepy and the last thing he remembered hearing, he wasn’t even sure he was dreaming yet or not. But the last thing be remembered hearing, was Taichi whisper.

“Sleep well, everything will turn out ok, I promise it will.”

[vanguardangel]

Atsushi and Akuatgawa were the boys sleep the first time over at the s/o house? She lives alone and has a very pretty home..😅

.

-sighs- Oh the glory of having a home of your own....one day I shall have my little plot of land in the forest with a tiny little cottage with my dog and my own hi-speed internet.

ANYWAYS, yes I gotchu fam! Sorry for the length, I went a little overboard but I had a lot of fun writing this!

Atsushi

Oh my goodness, I’ve only watched season 1 so far of Bungou Stray Dogs (I keep getting distracted), but I know for sure this little sushi roll is an absolute sweetheart, and quite hospitable to boot! (He slept in a cupboard when he shared his room with Kyoka for fuck’s sake)

Needless to say, this poor boiyo is quite flustered when the tables are turned on him.

The two of you were walking through the streets of Yokohama together, hand-in-hand as the two of you enjoy the beautiful display of ginkgo trees. Their golden leaves swirled both below and above the two of you as the wind began to pick up.

Unfortunately, while you were admiring the trees, you didn’t realize just how dark the clouds had gotten. Suddenly, there’s a crack of lightning and the rain just comes pouring down. Thankfully, your home was nearby and the two of you quickly speed-walked in that direction.

He didn’t fully realize you were pulling him into your house at first. All he knew was one second; he was being bombarded by rain and the next; not so much.

“Hey uh....y/n?” he manages as he watches you fuss about in the house, looking for towels for the two of you. “Where are we...?”

You simply smile at him, tossing the towel over his head to dry his hair. “My place!”

ATSUSHI IS SHOOK

“Your place?! What about your parents?”

“They live on the other side of town, I moved here to be closer to the Agency.”

Atsushi already admired you, but now there are literal stars in his eyes. You were the newest to the agency, right behind Kyoka, but you had your own place! Amazing!

And it’s so pretty and cozy! It wasn’t terribly big, having only about two or three rooms, but it was perfect. Atsushi could already see himself planning some tea dates with you, with the window open and the cool autumn air wafting in.

CRACK!

The lightning struck again, causing the lights to flicker. Upon peering out the window, the two of you gaped at just how quickly the streets had begun to flood.

“Well, looks like we’re stuck here for now,” Atushi chuckled nervously.

The two of you tried to ride out the storm, cuddling up on the couch and watching movies. You were watching Aragon rallying the troops at the Black Gate when another god-awful crack of lightning finally severed your electricity for the night.

Atsushi begins to actually get worried. It was getting really late, and he didn’t want to impose on your hospitality. You were already so kind to him, he couldn’t possibly ask to stay.

So instead, you asked him, insisting even as he’s trying to assure you that he can get home by himself.

Yeah no, Atsushi, you’re not going anywhere in this nasty weather.

When you manage to convince him, he tries to insist he’ll sleep on the couch, so you’ll need to persuade him if you want him to sleep in the same bed with you.

Bribe him with cuddles. Tiger-boi is warm and weak for cuddles.

Atsushi and you will sleep well tonight.

Akutagawa

First off, I gotta give you props. Somehow, in this crazy and bizarre world of mafia and literature-inspired powers, you managed to do something that was nearly impossible.

You managed to earn not only Akutagawa’s respect.

But his trust.

You had a weird effect on him as if your presence and words were like a tranquilizer for his crazy emotions. His outbursts are few and far between, especially compared to the early stages of your relationship. Maybe it was because you were one of the few people to treat him with kindness? Maybe it was your still innocent view on life? Maybe its just one of those weird situations where AKutagaw is simply fascinated by the fact you’re one of the few people he doesn’t want to hurt? It’s one of the wonders of the Port Mafia.

Even still, it's still quite the surprise when he invites you to his little outings into the city. He just kind of takes your hand and leads you throughout the quieter areas of Yokohama, sometimes even venturing into the little shopping centers if he’s feeling brave enough.

One day, he leads you to a tiny ice cream shop that Gin recommended. The two of you sit outside, enjoying the nice autumn breeze alongside your tasty treats.

Now, Akutagawa usually doesn’t talk much during these types of dates, usually preferring to listen as you chatted away.

But today, he seemed distracted. His eyes flickering between you and the other patrons around you. At first, you thought he was still jumpy from his prior mission (then again, since when did this guy ever fully relax?).

“Akutagawa, what’s-?”

“C’mon, y/n,” he abruptly says, taking your hand as he quickly stands. You just barely manage to hold onto your ice cream as he quickly leads you out of the patio area and into the maze-like alleyways of Yokohama.

“Easy, easy!” you manage to squeak out. “You’re pulling really hard...!”

“Quiet,” his tone was more than enough to shut you up. “Don’t look behind you, just stay close to me.”

You gulped down the knot in your throat and quickly did as he said.

The two of you wandered through the streets and alleys for what seemed like hours. Sometimes you would speed up, only to quickly slow down and return a normal walking pace. It was late sunset when he finally stopped.

“We’re safe,” he announces nonchalantly. You groaned and flopped down a nearby bench.

“Thank God,” you moaned. “My legs feel like lead. What was all that about?”

“I’ll tell you later,” you could swear he smirked a little when you simply huffed in response. “But...I may have to call for a car...we’re a fair way out from base.”

“Well, this is actually not too far from where my place is. Wanna just crash there?” The words were out of your mouth before you could stop them. The blush arrived even quicker.

Akutagawa gave you a pointed look.

“Er uh....w-well, it's almost dark. And it's dangerous for even the Port Mafia to wander the streets at dark. Not that you’re helpless, you can easily hold your own, I’ve seen you, but I could just get in the way, and I’d much rather die than be a hostage, and-”

“Okay,” Akutagawa cut off your nervous babbling. “Let’s go.”

“Yepp, yessir, let’s go!”

Saying you were nervous was an understatement. You were a man to your house. The house you lived in. Alone. And not just any man; Akuta-fucking-gawa! The self-proclaimed “dog of the Mafia.”

“Here we are...!” your voice nearly broke when you opened the door. “I know it’s small and I know it’s not much, it’s just me here but...”

“It’s nice.”

“....huh...?”

Akutagawa casually strolls in, taking in the quaint little surroundings before settling down on your couch. There was the ghost of a smile on his lips. You just sigh and join him.

“So, you gonna tell me what just happened?”

“We were being followed,” Akutagawa said simply, not even reacting to your shocked expression. “Noticed them before we even reached the ice cream shop. Didn’t think they’d be stupid enough to do that in broad daylight, but there it is.”

“......why didn’t you kill them?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he shuffled himself to nestle his head in the crook of your shoulder. “Doesn’t matter.”

The two of you spent the rest of the night just talking. The conversation focused on nothing in particular, switching between work, your interests, and other random topics. You two end up actually falling asleep on the couch, just leaning against each other.

Your back was aching, but managing to wake up and see Akutagawa actually at peace was so fucking worth it.

[elliemarchetti]

Clear As Silver Drops

It’s my birthday and I post what I want to! *sing this as Necessary Evil by Motionless in White*

To be totally honest, this is inspired by @my-darling-haldir who was asking for Haldir fic recs for her bday and I said myself why not? Why not indulge in your love for elves and mixed ocs? So here we are, with something in which Legolas isn’t with the Fellowship and in his place we have Elva, the only woman in a group otherwise made up of men only.  Enjoy!

Words: 3132

"I'm afraid we can't stay here any longer," Aragorn said, turning his gaze to the mountains, raising his sword as if he wanted to curse Gandalf for his recklessness.

“What hope do we have without him, now?” asked Frodo under his breath, talking mainly to himself.

“We’ll have to do without hope,” replied Elva, talking to the whole Fellowship. “It may be that one day at least he’ll be avenged, but for now, let’s have courage and stop mourning: we have a long way to go and a lot of things to do.”

At her words they all stood up to look around, making her weigh for the umpteenth time what her role really was in their mission. She should’ve asked Gandalf when she still had time, but now he had taken that secret to the grave and she could do nothing but find it herself. A skilled archer and an excellent diplomat, Elva felt more like she was there to act as a glue between cultures, and thus prevent those men, all with different histories and upbringing, to go one to the North, dominated by three sparkling white peaks, Celebdil, Fanuidhol and Caradhras, one to the East, where the forward-projected arms of the mountains steepened abruptly, with distant lands extending beyond, and one to the South, where the Misty Mountains stretched endlessly. 

Less than a mile away, slightly lower, as they were located at a high point on the eastern flank of the valley, they saw a lake: it was long and oval, looking like the tip of a spear stuck deep in the basin to the north, with the southern waters out of the shadows, bathed in sunlight but still dark, the deep blue of a clear night sky seen from a lighted room. The surface was calm, and all around the bare banks were covered in soft grass. The Fellowship walked the uneven and bumpy road that descended from the Gates of Moria, just a winding path among heather and twigs, sprouted between the broken stones; it still could be seen that it once meandered from the Dwarf Kingdom’s lowlands, but the broad paved street was now reduced to a ghost of itself, just like Durin’s stone.

“I can’t go on without deviating for a moment to see the wonder of the valley!” exclaimed Gimli.

“Be quick, then!” said Aragorn, checking the gates behind them. “The sun sets early, and even if the Orcs won’t come out, perhaps, sooner than dusk, we must already be very far away at sunset; it’s almost new moon, so the night will be dark.”

Elva almost cursed under her breath: if the lightless night was approaching, even her monthly blood was coming. Of all the advantages of being a half-elf, unfortunately she hadn't inherited the one of not suffering like mortal women.

“Come with me, Elva!” cried the dwarf, distracting her from her thoughts. “I don’t want you to go away without first seeing Kheled-zaram.”

For some strange reason, despite her elven half, the dwarf liked her company, and quite a lot too. Together they descended the long green slope swiftly, followed slowly by the hobbits. A brief glance into the dark waters, and back again to the road, now turning south, going down quite steep from two offshoots that embraced the basin. A little lower than the lake, they encountered a deep well of crystal clear water, from which a steam rose, flowing right after down a rocky groove.

“Thirsty as you may be, don’t drink this water,” Gimli warned. “It’s cold as ice.”

“Over there, are the woods of Lothlorien,” said Elva, pointing at a golden haze in the flat lands. “It’s the most beautiful among all the homes of my people. There are no trees like those of that land: in autumn, their leaves don’t fall but turn to gold, replaced only in spring by the new buds covering the branches with yellow flowers. Then, the soil is gold as the ceiling and the smooth and grey bark of the trees make them look like silver columns, as our songs in Mirkwood still tell. My heart would be so happy if I were among the branches of that wood and the spring smiled!”

“My heart will be happy even if it’s winter,” Aragorn said. “But many miles separate us, let’s hurry!”

For a time, Frodo and Sam managed to keep up, but the warriors advanced swiftly and soon they were left behind. When Elva noticed, she immediately told Aragorn, who, seeing them so far away, ran back on his own steps, calling Boromir to follow him. He apologized, full of disquiet.

“So many things happened today, and we’re such in a hurry that I forgot you were injured. You should’ve said something, because in silence nothing has been done to alleviate your pain. A little further on there’s a place where we can rest for a moment. Come, Boromir, let’s carry them!”

They soon encountered another stream flowing down the western slopes, confusing its gurgling waters with the swirling ones of the Silverlode, diving together from an overhand of green coloured stone and foaming down in a hollow surrounded by fir trees, low and curved, with steeps sides covered with rapeseed and blueberry bushes. They stopped at the bottom, where was a flat area crossed by the bed of shiny pebbles in which the creek flowed noisy. It was nearly three in the afternoon, and they had travelled just a few miles from the Gates. The sun was already turning to west, painting a grave expression on Aragorn’s face as he cared for Frodo and Sam’s injuries.

“Lucky you” he exclaimed, to lighten up the gardener’s mood. “Many have received a worse reward for killing their first Orc. The cut isn’t poisoned, as is unfortunately the case for most wounds inflicted by their blades, so it’ll heal well.”

He then opened his saddlebag and took out some withered athelas. While fresh were more effective, the leaves would still do their work in cleaning the wound. When Frodo’s turn came, he was quite reluctant, saying he was fine and just needed some food and rest, but Aragorn persisted, and took off his old tunic and worn shirt, giving an exclamation of astonishment, which soon turned into laughter: the hobbit wore a silver coat that sparkled before their eyes like light on a choppy sea, the gems bright like stars and the tinkling of the rings producing the same sound as the first raindrops falling into a pond. If word got out that a hobbit had such a wonder, all the hunters of Middle Earth would’ve galloped towards the Shire, but all their arrows would’ve been vain before a mithril armour. Still, there was a dark blackened bruise on Frodo’s right side and one of the rings had passed through his soft leather jacket, penetrating into the flesh. While the others prepared the meal, Aragorn made more athelas water, filling the basin with its acrid fragrance. After the late lunch, the Fellowship put out the fire, erasing all traces of it, and climbed out the hollow, resuming the road. They hadn’t come far when the sun disappeared behind the western heights and great shadows crept along the sides of the mountains. Twilight veiled their feet, and a light mist glided in the depression, while far to the east, the evening lit up with its pale glow lands, plains and distant forests. Sam and Frodo managed to walk briskly and Aragorn led the Fellowship for another three hours with a single, shot break, after which the late nigh imposed her dark reign. There were several stars, but the moon waning would appear much later.

“Lothlorien!” Elva cried. “We have reached the edge of the Golden Wood!”

The trees stood imposing, arching over the road and the river that swept suddenly under their leafy branches, trunks gray in the pale starlight and leaves quivered with a touch of fallow yellow.

“We’re still too little far from the Gates, but we can’t go further. Let’s hope that the Elves virtue will protect us from the danger pursuing,” said Aragorn.

“Assuming the Elves still live here, in this darkening world,” Gimli said, joining them.

“It’s been a long time since some of my folks came back to see the land we abandoned centuries ago,” replied Elva, “but we know that Lorien is still not deserted and a secret force repels evil far from this district. Nevertheless, its inhabitants rarely show up, and perhaps now they live deep in the woods and far from the northern borders.”

Aragorn confirmed with a sigh, as if some memory in him had been awakened. “We must suffice to ourselves, for tonight. We’ll still walk a short distance, until the trees are thick around us, then we’ll leave the path to look for a place to rest.”

“There’s no other way?” asked Boromir, irresolute.

“What better way would you want?” asked Aragorn.

“A simple path, albeit flanked by a hedge of swords,” Boromir replied. “Our Fellowship has been conducted in strange ways, and all of them so far with an inauspicious outcome. Against my will we passed under the shadows of Moria, towards our perdition, and now we have to go into the Golden Woods, even if we have heard of that perilous district in Gondor, where it’s said that few of those who set foot there come out, and of these, non has been released unharmed.”

“Don’t say unharmed, but unchanged, and then your words will be truthful,” Aragon retorted. “Wisdom has certainly diminished in the city of those who were once wise if now they speak ill of Lothlorien. You may not believe me, but there’s no other way for us, unless you want to go back to the Gates or climb the mountains or swim alone along the Great River.”

“Then guide us!” agreed Boromir. “But it’s dangerous.” “Very,” Aragorn confirmed. “Beautiful and dangerous, but only the evil has to fear here.”

They walked a little over a mile into the forest when they encountered a third stream flowing rapidly from the tree-lined slopes, climbing west towards the mountains. They could hear it roar in a cascade hidden by the shadows, before the dark water crossed the path ahead of them, joining the Silverlode in a whirlwind of ponds hidden by tree roots. It was the Nimrodel, the river on which a long time ago the Silvan elves composed many song. She grew up singing them in the North, mindful of the rainbow over the waterfalls and the golden flowers floating on its foam. Everything was dark, now, and the Bridge over it collapsed, but its waters were still able to wash away any sign of fatigue, so she proposed to wade it to find on the other side a place to rest.

“The sound of falling water will perhaps bring us sleep and forgetfulness from sorrows.”

One after another, the men followed her and when they were all on the other bank, they sat down, rested and refreshed. Elva told the stores of Lothlorien, the ones the Mirkwood elves still treasured in their hearts, stories of the sun and stars on meadows along the Great River, from a time before the world turned gray. When finally silence fell, they heard the music of the waterfall that flowed smoothly in the shadows.

“Do you hear Nimrodel’s voice?” she asked. “I’ll sing you the story of a girl who was called like the river next to which she lived a long time ago. It’s a lovely song in Sylvan, but I’ll sing it in Westron for you.”

Then, with a sweet voice so faint it almost disappeared in the rustle of the leaves, she intoned the ballad of the elf with a white mantle edged with gold; she had long hair and white skin, the free girl with a voice clear like silver drops. It was evident that some of her companions thought this creature lost in the dewy mountains could’ve been her, so she sang about her lover, an elven king of trees and clearings, went away on a ship swept by the north wind.

From helm to sea they saw him leap, As arrow from the string, And dive into the water deep, As mew upon the wing. The wind was in his flowing hair, The foam about him shone; Afar they saw him strong and fair Go riding like a swan. But from the West has come no word, And on the Hither Shore No tidings Elven-folk have heard Of Amroth evermore.

When Elva's voice trembled, the song ended. She said she couldn't continue because she didn't remember how it went on, but it was a lie: long and sad was the story about the doom befallen on Lothlorien when the dwarves roused evil in the mountains. She glances sideways at Gimli, who looked somewhat grateful, and quickly changed subject, proposing to camp on the trees for the night. The Fellowship left the path, entering the shadows of the forest further dense, headed west along the mountains steam and far away from the river, until they found a small group of trees with big trunks.

“I’m at home in roots and branches, but this species is unknown to me; I need to climb to see what their shape and way of growing is,” said Elva.

“Whatever they are,” replied Pippin, “they would really be wonderful if they offer a possible night’s rest to others than birds: I don’t know how to sleep perched on a hanger!”

“Then dig a ditch in the ground, if that’s more to the habits of you race,” Elva retorted, impatiently. “But you have to dig fast and in depth, if you wish to hide from the Orcs.”

Before she could do anything else, however, an authoritative voice spoke from the shadows. In amazement, she crouched frightened against the trunk.

“Stay still,” she whispered to the others. “Don’t move and don’t speak!”

A soft laugh was heard in the foliage, and another clear voice spoke in an elven language. Elva looked up and answered in the same idiom, different from the ones the western elves used.

"Who are they, and what do they say?" asked Merry.

"They're Elves," Sam replied. "Don't you hear their voices?"

"And they say you breathe so hard they could pierce your heart despite the darkness,” Elva hissed, silencing the hobbits. To be honest, there was no reason to be afraid: the elves said they’ve been long aware of their presence but they didn’t hinder the Fellowship in crossing the river since they heard her voice beyond the Nimrodel and recognized she belonged to their Nordic lineage.

“They’re begging me to go up with Frodo. It seems they’ve received news about our journey but they ask the others to be patient for a moment and guard the feet of the tree, waiting for them to decide what to do.”

At those words, a ladder was lowered from the shadows: it was made of a silver-gray sparkling cord and despite its frail appearance, it proved itself strong enough to withstand the weight of several people. Elva went up fast, while Frodo tried to persuade Sam to stay with the others. It would’ve been a wise choice, it was easy to offend her people, but the gardener was immovable and in the end they entered the flet, talan in elvish, through the circular hole open in the centre. The elf holding the ladder, the eldest, invited her to sit with his companions, two younger guards, both fully dressed in silver gray fabric, a valid help to hide among the stumps and then greeted the hobbits in a slow Common Tongue.

“It’s rare for us not to use our mother tongue, since now we live in the heart of the forest and don’t like to deal with other people. Even our own relatives in the North are divided from us, but some still go in foreign lands to gather news and watch over enemies, and therefore they speak different languages like me. My brothers Rumil and Orophin understand little of what you say, but we heard of your coming from Lord Elrond’s messengers when they passed by Lorien on their way home. From many years we no longer knew anything about your race and we didn’t think there were still any hobbit in Middle Earth. You don’t seem bad natured and since you come with an elf of our lineage, it’s with pleasure that we’ll help you, as Elrond asked us to, although is not out habit to lead strangers across our land, but you’ll have to spend the night here. How many are you?”

"Eight: me, four of them,” said Elva, alluding to the hobbits, “and two men, one being Aragorn, an elf-friend of the Westernesse folk.”

“The name of Aragorn son of Arathorn is known in Lorien, and he has the benevolence of the Lady. So, everything is fine,” said Haldir. “But you have so far only named seven.”

“The eight is a dwarf,” admitted the girl, never lowering her eyes, no trace of shame in her voice. She knew that Haldir must’ve understood by now that not only elven blood ran in her veins, but he didn’t seem to care.

“This is not good: we haven’t dealt with them since the Dark Days and they’re not allowed into our country. I cannot let him pass.”

“He’s of the Lonely Mountain, one of Dain’s trusted people and friend of Lord Elrond, who has personally chosen him to be part of our Fellowship,” she explained. At her words, the three elves exchanged a long, knowing look.

“Is he perhaps your companion, milady?” Haldir asked.

“Would it make any difference on his courage and loyalty?” she asked, heedless of what some strangers might think. If she had cared about the opinion of all the souls she had met in her long life, her heart would’ve already burst with pain.

"Very well," said Rumil at last, displeased. Ignoring the fact that the hobbits didn’t understand him, he told her in Sindarin that if she and Aragorn had watched and answered for Gimli, he could’ve passed, but only blindfolded.

“Now, we mustn’t waste any more time,” Haldir resumed. “Your companions have been on the ground too long and soon in the morning you’ll have to continue your march. The hobbits will stay here with us, while you’ll remain in the other talan with the rest of the Fellowship.”

“Call if something is wrong!” he added in the end, as a farewell. Elva was halfway down the ladder when she heard one of his brothers mutter something about such a beautiful voice wasted in a terribly vulgar way, but she couldn’t understand his reply.

[tackyink]

The only reason I've decided to post this is that I think unless I do I won't stop anxiety-editing it and I'd like to move on to something more interesting. And maybe pick up Veleta again, because I had written more than what I posted here and I want to keep working on her.

I can only offer for context that I hail from real life Dressrosa and one day someone asked me what, as a historian, I would do if I ever came across a Poneglyph in the OP world.

— — — — — — — —

Chapter 1

In a remote corner of Paradise, outside of the main travel routes, there was an autumn island called Harlun, and on its shores there was a place called Duster Town, remarkable if only for the fact that every day was exactly the same and nothing of interest ever happened.

Duster Town was acceptably hot in summer, relatively cold in winter, and unavoidably wet and muddy the rest of the year. This had been a big reason for Alex’s stay to last as long as it had: five years and counting. She was fond of the weather because that was what living in summer islands for nearly twenty-two years did to a person.

She had been working in Duster Town’s old, old library since she had arrived there, having secured the job through contacts she had made while studying. Alex was a historian, and there weren’t a lot of secure jobs for people in her field unless one wanted to work under close supervision of government officers. She had never liked research that much, anyway – or rather, she had liked sticking her nose in archives for the sake of it, but the actual process of searching for documents, putting the pieces together and then writing papers sucked. Learning to satisfy her own curiosity was fun, being forced to share that knowledge was not. Besides, if there was an area of research that grabbed her attention more than anything else, it was that conspicuous century-wide blank in human history, and everybody in her profession knew what happened when someone tried to look too closely into that. Ohara was the biggest ‘accident’ that came to mind, but it wasn’t the only one. Things happened to people who knew too much. Everybody was aware of it, but complicit silence was a healthy tactic that her sensible colleagues employed.

Alex had opinions on that, as, admittedly, did most historians she had met, and since opinions were like assholes, she wasn’t going to be the gross weirdo showing hers to other people. Figuratively speaking or not, it was liable to get her in trouble with the law, and that was the last thing Alex wanted.

She liked her library, and even though she was incredibly disappointed that she’d never be able to set foot inside the Tree of Knowledge due to the unfortunate circumstance of having been born too late. Her job was quiet; since she wasn’t a librarian proper, they had put her at the entrance desk to check out and retrieve books, and she handled the petitions for documents researchers sent to the library. The building in which she worked dated back to several centuries, and the foundation upon which it was built, and which housed the local archive, suggested an even earlier date. It contained one of the biggest and best preserved documentary collections in that half of Paradise, so she spent a lot of time digging inside the archive to fulfill the researcher’s requests.

All in all, she thought she had had an amazing run so far, lending books, persecuting tardy neighbors to retrieve them, memorizing catalogs from too much use, and sending informative material to researchers who were actually doing important things with their lives, unlike herself. Her coworkers were few and not very nosy, which she appreciated, because she loved her time alone and wasn’t too fond of talking about the past.

She could see herself growing old in there and getting cobwebs, if sudden changes in the town hall didn’t run her out of the island, and the way things worked in moderately small towns like that, where everybody knew everybody and keeping a job was more a matter of knowing the right people and having been there for a while than being actually competent at it, meant that her position was likely secured in the long run. That said, the local mushrooms by themselves would have tempted her to stay, even without the rest of advantages. Not many of those in her hometown or Sabaody. Lots of heat and not nearly enough rain.

The sun wasn’t yet up when she woke up with an itchy nose in the small apartment she lived in, and a flurry of sneezes alerted her that she should have taken her allergy meds the night before. Navigating the place with closed eyes, she threw on the same skinny jeans and oversized sweater that she had left on a chair two days ago for yet another day at work. It took more effort than someone who had slept so many hours at her age had a right to. Like nearly every morning, really.

The last remaining days of winter had brought the cold in full force, at least for her summer island sensibilities, and after having a steaming cup of red tea that fogged up her glasses, she bundled inside her black coat and red scarf, put on a pair of burgundy gloves, and headed for the library with a thermos full of more tea, making the usual stop at the nearest bakery to buy a croissant. Her hands ached with the chilly breeze.

(She kept a kettle in the library, but there was never too much tea, in her humble opinion, and the thermos kept her freezing hands warm on the way.)

The sun had barely risen when she arrived at the building, an old stone structure that casted its shadow over a private square, though the tall iron fence was open at all times so the people of the town could use the benches and the fancy stone fountain in the middle of it. According to the records Alex had read, the whole area was built four hundred years back or so as the private residence of some rich family that eventually lost its fortune. The basement that doubled as the archive, though, was considerably older, but records stopped around 700 years back, like everywhere else, and so she couldn’t tell how old the foundations were, or what sort of building used to be there in the past without digging a trial trench in the square, something the town hall had been vehemently against when she suggested it. The refusal only made her want to do it more.

She crossed the fence and was halfway through the square when she saw someone in front of the library’s massive oak doors. That was so unusual it made her stop in her tracks. She wasn’t ready to interact with human beings this early in the morning. In fact, the baker was so used to her being absent at that time of the day that the only things she needed to say when she picked up her breakfast were ‘good morning’ and ‘thank you.’

She repositioned her glasses to peek above them and tried to focus her teary eyes on the figure before approaching it. It belonged to a man, obnoxiously tall as many in these seas had a tendency to, who wore a long black coat with a yellow pattern around the hem and a fluffy spotted hat that looked quite ridiculous but also warm, so she wasn’t going to judge in a morning like that. Since he seemed to be looking for something and having no luck, she did what she was paid for, though she was still off the clock, and approached him.

“Hello,” she said to catch his attention. Her voice came out raspy because this was only the fourth word she had uttered since waking up, so she immediately wanted to jump in one of the flowerbeds and melt into the muddy soil. She cleared her throat softly. “Is there anything you need?”

He turned around to look at Alex. He was in his twenties, and his face was kind of familiar. His earrings caught her attention, but then again, she had a bad tendency to not pay much attention to people’s faces and fixate on irrelevant details. This individual’s entire ensemble and circumstances, though, made him difficult to forget overall.

“Do you work here?” He asked.

She barely registered the question, because it was about then that she noticed the smiley yellow faces on his coat and the long-ass sword he held against his shoulder. She hadn’t been able to see them from behind, and if she had, she sure as hell would have kept her distance until he left.

That… had the potential to be really bad.

“Yes,” she said, thinking she should have not, but it was stupid to deny it when there was nowhere else to go in the plaza, she had offered to help, and the only place she could hide in was inside.

After she unlocked the building.

With the keys she was carrying in her hand.

Yeah, honesty had been the right move.

“What are the opening hours?”

That was also unexpected. “Nine AM to eight PM. It’s on the plaque—” She pointed to the side of the door, and she saw someone had vandalized it with rude graffiti. “Not again,” she sighed to herself, and then back to him, “Nine to eight.”

There were still thirty minutes to go, and she hoped to god that he didn’t plan on sticking around until it was time to open.

“I see,” he said, looking pensively at the door. “I’ll be back later, then.”

“Of course,” she replied, smiling, relieved, and then panicking inside because there was a pirate planning on coming to her workplace that morning and this was an anxiety factor she hadn’t asked to be burdened with. He had to be dangerous. People who weren’t dangerous didn’t carry swords around. Not that people who were dangerous sometimes didn’t carry weapons, but at least those had the grace of not putting every stranger around them on edge. And wait a minute, were those tattoos on his fingers? She couldn’t see all the letters, but she could guess, and after she did, she wished she hadn’t.

When she thought he was already done and about to go, she made her even more nervous by saying, “Just to make sure, I heard you have a sizeable medicine collection.”

Ah, so he was looking for something specific. It made more sense than him simply waltzing in for some light reading, she supposed. “You heard right. It’s not updated often, but it was until ten years ago or so.” Then they ran out of funding. “If you’re looking for recent studies, you may not be in luck.”

Medicine. Why medicine? This man was a pirate. Was he a doctor in his ship? She regretted more than ever having such a bad memory for names and faces. She should take a look at the newspaper archive when she went in, just in case.

“Lucky me, then. What I’m looking for is older than that.”

She noticed a bit of a northern accent. He sounded… not quite polite, but not aggressive, either. Clinical. At the same time, it made the innocent statement sound vaguely threatening. She was curious now about what he wanted to read. What if he was one of those weird pirates? There was a chance, she supposed. Like winning the lottery twice, which she didn’t count on.

“That’s good,” she replied awkwardly, and then added in a valiant effort to be left alone, “There’s a café around the corner that’s already open, if you need to kill some time.”

He looked slightly surprised at the courtesy, and nodded before going off.

And when he was far enough to be a very stupid but not totally unsafe to say, she spoke a little louder to tell him, “Excuse me! Weapons aren’t allowed inside the library!”

The dude seemed amused when he looked over his shoulder to look at her, and he didn’t say anything as he walked off.

Nobody could say she hadn’t tried.

❦

Unbearably jittery after the encounter, Alex went on to switch on the lights of the entire building, put the last few books she hadn’t returned to the shelves the day before in their place, and picked up the day’s newspaper to sit down at the front desk to scarf down the croissant and hopefully wash down all that nervous energy with a cup of tea.

If her first encounter in the morning was a sign of what was to come, she could tell her day was going to be shit. She should have known when her own sneezing woke her up.

Alex wasn’t sure when or how her anxiety had started. It just had, a few years prior, seemingly unprompted, and though it wasn’t severe, thankfully, it had a tendency to assault her when she least expected it. Like a pirate. Pirates did that, right? Not all of them, but according to her limited experience there was a fifty-fifty chance that he would, at the very least, turn out to be a pain in the ass.

Still, without any additional intel, she couldn’t think of any ulterior motives for the guy to come to the library. Since she couldn’t do anything to stop him, for her peace of mind, she decided to be willfully optimistic and believe.

Or at least she could try. She had never been too good at this denial thing.

A several bites into her pastry and a few pages into the newspaper, she came across an article about a sunken Marine warship by a pirate submarine, and she choked on her tea when she saw the same smiley face on the picture that accompanied the article. On said submarine. Accompanied by the word “DEATH.” Good on her for guessing what was on his fingers. At the same time, a coworker arrived, and blanching, she said good morning, got up from her seat and made a run for the newspaper archive, where they also kept in storage a copy of every bounty the Marines distributed with the World Economic Journal.

She didn’t have to look too far to see that yes, the face was familiar because it was supposed to be. She had classified it a few times in the last months – every time the guy got a bounty raise.

Surgeon of Death. Heart Pirates. Captain of one of the several rookie crews that were stirring up trouble that year. Those were the worst, they thought they were at the top of the world just because they had made it into the Grand Line. She could deal with older pirates, but she had yet to come across a newbie that wasn’t an unrestrained asshole.

She thought she saw something about dismemberments in the poster, did a double-take because she had surely read wrong, and by the time she was done with all the crimes attributed to the guy she just put the bounty back in place, went to the front desk once again, and told her concerned coworker, “A famous pirate will probably show up today. Don’t mind him. Let’s hope he just wants to read.”

She looked a little frightened. “Should I call the Marines?”

“If worst comes to worst. Let’s try not get involved if we can. He didn’t seem aggressive.”

“Okay,” she replied, sounding relieved. “Good luck out here, I’ll be in the back tagging the new arrivals.”

“Some people are lucky.”

She sighed and turned the page. Sipped on her tea. It was getting cold. Sipped on it again. She just had to play it cool. She was a professional. The guy had been okay to her.

She just hoped he would come soon, because she wasn’t so sure she could drown her nerves in tea anymore.

It was okay.

Everything was surprisingly okay.

The pirate, the day, the lunch she had at the café around the corner – waitress said the guy even tipped – but yes, everything had gone fine.

Alex didn’t move a lot from the lower floor because she often had to come and go from the front desk to the archive, but she made escapades upstairs to make sure everything was still standing.

She had seen the pirate sitting next to a window in the medicine section reading one of those thick tomes that looked very interesting but made her dizzy because she suffered from having a very graphic imagination.

Her coworkers, who roamed up there more often than her, gave her periodic reports, and one of them remarked that he was kind of hot, didn’t she agree?

No, she did not. The radiator was hot. The kettle was hot. The adjective could hardly be applied to a man unless he was on fire.

Though perhaps he was not a human man, because he had spent all day long sitting in the same position, staring at that book. She had to admire that attention span, if nothing else. She was pretty short on that, lately.

And so, having avoided any type of incident during a day in which she was very tense for no reason after all, it came time to close shop.

The pirate was still there.

Her coworkers were, very conveniently, not. She was sure it had nothing to do with the fact that someone had to remind the wanted man that it was late and he had to go.

As much as she wanted to go home and have dinner, the temptation to stay in her post so she didn’t have to interact with a criminal that hacked his victims to pieces was strong, and no one could blame her for it.

But then he appeared.

The massive door in front of her began to open, and Alex thought it was one of her treacherous coworkers returning to pick up something until a head peeked inside the hall.

“Hi?” The newcomer said shyly.

Alex wasn’t sure if the gross amounts of tea she drank every day had finally caught up to her and were making her hallucinate, because she was seeing a polar bear’s face.

“Hi?” She replied, to busy processing what was in front of her to come up with words of her own.

It seemed that that was enough for the bear, because it – no, not it, he? She? How deep was a female bear’s voice anyway? – pushed the door open some more, becoming more visible. A bright orange jumpsuit was not what she was expecting, but the smiley face on its chest and the sight of the sword the pirate had been carrying that morning didn’t leave a lot of room for imagination.

The creature in front of her eyes was a bear walking on two legs. A pirate polar bear. Probably a boy, with that size. Was he a mink? She had never seen one so up close.

“I’m looking for my captain,” he said, clutching the sword against his body. “Is he around?”

Words decided to come back to her, although in a rather clumsy manner. “Oh. Yes. Yes, I think so. He should be upstairs, reading.”

The bear smiled and she melted at the sight. “Can you… tell him to come?”

“Sure,” she said, sealing her fate. She had to face it sooner than later, she thought as she rose from her seat. The bear was still half-hidden by the door, his boots barely touching the tiles of the library. Curious. Was he that shy? “Why don’t you step inside?”

“I thought you can’t enter the library with weapons.”

His reasoning hit her in the solar plexus with the force of a herd of rainbow ponies. “Right,” she breathed out, wondering how something in the planet had managed to be so big and cute at once. “You’re absolutely right. I’ll go get your captain.”

“Thank you!”

Alex walked as fast as she could towards the stairs until she was out of sight and covered her face to keep her reaction under control. So. Goddamn. Cute. Was that how those pirates lived? Trying not to squeal whenever the resident polar bear was being sweet?

Steeling herself, she walked up the remaining steps, hoping the captain had somehow vanished while she wasn’t looking.

No such luck.

She stepped a little more forcefully than necessary as she approached him from behind a shelf, always staying at a safe distance, to try to catch his attention, but he didn’t move.

(The annoying voice in her head told her that the only safe distance from that man was a sea away.)

Could he have been asleep? That would have explained things. What was his name again?

“Mr. Trafalgar?” She tried. She wasn’t sure if she should have made known that she knew who he was, but the deed was done. He looked up. “It’s about time to close and… there’s a polar bear looking for you in the reception hall.”

“Bepo’s here?” He looked in confusion at her, and then at the window. It was dark outside. “I hadn’t noticed it had gotten so late. Eight, right?”

He stretched in the chair. Between the movement and the spotted hat and jeans, he reminded her of an overgrown leopard.

“Almost,” she offered.

He glanced at the book, frowning. Granted, his face seemed to be stuck in a perpetual frown and he didn’t sound angry. “Do you have the same hours tomorrow?”

“Oh, no, we don’t open on Sundays,” she replied, wondering if this was the exact point where the conversation would go downhill. She attempted to make it better. “But you can come on Monday if you want to keep reading.”

He grimaced, this time for real. “Can’t do. We leave on Monday morning.”

“Oh.” A quick stop, then. It was a thing that happened often. The recording time for the Log Pose was less than a day in Harlun. “Well, we could make some photocopies, but…” The book was way too long for that, and he seemed to be about halfway through.

“Can I take it out tonight and give it back to you sometime tomorrow?”

She appreciated wholeheartedly that he wasn’t getting mad at her, but the thought of the book going out of the library like that made all her alarms go off. “Not without a library card.” Which was only for residents, obviously.

She braced for retaliation, but it never came.

The pirate looked kind of conflicted. She didn’t know what was so interesting about the book that he couldn’t find it in another island, and she didn’t need to know the options that were crossing his mind to realize that she probably wouldn’t like them.

Since idiots had to find ways to console themselves, she would tell herself during the following hours that the only reason she made a tremendously stupid offer was to avoid the much worse alternatives.

“I’ll actually be working here tomorrow. The library is closed, but if you’re really that interested, I can let you in.”

Or maybe she was a fucking bleeding heart who couldn’t pass up the opportunity to make someone’s day better for free. But ironically, at what price.

She recognized the emotions on his face. First surprise, then suspicion. “Why would you?”

Because she really was that stupid, she wanted to say. “You’re a doctor, right? I don’t want a dead patient on my conscience because you couldn’t finish a book you needed. Anyway… you’re free to come tomorrow.”

And she left him there, quickly making her way down to retrieve her stuff. The bear had come inside, at last, and he looked up from the documents on Alex’s desk. She would have been surprised if he could read that handwriting.

“He’s coming,” she said with a small smile, but she didn’t know if it showed. She had, on occasion, been asked why she was angry when she tried to smile. “I’m going to pick up my things inside.”

He looked pleased, though. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

She went into the back room, taking extra long on purpose until she heard movement outside and the sound of the door closing. By the time she found the courage to crawl out of her hole, the pirates were nowhere to be seen.

She left a note in her desk’s drawer, just in case, saying that if she disappeared under mysterious circumstances, Trafalgar Law was to blame. She had thought about phoning a coworker to alert her, but she wasn’t supposed to let anybody in on Sundays, much less a wanted man, and she didn’t want to risk this incident reaching the ears of the mayor.

For the first time in years, her stomach couldn’t handle the tea and she had to throw most of her cup down the drain. Damn nerves. Her hands were acting up more than usual, to the point where the warmth of the thermos wasn’t doing a lot to soothe the pain. She would have worried about that if it weren’t because of more pressing matters.

❦

Even earlier than the day before, he was already waiting for her at the door when she arrived.

Alex would admit without missing a beat that she had been an idiot for offering – never mind the very real possibility that the guy could have broken in to retrieve the book and left damages the library couldn’t afford to repair – but he was either equally dumb or exceedingly confident for having shown up. Alone. Alex could have called the Marines, for all he knew.

She didn’t miss the sword he was carrying, this time around.

She put two and two together then. Of course. He had appeared before the hour to check that the surroundings were safe.

“I didn’t expect you to actually show up,” he said as a greeting, and she reached for the key in her pocket. His tone was impressed with a good dash of mockery. “Do you know who I am?”

He already knew the answer, since she had called him by name the day before. With only two sentences, he demolished most of the halfway positive impression he had made the day before, and Alex, already predisposed to think he was a dick, decided he was exactly that.

She was tired and anxious, so she couldn’t muster up any facial expression as she said, “Should I care?” Upon noticing that had sounded even worse than she meant to, she added in a hurry, “I mean, what’s the point of asking that? Do you want me to turn around and leave the door locked?”

He didn’t seem to take it badly, thank the heavens. He looked a bit amused, in fact. “I don’t need you to unlock a door.”

“I’m well aware,” she replied in a monotone. “I appreciate you had the courtesy of waiting.” The budget was tight and changing the lock would have been a royal waste of money.

She opened the door and went in first to turn on the lights. He closed the door after going in, and she would have usually locked it again, but she really did not want to be stuck alone inside of a building with a stranger, even if the state of the lock wouldn’t make much of a difference.

“I’ll be working downstairs.” She pointed to an old, reinforced door on the wall behind the front desk. “Give me a heads up when you’re done.”

That sword was making her unnecessarily jumpy. He didn’t need to have it with him.

“Alright,” he said, glancing at the staircase to the second floor, and then he must have noticed that she was giving the sword the stink eye, because he tapped it against his shoulder and smirked. “Got a problem?”

Yeah, one about two meters tall. “None as long as you don’t use it.”

“As long as you don’t give me a reason to.”

She wanted to say a lot of things. That they were alone, that he was kind of a dick, that yes, she was as dumb as he was thinking, and to please leave her alone until he was done and only then appear to say goodbye and thank you.

Instead, she picked up a folder from her desk drawer and a lantern from the wall and left it at, “Enjoy your reading.”

He took the hint and left, and so did she.

The door to the archive closed behind her with a heavy thud, and she lit the lantern.

It was a fire hazard in a library, but it was inevitable, because the basement didn’t have electricity. After many years of pressuring the city hall for a budget increase, the council had seen fit to make renovations and extend the electrical installation to the basement. She just had to keep herself from setting the archive on fire for a couple months and the risk would be no more.

She went to the farthest area from the entrance and set the lantern on an ancient wood table. The basement was pure grey stone from floor to ceiling, making it permanently cold. She hadn’t bothered to take off her coat and scarf, but the gloves had had to go and she wasn’t happy about it. She had icicles for hands as every winter, and this year they had begun to hurt earlier than usual.

Alex had decided to put in some overtime that week because she was researching a family tree that a cousin of the mayor, a pretentious git that paid very well, had commissioned. Something about proving a blood relation to a noble family from a nearby island to have a claim to somebody else’s lands. Alex didn’t care. She had been trained for this thing, a job was a job, and she was going to do it to the best of her ability. Even if she had absolutely loathed genealogy back when she was still a student.

She didn’t think her employer would be too happy with her findings, though, because so far she’d only found a mess of marriages that didn’t bring her any closer to the neighboring island. She even found some records of a family branch that had one of those pesky Ds in the name and then disappeared from record. She supposed they just left the kingdom. She had noticed that every D. that rose to prominence was an outright weirdo, and she wasn’t sure if it was just confirmation bias because boring people didn’t make the news, but damn it they didn’t seem to crop up in the most outlandish incidents. There was the infamous Monkey D. Dragon, his father Garp, who she had seen a couple of times in person and seemed frankly overbearing, the guys in Whitebeard’s crew… And the biggest weirdo of all, of course: the King of Pirates. She’d heard from an acquaintance funny stories of him to last her a lifetime. A lot of the mystique around his figure was lost, but that was one of the things that made history interesting, in her opinion.

Sitting down on the floor to open the cabinet on the lower part of a bookcase, she took a look at the bundles of papers there. It was a seriously old part of the archive, housing documents from six hundred years back, but thanks to the cold and darkness, they had stood fairly well against the tide of time.

She reached inside and pulled out the dozen of tomes at the forefront to make sure noting was trapped behind. That part of the archive had been catalogued way before Alex’s time, after all, and not every archivist had been as careful as they should have. She had learned that the hard way, finding folders that didn’t match the catalog and misplaced pages centuries into the future. Whenever that happened, she passed the mess to her coworkers, the actual archivists, who had a tendency to curse her incessantly until they fixed the issue, but it was all in good humor.

Very carefully, she took the lantern and approached it to the cabinet. She looked inside and stared at the darkness. In fact, she had to stare for a very long while before realizing that she wasn’t looking at the back of the cabinet or even the wall.

There was an empty space there.

A secret compartment?

Work forgotten, she had a good minute of doubt, sitting on the floor. She was severely allergic to dust mites and exploring further was a health hazard. There could be spiders or rats or fungi or lethal mold. She could wait until the next day and ask a coworker to check it out in her stead.

But the temptation. There was only so much willpower she could exert in less than twenty-four hours until she ran out.

Please let it not be rats or fungi, she thought as she peeled off her coat and scarf to avoid getting them dusty, and dived in.

❦

It had been eleven years since he had any anything to remember his parents by other than the bitter memories of how Flevance had gone up in flames.

If someone accused Law of dwelling too much in the past, he would have denied it with full knowledge that he was a liar. But there was a hint of truth in that, and that was that he didn’t think of his dead family often. It was another particular piece of past that haunted him.

There was nothing left of Flevance but ashes and ruin. He knew it well, and that was why he avoided revisiting those times.

And yet.

He closed the book he had just finished, running a finger over the cover. He remembered the nights his parents spent locked in their study, writing the results of their investigations in order to share their knowledge, hoping that a cure could be found in time.

He had spent the last two days reading every word in their voices, surprising himself when he could still recognize in the wording which parts had written who.

He’d been thinking from the moment he’d found the book, the first time in over a decade he had found a copy of it anywhere, that he’d have to let it go, but he wasn’t willing to. He had considered offering to buy it from the librarian, but given she hadn’t even let him take it out the day before, he had a feeling that she would refuse. She was understandably wary of him.

Well, he was already going to hell, so proving her suspicions right wouldn’t make a difference.

He slipped the book inside his coat and went downstairs to find her. He’d at least say thank you before she could find out what he had done. He was mildly curious about her reaction, but he’d make sure to miss that.

He opened the door to the place where she’d said she’d be to be greeted by darkness and a faint light, and he immediately tumbled down half a set of stairs when he set a foot down and only found air.

Cursing under his breath, he fought against the urge to leave unannounced and, going against popular advice, he followed the light at the end of the tunnel. It got increasingly brighter the more he advanced, passing bookcase after bookcase. The way they were set made the basement somewhat labyrinthine, and he was unsure he’d be able to find his way upstairs again if he had to follow the same path he was taking.

And right as he reached the source of light… it disappeared. Briefly. As did half of the librarian’s body inside of a low cabinet in which there was no human way an adult’s torso could fit.

How interesting.

He cleared his throat, and she visibly jumped, hitting her head with a resounding plunk and an ow. She pulled out of the cabinet, looking pretty embarrassed when she faced him.

“Um, oh—Are you heading out?”

“That was the plan.”

“Okay, then,” she said like nothing had happened. Her hair, brown and chin-length, was covered in dust bunnies, as was her sweater. She took off her glasses to clean them with her clothes, revealing a set of dark circles under her eyes that could rival his. When she noticed she couldn’t wipe anything with what she had available, she discarded the glasses on top of a nearby table. “The door’s open, so—”

“What’s in there?” He asked.

“Oh, nothing important,” she said calmly, and rubbed her nose with the back of a hand. “Just old registries.”

She watched her watch him. She wasn’t budging under his stare, but Law could detect lies from miles away. Also dust allergies. He hoped she was getting medicated for those, because this town was supposed to be a quick, relaxing stop, and he wasn’t in the mood to get the corpse of a librarian added to his list of crimes. “Inside the wall?”

“I guess someone saw fit to build a compartment in the cabinet?”

“A compartment where an adult and a lamp can disappear into?”

She spread her arms, as if to make a point. “I’m fairly small.”

“Don’t you say.”

Her expression went from neutral to mildly annoyed as she dropped her arms and the pretense altogether. “You really don’t have anything better to do in town?”

The question would have been fair had there been anything out there other than mud and the tavern his men had occupied since the day they arrived. “Any suggestions?”

She conceded the point. “No, not really.” With a sigh, she nudged her head towards the cabinet. “There’s no wall. I think there’s a hidden room in there. Too wide for a passage.”

“Is this something common in libraries?”

“No, but it is with old buildings, to an extent. And these shelves may be old, but they sure as hell aren’t as ancient as the basement.” She knocked on the wood. “Someone hid that room when this basement was repurposed as an archive.”

Consider his curiosity officially piqued. “Any idea of what’s inside?”

“I was about to find out.”

“So?”

“You want to check it out?” She sounded confused and like she didn’t want to hear the answer to that question.

Too bad he wasn’t feeling charitable. “Sure. You never know where a treasure may be hiding.”

If she had been tense until then, at that moment she looked ready to shove him out with her own hands. “Any objects that may be in there could be historical artifacts and need to be treated as such.”

“And are you going to stop me if I decide to take something?”

Her frown deepened, but there was little else she could do. She had to know that, even if he left just so they wouldn’t have to put up with each other any longer, he could come back any time he wanted, key or not.

There wasn’t as much bite in her voice when she relented. “Be my guest,” she said, offering him the lamp and gesturing towards the cabinet.

“Ladies first,” he replied, which didn’t win him any points, going by her huff, but she didn’t waste more time arguing and headed inside.

And then he was left without any light on his side.

“Well?” She asked, sounding a bit nervous.

“Are you in a hurry?” He said, feeling his way down the cabinet until he found the opening. There. He saw a faint light on the other side.

“Do you enjoy making people uncomfortable?”

“It’s a job perk, so might as—” Thud. His hat fell off his head and rolled to the other side. “—well.”

“…Did you hit your head?”

“No,” he lied, crawling out of the cabinet and picking up his hat.

“That’s why I tried to give you the lamp,” she said with obvious satisfaction, ignoring his reply, and holding the lamp higher to cover as much terrain as possible with the light. “The floor and walls look the same as outside. This is an extension of the basement, built at the same time as the rest of it, by the looks of it.”

“Why do you think someone would block the entrance?”

“To hide something or someone, so there’s a good chance there’s going to be a corpse instead of treasure. In fact, I hope it’s a corpse,” she sentenced.

“You have strange hobbies.”

“You wouldn’t try to steal a corpse. At least I’d avoid a pointless argument.”

Well, that depended on its state. He was bored, and it couldn’t hurt to take a body part back for closer inspection.

“…You wouldn’t, right?”

“Technically, it wouldn't be anyone's property.”

“Just saying, you have no right to judge anybody else’s hobbies. Hm?” She walked forward a few steps, and the light revealed something square standing in the middle of the room.

“Doesn’t look like your corpse,” he said.

“Doesn’t look like your treasure, either,” she replied, but she seemed to tune him out as she approached the object, and by the time she was standing in front of it, her eyes were wide open and her mouth fell a little bit.

Law waited for her to say something, but she was too caught up inspecting the thing. He took a few steps forwards and saw a perfect stone cube with etched inscriptions that covered one of its sides completely, and whatever it was, the librarian must found it fascinating. She was running her free hand over the symbols, leaving trails in the dust, and looking at them so up close that she may as well have been head-butting the stone. He was fairly sure that he had forgotten he was there. And that had to mean something, since she had made clear that she didn’t want him there.

“What is it?” He asked. There wasn’t anything interesting to him about that stone, and the fact that she had the lamp he had refused to take just to be a smartass meant that he couldn’t inspect the rest of the room while she did her thing.

She wasn’t brought out of her reverie right away. When she finally spoke, she took a couple of steps back to look at the entirety of the cube. “It’s a Poneglyph. It makes no sense, but it has to be.”

That didn’t answer anything. “And what’s that supposed to be?”

“A Poneglyph’s a… a record of sorts. There’s an indeterminate number scattered across the world, and they contain… well. Historical records.”

“So something that makes sense to have it in an archive.”

“Well, yes, but no. Poneglyphs contain forbidden knowledge.” Her stare could bore a hole in the stone if she kept it up. “You know the Void Century? Have you heard about the tragedy of Ohara?”

“On passing.” He recalled the news about the Tree of Knowledge burning and the scientists being declared enemies of the World Government. “One of the people involved has joined a pirate crew recently, hasn’t she? Devil Child, they call her.”

“Do they?” It seemed to come as entirely new information for her, and that made her look at him, at last. Without the glasses and under the light of the lamp’s flame, her eyes looked yellow. “I don’t pay that much attention to pirate news. No one ever comes here.” The question of why was he there was left unspoken, and thus unanswered. “Anyway. They are the only remaining records of the Void Century, and its study is prohibited by the World Government. Rumor goes that Ohara’s experts were working on them.”

“World Government covering up stuff then. Nothing new.”

“Indeed.” She switched the lamp to her other hand and glanced back at the Poneglyph. “I wonder why there’s one here. They are supposed to be extremely hard to find.”

“What does it say?”

“I don’t know. Nobody can read them. Maybe the people of Ohara could have, but…” She shrugged. “We’re twenty years late.”

She stared pensively at the Poneglyph, the lines of frustration etched on her face showing more emotion than anything he’d seen so far from her. Then, unexpectedly, she offered the lamp to him. “You want to take a look around, right?”

Their hands brushed for a moment when he took it by the handle, and she turned again towards the stone and crossed her arms.

He was still curious.

“What are you going to do?” He asked.

“Hm? About what?”

“What do you think?”

“The Poneglyph? Did you not hear what I said? Its study is prohibited.” He tone became despondent. “And… the city hall is going to know it’s here in a few months.”

“Why?”

“Renovations. We’re supposed to get electricity in the basement. Lamps are a fire hazard.”

“So it’s your only chance. Could you decipher it?”

“With years of work and research, maybe. But that’s—nah, no way, they reduced an island to bits because of this. It’s not worth the risk. I couldn’t do it anyway.”

“Sounds to me like you’re just making excuses, but what do I know? I’m just a pirate.”

And he started walking around the perimeter of the chamber, in hopes of finding something. After a few minutes of continuous disappointment, the librarian spoke up, and she sounded oddly polite.

“Could you wait here a moment? I want to pick up some material from outside.”

It was his turn to be suspicious. “Won’t you need the light?”

“No, I can navigate this place in the dark. I’ll be right back.”

He supposed that this was too convoluted to be a trap, but he felt kind of naked having left Kikoku in the archive. He didn’t feel uncomfortable for long, though, because true to word, about a minute later and after bonking her head on the way back in, she reappeared in the room with large sheets of paper and several other packs that she stacked up in front of the stone.

“Is that carbon paper?” He asked as he approached her. He hadn’t found anything else in the room, but damn if the library’s resident gremlin wasn’t a welcome entertainment.

“That’s right.” And she climbed on top of the unstable pile of papers and started to smooth the carbon paper over the stone. “I’ll transcribe it back home.”

This was a turn of events he hadn’t seen coming. “What happened to ‘it’s forbidden?’”

“All the good things in life are unhealthy for you.” With one hand, she pulled out a roll of adhesive tape and cut a few pieces with her teeth to stick the carbon paper to the Poneglyph. “Besides, fuck the government.”

Law couldn’t help but smirk at that. “A commendable sentiment.”

“Why, thank you!” She beamed at him, whether sarcastically or not, it was hard to tell. With considerable effort, she kept sticking pieces of carbon paper to the surface. He guessed the plan was to cover it entirely.

“Do you need help?”

“Are you offering?”

For someone who had been so wary of him a few hours earlier, she was a bit of a smartass, herself.

“Good question.”

He thought he heard her snort, but he couldn’t tell if it was because she was annoyed or amused. Probably the former.

“That stack of papers looks very unstable,” he commented.

“Yes, thanks for mentioning it.”

“You aren’t tall enough to reach the corner of the Poneglyph.”

Silence, resignation, and the telltale look of someone who was looking at an infestation beyond the capabilities of pest control. “I don’t suppose you would help me?”

“If you asked nicely.”

She looked at him with a strange face, one that indicated many thoughts and the inability to pick a single one and answer accordingly.

“No?” He tried.

Her eyes narrowed as she motioned to one of the papers. “Can you hold this up for me, please?”

His reply, however, was immediate. “I’ll think about it.”

She sighed, determined to ignore him, and returned to her work like she hadn’t expected anything from him at all, which he thought was a great attitude to have. But again, because he didn’t particularly care to see her slip and crack her head against the stone tiles, he did the tremendous effort of lifting up an arm to hold the paper in place.

She paused to look at him. Stone-faced as she was, it was hard to tell if there was any surprise in there or just mere curiosity, but she smiled a little when she said, “Look at you. Maybe the real treasure was the friends we made along the way.”

He let go of the paper, but since she didn’t stop chuckling to herself, he nudged the stack under her feet to remind her who was in control here.

❦

Alex said goodbye to the pirate that had managed to surpass her admittedly low expectations, but not before filing him under the pain in the ass category. Her classification system stood the test of reality so far.

Relieved at being alone again, she locked the door, did a few stretches, and decided that she’d had a lot of emotions that day and deserved another cup of tea.

One hurdle overcome. The pirate had seemed a way bigger problem before she’d found a fucking Poneglyph in the basement. Now she had no clue what to do with the new one.

It didn’t take her long to realize that she was fucked, no matter how she looked at it.

She felt oddly calm about it at that moment. She supposed it had something to do with the shock of the discovery and that the danger was still nebulous, if certain.

She sipped on her tea.

She was the only person that ventured regularly into that art of the archive, but alerting about the discovery herself was out of the question. If they knew she knew, they’d probably make her not know anything anymore.

The problem was that the construction workers would surely find the door, and now that she and Trafalgar had been walking around the room, there was obvious tampering. Cleaning the dust would get rid of the footprints and marks on the Poneglyph, but the lack of dust would be as suspicious as the sets of footprints.

The next gulp of tea scorched her throat.

So, only two options remained: stay, wait patiently and leave up to chance whether an accident happened to her, and probably the whole library with its workers, or quit her job, take a boat somewhere else and drop off the radar. The first one wasn’t worth the risk.

Two things to take into account with the remaining option: anybody with half a brain could suspect that her sudden departure had something to do with the Poneglyph, and in that case, all suspicions would fall on her. The plus side was that her coworkers would probably be spared.

What to do? It was a long way to her hometown. She could settle back there if she was spared from the government’s suspicions. If not…

Well. There was Sabaody.

Which was stupid for several reasons, the main one being that it was on Marineford’s and Mary Geoise’s doorsteps.

The ache in her hands felt especially acute, even through the heat radiating from the cup.

It would come down to luck, no matter what she did. Maybe she was overthinking the situation and nothing would happen. Workers would move the Poneglyph in the middle of the night, or seal it away while no one was looking, and that would be the end of it.

But assuming a best case scenario would most likely spell death in this situation, and she’d like to avoid that. She may not have had a super interesting life, but she was quite fond of having it.

Reality started to sink in then. Oh, god. She had to make a run for it, didn’t she?

She left the cup aside on her desk and started pacing around and up the stairs to burn energy. She could tell the city hall that a family member was ill and she needed to go back home. That would be sensible, but all the paperwork and finding a replacement for her would take weeks. At least one month would go by before she could leave the island without raising suspicions. Being able to cross the Red Line depended entirely on travel time and the wait for permissions to traverse the Holy Land, both of which would take money she didn’t have. She could probably cover the expenses to get to the Red Line, but not the rest of the way.

She’d need to pick up a quick job in between to replenish her wallet, then.

Why couldn’t she go work to a normal library? Why had this happened to her?

She hurried towards the medical section to put the book back in its place, and when she didn’t find it in the cart, she went to check the desks. All empty. Maybe he had put it back in place?

But all there was where the book should have been was an empty space, and a nervous heat started to rise to Alex’s cheeks as she realized that she had been duped and the son of a bitch had stolen her book after she’d had the generosity to open the door for him on a Sunday so he didn’t have to break and enter.

She was too full of anxious energy, with all that had happened, to sit still and fume silently. She’d never been prone to resignation where there were still options left to try, and if what her near future held for her was a one way trip to Impel Down, getting murdered by a pirate wasn’t the worst that could happen.

Harlun wasn’t big, and it was muddy outside. Very much so. Enough that Alex picked up her belongings, went outside, and, for once, was grateful that the roads were made of dirt and not pavement.

She hurried through the private plaza, carrying her bag on her shoulder, boots stomping on the cobblestones until she reached the road and saw a recent pair of shoe imprints that headed down the street.

With her black coat open and billowing in the wind, she went on Trafalgar Law’s pursue and, to her relief, his trail didn’t lead to the port, but rather to the tavern where every single sailor that stopped in Harlun seemed to spend their days in. Not like they had much of a choice.

A friendly face saluted her from behind the counter as she crossed the door. “Long time no see, A—”

“HiAl,” she said to the bartender so fast that she wasn’t sure if the words came out properly, but she didn’t care, because the bastard she was looking for was sitting on a barstool right in front of her. She couldn’t interpret the look on his face, but what she could tell for sure was that she wanted to deck him in it. “You,” she said, accusatory.

He smirked, and her irritation only grew. “What a coincidence. Here for a drink?”

She inhaled deeply, angrily, walked up to him and dropped her bag on the nearest barstool. Damn, he was tall, and so was his seat. Even sitting down, he towered above her. Not that it mattered, because most people tended to be taller than Alex, so this didn’t register as an intimidating factor. “You know what I’m here for.”

“I’m afraid not.”

“You stole my book.”

“Your book?”

She had come here to embarrass herself, hadn’t she? Too late to turn back now. “The library’s book.”

“What makes you think I did?”

Oh, he was insufferable.

“Do you take me for an idiot?” She retorted. “You’re the only person who could have taken it.”

“How so? The library’s closed today.”

Alex’s mouth fell a little bit open at Law’s flippant answer under the curious gaze of Al. “Really?” She said, unimpressed. “I can’t make you return it even if I try, and that’s how you’re going to play it?”

He wore a self-satisfied smile, and he wasn’t even looking at her. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She considered what to say for a few seconds. “Okay,” was the best she could do. She didn’t know why she felt so disappointed. It wasn’t like she had expected anything good from him, from the start. He was right if he thought she was an idiot. “Serves me right for trying to help,” she said, yanking on her bag to retrieve it and turning around without facing him. “Bye, Al.”

Being taken advantage of was the worst feeling.

She hadn’t taken a second step away from him when a hand grabbed her by her left arm and pulled her back.

“Wait,” she heard Trafalgar say. When she turned around, he wasn’t smirking anymore. “What’s the name of the book?”

“You know the name,” she said irritated, confused, and offended that he was invading her personal bubble.

“Do you?”

“Effects of heavy metal poisoning on the cardiovascular system, I think?” She said, punctuating the sentence with a tired sigh. “Do you need the reference too?”

“No. The authors.”

“Are you getting at something or are you just laughing at me?”

He let go of her to search for something in the coat he had discarded on the barstool to his other side. The book she was looking for. He held it up for her, but didn’t offer it, and Alex didn’t try to take it by surprise because there’s no point in stealing when you can’t make a swift escape with the loot.

She looked at the names written below the title. “Doctor…” She muttered, and then she read the surname, and the surname below it, and she blinked a couple of times before redirecting her attention to Law. “You aren’t old enough to have written this book.”

It said Trafalgar. Twice. Family? Was this a con? Did he come from a line of doctors?

“Obviously.”

“A parent?” No, there were two. “Parents?”

“Bingo.”

Alex’s indignation and disappointment fizzled against her will. He was a thief, he’d taken advantage of her good will and was waving the prize in front of her face, she should’ve been furious!

And yet, she had to be a bleeding heart again. “And I don’t suppose you can ask them or the printing press for another copy?”

His response wasn’t immediate, but when he gave one, it was silent. He opened the book from the back, and showed her the words printed behind the back cover:

Printed in Flevance.

That was a resounding no if there ever was one. But did that also mean…? No, he couldn’t have anything to do with that incident, there wasn’t anybody left from Flevance. Perhaps his parents had been working there when war broke out. It was safe to assume that the son of two doctors wouldn’t become a famous pirate if he still had a family to fall back onto. This was a huge can of worms that she had no intentions of opening, though.

“If you’re a liar, you’re a very convincing one,” she admitted. She couldn’t even get rightfully enraged without the universe throwing her a curveball, huh? “All right, keep it. Not that you need my permission.”

With a satisfied smile, he put away the book. “Will you get in trouble?”

“Why do you—” She cut herself short. Not worth asking. “No, I’ll blame you if anybody notices,” she replied. “Al—”

“Not a word.”

“Thank you.” She nodded, and then looked at the pirate once again. “Well, Mr. Trafalgar, it’s been…” Not exactly a pleasure. “Interesting.”

A short laugh escaped him. She had to wonder if it was the alcohol what had him in such high spirits. “Leaving so soon?”

“What, you steal from my workplace and want me to stay for the party?” She asked with incredulity.

“Is it theft if you’re allowing it, though?”

The gall of this dude. “No, thank—”

Suddenly, a red haired man wearing sunglasses indoors and a white jumpsuit entered the scene, putting an arm around Law’s shoulders. “Hey, Captain! Who’s the girl?”

“She’s…”

“A librarian,” she offered. “Just a librarian.”

“Oooh, the librarian!”

“…What—”

“Penguin, come here! It’s the librarian!”

His friend, who wore a cap with the word ‘penguin’ on it that concealed his eyes, but otherwise was dressed exactly like him, walked up to them, “Nice to meet ya!” He wave at her. “You’ve got guts!”

She sensed her chance to make a swift exit was gone. “I think I’m a little lost.”

“Captain said you opened the library just for him.”

“Oh. That.” She was still regretting that. She should have never woken up. Sundays were meant for sleeping. “That’s not guts, it’s being a dumbass.”

The two men laughed, and the first said, “Aren’t they the same?”

She tilted her head, conceding the point. The tilt of their voices was similar to the captain’s, she noticed. Northerners, too. She felt small thinking that they had travelled from practically the opposite side of the world until she remembered she had done the same. The difference was that she had managed to make it boring.

“So what brings you here?” Penguin asked. “Come for a drink after work?”

“No, not really, I was just about to—”

“Come on, have a drink with us!”

“Um, I should really—”

“You live here for long?” The redhead intervened. “I wanna hear about this town. Is it as boring as it looks? Because we’ve been trying to find something to do since we got here.”

“There has to be something.”

Alex smiled a little despite herself, feeling their plight until she remembered the Poneglyph in the archive. “There’s nothing at all.” She turned her head to look at the tables for a moment, hopefully find an excuse to escape. As expected, she saw about a dozen people dressed in the same kind of uniform as those two, but she did a double take when she saw someone clad in orange.

There was the polar bear again, toasting with his friends.

“Is he a mink?” He asked the guys, who grinned at her. She saw Law hide a smile behind his glass before returning his attention to the bear.

He was laughing as he lifted a companion from a chair one handed. Everyone looked so… happy.

“Woah!” Penguin exclaimed. “Second person—”

“Third.”

“Right, third – third person who’s realized what he is since coming to the Grand Line!”

Not surprising. She had never seen any so far from the Red Line. “Is he part of your crew?”

“Yeah, Bepo’s our friend.”

“And our navigator,” Law added.

Aw. Oh, she was getting soft with age.

“Wait here,” said the redhead, “we’ll introduce you!”

“Oh, no need, we already—”

But the two were gone before she could finish her excuse and leave. She supposed there wasn’t any harm in staying a while. She had already demolished her life in a matter of hours, and she didn’t see how this could make it worse. They seemed friendly people, even if their captain was kind of an ass.

“I never thought I’d see the day,” she said quietly, more to herself than anybody else.

Law replied, though. “There aren’t many of them around.”

“No, I’ve seen minks before. I meant a free one.”

Law regarded her with a brand interest that she hadn’t received from him yet. “Are you talking about slaves?”

��You’re headed to the Sabaody Archipelago, right?”

“Eventually.”

“Be careful. Minks aren’t safe there.”

He snorted. “I assure you Bepo can take care of himself.”

Raising her eyebrows at her dismissal, “Don’t underestimate what those people are willing to do to get their hands on a novelty slave.”

“How do you know? Have you been there?”

For longer than she had ever expected to. “Some time ago,” she replied noncommittally. “And it’s dangerous enough for boring people with the kidnapping crews, the human auction, the Celestial Dragons and the Marines so close. You already stand out, but your friend? Keep an eye on him.”

He sounded disgruntled when he said, “You don’t need to tell me,” but it sounded as close to a concession as she thought she was going to get from him.

“Coffee?” Al interrupted to offer one to her. He already had a press in hand.

“Sure,” she said, giving in. She wasn’t going anywhere soon, it seemed, so she climbed on a barstool. “How did you even meet him?” She asked Law, who seemed amused by her interest in his friend. “Don’t they live in the New World?”

“North Blue. We met eleven years ago.”

That was about the last answer she expected. “He’s been with you all along? Wow.”

She felt kind of jealous. She didn’t have any friends from when she was a child. She knew people, sure. A lot of people. Some she liked, many she’d rather not have met at all. A couple of true friends here and there, but no one close by. As much as she enjoyed being alone, and she couldn’t recall a moment in her life she’d felt lonely, she had to wonder how it was like to have such good friends around all the time. It sounded exhausting and fun.

“Yeah,” he agreed, though she hadn’t expected him to, and the admission made her smile a little. “My thoughts exactly.”

[hermits-that-craft]

I’m Not Good For Anyone Here - Vent Fic

AO3:https://archiveofourown.org/works/30401013 Warning: Angst without a happy ending, vent fic.

Walking home always sucks. Walking home in the rain, carrying important exam papers sucks even more. 

He hates this, when Techno and Wilbur decide to drive to study sessions after school. He knows that the pair of them would offer him a ride to the sessions, hell, he knows that the second it starts to rain where they are he’ll get a text asking if he’s gotten home alright. If he’s dry and warm.

He’s really sick of walking in the rain though. Especially while he’s holding the best exam result he’s even gotten. Every single paper over 70% correct, one paper even being a nineteen and a half out of twenty. He has to show Techno, Wilbur and Phil this. They might finally be proud of him. He studied so hard to get these marks.

His backpack is hunched under him, and his hoodie is held as a shield against the rain. He has earphones in, but he isn’t properly listening to the music. He’s watching how the street lights reflect in wet pavement, how fireplaces flicker in the fireplaces, only just visible from outside. The smell of sweet smoke as people burn apple wood to warm their homes. Someone cooks a chicken, and Tommy can smell it from outside.

He keeps his head down and continues walking. 

His house isn’t that far from where he stands, a short ten minute walk is all that's in between him and a cold, empty house. Phil doesn’t get off work until seven tonight, and Wilbur and Techno said that they’d bring home dinner at six. It’s ten to four now, and Tommy’s got two hours to fill in before his family gets home.

He makes the final stretch in silent contemplation, Sorry Boris playing as he unlocks the door. Tommy used to be so excited to get home, to have Phil waiting with a warm towel as he walks in the door wet. To have Techno and Wilbur laughing, but making sure that the bathroom’s set up for the young boy who went to play outside in the rain. He misses being a kid. Techno and Wilbur’s university might only be a few blocks away from his highschool, but it feels like the universe itself is stopping him from seeing them.

The house is cold, and Tommy doesn’t bother telling anyone that he’s home. He walks to the heater, pressing a few buttons before the vents in the house start to pump out warm air. Taking his shoes off in the hall, he lays them carefully near the vent, hoping that they’ll dry enough before tomorrow morning. Autumn is one of his favourite seasons, but he could go without the chill, without the rain.

He carefully lays his exams out on the kitchen table, praying to himself that they’ll dry. Unpacking his bag, Tommy looks out of the window. Droplets of water hit the window, rolling down them before landing gently on the ground. It’s gotten heavier, and the dull drumming on the roof makes Tommy yawn. Sleep’s siren call beckons him, but he wrangles himself from its arms as he walks up the stairs, removing his saturated hoodie as he collects his warmest clothes. It’s warm, too warm for Tommy’s mind to cope, and he sinks to the floor on the carpeted floor in his bedroom, softer than he’s ever noticed before. 

He’s not going to fall asleep, he’s just taking a short break. He doesn’t hear his phone buzzing on the kitchen table. He doesn’t hear the landline ring as someone tries to contact him. He doesn’t feel the sweat that drips down his forehead. He doesn’t feel the cold rain water soak the carpet underneath him. He doesn’t notice how none of the lights are on in his home. He doesn’t hear anything except the drumming of rain. He doesn’t see anything except the blue glow from outside. He doesn’t feel anything, except the warmth from the heater.

---

“He better be studyingI swear to god that child never answers his phone.” Wilbur grumbles as he pushes the door open with his elbow, carrying two bags off KFC that the twins bought for dinner. “He left the door unlocked, Tech!”

“He never does that?” Techno questions, carrying in their textbooks under several layers of outerwear. “At least we know he got home alright. Why did you turn off all the lights?”

“I didn’t turn off any of the lights, why the fuck would I do that?” Wilbur shoots back, turning on the kitchen light. 

The twins stare in shock at the state of the kitchen and dining rooms. Exam papers are laid carefully on the table, inky running to the point of it becoming illegible, and Tommy’s backpack and items are strewn across the kitchen in some kind of mad haze. Techno quirks an eyebrow, and Wilbur puts the food on the bench.

“Must have gotten shitty scores, I guess.” Techno says monotonously. “I’ll give him some of my desert. Should cheer him up.”

“I’ll also make sure to give him the ‘you're talented in non academic areas, I know you studied hard but don’t get up yourself about it.’ speech too.” Wilbur rolls his eyes. “We all know he didn’t study hard enough, though.”

“Oh definitely.” Techno agrees, leaning against the counter as Wilbur quickly tidies the kitchen. “He spent so much time on call with those other two - Tubbo and Ranboo, right? - that he probably brought them down with him.”

“I’ll make sure to mention that subtly in the speech.” Wilbur smiles. “Don’t want him to feel guilty about dragging other people down with him in the future, you know?”

“I’ll find Up, we can watch that as we eat, maybe that’ll cheer him up as well.” Techno considers, moving into the living room. Wilbur nods, and Techno watches his twin exit the kitchen, walking up the stairs to the bedrooms.

Techno pulls a few blankets out from the corner near the windows. After grabbing a few pillows, he puts the comforting items on one of the lounges. Techno walks out of the living room, grabbing a few chips from the bag before he goes to check the message bank for the landline.

He notices Tommy’s phone sitting on the bench, no charge left of it. Techno sighs, putting it onto the family charging station in the kitchen. At least now when Tommy walks home stubbornly, he won’t be able to ignore them. Really, why wouldn’t the teen just walk to Techno and Wilbur’s university? It’s only a few blocks away from his school.

“Tommy’s asleep.” Wilbur says, rolling his eyes. “Fell asleep on the floor.”

“Must’ve been a big tantrum then.” Techno offers, laughing under his breath. “Why didn’t he lock the door before he fell asleep?”

“Probably forgot. Teenagers, you know?” Wilbur smirks. “I’ll put his food into the microwave, lets watch something good tonight.”

“Murder documentries?”

“Unsolved murder documentries.”

---

Tommy didn’t wake up when Phil got home. He didn’t wake up when he was lifted into bed. He didn’t even stir when Phil came in to wish him good night. Tommy didn’t wake up when Wilbur came in at nine pm, nervously checking on the teen. He didn’t wake when Techno silently walked in, checking his pulse. He didn’t stir as Techno and Wilbur fight over Mario Kart, or when Phil shouts at them to just shut up, Tommy must be exhausted to have fallen asleep so early.

Tommy doesn’t wake when his alarm goes off at six thirty the next morning. He doesn’t wake as Wilbur and Techno drag themselves out of bed, getting ready for eight am classes. He doesn’t wake as Phil makes them all breakfast. He doesn’t wake as Wilbur shouts at him to get up, he’s going to make them all late. He doesn’t wake when Techno shouts at him.

He stirs when Phil comes into the room, but he doesn’t wake.

He stirs as Phil checks his temperature, but he doesn’t wake. He doesn’t wake when Wilbur comes in, nervously holding his phone, ready to call an ambulance. He doesn’t wake when Phil says that its just a fever, probably the flu. He doesn’t wake when Phil asks if they knew if Tommy walked in the rain yesterday. He doesn’t wake when the twins get yelled at for not immediately checking to see if Tommy was alright after Wilbur found him sleeping on the floor.

His eyes slowly blink open to arguing, but Tommy can’t hear anything. It’s like he’s being held underwater, the words muffled and the pressure like hands around his throat. Is he drowning? No, he can’t be. It’s too warm, too hot, for him to be drowning. Water is cold. If it’s falling form the sky its cold. If he’s drowning, it has to be cold. Why waste warm water on someone you want to drown?

“It looked like he just threw a tantrum, Phil! We thought he tired himself out and just fell asleep, we didn’t think he was sick!” Wilbur yells, and Tommy’s eyes darken. “He got a bad exam result, we thought he chucked a hissy fit and then went to sleep!”

“You still should have checked on him!” Phil shoots back, and Tommy nearly flinches. It’s too loud, his head feels like it’ll split in two.

“Wil did! We thought he would wake up soon after, that's why we didn’t move him! Oh, and you should expect a call from Schlatt and Eret, because Tommy distracted Tubbo and Ranboo while he was ‘studying’ for those exams he failed.” Techno joins in the arguing, and Tommy stares at his ceiling. His exam results were good, why would they say that Tommy got bad marks back.

Tommy groans, loud enough for the room to pause. The trio look at Tommy, wide eyes making him want to sink back under the warm water he was drowning in earlier. At least then the anger in their eyes won't be directed at him. Drowning was so much easier, so much warmer.

“Sh’up.” Tommy slurs. “G’way.”

“You’re sick, Toms.” Phil says, gently sitting down on the bed. “You need to eat, get some water into you. Then we’ll go.”

“No.” Tommy glares, pathetically, at Phil. “No’ungry. Go’ay.”

Phil sighs, standing and running a hand through Tommy’s hair. The man says something akin to a promise as he leaves the room, ushering Wilbur and Techno out with him. Tommy doesn’t hear it, doesn’t care to hear it. Not when he fully understands what Wilbur said. Not when neither Techno or Phil jumped to his defense. 

They really think that he failed his exams. That he’s the failure of their family. They think he didn’t study enough, that he dragged Ranboo and Tubbo down with him. They probably think that he’s ruined his friends lives by asking for their help on assignments. At least his friends don’t laugh at him when he doesn’t know the estimated date that Kythera blew up like Techno does, or talk about him behind his back when he doesn’t understand a question like Wilbur does. Did he not properly save his exams? He thought that they’d be proud of him, sure, the pair of them were all over 80% anyways, but getting himself over 70% made his teachers proud.

Tubbo, Ranboo, Purpled and Hannah were proud when he told them, and Eret sent him a text with ‘congrats’ written on it at lunch, after he picked up Ranboo. Schlatt had given him a pat on the back when he picked up Tubbo as well. Even Sam, Hannah’s dad, and Ponk, Purpled older brother, told him that he was doing well. He thought that Wilbur and Techno would be proud. That they’d finally see that he was trying. Why doesn’t any of them see that he’s trying? He’s trying to get better, to be better than that annoying adolescent that failed his classes and got into fights. He’s trying so damn hard, and the only people that notice are the ones who aren't related to him. Tommy’s spent so much time trying to love himself too, but maybe his family never loved himself in the first place. Just pitied him.

With those upsetting thoughts, Tommy lets himself drown again.

---

Phil comes back in, a plate toast in hand, to find Tommy staring at the ceiling, tears falling down his cheeks. Phil nearly drops the plate, worry crossing his features. The toast is gently placed on Tommy’s bedside table, balancing precariously on a stack of textbooks. Phil sits down next to Tommy, wiping the tears from his cheeks.

“Shh, it’s okay.” Phil soothes, trying to figure out why his youngest son is crying. “What's wrong, what hurts? We can get some pain killers, it’s alright.”

“I want to go home.” Tommy chokes out. “I don’t want to be here anymore, I want to go home.”

“You are home.” Phil insists, panic forming in his chest.

“I want to go home.” Tommy sobs, and Techno and Wilbur stand watch in the doorway, tears falling down their cheeks. “I want to go home, I want to go home. I don’t want to do this anymore. I can’t do this anymore. I wanna go home.”

Tommy’s head flops against his pillow, his pleas to leave no longer falling from his lips as he falls into a deep slumber. Wilbur wraps his arms around himself, his eyes wide and tear filled. Techno reaches towards Phil, silently asking for a hug. Phil wraps his eldest pair into a hug, trying to sooth them.

“It’s just a fever, right? He’s just delirious, he doesn’t know where he is.” Techno rambles, watching Tommy’s chest rise and fall. “This is normal. Normal Tommy symptoms of a cold.”

“But he’s already home. He’s already home.” Wilbur mumbles. “What does he mean by ‘I can’t do this anymore’. He isn’t- We can’t-”

“Wilbur-”

“Tommy won’t die. He isn’t depressed, right? He’s just delirious because of the fever, he’s going to be back and loud and happy and annoying and-”

“Wilbur, take a deep breath in.” Phil says, exaggerating his breathing. Wilbur copies, shakily. “And out.” Phil waits until his eldest finishes, smiling with false bravado. “Good job. Could you go and buy some cold and flu medicine with Techno now? Something that tastes nice if you can?”

A simple task, to pull the pair of them away from Tommy. To let them both calm down, but not force them to separate. It’s clear, from the way that Techno’s shoulders relax, and the way that Wilbur stands up straighter, that both of them are relieved by the small task. They flee the room, and Phil sinks into Tommy’s desk chair, holding onto his sons hand as he waits for the fever to break.

---

Tommy wakes, at least, he thinks he does. His head is filled with cotton, and his throat is filled with gravel and glass. He’s drowning in warmth, in blankets, and his hair is plastered to his head with sweat - or is it water?

Tommy doesn’t know. He doesn’t know what time of day it is, or why he feels so bad. He struggles to make his eyes focus on his alarm clock, partially hidden behind his textbooks, to make out the time on the glowing red digits. There’s a plate with cold toast on it, and some water with two white pills besides the water. Pain killers. There’s a note as well, but Tommy’s eyes wont focus properly. Everything is grainy, but the grains all move to wherever he’s focusing, so he can’t read anything.

He does know that he wakes up alone.

Tommy takes the medicine, cringing at the bitter taste, before standing up. He can’t be late for school, he needs to take notes. He can’t fail. His family might already think that he’s a failure, but Tommy won’t fail them again. Tommy takes one step forward, feeling proud of himself

Before he’s on the floor again, the world spinning before his eyes.

Oh well, that's what he gets for waking up in an empty house.

[everlarkficexchange]

I Choose You

Written by: @wendywobbles

Prompt 51: Katniss E, the Valedictorian of Panem High school, is perfect in all fields of life. And that is the crush of awkward, average in studies, not so popular, never had a girlfriend, often bullied Peeta M. Not only does she have a very popular friend circle but also a handsome, popular boyfriend Gale H. Will she even want to be his friend? Is his crush doomed to fail? Eventual Everlark) [submitted by @white-dandelion-seeds]

AN: I hope I did your prompt proud. The title comes from a Sara Bareilles song that I love.

——————————————-

Peeta Mellark walked quietly in the door and leaned against the wall at the school assembly. He hated these things. Being trapped here for an hour while Principal Trinket droned on and on about what was coming up in the next semester was hell.

They had just returned from their autumn break and Peeta was counting the days down until this last year of school was finished. His experience in Panem 12th Region school had been long, dull and miserable.

Not for the first time he wondered if his dad had lived how his life would have turned out. Would he have been a popular jock with lots of friends and confidence instead of a feeling like a ghost in these hallways? He hoped college would be different. As far as he knew none of the dicks from his year would be attending Capitol U.

He had no idea what Trinket was talking about but he became aware the second the speaker changed……Katniss Everdeen was at the podium and saying hello to everyone. Instantly he paid attention.

Katniss Everdeen was in Peeta Mellark’s eyes the most perfect woman to ever walk the earth. She had long dark hair, clear olive skin and grey eyes.

She was a distance runner for the Panem 12th Region Athletics team. She trained hard , Peeta knew this because he had often seen her running in the early hours of the morning when it was his early shift at the Bakery or sometimes he would see her on the trails when he was out running she always had a smile and wave for him as they passed.

Her grades were always high, again Peeta knew this was down to hard work and not just luck.

Sometimes he would see her at the library when he was hiding out avoiding Cato and the other Jays and his maths whizz brother Leon had been tutoring her since last year.

She has a quiet confidence, and strength that just drew people to her and had a wide circle of friends but would make time for everyone whether it was a quick hello or a longer more in-depth chat. It was no wonder when she ran for student council she was elected president.

With a confident smile the object of Peeta’s affection began to speak

“Hi all! Hope everyone had a wonderful break, I know I did. Principal Trinket has given me a few minutes of the assembly today to talk about our Winter Formal. This year we are looking to do something a bit different and we are hoping that you guys will help us come up with a theme. This is the last 12th Region dance some of us will attend and we would love to make this something a bit special, but right now our ideas aren’t hitting the mark and I know that there are so many talented and creative individuals here so we’d love to hear from you.”

She looked behind her and Annie Cresta, her Vice President, handed her a cardboard box covered in silver paper. She held it up for all to see

“Okay, I know this probably looks a bit basic but this box will be left in library until next Friday. If you have an idea put it in. We will then post the suggestions online and then we can vote for our favourite. Easy right? I can’t wait to see what people come up with.”

“Thanks for listening and don’t forget Friday is the big Game against D13’s Coin Cavaliers and once again the 12th Region’s very own Mockingjays are out to destroy them. Show you school spirit by wearing black and orange. Go Jays!”

All around Peeta students began to cheer, he just rolled his eyes and slipped quietly away.

*********

For the rest of the day school was buzzing with excitement for the game and Katniss announcement. Peeta was glad when his final class was over and headed to his locker to collect his bag.

“Hey Bread Boy” called Johanna Mason, a short shaved head girl that somehow had become one of Peeta’s closest and dearest friends

“Yes Jo?”

“So are you making any suggestions for the Winter Formal? I’ve got mine in – Roller Disco with night vision goggles. Great, huh?”

“Seriously Jo? I mean while I can certainly appreciate the theme, how exactly would a person fund all those glasses……” he smiled.

“I’m the ideas woman, the reality is her ladyship and her minions area of work…speaking of which. Anyway I gotta go, see you later handsome “ and with that Jo sprinted away.

Peeta looked up and saw Katniss Everdeen walking down the corridor. She was carrying an armful of books, a bag and a bottle of water, had an apple wedged in her mouth and her shoe lace was beginning to open on her ever present black Cons. Peeta was thinking how this looked like an accident waiting to happen when Katniss reached up to take the apple out of her mouth, stepped on her now undone shoe lace and tripped herself up sending everything flying.

“Katniss! Oh my god are you okay?” Peeta was by her side in a flash and quickly helped her right herself.

Surprisingly she burst out laughing “Oh my god! I can’t believe that just happened. Thanks Peeta, I’m ok.” He started to help her pick up her stuff when Gale Hawthorne appeared.

“Katniss? What happened? You ok?” concern was all over his features.

“Fine, fine I tripped Peeta was just helping me collect my stuff.”

Gale nodded but proceeded to take the books Peeta had in his arms “Well I’m here now. Mellark you can …go do whatever it is you do. I got this.”

Peeta felt his face flame but kept his mouth shut previous experience had thought him that answering back to people like Gale usually ended up badly for people like Peeta.

“Sure. Whatever” he mumbled and moved to step away.

Katniss meanwhile shot Gale a glance that would have felled a lesser man, but Peeta imagined as Katniss’ boyfriend Gale was probably used to her looks so he just ignored her.(Imagine being able to ignore Katniss thought Peeta)

“Thanks again Peeta. Hey before you go, do you have the details of the English assignment? I can’t find where I wrote it down.”

“Sure, hold on” Peeta rummaged in his backpack and pulled out a notebook. He pulled out a sheet and copied the details onto the paper for her.

“Ummm here you go” he said handing it over.

“Katniss? Are you ready I’ll carry this stuff to your car” huffed Gale.

“Go ahead I’ll be right there. I just want to check something with Peeta” She called without looking at Gale.

“I’ll wait.”

“Dunderhead” muttered Katniss under her breath so that only Peeta could hear her, keeping her voice low she began to speak “Um I was wondering if you were going to submit any ideas for the dance. When we were kids I remember you always had a great imagination.”

Peeta blinked and stared and Katniss “Um no. I don’t….I mean I’m not interested in that kinda thing you know. I’ve never even been to a school dance.”

“Oh…right. Sorry I just, I guess I’ll see you in class or something.” Katniss seemed embarrassed and Peeta wanted to die. This was how he spoke to the girl of his dreams….Leon was right he was an idiot.

As she turned to walk away he called after her “Wait! I may not have an idea but um I’m pretty good at art and design maybe,I mean if you needed it, I could help you guys work on pulling it altogether?” he rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

“That would be fantastic! I know you’re headed to Capitol U next year to begin a Fine Art Degree so absolutely we would love your help.” Katniss smile was a mile wide as she said all this.

“Ok. Well keep me posted. Oh and Katniss you should probably tie your shoelace” Peeta smiled and her and began to walk away. It was only as he turned the corner he realised something. He had never mentioned getting into Capitol U …how had Katniss known that?

********

“So what did you need from Mellark?” asked Gale.

“Gale you were standing right there when I was talking to him - English homework and he’s offered to help with the dance.” said Katniss taking her bag from Gale. She reached down to grab the apple that she dropped and popped it in a bin as she walked by.

“Help how? Loser never goes to anything school related.”

“So? What has that got to do with anything? And he’s not a loser. Look Gale we need help with this dance and I’m happy to have someone like Peeta come on board-“

Gale cut her off “ Ooh I get it now, you get the nerdy runt to do all the work and you take the credit.”

“Shut up Gale. When have I EVER treated anyone like that? I can’t believe you would even think I would do that.”

“Oh relax, it’s High School not the real world.”

Sometimes Katniss goody two shoes attitude really annoyed Gale. Kill or be killed that was Gale’s motto(not literally of course) but sometimes you had to be ruthless on and off the field.

“Let me make it up too you… how about a movie?”

“Can’t I have to get home to help dad. I’ll round up the gang maybe we can all go see something on Saturday?”

Frustrated Gale rolled his eyes before responding “Katniss I meant …..”

Katniss knew exactly what he meant and after going out a few times two years ago, Katniss wasn’t going down that road again, Gale however still thought they were perfect for each other and was always trying to get her to agree to a date.

Katniss blundered on pretending not to have heard him “It’ll be a fun way for everyone to relax after Friday’s game. I’ll text everyone later unless you want to do it?”

Gale clenched his jaw frustrated at Katniss he wanted to say something more when his phone rang. It was Cato.

“I’m late for practice. Talk to you later” and Gale took off running towards the sports field.

A grateful Katniss watched Gale sprint away, glad of the reprieve from his hints and outright declarations that they would make the perfect couple.

She hopped into her car and got ready to head home, when out of the corner of her eye she saw the hunched figure of Peeta Mellark walking out and heading towards town, she watched him til he was out of sight.

There was something about Peeta that made Katniss want to get to know him better but the blue eyed blond boy kept himself to himself. She had has crush on him since the first day of school when he drew her a picture of her teddy bear.

She smiled recalling how upset she was being separated from her bear and was missing him something terrible on her first day. Seeing her tears Peeta had marched up to her pencil in hand and asked her what he looked like and under her guidance had drawn a pretty good depiction of Snowball Abernathy.

Katniss still had the drawing; her dad had laminated it years go and she used it as book mark. The bear was also still knocking around, slightly bedraggled, more grey then white these day but still loved.

She sighed remembering a time when they were younger and Peeta was much more open. It all changed when his dad died though he seemed to retreat from childhood.

********

Katniss knew from Peeta’s older brother Leon that it hadn’t been easy after Mr M had died.

She had met Leon when her parents hired him to help her with her maths. Leon was like a skinnier less good looking Peeta. He was in college locally hoping to be a teacher and he loved maths and tutored a few kids.

As Katniss and he worked together they became more friendly.He was kind and funny and talkative.

When Katniss got accepted to Capitol U to study Engineering she was overjoyed and then Leon told her Peeta had been accepted to CU too.

“That’s amazing! What program? I wonder if we’ll run into each other. That would be cool.” Katniss gushed. She was practically vibrating at this piece of news.

And had completely forgotten who she was talking too. She couldn’t stop the blush that crept up her face.

Leon felt a grin spreading over his face “Careful Everdeen or I might think you have a crush on my baby brother……oh my god you do!!!”

That was a few weeks ago and Leon kept encouraging her to talk to Peeta and teasing her that if she let the year pass without saying anything he would tell Peeta before graduation.

Katniss knew though her secret was safe. Leon was very protective of Peeta, and from what Leon had told her-and what she knew from the past herself and gossip- the death of Mr Mellark had hit the whole family hard.

The oldest Mellark brother Sean had taken over running the place full time (this had always been the plan but the death of Sean Snr meant things moved a lot quicker). He quit full time college and moved home.

Leon and Peeta helped out but right after her husband died Mrs Mellark seemed to “disappear” leaving Sean 20, Leon 16 and Peeta 13 to carry on.

The older boys tried to stay on top of everything.- the house, the business, school even dealing with their mom- but their home life was chaotic following in the weeks following their fathers death.

It was a lot to cope with, and they tried to do it all without any help - scared that if they let people know what was going on their family would be further torn apart.

Katniss remembered when Peeta came to school in the same hoodie for 5 days –not really a big deal but Cato Snow grabbed this and began to tease Peeta.

“Hey Smellark. Don’t you have any CLEAN clothes?”

His goons soon joined in for weeks whenever they could get Peeta alone they went at him, they pushed him, squirted hand sanitizer on him, threw water on him.

Some of the other kids tried to tell Cato to stop but no one wanted to make themselves a target so most just ignored what was going on. Katniss did too, and the memory still pained her.

It all came to a head one Monday afternoon Peeta finally snapped and swung at Cato. Peeta may have been quiet and smaller then the others but in the past number of weeks a fire had raged in him.

This particular Monday Cato had decided that Peeta needed a hair cut and got Tom Marvel and Derek Blight to hold him down and started to hack at Peeta’s hair.

It was the final straw for Peeta, to this day no one knows exactly how he did it but Peeta got loose and punched Cato busting his nose, the sight of the blood caused Marvel to flee. Blight wasn’t quick enough and Peeta managed to leave him with a black eye. Peeta picked up his bag and left the school vowing to never return.

While this was going on, an anonymous tip off was left with a children’s care charity begging them to check on the Mellark’s. A young case worker Finnick Odair took the call and hearing how distressed the girl in the end of the call was decided to make a house call.

He met a shaken, tattered Peeta at the house on the front step.

“Hey kid? You ok?”

And for the first time since his dad died and the bullying began Peeta cried and his story just tumbled out

Finnick met with the rest of the family. Mrs. Mellark was very obviously depressed, the boys were grieving but had no time to process everything that was happening as they desperately tried to keep things going. A decision was made to contact Mrs Mellark mother, Sae.

She arrived in a day and scolded her grandsons for not calling her sooner and hugged the life out of them.

She sought out her daughter and held her close as she wept and wept.

Then the five of them sat on the sofa together and Sae told Finnick she was sticking around for as long as was needed and he helped her to find the help her family needed.

Peeta however refused to talk about what had happened and wouldn’t confirm the bullying. He hoped by keeping his mouth shut Cato would leave him alone. (It hadn’t. Although Cato no longer actively sought him out he still tormented him)

When Peeta returned to school a few days later people seemed to give him a wide berth the story of his Hulk like anger had scared people. It made him sad.

When he went to his locker he found a bag there and inside was a paper dandelion, a packet of coloring pencils and notebook.

Peeta was confused and wary but the yellow flower was the first thing he remembered seeing in color; since his dad died life had just been grey. He smiled, just a small one but somehow this flower made him feel something he hadn’t felt in a long time -hope.

********

On Friday the school was buzzing. Peeta had on a black tee shirt and orange cons showing his school spirit.

He had noticed Katniss that morning in her black skinny jeans, a Jays orange jersey, black oversized cardigan, in her braided hair there was an orange ribbon and on her feet a pair of orange cons. He smiled when he saw them.

He was just slipping to class when she called him

“Hey Peeta! Look we’re foot twins.” She bounded over to him and stood toe to toe with him. His heart was pounding.

She pulled out her phone “Can I take a picture?” and she aimed her camera down before clicking a few snaps.

“I think yours look better” she smiled and looked up at him, suddenly aware how close she was to him.

“I’m sorry Peeta I’m such and space invader” she stepped back “like I was saying yours look better, they have that lived in Cons look, mine are brand new they need breaking in. I’m gonna put this on Instagram, want me to tag you?”

“Why? Why would you tag me? I mean we’re not exactly friends, besides I don’t think Gale or his friends would appreciate any part of me appearing on your feed. I have to go Katniss.” Peeta smiled sadly and walked away.

Katniss couldn’t understand what she had said or done but she quickly deleted the post.

********

When the dance committee opened the silver box they found a good deal of papers, half though were filled with utter rubbish- crude drawing, bits of gum wrapped in the paper and some downright dangerous suggestions -roller skating with night vision goggles???

The most surprising thing was that even though the students had been given free reign most were standard dance ideas. According to Delly Cartwright this was because despite claims to want to express themselves and be individuals most teenagers just wanted to blend in and follow the herd, and in the end there were only five familiar themes to choose from.

1. Winter Wonderland/Snow Ball /Yule Ball

2. Once Upon a Time(Fairytales and stories)

3. Enchanted Forest or Magical Garden

4. Candy land

5. Masquerade Ball

Students were just handed a ballot paper and asked to vote for their favourite and with the result revealed at the following weeks assembly.

The winning theme in the end was the Enchanted Forest, and Katniss was secretly thrilled. Now the theme was picked it was time for the hard work to begin, and time to see if Peeta was ready to join the dance committee.

********

Peeta and Jo were sitting on one of the benches outside the school when Katniss walked over.

“Hey” she called

Peeta waved, Jo gave a nod.

“Peeta, if that offer to help out with the dance is still on the table the dance committee is meeting tomorrow after school to get things moving. I was wondering if you’d like to come along and get an idea of budget, how we can pull off the theme and if we can actually make something out of nothing” Katniss joked.

“I don’t know Katniss-“ but before he could finish Jo interrupted

“He’ll be there. What time and can I help too? My dad owns the forest out past Turn 4. He might be able to help with some stuff for decoration.”

“Ok, well we be in Room 17 from about 4 pm and Jo it would be great to have more help. I’ll leave you guys to it then. Bye”

As she walked away she missed the glare Peeta threw at Jo and the grin that spread across her face.

“What? You have been crazy about her for years. Now’s you chance to woo her” grinned Jo

“She has a scary boyfriend or did you forget that? A boyfriend who has no issue with beating a guy like me and might I add he has the connections to dispose of me where no one can find me.” He muttered darkly

“I dunno I know what people say but, I don’t think they are a couple….. anyway never mind that it’ll be at least one fun memory we’ll have of going to this place before we head to Capitol.”

********

Over the next few weeks Peeta’s life and routine took on a different one. The initial meeting of the dance committee had been nerve wracking but the other members, along with Katniss made him and Jo feel very welcome.

Peeta was wary at first but there was no punchline, he wasn’t a joke to anyone and surprisingly he started to enjoy the meetings.

The other members Annie Cresta, Thom Dalton, Brian Turner or Beetee as he was known, Delly Cartwright and Cecelia Hubert were a mixed but fun group.

“Hey Peeta, can you take a look at this?” Katniss called

“What’s up?” he asked.

“This…. I think I did it wrong…..it looks..” they two of them tilted their heads looking at the mess in front of them Katniss was supposed to be making centre pieces from twigs adorned with lights, and flowers.

“I think you’ve glued things on upside down, it’s okay we’ll fix it” he tried not to laugh. Katniss was the least crafty person he had ever met.

“I like the arch way, you’ve made it look really spectacular, it will make the entrance look so special. You have really helped us to set the theme, you and Jo.”

“Well you know us art nerds” Peeta mumbled as he undid some of Katniss handiwork.

“I don’t….but I’d like too” Katniss whispered in a low voice.

Peeta didn’t dare to look at her but kept going with what he was doing. He wasn’t sure what to say. He took a deep breath and prepared to ask her what she meant when suddenly the door burst open and there stood Gale, Cato and the other Jays players.

Gale was wearing what looked like doctors scrubs while the others were dressed in tacky sexy nurse outfits that no nurse in their right mind could wear and work in.

“Hey Katniss”

Peeta would swear he felt Katniss stiffen beside him, then she took a deep breath and turned to look(along with the rest of the room)

Gale unravelled his sign which said “I’m no doctor but it appears you’re suffering from DATELESSNESS. My suggestion is…..” meanwhile the rest held up signs that read “A date with Gale?” And “What more could you want?” And “A dose of Vitamin G!”

“No!” she shouted and the laughter and shouts of the Jays stopped.

“Just no! I told you this last night, the night before. You NEVER listen to me? I don’t want to date you or even go to the dance with you. I’ve tried being polite but it’s gotten me no where, please leave me alone and stop this. I’m not your girlfriend. I don’t want to be. Just stop”

“You selfish b-“ Gale started towards Katniss but Peeta stepped in front of her.

“I wouldn’t take another step or utter another word Hawthorne. Just take your guys and go. Or would you like me to call Miss Trinket?” Peeta’s voice was low and calm. Thom and Beetee had stood up too and walked towards Katniss and Peeta.

“Or what Smellark?” spat Gale.

“Funny, real funny but I think after 4 years you guys could have gotten a bit more creative with your insults. Cato, why don’t you take Gale and the guys and leave. Katniss has refused Gale’s offer, there is nothing else to be said.”

In the crowd of guys a few looked angry but others just looked confused about what had gone on. Had Gale really been hassling Katniss? He made it sound like she had wanted this big fuss but what if she hadn’t? The team started to move away and soon the room was cleared.

“Umm thanks guys…now where were we?”

“Hey Everdeen, I thought that guy was your boyfriend?” asked Jo confused by what had happened.

“Nope. Never was, never will be. He’s never been my type” Katniss smiled

“Interesting…..and would you type maybe be a little less male perhaps?” teased Jo much to the amusement of the others

“Sorry Jo, I’m not into girls, but I do know that Delly happens to think you are real cute.” And with a shocked squeak from Delly the whole committee burst into giggles.

Once everyone had settled down Katniss walked over to Peeta.

“Hey Peeta? Thanks for what you did for me with Gale. I don’t know why he has to act like that you know?”

“Katniss it’s ok really. I’ll walk you to your car after we’re done here if you want? In case he’s still around.”

“Thanks, but I should be ok. Right I better get these to Annie.” She nodded her head at the closed box in her hands that she had picked up from somewhere.

“What’s in it?

“Flowers! I may not be much good at making centerpieces but if you need a paper flower I’m your girl” she grinned as she said this “open the box and have a look.”

Peeta’s stomach dropped when he opened the box there were daisies, roses and right at the top yellow dandelions like the one given to him all those years ago.

“Peeta? Are you ok?” a worried Katniss asked.

“Yeah. Sorry just zoned out. These are really pretty. I better get back to the trees.”

Peeta worked quietly for rest of the hour to trying to figure out why Katniss had given him the flower all those years ago and the pencils and notebook which became his companions. In the notebook he drew his fears, his hopes covering every page and when it was full his mom bought him a new one. Even now he always had a notebook in his bag.

“Peeta? Can I give you a lift home?” asked Katniss Peeta startled at her voice he looked around and was slightly shocked to see they were the last people there. He hadn’t heard the others leave.

“Ok.” He shrugged and gathered up his stuff.

“Katniss? Can I ask you something?” Peeta was nervous but he needed to know why she did what she did.

“Sure.” She nodded

“After…. the Cato incident there was a paper flower and art stuff left in my locker. Did you do that?”

He watched her hands tighten around the steering wheel and she took a deep breath before she answered.

“Yes. I just wanted to give you something nice you know. Those guys were so mean and the rest of us should’ve done more, told the teachers. I watched you almost disappear and I hated that the light in your eyes dimmed so much. Your family was going through so much.”

“You were just a kid Katniss,it’s ok. Really. We got help. As a family we’ve survived. What else could you have done?” He reached over and put his hand on hers, it was awkward in the car but he wanted -no needed- her to know that he was ok.

“Your flower gave me hope, gave my life some color at a time when I had none. Thank you for seeing me, at a time when I felt no one did.”

“I always saw you Peeta.” She was looking at him now Peeta wanted to look away her gaze was almost too intense.

“You’re a painter. You’re a baker. You like to sleep with the windows open. You are the noisiest walker I have ever heard. And you always double-knot your shoelaces.”

“I know these things because I’ve always watched you and yes I know that’s crazy and I sound like a stalker but I need you to know this because we’re going away to college soon and I would like to at least be your friend but what I really want is to know you better and Leon knows and he told me that if I didn’t tell you I liked you he would.”

“Slow down… what?”

“I like you. A lot. Your stupid brother found out and has been teasing me. He said he would tell you before I could especially since we’re going to be at the same college next year. If you just want a friend that’s fine but I would really like to go on a date so you could get to know me…. and then…..well who knows….”

“Okay.”

“Okay like let’s go on a date or like I’m going to get out of car and run away?”

“The first one.”

**********

And so they had their first date 2 nights later.

And their first kiss that night too.

Peeta asked Katniss to be his girlfriend on their third date.

They went to their dance together and danced under the canopy of trees and flowers they had helped create.

They had their first fight when Peeta struggled to understand what a girl like Katniss saw in him. He questioned why? He kept expecting things to fall apart and doubted what they had was real.

Eventually his mom took him aside and told him that his problems were bigger then him and a professional would be better placed to help him.

“You deserve happiness Peeta,let us help you find it.”

He started seeing Dr Aurelius with Katniss, his family and friends supporting him every step of the way.

He told Katniss he loved her one evening when they were in her parent’s house. They were watching a stupid movie and she was laughing. He watched her eyes crinkle, her chuckles ringing in the air as she sat there in a panda onesie and he blurted it out.

She smiled at him and throwing her arms around his neck she told him the same, placing tiny kisses all over his face.

And then they graduated. The one person who didn’t was Cato Snow who was expelled following a positive drug test and several reports of bullying.

Gale never spoke to Katniss again.

A few of the Mockingjays team had apologized for their part in the dance proposal telling Katniss they had believed Gale when he told them that it was her idea.

Neither wanted to go to the end of year dance, instead they went with some of their friends to a small cabin by a lake and had a quiet celebration.

And later, in the quiet of the night after they had spent time having their own private celebration. Katniss sang to Peeta

Let the bough break, let it come down crashing

Let the sun fade out to a dark sky

I can’t say I’d even notice it was absent

‘Cause I could live by the light in your eyes

I’ll unfold before you

Would have strung together

The very first words of a lifelong love letter

Tell the world that we finally got it all right

I choose you

I will become yours and you will become mine

I choose you

I choose you, yeah

There was a time when I would have believed them

If they told me that you could not come true

Just love’s illusion

But then you found me

And everything changed

And I believe in something again

My whole heart

Will be yours forever

This is a beautiful start

To a lifelong love letter

Tell the world that we finally got it all right

I choose You

I will become yours and you will become mine

I choose You

I choose You

We are not perfect we’ll learn from our mistakes

And as long as it takes I will prove my love to you

I am not scared of the elements I am underprepared,

But I am willing

And even better

I get to be the other half of you

Tell the world that we finally got it all right

I choose You, yeah

I will become yours and you will become mine

I choose You

I choose You

I choose You

She had just finished and Peeta was about to say something when Johanna shouted.

“Seriously?? It was bad enough listening to you two screwing each other senseless now I have to hear you sing?! Keep this up and you’ll have to find a new roommate!”

After their laughter subsided Peeta turned to Katniss and whispering quietly he said.

“I choose you too. Always.”

[pipsqueakparker]

first line meme

i saw @annabellelux and a couple others tag me on this, so i’ll try to do this as well (if tumblr doesn’t destroy everything 😂) 

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favourite opening line.

I’ll go ahead and put these under a cut, there’s gonna be a weird mix of smut and non-smut, so be warned (i don’t think any of the opening lines are too graphic, but fics are)

And I’ll tag @caitybuglove23, @thehoneyedhufflepuff, @krisrix, @sharkmartini, @scone-lover & anyone else that wants to do this!

breaking routine 

I don’t know what’s gotten into Baz lately, but whatever it is, it’s a blessing in disguise. Or whatever the saying is.

thank you steve jobs 

“I’ve got an idea.”

Those words frequently scare me when they come out of Snow’s mouth, but somehow even more so when we’re on separate sides of the city, connected only by the small screens of our phones. My screen is mostly dark, with a flash of light or color here and there as Snow walks through his flat. He’s living with Bunce and I’m still staying at Fiona’s—it’s just easier right now, to be this way.

the one with the frogs 

We’re meant to be putting up the Christmas decorations tonight, but Baz won’t let me off the sofa. Our Christmas tree is still boxed up somewhere in the flat, mixed up with some other boxes of decorations we’ve brought in recently. And Baz is nestled into my side, both arms wrapped tightly around my middle, his nose pressed into my cheek. We were going to watch a film while we decorated, but I think he’s gotten a bit distracted.

“Enjoying yourself?” I ask, my voice soft and low. I want to turn to look at him, but I feel the tip of his nose press deeper into my cheek and find myself laughing. He gets especially soft and silly around the holidays.

twinkle 

It’s dark, nothing lighting up the night except for the sliver of moon peeking out over us. Stars twinkle among the wisps of clouds, in and out of my field of vision.

The only thing clear about tonight is the swell in my chest when I watch Simon swoop down over the treetops, wings beating powerfully as he makes a sharp turn. Thank Crowley for my heightened sight; I can make out the individual bones in those mighty wings, the way his curls get tousled by the wind, and the grin split across his face.

Simon Snow is a vision.

love’s not a competition (but we’re winning) 

Baz is on top of me, pressing me into the mattress with his entire body.

reconnecting for christmas 

I’m not a grinch, or a scrooge.

I don’t hate Christmas; I just hate all of the ridiculous expectations that come along with it. The ugly jumpers, the secret Santas, the grown adults trampling each other and trading blows over toys.

The annual holiday parties held at my university that I’m always forced to attend because my cousin is a fucking horror.

chore negotiation 

It started as a joke.

Well, mostly a joke. I hate doing the washing up after dinner; the only thing worse than the Humdrum is a sink full of dirty dishes. Every moment I spent in front of the sink felt like a special kind of torture. (Maybe that’s an exaggeration.) (But not much of one.)

scary movie 

“Let’s watch a scary movie,” Simon suggests. At seven in the morning.

His face is just inches away from mine, eyes bright like it isn’t seven in the fucking morning.

I glare at him.

And then I turn my back to him and go back to sleep.

Because it’s seven in the fucking morning.

poorly timed christmas decorations 

Someone has taken it upon themselves to decorate Mummers for the holidays.

I’m actually fairly certain it was a group of someones, and I wouldn’t be surprised to discover that my ridiculous cousin and his roommate were at the helm of the poor decisions. Niall genuinely wants to start celebrating Christmas as early as possible, but Dev just wants to create chaos.

There are lights wrapped around the railings and hung over the walls, wreaths on every door, and poinsettias on each landing. If it weren’t the middle of October it might be nice. However, it is the middle of October.

carving pumpkins 

Baz is good at a lot of things. He’s smart, fit, athletic, flexible, charming, etc. He’s an expert at nearly everything, at least that’s what he’d have you believe. It’s what he’s had me believe for the longest time. It’s part of what made me hate him so much. (Suppose that wasn’t as much hate as I thought initially, though, was it?)

Anyway, Baz is good at shit, and it’s annoying.

spooky ghosts 

I don’t know what prompted me to open my mouth as I was leaving Watford.

I don’t know what possessed him to accept such an offer.

But somehow, by the grace of either Merlin or Crowley (potentially a little of both), Simon Snow is at my family home for the winter holidays.

black cats 

Sometimes Snow can be a mad genius.

And sometimes he’s just mad.

witch hats 

It’s our next to last day — well, my last day, I suppose — at Watford.

We’ve a whole ceremony to deal with, us eighth years. It’s strange to be preparing for this without Snow or Bunce.

new candles 

Coping mechanisms are something we’ve been talking about a lot in therapy. Healthy ones and unhealthy ones.

Apparently I had a lot of unhealthy ones for a long time. I didn’t even realize until my therapist pointed them out to me, but we’re trying to replace them with healthier ones.

cinnamon spice 

Simon’s working late tonight.

He got a new job at this little bakery on the other side of town. He positively loves it, I swear he came home after his first day already best friends with the entire staff. I don’t blame them, Simon’s a delight.

warm apple cider 

“We should get lunch,” Simon says, swinging our joined hands between us as we follow a dirt path toward a picnic area.

Bunce asked us if we could find our way out of the flat today, she and the Normal wanted some alone time. I was just going to take Simon back to my flat, but Fiona decided she would be coming back early from her trip, knocking that option out. (Not that I don’t love my aunt, but sometimes it’s just easier to keep her away from Simon. For my sanity’s sake.)

We were just going to drive around for a bit, maybe find somewhere to spend some time, try to have our own day to ourselves. Simon ended up looking up events happening around and found this little autumnal festival, which is where we ended up.

fuzzy socks & a book 

Snow always teases me when I wear these socks, but they’re soft, and warm, and nice. They run up well past my ankle, about mid-calf, and they’re sherpa-lined so they’re especially insulated and soft. They also have two little vampire teeth at the top, and two little leathery black wings that stick out from the ankles.

Mordelia picked them out when she was around six or seven, Daphne was just properly tickled by them and put them into my stocking that Christmas. Several years later I’m still wearing them.

They’re nice.

take two 

We’ve not talked about the clone incident since that day.

In fact, we’ve not talked much since that day. Full stop.

We kissed until our lips were sore, until we were both gasping for breath, until the sun went down and the shadows lay over us and we fell asleep.

The next morning I woke up in his bed. He was nowhere to be found. He didn’t show up to breakfast, or lunch, or dinner. He was absent from all of our classes. I didn’t see him again for nearly two full days.

baby animals 

Baz is letting me hunt with him.

Well, not hunt with him, really. But he’s letting me go out with him. Into the woods behind his family house.

I know how hard it is for him to let me in on this part of him, the whole vampire thing. He’s trying.

(basil the) scarecrow  

Simon Snow was well into middle age now, as he carried his two youngest to bed.

[stlplaybox]

Top 10 Transformers of 2019 - Part 1

If you’ve been following, it’s been two years since my last one of these. Technically more given that we’re now deep past the winter of 2020. But end of year lists have a wistful character. They keep ajar a casual window into that tricky thing that is memory lane. They crystallise memories, feelings and journeys into something that attempts to qualify and quantify the experiences of some arbitrary tract of time in our lives. When life comes faster at you with each passing season, where each year seems faster than the last, lists offer some solace, some sense of growth, some recognition of where we’ve come from. 

I guess that’s why despite 2019 seeming so distant, I’ve persisted with making this list of my top 10 Transformers of 2019. There is something different this year though. Something I’ve been plugging away at for awhile now. This year I bring together my nerdy side with my collecting and underpin it with a Transformers scoring system. Yes, I’ve developed and calibrated a scoring system for Transformers. Why you ask? Well the easy answer is I’m a data person and I like to frame the way I look and understand the world through code and data.

The longer answer is I like to understand myself, understand why I collect and like what I like. With so much available these days, it’s easy to lose track of what really resonates with us, chasing that new shiny thing, that new experience, and quickly forget why we’re buying what we buy. This scoring system is my attempt to track this and quantify not just what I have purchased but also what I purchase going forward. So this year, you’ll see me provide two scores. My “weighted”  / subjective score and an ”objective” score in brackets. Both are out of 100.  

Where does this difference come from? In designing my system I recognised that how we value things differ from person to person. For instance some people place high emphasis on transformation and handling while others adore articulation and sculpt. So my scoring system attempts to factor this in by providing a “weighted” score to reflect my personal subjective leanings. The objective score is how it ranks objectively on each of the metrics scored. So that’s some context but I won’t bore you with too many more details. If there’s enough interest, I’ll write more about it sometime. But I will say this scoring system is great as I already what my top 10 for 2020 is at this stage!

A part of me was going to separate the list into transforming and non-transforming toys but I decided against it. They’re all Transformers in the end, it’s the reason we buy them. Whether its a plushie, a statue or articulated action figure they all have their merits.

One last note is I’ve also added to each figure a section called “a moment” where I try to capture a moment of where I was, how I felt when experiencing this figure. I spend a lot of time with these figures behind the camera and posing them, often in lovely natural places where I’m reflecting on a lot of things about the world, life and whatnot. There’s a range of feelings that come with that and for me that’s part of what collecting is about, the emotions these figures stir in you.

So without further ado, let’s roll out!

Honorable Mentions:

MP-44: Convoy

Weighted Score: 89.0% (88%)

Why: While its where my love for Transformers comes from, G1 is no longer where my collecting heart lies. The price, the over-engineering, and QC issues… there were a lot of reasons I didn’t want to buy this. But we lost a dear member of our community @TCracker/@hirohitokusanagi last year and this was a figure he was desperately trying to hold on for. That he couldn’t made this something I felt I had to experience. Even more so as I struggled with my own battle with cancer. This figure is a good figure but sometimes we buy things and they mean more because of the people we’ve met along the way. Simon brought so many sparks of joy with his photography and the opportunity to dedicate a shoot to him was the best way I could honour him. Whenever I shoot this figure, I think of Simon and am grateful for the inspiration he provided and his contribution to our community.

The Moment: It was early spring when this figure arrived. We were due in NZ the day after and I was in a horribly weakened state after my sixth round of chemo. But I hobbled the 2km to my post office to pick it up and shoot it that sunset. My process is to normally spend time experiencing a figure before trying to transform and photograph at sunset as its a small window of 20-30 minutes at best. But I knew time was against me and that with a few weeks in NZ it’d really bother me not being able to have a crack at it given how much it meant to me. So in the days preceding that day, I’d watched video after video of the transformation. I started sunset with the video on the big screen TV in case I needed to refer to it. It was one of my most intense shoots of the year and a lot of that pressure self-imposed. But emotionally, it was one of the most fulfilling.

Iron Factory Blue Flash

Weighted Score: 89.5% (86.7%)

Why: The only thing I owned of Bluestreak as a kid was a jigsaw puzzle. In it he was depicted in this sleek and flashy blue. From that moment, I’d always dreamt of owning an awesome blue Bluestreak. And despite happily owning the Masterpiece and Collector Club version, this was the one for me as it combined that essence with a neo-G1 design.     

Moment: Sitting by our local waterfall not long after I’d been diagnosed with cancer it was quite emotional. I remember staring blankly at it and not starting the shoot as the water cascaded in the background. Thinking about that puzzle, the life I’d led in primary school and how far I’d come. 

With that let’s get into slots 10-6!

10. Amazing Yamaguchi N-14: Optimus Prime 

Weighted Score: 90.1% (86.9%)

Why: Expressiveness is an area that’s increasing at the top of my want list for a figure and this has it in spades. Between the different hands, the stellar ab crunch and butterfly shoulder, it maximises its pure action figure focus to give us a figure that’s so much fun to pose with emotion. It’s really one torso swivel away from greatness.  

Moment: The moment comes from this year where I combined a shoot with Siege Omega in base mode where it captured all the emotion of leaving your home, being unable to stay because you need to seek refuge elsewhere. Something that I think that’s understated about Transformers is that they’re refugees and that shot really captured the weight of emotion of having to leave. 

9. Master Made SDT-06: Overlord

Weighted Score: 90.5% (90%)

Why: For as long as I’ve been doing these lists, there’s not a year I remember when Master Made did not make an entry. They continue to put out some of the most beautifully engineered and fun figures on the market and Overlord was no exception. The sharp edges of the jet half combined with the bulk of the tank are top notch. Add the extra non super-deformed head so that one can use it with Iron Factory legends and combine that with their neo-G1 take on it, this thing hits all the right spots.  

The Moment: I remember setting in for sunset in late autumn with the jet mode on an evening after I’d come home after bouncing in and out of hospital as they hadn’t been able to work out what was going on with my body other than it was failing. This sense of soaring as I photographed him was something that put a smile on my face in that moment of uncertainty.

8. TLK Hot Rod (Unique Toys K-03 La Hire)

Weighted Score: 90.7% (98%)

Why: This is the first figure where I want to talk about the difference in the weighted score and the objective score. This figure is objectively one of the best Transformers in my collection at 98/100. It scores so high across articulation, engineering, handling, aesthetic, paint job that it actually is the highest scoring figure in 2019. However it gets brought down because of one thing: connection. I gave up on watching the Bayverse movies as I just weren’t enjoying them anymore and so as great as this figure is, that’s why it ends up scaling down to 90.7. Maybe if it had more elements of G1 Hot Rod I’d have connected with it despite not seeing the movies but that’s not to be. With that, you’re right to guess that one of my strong subjective weightings is “connection“.    

Moment: It was a warm morning in September last year when I got this figure. I was sitting on the balcony with my partner and feeling awful as it was not long after a round of chemo but I remember repeatedly going “wow”, “holy crap”, “wow” as I step by step learnt all the nuances of this beautiful figure. 

7. Cross Dimension Metallic Optimus Prime (MTCD-01P Striker Manus)

Weighted Score: 90.8% (88%)

Why: The Cross Dimensions line epitomises everything I love and want from Transformers. Fresh designs that take from various parts of the expansive TF universe without being slavish to any particular part. Despite already owning the first iteration of this figure, the dark metallic red, golds and blue elevate what was already a great figure way ahead of its time. Add the extra weapons pack all tinged with orange translucent highlights and you have yourself an absolute winner.

Moment: The joy of having him wield the translucent axe was magical. While the smokestack axes look nice, they don’t pack that same punch. I spent many hours in front of the TV posing him over and over.   

6. MMC Senator Ratbat (R-42 Ultio)

Weighted Score: 91.3% (90.7%)

Why: Since Takara did the Senator Ratbat in the TG line all those years back from the United Scourge mould, I’ve loved the idea of a Cybertronian Ratbat and boy did MMC deliver. If you’d ask me whether they could’ve done it from the Stray mould I’d have laughed but its executed so perfectly and keeps a lot of the great engineering and articulation present in the core Stray design while adding the wings that double as a cape in robot mode and pincers in alt mode. It’s a menacingly alt mode and that purple is just fine.

Moment: I’d had the figure for a little while and was itching to shoot it but between treatment and friends who were visiting it took awhile for me to get to it before and when I did I was thwarted by many boring sunsets. It took me almost a whole week where the days would be fine but then offer not that much by the way of an interesting sunsets. But when I got the chance, I loved shooting that alt mode from all of its glorious angles. I remember finishing and feeling an overwhelming sense of contentment. Things were looking up, I was a healthier, a bit stronger, and fortunate enough to have a great friend come visit.

That rounds out the first half of my top 10 list. Join me back in a few days when we work through the top five and I make some other interesting data driven observations about my collection in 2019. 

[writtenbyandria]

KIRA+DOMINIC — 03

It wasn’t often that Kira Mosley ventured out of the quieted comforts of Nassau County without adult supervision.

There were times where, after much pleading with her parents for permission, she’d commute into the Manhattan with a few of her classmates.

Those instances, however, were far and few between.

Unlike those previous occurrences of wandering aimlessly through Central Park until sunset or perusing the liveness taking place at Times Square before embarking on the tedious quest to find somewhere to eat, Kira commuted without her usual group of friends to keep her company throughout the prolonged commute. Rather than resorting to hearing the latest gossip pertaining to whose crush was smitten with who, she commuted to Queens by her lonesome and busied herself with listening to the playlist she spent a majority of her morning curating.

The randomly selected sounds of nineties R&B floated through her headphones throughout the entire duration of her train ride and settled her never ending case of nerves as gathered her belongings and exited the train.

As she hurried up the steps of the 169th Street Subway Station, her stare roamed up the length of the individual sporting a familiar reserved grin. His hands had been stuffed into his pockets.

Before uttering a meek ‘hello’ the moment she raced up the last step, Dominic simply removed her earbuds and toyed with the ends of her cornrows.

“I was startin’ to think you weren’t gonna show.”

“I told you I was.”

Dominic shrugged, “You don’t really know me from nowhere.”

“I know you well enough.” Kira murmured. The fullness of his lips contorted into a blatant smirk that disappeared all within a matter of seconds. “And you still came to see if I’d come.”

“...Yeah,” was all he bothered to say. For some reason, his meekness intrigued Kira. Not because of his sudden tamed behavior was appealing in any way, but because she could see that her arrival to the borough was appreciated. It was almost as if the slight gesture was extraordinary.

Remarkable, even.

“Your people know that you’re out here...with me?” Dominic asked as they waited for the opportunity to cross at the intersection.

“No,” she quickly admitted and later revealed that she used her friend Autumn to cover up her actual whereabouts.

“I’on want you getting in trouble ‘cause of me.”

“I won’t.” Kira said with certainty. With her mother currently vacating with old friends from her alma mater and her father stationed at one of the three hospitals within the county that he happened to have affiliations with, Kira was sure she’d dodge facing any trouble from her parents.

Without saying anything else about her parents or the plausible what-ifs that would ultimately land her in a heap of trouble, Dominic guided Kira across the congested intersection of 169th Street and Hillside Avenue.

She smiled inwardly when he took her hand in his.

Though the stint of hand-holding lasted all of but two minutes due to him luring her into a pizzeria, Kira couldn’t disregard the elation momentarily flooding her.

“For what it’s worth, I’d like to remind you that I was honest with you the moment your mother and I found out about this whole fixer upper nonsense. I said you were in over your head then. And, sweetheart, I’m afraid my stance on it still hasn't changed.”

Huffing, Jackson Mosley pulled his daughter into an embrace in which they separated quicker than expected.

The unfavorable news of her failing to put the foreclosed townhome back on the market was a tough pill to swallow for the fifty-six year old man, apparently.

They shuffled from his parked Land Rover Sport that idled the decent-sized driveway, and up the back steps; the path paved evenly with asphalt was about the only task Kira didn’t seek out to reconstruct. She did, however, plan to have contractors completely gut out the kitchen and bathrooms strictly for remodeling renovations. She also wanted the flooring to be taken up and replaced with brand-spanking-new wooden planks.

Using the duplicate set of house keys she had made a month ago, Kira entered the home and groaned from the displeasing stale stench wafting into her nose.

“What’s wrong with your apartment? Are they increasing the rent?”

“No. Nothing’s wrong with the apartment.” Kira muttered. She trudged through the foyer and headed straight for the dated kitchen simply just to look out towards the expansive yard space. At the sliding glass door, her father joined her. “It’s just that...I don’t know. I think I’m beginning to hate living there. Well, it isn’t so much as I think. I know I’m beginning to hate living there.” Kira admitted. “Gosh. I can’t even believe I’m saying this…”

Years ago -- when enduring the expected slump in freelance journalism and conceptualizing ideas for her own forthcoming blog-site -- Kira would have never imagined she’d eventually grow tired of Brooklyn and actually miss the quieted comforts of the suburbs.

She fled to college not only to earn her degree, but to also be catapulted into a new environment. While studying at Howard University she vowed to never move back to Nassau County indefinitely and made sure to occupy all of her summer breaks with internships that required her to frequent places far from her hometown. Kira had made strides in straying far from Hempstead and established residency in Brooklyn right after graduation to make sure she never had to dwell there too long during. Aside from the holidays where her mother would have to beg her to stay for days at a time, or a massive gatherings (that tended to occur far and few between as of late), Kira hardly dwelled there and regarded herself as a proud Brooklyn transplant who tended to stay within the borough.

In her early twenties, she had fallen in love with everything Brooklyn had to offer; the convenience and close proximity trumped every other amenity.

Her best writing happened in Brooklyn.

Her best years were in Brooklyn.

Some of her more memorable sexual encounters happened to be with Brooklynites.

Kira couldn’t believe it was even possible to loathe Brooklyn as much as she had within the last two years. The neighborhood of Williamsburg had become too crowded for her liking.

Sadly, neither the restaurants, bars, lounges, nor the generous coffee shop barista who gave her fresh pastries due to her being a faithful subscriber were not enough to keep Kira residing there any longer.

Now, in an ironic twist of fate, Kira sought out to move back to Nassau County in a timely fashion.

Among the homes she came across while perusing several online real estate sites, was a foreclosed property in Long Island’s town of Oyster Bay. It reminded Kira of her childhood home in Hempstead although the properties differed greatly in acreage.

“Do you really need all this space?” Jackson asked.

“Yes. The space would be a benefit.” Kira defended. No matter how persistent Jackson Mosley was about putting the three-bedroom home back on the market, Kira was certain she’d make use of the space.

He father heaved a hardly audible sigh and ran his hand over his face. “What I’m saying is that having all this square footage may be a bit overwhelming. Realistically speaking, Kira, you are a single woman with no children. What on Earth do you need with all of this space? You’d be better off looking for another apartment.”

“Whether I want the space or intend to utilize every square foot is subjective, daddy.” Kira replied sternly, crossing her arms over her chest. “It was a steal. I purchased this home considerably way cheaper than what the homeowners in this area purchased theirs for.” She further noted. “I’m gonna fix this up and use as much or as little space as I please. It’s mine.”

A contemptuous grin etched across her father’s expression, and faltered the moment he advanced towards the old-fashioned kitchen peninsula. The counter space was made of a material Kira couldn’t bear to look at for too long, due to the previous owner’s poor choice of granite that conflicted with the cherry wood cabinets.

“Have you even made the attempt to contact the contractors your mother referred you to?”

“Yes, and I chose not to give those assholes --”

“Kira,” Jackson warned, “watch your mouth.”

She glanced at her father over her shoulder. “Sorry. It slipped out.”

“Now what were you saying about the contractors? And mind your language this time.”

“They were pulling my leg about requesting a quote for a kitchen and bathroom remodel. It’s safe to say I won’t be using them.”

“Kira if you can’t even find the proper contractors to help you make this place liveable, then perhaps you need to put it back on the market like I’ve advised.”

“I’m not doing that. But I will be looking for a contractor this week. I’ll make sure of it.” Kira insisted, catching her father’s blatant eye-roll as he ambled back towards the front of the home. “You don’t believe that I have any intention of finding suitable contractors, do you?”

Rather than sparing his only daughter of having to hear the harsh admission by allowing a prolonged silence to loom over them, Jackson Mosley simply confirmed Kira’s preconceived suspicion by uttering, “No, I don’t.”

“Well,” she took a step, “if you don’t have faith in me to actually find someone for the job, you must have no faith in me at all.”

Adjusting the strap to the crossbody bag onto her frame, Kira made a beeline for the door and muttered to her father that she had no intention to head back her parents’ home after locking up. Almost immediately, she felt immense regret for opting to commute to Long Island by way of public transportation on account of her having to solely rely on her father.

“Take me back to the transit station, please.”

Back in Brooklyn, Kira busied herself with composing drafted reviews of complimentary cosmetics and hair products she picked up from an expo she attended the previous week.

The event specifically curated to gain exposure for black-owned beauty start-ups provided Kira with new content to publish onto her site. Typically, she uploaded the drafted posts throughout the approaching week in an effort to keep maintain her quota of visitor traffic to her blog. The frequent postings not only fed her loyal audience, but also provided her with a substantial amount of monthly revenue from advertisements and contracted branding partnerships.

While thoroughly delving into personal pros and cons she experienced while using a manuka honey leave-in conditioner one of the business owners provided her with, Kira halted in typing another word onto the document and retreated back to the list of contractor companies the web browser’s search engine had provided.

As she skimmed the lengthy list in search of a company that were either within close proximity of the home in Oyster Bay or advertising their willingness to commute to other towns within the state limits, her apartment door opened; a pair of keys jingled as the individual padded down the narrow hallway.

Besides herself, only two people were provided with a set of keys into the private dwelling. Not even her parents were equipped with manufactured duplicates.

“Autumn?” Kira called out, forming the presumption that her childhood friend and infrequent roomie had decided to pop up without calling in advance.

Teeth smackings emitted from Kira the moment her eyes settled on the short crop of coarse curls belonging to her brother Lawrence.

“Shoes --,” Kira chided, “-- remove them.”

Huffing her brother four years her junior turned swiftly on the soles of his bulky basketball sneakers and retreated back down the dimly lit hallway.

“You could’ve called.”

“Didn’t think I needed to. You know, since I got the keys and all.”

Instead of plopping onto the dull grey couch positioned against the adjacent wall, Lawrence raced into the kitchen, failing to wash his hands before rummaging through the refrigerator. When he returned, vegetable lo mein was served on one of the marble plateware she hardly put to use. Her fingers drummed along the wireless keyboard paired to her iMac.

By then, Lawrence sauntered towards the couch and reclaimed his usual seat on the couch’s far left; his feet propped atop the mirrored coffee table riddled with books and flea market knick knacks.

“Any progress on the new place?”

“No, not yet. I’m still in the process of looking for contractors.”

“You’ve been saying you were looking into contractors since before you took your trip. You’re making the task harder than what it needs to be.”

“I know. I’ve been a bit sidetracked this since I’ve gotten back.”

“Back from Long Island, or back from L.A.?”

“L.A.,” Kira retorted and mussed with her hair. “If I didn’t have to go and check on the property, I would’ve slept the entire day away. I’ve been back for two days, and I’m still I’m a bit jet lagged.”

“Shit. I forgot to ask. How’d the meeting go?”

“Fairly well, considering that all my terms are going to be contractually upheld.”

The trip in which she traveled strictly to negotiate the preliminary stipulations to her pending collaborative venture left Kira jet-lagged, but more so afflicted with procrastination. Well before making the trip to Los Angeles, company bigwigs -- a duo consisting of a marketing strategist and a branding consultant -- were ardent on gaining consumership with women of color. In the wake of teasing the release of a new formulated foundation produced in a broad range of shades, the renown cosmetic company’s marketing specialist specifically sought out to acquire black beauty bloggers and other online beauty content creators to assist in advertising the brand’s forthcoming fall release.

Kira’s site traffic and faithful readership coupled with her previous ventures with a cosmetic startups and well-known brands were three components that happened to land Kira on the strategist’s radar. Over brunch, at some pretentious eatery, the twenty-seven year old pressed for the rather extensive amount of money she sought out to obtain for the collaborative venture. And by dinner the following evening, Kira was mulling over a newly drawn up, non-binding contract that had already been both faxed and emailed to her lawyer.

Given the approval from the lawyer she kept on retainer, Kira happily signed the contract, and prematurely relished in acquiring the approaching lump sum by overindulging in drinks.

And, of course, Omari Grant.

At the mere thought of the retired quarterback and their tryst in his hotel room, Kira shuddered and rubbed her neck.

“I’ll have a number to a contractor by tomorrow. Mark my words.”

“Ai’ight,” Lawrence expressed with great doubt, “I’ma hold you to it.”

Kira’s eyes narrowed, “Hold me to it?”

“For whatever reason, you’re prolonging the process. If you aren’t one-hundred percent invested in this whole remodeling project, then you shouldn’t even be bothered. Either get the ball rollin’ on hiring contractors for the renovations or put the shit back on the market.”

“Alright. That’s enough. I can’t take any more of you lecturing me on what I need to do. You sound like dad.” Kira rushed out. She resumed with perusing the list of established general contracting companies.

At random, she selected Johnson & Parsons Home Improvement. As stated on their website, The New York-based contracting firm offered services throughout the listed cities, including the town in which the foreclosed property was located. “Dad’s fine, by the way. Just in case you were wondering.”

Kira averted her eyes from the desktop’s massive screen and peered over at Lawrence.

The sudden disinterest in the conversation as it pertained to their father was aparrent in his deadpan expression.

“He asked about you this afternoon.”

Her eyes rolled instinctively when recollecting the awkward drive to the train station. Jackson Mosley simply couldn’t take the hint to keep the conversation to a minimum.

Instead of commuting in silence, he turned on the radio, hoping that the songs playing from the Hip-Hop and R&B station would lure Kira out of her momentary irritation. But when that was proven to be unsuccessful the middle-aged man followed the stint of humming along to the catchy instrumentals from yesteryear by asking about Lawrence.

“He’s fine.” She remembered tersely retorting, later mentioned the creative strides her brother was making, as of late.

For some reason, Kira hoped that Lawrence would have perked up the moment that tidbit of information swept past her lips. Sadly, to no avail, her younger brother sported the same look of indifference he often had whenever the topic of conversation reverted to Jackson Mosley.

A deafening silence loomed over them subsequent to Lawrence sticking a fork in the cold helping of leftover takeout. In that discomforting lull, Kira could feel the harbored resentment radiating from her younger brother as he remained silent; the marbled plateware balanced atop the couch’s broad armrest. Lawrence mussed with the hairs sprouting from his chin.

“Call him, Lawrence.”

The agonizing contempt evaded him.

His pursed lips gave way to a smirk of sudden amusement. Laughter escaped him soon afterward.

“What’s so funny?” Kira queried.

“Nothing.”

“No. Tell me. I wanna know.”

“Nothing,” Lawrence fixed his lips to say again before releasing an exasperated sigh, “It’s just funny how you’re advising me to speak to him when you’ve been on the outs with him before, too.” Lawrence spat prior to grasping the fork and stuffing his mouth with noodles. He ate with gusto and hadn’t thought to stop until the plate was bare. “I can recall a time where you and dear old dad weren’t on the best of terms.” Lawrence recounted. “You and mom weren’t so amicable back then, either. In fact, I could vividly remember you went nearly a whole semester without speaking to them.”

“I was a freshman in college --

“ -- I know you not about to cop out with that excuse again.”

“It’s not an excuse.”

“It’s a bullshit excuse. It always was.” Lawrence insisted. “You’re gonna hold onto that, aren’t you? Will you ever be honest and say that you still had that chip on your shoulder from senior year. So much so that you insisted on staying with Autumn and her family during winter break.”

Silence pervaded the room, prompting Lawrence to sigh inwardly.

“I guess not.” He muttered. “Sometimes I believe you only interact with him now because I choose not to. Dad could hardly stomach the fact that you and him were estranged all that time. I couldn’t even imagine how crushed that man would be if both of his children decided to steer clear of having any interaction with him at the same time.”

It wasn’t until Kira jotted down the number to Johnson & Parsons Home Improvement on a nearby post-it note that he muttered, “he should’ve made a better attempt at being a father.”

Lawrence’s statement hung in the air, prompting Kira’s shoulders to visibly contract as she set the ballpoint pen down beside the mouse and it’s respected stark white mousepad; the tension pervading the living room was thick and also somber the longer Kira continued to ponder on not only her underlying grievances with her father, but her brother’s as well.

The children of Jackson Mosley idled within the confines of Kira’s Williamsburg apartment, failing to utter anything to each other.

The weight of their father’s disastrous approach to parenting evident as time progressed.

[dansnaturepictures]

7 of my favourite pictures to take in the past week 

Old Winchester Hill view*

Silver-spotted Skipper butterfly at Old Winchester Hill**

Another Old Winchester Hill view***

Autumn leaves out the front****

Berries at Lakeside*****

One of my favourite birds the Great Crested Grebe feeding its chick at Lakeside******

Heart and dart moth in the living room*******

(In order of appearance in this photoset) 

I have to first say that the last week was perhaps my most packed with photos of all time. Between Sunday 9th and Saturday 15th August I took or as I like to call it produced as I take different versions of the same photo when out and keep the best or don’t keep ones that don’t work out and that in total 174 photographs, averaging 24.85 per day. Extraordinary for me on a week I worked albeit from home most of it as I do currently, but actually this probably makes it my highest yielding week of photos ever and its been heading that way for a while with how many I now take forward of my photos. This all made, if I wanted to, saying my favourite photo taken this week hard. If I quote or reply to one of my tweets with that photo for me in on my Twitter Dans_Pictures nowadays I have to have a theme to link it to of the week, this week beside the sheer amount taken there were too many; a week of moths, a week of insects/macro photography headlined by butterflies at the start, a week of increased bird photos for this time of year there was so many. So then I decided to do one of my picture context posts I sometimes do usually on a Sunday morning about my favourite photo from the week before saying what I liked about it, how it came about and any other relevant thoughts, but in truth whilst I had one photo particularly in mind there were lots of candidates without blowing my own trumpet of what I liked best. So I instead decided to bring seven together, so effectively meaning I had on average a real standout picture per day even if some of these were taken the same day to each other. Not to say the the others were poor days as there were so many I overlooked. And below about each, I say a little bit. 

*The week started in the midst of a heatwave at Old Winchester Hill in the South Downs where we had a stunning wildlife and landscape walk. We come once a year these days to see particular butterflies and they are there because the meadow and grass here are booming with colour and life. I just simply had to take landscapes and show what I was seeing on an incredible height-of-summer day, and I simply had to show you the vibrant meadows. And this picture does this for me which is why I like it. On Sunday I produced 40 pictures so instead of tweeting them all and clogging my profile 10 of them I included exclusively in my blog as I do in such common circumstances as this now and this one was tweeted so its the first time I’ve posted it on Tumblr, as is the case for photos **, *** and ******* in this post. 

**The photo I had in mind for the post. This was whilst not the only the main butterfly we went to this place to see and did getting it as a year tick. The visit was all about this butterfly, and it couldn’t have gone better for it. Within minutes in the rich grassland we spotted this small, subtle but clearly marked butterfly and were feeling incredible. I’d seen one before this one. And then attention quickly turned to getting a picture of it with my macro lens that I use for butterflies to get closeup. I had never photographed this butterfly what I would call really well in terms of my butterfly pictures so all I wanted was something, anything, picture wise to show what it was and allow me to remember it. I was in for a real treat as I saw this one landed and as I said in my blog about the trip a week ago tonight I took little safety shots snapping it from afar in case it as it very likely could flew off. Then I was in my element as I was standing right over the butterfly, but I felt I couldn’t really get down onto it nicely without my prominent shadow scaring it off. So on a hot day I just got down on the floor and eventually almost lied there giving me the ability to move myself in the right position to take photos and get really close up to it. A marvelous thing for me and my Mum to do on the hottest of days. And I really liked this image. With my new (as of January) macro lens what it is good for it gave me I felt that quality and detail of the butterfly so much so that I compared it to my spring Green Hairstreak photo at Magdalen Hill my best butterfly picture with this new macro lens so far and one of my best ever butterfly photos. But this one also played to my senses. I think the colour of the butterfly, markings as well as the way the sun is hitting it makes it to the eyes what a sweet drink such as apple juice (a coincidence that I am drinking this as I write) does for the taste buds. It just gives me a real ripe and celebration of life feeling. And for me this is an ultimate summer image in a sense, one of my best butterfly moments of the year.

***Another of my standout landscapes from a set I was so happy with from Old Winchester Hill. What struck me when there and when reflecting of what was one of my best days of the year for wildlife and photography this week was that Old Winchester Hill is one of the most beautiful places in Hampshire. It reminded me of thinking this in the early days of us visiting here from 2009 onwards I believe before we knew what butterflies it held. The meadows are brilliant but what I like about this image is it sums up this rural beauty spot aura of Old Winchester Hill for me because what makes it that is those stunning views afar over the South Downs. I think this image shows the varied aspects of that well, but also still features a bit of the meadows that adorn and support the life of this incredible place. 

****A big theme of this week also were the autumnal leaves and other autumnal characteristics at home and further afield mostly to the backdrop of the hot and very sunny weather. I just loved photographing this, and this Tuesday shot a tree turning autumnal out the front to the backdrop of the bright blue sky is my favourite such image. I just love the glow and flavour and light it shows and it makes me appreciate it and feel very pleasant. Its the multi-colour that makes it so the fact some leaves are still the summer green adds to it well. It reminds me very much of a picture I took of some autumn leaves in August 2013 at Bath that were up against a blue sky. One of my best ever images, one that when I used to pick photos of the week and year from my photos I named my colour, water and macro (What I would go onto refer to as my minority subjects) photo of the year. It was one of my first I think real great autumn leaves photos within my standard of photos and down the years I’ve taken more and more. But nothing ever matched it for me one with the aspect of it up against the blue sky with the sun shining right on it and two with so many different coloured leaves until this one on Tuesday which made it very satisfying to take. 

*****Berries have also been a big point of my autumn sightings, perhaps my most prominent year for noticing various berries from summer into autumn this year. And I’ll never forget photographing these on Wednesday and seeing them. As I walked into the woods south of the bowl area my eyes just sailed over to this bright, prominent red on the floor. I simply had to go over and take a look, and I was thrilled to see these berries on a low plant when I did. It was a divine shade of my favourite colour red. With my macro lens on I could not resist a photo of these berries and I was pleased with how this came out. One of my most unique and memorable pictures this year I feel. It came in a strong theme of red this week, as in a lovely Facebook photo group I’m in ‘A Moment in Time’ their theme this week was photos showing red and I loved putting this and others for the walk and this week as I photographed stuff accordingly almost in for it.

******As I said a week in the season where birds are of less variety and about less I saw and photographed an increasing amount which was very pleasing supporting all the other wildlife I saw. I had many candidates for this post actually for birds. My birds of the past few weeks really have been one family, the Great Crested Grebe pair with their three adorable chicks at Lakeside Country Park beside where we live. I have had multiple goes at taking photos of them now, charting their journey so far and slight growth. I have always loved seeing this species one of my favourite birds here what a key moment in my whole birding and wildlife journey seeing them here for the first time aged 10 was. But its perhaps only the situation we’re in that I’ve been able to come over here so often to follow them this year that I’ve really connected to the family and I feel so lucky and amazed to have them so close. This photo I enjoyed taking. It was nice to watch the chicks in the binoculars and so close I could see them with my naked eye and see the adult coming in with a fish looking great on its own. I then got the camera ready and waited to pick the right moment to snap as their beaks came together and I just about managed it with the fish shown. Something I’d not always managed to time right these past few weeks with either my DSLR or bridge camera. I find this image interesting and pleasant to look back on. Like the autumn leaves it made me reminiscent of a past photo a 2015 shot of a Coot putting food into its chick’s beak at RSPB Radipole Lake which my Mum ended up printing on a mug for me as a present. So very pleasant memories. 

*******Finally one taken too late on Friday evening to appear in the blog then so another Tumblr exclusive now. A massive theme this hot week with evenings drawing in so with windows being left open and light glaring out in a good time of year for it anyway was that many moths have come into our house and I’ve photographed most with my macro lens. This was the peak moment, with four in the living room this Heart and Dart, a new moth for us paraded nicely around and landed right behind the telly. I got my macro lens and managed this picture. What I liked about it was that macro quality again I feel for me. Its one of my best moth photos this year and ever I think. I didn’t just compare it to my favourite moth pictures with this lens so far this year, but the butterflies too. The moth interest is a side interest coming alongside the butterflies over this past decade but I photograph butterflies more so my butterfly pictures are generally better. In the end it didn’t quite compare to the Green Hairstreak and co or even my Scarlet Tiger moth at West Wood in July as the light in our house is no match for the natural sunlight. But in order to make this picture, I think it came close. 

I hope for another great week ahead even if the weather has now changed and I wish you all the same. I am sorry my social profiles have been so packed this week! But thank you so much for your wonderful continued support again. This week certainly brings a build up to excitement in a very summery way for me, as instead of the Bird Fair that we would in every year since 2007 be heading to the brilliant Rutland Water we are using the Friday and next Monday I have off to go to Devon in the hope of seeing a Dipper and whatever else. I am looking forward to hopefully seeing some of the virtual Bird Fair though browsing through the events made me nostalgic of all the usual feelings I get when planning our days at the fair in a normal year. 

I am of course happy that the Bird Fair was cancelled this year it was the right thing to do in light of the Covid-19 pandemic and it simply would not have been safe to hold it especially given its international scope and it was an informed, correct, timely and sensitive call from the organisers. I hope the virtual events raises as much for the fundraising of the valuable projects it supports for Bird Life International. Whilst away in Devon I have no idea if they’ll be wi-fi or how good it will be in the cottage we’re staying in so I may have to post photos and blogs when home. I am excited to go to another part of the country I hold very dear. The Dipper would have been a target in our postponed June North Wales holiday so its very much a nice option of somewhere to perhaps try and salvage something to enjoy this lovely long weekend we have ahead once I get to Thursday. I hope you all stay safe and enjoy the next week.

[ezilyamuzed]

Ten Years Gone- The Beginning

Description: Ten years ago, your world had changed. Ten years ago, you had met him, leading your life to never be the same again. Time is running out, but is it too late after all these years?

Word Count: 7775

Warnings: Language, Parent’s death, PG teen “cuddle” time. 

A/N: This is the prelude of a new series. I was listening to Led Zeppelin's ‘Ten Years Gone’ while watching the early episodes of Supernatural and got some ideas... Enjoy. 

Any grammatical mistakes are all my own, because I am human. Remember all comments and feedback are welcomed! If you want a tag in future posts regarding this series or other writings please send an ask! As always thank you for reading! Enjoy!   

TEN YEARS GONE MASTERLIST

*Picture and lyrics used are not mine. Led Zeppelin is Amazing.

Changes fill my time, baby, that's alright with me In the midst I think of you, and how it used to be

Your legs were sprawled out along the back seat of your uncle’s ‘70 Chevelle as you hummed along to the guitar rhythm and stared out the window. The trees and scenery were whooshing past in a blink of an eye, but it all looked pretty much the same no matter where you were. The autumn quickly changing the leaves that were now falling to the ground. Trees, trees, dirt, and grass. Hey a rock. Sometimes you turned your sight seeing into a game to see how long you could stare out without blinking before you either got dizzy or your eyes dried out. Your record was to the second chorus of The Steve Miller Band’s “The Joker”. 

“We almost there? I gotta piss,” you whined up to the front. 

Your uncle Danny let out a laugh as he turned his head to the rear-view mirror to see your turnt up nose. 

“We’re about 5 minutes away. You can hold it until then. If not, I’m sure there is a bottle or something back there.”

Although he was not longer looking you still give him an evil glare in response.

“You know it doesn’t work like that Uncle Danny.”

“Well if you’re going to keep talking like a rude little boy instead of the proper lady like I know your momma raised you to be, I’m going to keep treating you like it,” he replied back, turning the radio down as he spoke.

“She tried. It didn’t stick,” you rolled your eyes in a humph.

“If only she could see you now. Hell, 14, starting up high school…”

“Yeah, how many schools will I go to this year? The standard 4 minimum?” you added with sarcasm.

“One, smartass,” you could see him smiling as he looked to you in the rear view mirror. “I’ve worked out a deal with a buddy of mine while I go on a business trip.”

“Ya hunting plants, fruits, vegetables, or minerals this time?” You laughed at your own dumb joke.

“Don’t you worry about that missy,” he replied. “You just keep your head while I’m gone. No getting into trouble.”

“Who ya dropping me off with anyways? They in the business too,” you asked while making air quotes. 

“Yeah, but recently he has stepped back a little. Actually, he’s been watching two teenage boys around your age while their dad also goes out on the road,” he replied before looking back to you again in the mirror. “And I don’t want to hear about you getting into no trouble with those or any other boys. Ya hear me?”

“Ew, no,” you face twisting in disgust.

“Yeah, you say that now. Soon enough though, you’ll be just like the rest of us and find that special someone that turns ya all stupid enough to want to spend the rest of your life with em.” 

You rolled your eyes again as you slumped back further into the seat, keeping you eyes on the road signs as the passed by. Sioux Falls, North Dakota 10 miles ahead. Ten more miles until you can finally stretch out properly. Ten more miles until you might get to sleep in real bed, in a real house, something you hadn’t done for almost three years.

It had been an unusually warm fall that year. With your birthday approaching, your mom and dad were busy setting up everything for your party. Uncle Danny had taken you out to pick out whatever gift you wanted- a butterfly knife with dusty rose handles. He of course argued with you, but with his vast collection of knives that you had always admired, he agreed as long as it stayed a secret between the two of you. He even had an interesting symbol etched into the blade. It was a little star that looked like flames were coming out of every corner. He said it was extra protection, whatever that had meant. After grabbing ice cream he had driven you home, only too see the door wide open with no answer. He told you to stay in the car, but of course after a few minutes you stopped listening. It was your home. Why would you have to wait outside? That’s when you saw what he wanted to protect you from. Both of your parents, ripped to shreds by what looked like an animal. There was no animal in sight though. You don’t even remember exactly what else happened that day. There were sirens and people in uniforms everywhere. Neighbors of course being nosy and gawking at the scene. What you remembered was your Uncle Danny holding you close and telling you that everything would be okay. And you believed him.

Up until now, he had tried his best to juggle everything- his job and raising you were not easy tasks. You got into fights in school quite a bit, but with the fact that you were leaving it in a week or so to go to another, who really cared? There were nights when you were all alone, waiting patiently for him to return, always wondering in that back of your mind if this was the time you’d lose him too. He always came back though, a little beaten a bruised perhaps, but always with a smile. 

Eventually he finally told you where he was going during all of his trips. Fighting ghosts and other monsters sounded ridiculous to you, but eventually you realized he wasn’t kidding. He was a hunter- he saved people. And that made him that so much cooler. Over the summer he had started teaching you how to shoot and what things to look for. You had already became really good with a knife, learning little tricks and that with the one he had bought you. He had an old notebook that was filled with drawings and descriptions that you tried to memorize, the ink wearing away with each use. You asked if you could join and help on a case, but he would always tell you that it was no place for a kid to be which was complete bullshit. You could handle yourself. You weren’t scared. But with all your protests, he would not budge, thus bringing you to here.

“About 5 more minutes until we’re at Bobby’s,” he stated while turning left down the road. “Hold on to your bladder just a little longer.”

You re-positioned yourself to stare out the window to see if anything was at least interesting around this guy’s house. Nope. Trees, fields, and a couple houses every once in a while. Great - middle of fucking nowhere U.S.A.  You caught the sight of what looked like the after effects of a tornado. Cars and junk everywhere with a little house in the back. 

“Welcome to Singer Salvage yard.”

“You gotta be fucking kidding me,” you moaned.

“Hey, language.”

“Sorry,” you muttered before speaking up again. “But seriously, you are LITERALLY leaving me in a garbage dump. What the hell am I supposed to do here? Get tetanus?”

“No, you’re going to get an education and have a normal childhood,” his voice sounded angry. “Now I know it’s not pretty, but Bobby is a good friend. He will watch out for you and make sure you have everything you need.”

“I’m going to need a bath,” you mumbled under your breath.

When the car finally came to a complete stop and the dust from the ground settled you were able to get a better view of the place. It was alright, probably looked better on the inside. Well, at least you hoped. Still a shithole. There was another chevelle parked alongside it that was just like your uncles, but more on the run down side. Next to it, a sleek black Impala. That was probably Bobby’s car. Hunters always have a thing for muscle cars. Sturdy, reliable, fast, or “American made” as your uncle liked to state. Whatever the reason, they were nice to look at. 

Two men walked out of the house with solemn looks on their faces with two teenage boys trailing behind. You followed your uncle's lead and climbed out of the car to the fresh air. 

“Danny, it’s been a long time,” the dark haired man with a gruff voice stated while extending his hand for a shake.

“ Way too long Johnny,” he replied while shaking his hand before moving to the bearded guy with a baseball cap. “Bobby, thanks for doing this.”

“It’s no trouble at all. There’s already two hellions, what’s another?” He chuckled as he looked over at you staring down to the ground, pushing your chucks into the dirt. “You must be Y/N.”

“Yes sir,” you replied with a tight lipped smile. 

“This is my boy Dean, he’s just a little older than you and my boy Sam who is just a bit younger,” John stated, while guiding the boys closer with his arm, although they clearly could care less.

“Dean, could you and Sam help Y/N inside?” Danny spoke up. “I know I’ve been making her wait to use the restroom, so I’m sure she’ll be grateful to know where it is.”

Dean nodded his head and grabbed at your two bags in the backseat before walking past you to go inside. Sam following. You rolled your eyes to your uncle and trailed behind to your new life- at least for now. 

You were wrong about it possibly being better on the inside. Nope, it was a shithole too that was covered with books and empty liquor bottles. The decor covered by a pound of dust and cobwebs resembled something like a real house, something someone used to care about. 

“Toilets over there,” Dean nodded down the hall while tossing your bags down before he flopped himself on the couch.

“Thanks,” you mumbled as you walked down the hall.

Surprisingly the toilet was at least semi clean, although there was enough hair trimmings in the sink to resemble a small animal.

After finishing in the bathroom you walked out to the living room area. Dean was sprawled out on the couch with a comic book and Sam was sitting on the floor next to him with an old worn down book. Out of place and unwelcomed were the nice ways of saying how you felt at that moment. After grabbing your book bag, you sat down at the kitchen table all alone, not knowing what else to do, but to stare at the walls.

“You boys helped Y/N find her way,” you heard your uncle's voice say as he entered the room.

Dean nodded as he turned the page on his book. Sam looked back at him, following his queue. Your uncle approached you, sitting himself down at the seat next to yours.

“See, it’s not that bad, right kiddo?”

Even though your head was down, you looked up to him through your lashes, rolling your eyes just a little towards the two boys.

“You’ll be fine,” he smiled. “Just give it a little bit and I’m sure you will all be getting along just fine when I come back.”. 

“How long?” You asked although you could guess the answer already.

“Not sure kiddo,” he grabbed your hand and held it gently. “But I’m going to call every Sunday night after dinner time to check in on you. Okay?”

“Okay,” you nodded before wrapping your arms tightly around his neck. “Just come back to me okay Uncle Danny?”

“You be good Y/N;” he said as he returned your hug back before standing up again. “I’ll see you soon kiddo.”

He never promised that he would come back. It was a promise that he couldn’t make. He knew it and you knew. He always said that he would never make a promise to you that he couldn’t keep. That didn’t make it hurt any less.

You watched as he shook Bobby’s hand by the front door, turning to give you a loving smile before leaving out the door to go to the next job that awaited him.

“So, how about you boys actually show Y/N where her room is.” Bobby stated firmly, causing Dean to roll his eyes as he slapped the comic book shut. “You two know how it goes around here. We’re not savages. Now get going.”

“Yes sir,” the two of them mumbled as they got up from their spots. 

Both boys each grabbed one of your bags, still not saying anything really directly to you as they walked up the stairs. Bobby was standing with his arms crossed watching them closely as you followed behind them. 

“This one is where Bobby sleeps,” Sam informed you while pointing to a door. Dean and I are in this one, and you’re the last one down the hall.”

“Yeah, lucky you,” Dean scoffed. “You get your own room.”

“Lucky me,” you stated back with sarcasm. “I get to live here with you.”

Dean turned his head to you with a glare before he opened the door and switched on the light. It was a simple room, surprisingly organized and clean. It was almost like someone had cleaned it recently. 

“This was Dean’s room,” Sam informed you, making you feel a little guilty about displacing him. It wasn’t like this was your choice though.

Dean tossed the bag he was carrying down onto the bed with a thud. Sam chose to use the gentler approach of setting the bag he was carrying on a chair in the corner.

“So what’s your story,” Dean asked as he sat down on the corner of the bed.

You shrugged, as you moved through the room, checking out the view from the window. 

“You travel with your uncle,” Dean stated. “So where’s your parents?”

You turned and looked back to him silently, not really wanting to talk about the tragic backstory of your life.

“Okay, don't talk to us then,” Dean rolled his eyes as he stood up. 

“Dead.”

He paused in his steps and turned to look at you, mouth agape. You returned to look out the window again before continuing, hoping you would see your uncles car any moment again to take you with him.

“It’s just me and Danny;” you continued as you looked over to them. “So what’s your story?”

“Mom’s been gone a long time and dad is in the business,” he stated with some sort of pride. “The family business.”

“Doesn’t a family business typically mean that more than one member of your family is doing it?” You snarked back.

“I’ve gone out on hunts before,” he stated in defense. “I’ve seen a ghost before.”

“Good for you,” you rolled your eyes again. “So why did he leave the two of you here then.”

“Dean got in some trouble on his last hunt,” Sam spoke up. 

“What, did you act like an ass to the monster too?” You smirked to Dean.

“That’s a long story,” he said as he started rubbing the back of his neck. “So how long are you here for?”

“Who knows?” You responded. “Hopefully just a few days, maybe weeks.”

“And you’re like what 13?”

“Fourteen,” you corrected him. “I’ll be fifteen-.”

You stopped yourself short, not wanting to discuss or even think about the fact that you had a birth date like everyone else. It was a day you’d rather forget. You finished your sentence with the word “soon” popping off your lips.

“Are you going to be going to the high school with Dean then?” Sam asked. 

“I guess so,” you shrugged. “So What is there to do around here anyways?”

“Read,” Sam replied with innocence, Dean rolling his eyes in response.

“There ain’t much to do, but there’s always something you can find to at least pass the time.”

“Like what?” You asked. 

Dean laughed while nodding outside.

“Well, you like cars?” He asked as you gave him a side eyed glance. “We got tons of em out there.”

“What do you do? Try to fix em up or something?”

Dean shrugged as you all heard Bobby yelling up the stairs to start getting ready for dinner. 

“Don’t keep him waiting,” Sam said as he walked out the door.

“Is Bobby strict?” You asked Dean who was still standing there, waiting for you to go downstairs as well.

“He’s alright, can be strict at times,” he replied back. “He does his best to make sure that we have some sort of normal in our lives.”

“What’s normal?” You rolled your eyes. “Being dropped off with some strange dude in a shit hole.”

“Give it time,” Dean laughed. “It’s not that bad. It’s better than staying in a crumby motel every night alone. ”

You paused your steps to the door as you heard those words leaving his lips. Motel and alone. Well that summed up the last three years of your life. Guess you did have more in common with these two boys besides being dumped off. If they could handle it, maybe it wasn’t going to be that bad after all.

The next couple weeks weren’t that bad. You had started high school with Dean showing you around. The fact that he became somewhat protective of you was probably why you didn’t seem to have any trouble with the other kids. The boys seemed to be scared of him, and the girls seemed to be in love with him. Each Sunday as promised your uncle would call to check in, consistently avoiding the topic of when he would be coming back. It was alright though. You had become so busy with your school work and hanging out with the boys that you didn’t mind it so much. Bobby’s house was slowly becoming your home.

“So to find the slope, you take the difference from the two Y points and divide by the two corresponding X points,” you stated to Dean as the two of you sat at the kitchen table.

“Why do I even care?” He grumbled.

“Well, slopes give you an idea of the rate of acceleration. Like in a car,” you stated. “Say you know that if you start at the end of the driveway and move to the other end in 60 seconds, you can determine how fast you were going.”

“Or I could just look at the speedometer,” he grinned. 

“Smartass,” you laughed as you shoved his arm. “Okay, so you see a Rugalu, and they move from point A to point B in so many seconds. How fast do you have to move your ass to get the hell out of there?” 

“Who says I wouldn’t stay to fight?”

You rolled your eyes to him again. Clearly at this point he was just being a smartass. 

“Fine, you don’t run away. So how much faster do you have to be to gank him then Winchester?” You asked with a cocky smile.

“Just got to be faster,” he replied. “Who cares how fast?”

“Well, let me give you a little insight into physics and biology. You expel more than enough energy for a task, you deplete your energy storage. Making it easy for the other Rugulu to take you down.”

“Okay, point taken,” he laughed. “Math is important. So how did you become so smart in this shit anyways?”

“My dad was a science professor,” you shrugged, before realizing that you had mentioned him for probably the first time ever to Dean besides the fact that he was dead.

“And your mom?” Dean prodded a little further. 

“History professor,” you replied while taking in a deep breath. “Guess it just rubbed off on me. Anyways, do you get it now?”

“Oh, I got it about a minute after you decided to try and help me,” he smiled. “I just wanted to see how far I could get you frustrated before you gave up.”

You smacked him lightly on his arm as he laughed in response.

“You’re a dick,” you laughed. “Why did you want to see me get frustrated?”

“Because I think it’s awesome that even when you don’t know how to help someone, it gets to you so much that you don’t quit,” he smiled. “That and when you realize that you did in fact help someone, your eyes kind of light up a little. You’re a good person Y/N.”

The way that Dean was looking at you as he spoke was so genuine; no one besides family had ever done that before. It made you feel something at that moment. What it was, you weren’t sure. You bit your lip nervously as he leaned over, pulling his text book back over to him. 

“So question 4, find the y-intercept,” he read from the pages.

“You helping Dean with homework there Y/N?” Bobby stated as he entered the room with Sam, both carrying bags of groceries that could probably feed a small army. Or in this case, the Winchester boys for a weekend. 

“Just making sure he gets it,” you smiled back while standing up to help them put the groceries away.

Peering into the bags, there was an item that you had told Bobby in secret that you needed that you didn’t see. He had either forgotten, or was too embarrassed to pick it up. 

“Um, Bobby,” you muttered. “Ya forgot something.”

He looked at you with furrowed brows until it dawned on him. He mumbled ‘crap’ under his breath before exhaling loudly.

“I suppose you need ‘em soon,” he sighed, you nodding in response. He looked over at Dean finishing the last question of his homework and closing the book. “Dean, take Y/N and my car to the little corner store. Be back in twenty for dinner.”

Dean squinted his eyes in confusion as he grabbed the keys from Bobby. You rolling your own eyes that now Dean was going to be very well aware of the gross part about being a girl: your period. 

You trailed behind Dean after Bobby handed you some cash, muttering an apology as you walked away. In less than 3 minutes, with Dean obviously ignoring anything that resembled a speed limit sign you were at the store.

“So what did you need? Make-up, hair stuff?,” he inquired as he followed you in, making you give him a funny look. “Didn’t know if all of the sudden you were trying to look like those other girls in the school.”

“I’d rather live forever in my comfy jeans and t-shirts then to ever be like them,” you snarked back, as you approached the feminine section.

Dean’s eyes followed where yours went, staring at the boxes of tampons with little flowers printed on them. It was not something he knew a lot about, but he knew enough. He reached over and grabbed a box, staring at the packaging.

“I don’t know why they try to make it all fancy,” he pondered out loud. “I mean, a girl can bleed for a few days and still kick your ass. They should have something more fierce on the box. Like a warrior princess.”

You shook your head with a laugh, catching on that Dean was trying to make this would be awkward situation into a joke. 

“My dad used to say that they used these for bullet holes,” he stated while grabbing two more boxes. “We should probably stock up knowing our luck. Who knows, maybe I’ll need some.”

Your laughter died down as you followed Dean to the register when you saw a group of guys looking and nodding over to the two of you with smirks.

“Looks like Winchester isn’t getting laid this week,” the one stated out loud. “Unless he’s into walking the red carpet.”

Johsua Adams. A notorious prick that thought he was God’s gift to women. First day at school and he had already tried, and failed, to have you,the new girl cozy, up behind the bleachers with him.  Dean just sat the products down on the counter, clenching his jaw as he turned to him with a grin.

“No, that’s what your girlfriend is for.”

Josh’s smile faded quickly, his face hardened now approaching Dean rapidly with you standing next to him. You felt Dean’s arm push you back by your waist, surprising you for a second until you saw what happened next. Josh yelled a ‘fuck you’ as he swung his fist towards Dean’s face, Dean almost effortlessly caught him by the wrist and twisted his arm behind his back.

“Now you’re going apologize for your remarks and you're going to go back to your little circle jerk,” he seethed, holding him steady as he tried to break free. 

Josh’s friends all moved from their spot, clearly pissed off that their friend was being hurt. Dean shook his head stating ‘uh huh’ as he twisted Josh's arm more to make him yell out. 

“Now I’m going to let you go,” Dean instructed the Josh in his ear, loud enough for everyone to hear. “And you all are going to leave me and my friend alone, or next time I won’t be so nice.”

Josh nodded his head, giving Dean the queue that he was going to comply. His friends all stared the two of you down hard with anger as they walked out of the store. You had almost forgotten the fact that you were in a store until you heard the onlooking cashier behind you.

“Your boyfriend there is a good guy,” she stated. “Those boys are nothing but trouble. It was about time someone showed them their place.”

You didn’t argue what she had called him: your boyfriend. Definitely not. Probably not ever. But she was right, he was a good guy. You handed her the money as you lead the way out the door to Bobby’s car. The two of you opening the doors and setting yourself in. 

“Where did you learn how to do that?” You asked with enthusiasm, the whole act was something you had only seen in the movies.

“My dad,” Dean replied. “And Bobby a little. Why?”

“Teach me,” you said as your turned your body to him with intrigue in your eyes.

“What?” Dean exhaled audibly. “Why?”

“You really have to ask?,” you sounding surprised. “Come on Dean! There are tons of assholes out there like that, plus knowing how to take care of myself would definitely help with, you know...those other things that we aren’t supposed to talk about.”

“There is no way in hell I’m teaching you any of that,” he looked at you directly with seriousness on his face. “You haven’t had to know what it’s like to fight for your life; you’re lucky and blessed. And I will be dammed if I ever let you get mixed up in that shit.”

“It’s not like I’m not already mixed up in it Dean! Something supernatural killed my parents. Hell, I’m being raised by hunters! Do you really think I will ever just get on with my life and not have that following me?”

Dean growled lowly, as he shook his head. 

“Fine,” he stated as he turned the key in the ignition to bring the engine to life. “But this is between us. If Bobby knew, he’d kill me.”

“I promise.”

“And leave Sam out of it too. That kid is going to be a doctor or lawyer someday.”

“No problem,” you agreed. “Thanks Dean, for you know, what happened in there.”

“ Anytime,” he said as he pulled out of the spot and drove down the road. “He had it coming to him anyway.”

“And I know why you’re scared to teach me how to fight Dean.”

He glanced over at you with confusion, making you smirk in return.

“Because you know I’ll be able to kick your ass,” you replied with snark. 

“Oh darlin,” he shook his head with a laugh. “You haven’t seen anything yet.” 

The next week, Dean and you had figured out a routine on when he was able to teach you. Most of the time it was right after dinner when Sam would be caught up in a book and Bobby would pass out drunk at his desk.

The garage light was enough for you to see what you were doing, and far enough away from the house so they couldn’t hear you.

“Okay, so again,” Dean stated, making you follow his directions in the sequence as he rattled them off. “Left punch, right punch, left uppercut, and a right hook.”

You did as you were told, until he stated to go faster, and then faster again. Dean shook his head in disapproval as he watched. 

“You’re locking your arms too much,” he said as he gripped your right elbow. “You’re going to break something of yours, not theirs.”

His hands moved to reposition your arm, tickling a little as he touched your skin; making you flinch back with a giggle.

“Ticklish huh?” Dean smirked as his eyes grew wide.

“You wouldn’t dare,” you laughed, as you noticed the devilish look in his eyes. 

He reached over as you tried to move out of the way, and furiously tickled you all over in an instant. Your laughter echoed through the room as you tried to get away, but he was not stopping.

“Stop Dean! Stop,” you gasped out in between your laughter, tears now rolling down you eyes. “I’m going to piss myself!”

He continued with his own laughter as you twisted yourself and started to fumble backwards; grabbing onto his arms to bring him down as well as your back hit the ground. 

“Ow,” you laughed again, Dean propping himself up on his hands next to your sides, staring down with a grin. “See what you did?”

“Rule number one,” he smiled. “Know your opponents weak spots.”

“Uh huh, and where’s yours?” You smirked as you started to tickle his rib cage. 

Dean moved swiftly and pinned your hands down on the ground with a smirk. Your breath caught in the moment, with your chest rising and falling deeply to catch it. He stared down at you as you looked up to him. The feeling that arose was different, and by the looks on his face he was feeling it as well. He paused himself for a moment, before leaning down and pressing his lips onto yours gently. An act that surprised you at first, but it felt right. Your first kiss. Your first real kiss was happening with Dean on a dirty garage floor, but you didn’t care. You found yourself returning it, moving your lips along with his, opening them just a little as you felt his tongue glide across them. You didn’t really know what to do. It’s not like this was really covered in health class, but you glided your tongue with his, moving them together in sync. It felt smooth, sending a warm feeling down your body as you felt his hand now touching your face, bringing you closer and deeper into his.

“Whoa,” you heard Sam gasp aloud, causing you to both break away and look over at him in panic.

“What the hell Sam!” Dean yelled.

“So that’s what you two are doing,” Sam smiled. “You two are making out every night!”

“Get out of here Sam before I kick your ass!” Dean yelled again.

“Whatever,” Sam rolled his eyes. “Just don’t let Bobby, dad, or her uncle catch you. They just called.” They’re coming back.”

“He’s coming back?” You sat yourself up, knocking Dean back a little in your action. “When?”

“They said they’d be here after school tomorrow,” Sam answered. “So that probably means we will be moving on too.”

Dean sighed out loud and nodded as he stood up, shaking the dirt off of him before extending his hand to you to help you up. As you got up you felt the mixed feelings of dread and excitement. You were going to see your uncle again, but at the same time you were now probably going to lose Dean. You stared down to the ground as you followed the boys back into the house. Dean instructing Sam to keep his mouth shut about what he had seen. You went upstairs to your room, trying to ignore Dean’s glances as you shut the door and flopped down on the bed. The feeling of his lips still lingered on yours as you gentled touched them with your fingers. What was going to happen next?

You awoke from your deep sleep as you heard the sound of your door opening. Glancing at the clock it was just a little after midnight. You sat up and turned to see Dean walking in with a solemn look on his face. 

“Hey, didn’t mean to wake you,” he apologized.

“Yes you did,” you smiled in the dark room, the only light peaking through the curtains from the moon outside. 

“I just thought, since tomorrow we might be parting ways, maybe we should talk about what happened?” He nervously replied.

You nodded as he sat down on the edge of your bed, you sitting up straighter and pulling the covers up to your chest. You could see the hesitation in his face, unsure of what exactly to say. The silence was lingering, only growing with anticipation of what he was about to say fiercely within you. 

“I’m sorry Y/N,” he whispered. “I shouldn’t have kissed you like that.”

 You were confused for a moment, but you laid your hand on top of his in reassurance.

“Hey, it’s alright,” you replied softly. “It was nice. Unexpected of course, but I don’t regret it.”

“I’ve just, I don’t know,” he paused again. “I just was trying to keep you away from knowing how I felt about you.”

“How do you feel about me?”

“I like you Y/N,” he confessed as he looked at you. “I mean, it's hard not to. You’re someone who genuinely cares about people, and I didn’t want you to get hurt when I had to leave again.”

“What makes you so sure that you will have to leave?” you asked. “I mean, maybe they’ll let us stay here for a little longer.”

“Doubt it,” he sighed. “You don’t know my dad. He won’t care. The only thing that matters to him is taking care of Sam and finding what killed my mom.”

“But what about you Dean? I’m sure he cares about you.”

Dean shook his head, you catching the sight of a lingering tear fall down his face. 

“I was happy once before, not too long ago. I had a semi normal life away from them with someone I cared about, but he didn’t care and I couldn’t leave Sammy.”

“Dean,” you found yourself reaching for his face to look at you. You searched in his face to find whatever guilt he was holding back. “Tell me what happened.”

He sighed again as you dropped your hand down. His eyes searching for an easy way to tell you, possibly scared at your reaction.

“You know how Sam told you I had screwed up on a hunt? Well that isn’t true. I got myself in trouble and found myself at a boy’s reforming home. I got to go to school, do normal teenage things, and I had met someone there that I think I might have loved.”

You just found yourself nodding, although the last part hurt just a little, but you could tell it was still something he was still hurting from. 

“Anyways, my dad showed up after months even though he knew where I was the whole time and made me come back. He was angry and wouldn’t take no for an answer. Then of course I thought of Sam. I’ve been protecting that kid my whole life. I couldn’t walk away from him.”

“I understand,” you whispered. “But Dean, you do know that you can be happy again. No one knows what tomorrow will bring.” 

“How is it that you always know the right thing to say?” he chuckled softly.

“Because I’m awesome,” you smirked back with a soft laugh. 

“Yeah, well I’m going to get back to my room before Sammy realizes that I’ve left,” he said as he started to get up, but you grabbed his hand to stop him.

“If this is really possibly the last night I get to see you, I don’t want you to go,” you confessed as you let your grip fall. “I don’t know exactly whatever it was that I felt earlier, but I don’t want to give it up yet.”

Dean looked deeply into your eyes as he moved to crawl under the covers with your assistance of pushing them back to allow him access. He laid his head down on the pillow next to you, gazing at you, moving the hair out of your face as you mirrored him. You nuzzled your face into his hand as he cupped your cheek. He was hesitant, but you moved your face closer to his. Biting your lip a little before you leaned in and felt his soft, full lips on yours once again. He followed your lead and before you knew it, you felt the same warmth as you did before now hitting harder as your lips moved together by the light of the moon. It was a feeling you never wanted to let go of as you pushed your lips on his harder. His hands now resting on you, one holding your head steady, the other caressing your hip. It tickled a little, the way his hand touched your skin, making you moan just a little, wanting more. His lips moved from yours, trailing along your skin and down to your neck as his hand moved from your hip to your heaving chest. Through your clothes you could feel him grasping your breast gently, not wanting to be rough. You didn’t  know exactly what had pushed you in the moment, but you pulled away from him and lifted off your shirt to leave your chest expose to him. You wanted to feel his skin against yours as he watched you with wonderment in his eyes before crashing his lips against yours once more. His hands were now all over you, feeling every inch of you as you continued. His lips moving to discover new spots on your body and the pleasure-filled reactions they ensued from you. It could have been only minutes that it continued, but it felt like forever until the kisses and touches started to slow down. Dean looked into your eyes, as he pulled away with a deep breath. 

“I think I love you Y/N,” he confessed. “And I don’t want us to do anything that neither of us are ready for just because we may never see each other again.”

“I think I might love you too Dean,” you smiled back. “And I agree with the one part, but I know this; we will see each other again. When we’re both ready, perhaps a bit older, things will be different.”

“You always know just the right thing to say,” he smiled again as he pulled you into his arms to lay your head on his chest.

“Goodnight Dean,” you yawned as you nuzzled into him. 

Dean placed a kiss on top of your head, not allowing himself to fall asleep right away. He wanted to hold on to this feeling just a little longer as well because tomorrow, he knew it was all going to change. 

“Jesus fucking christ,” you heard Bobby yell out loud, snapping you awake in an instant.

Dean sprung himself up from the bed, leaving you to cover yourself up with the blanket. A look of fear and panic in his eyes.

“What the hell is going on here?” Bobby demanded. 

Dean held out his hand to try and calm him down, but it was not working.

“Bobby, it isn’t what it looks like,” Dean pleaded. “We didn’t do anything. We were just talking and I fell asleep.”

“Her shirt was off, and you just fell asleep?” Bobby looked at Dean with disappointment. “Do I look like an idjit to you? Now the two of you get dressed, in your own rooms. You have school and then your dad and your uncle will be here after.”

“You’re not going to tell them are you?” you asked in a panic. 

Bobby glared at the fear in Dean’s and your eyes as you awaited his answer.

“I’m supposed to be watching the two of you, and Dean you know better,” he glared at him hard. “I for sure ain’t saying shit to them. But you listen to me, this stops now or so help me I will kick both of your asses into next Tuesday.”

“Yes sir,” you both nodded in reply, feeling a little sense of relief. 

“Now get dressed,” Bobby stated as he walked out the door. 

You took in a deep breath and exhaled out as you turned to Dean who was almost out the door. 

“Dean?”

“You heard him, get dressed,” Dean said gruffly before walking out, shutting the door behind him. 

Dean hadn’t said anything else to you as you silently ate your breakfast and on your way to school. He was completely ignoring you now, even when you tried to speak, he chose to go the other way or say something to someone else. How he was acting was hurt, but you tried to just let it go, knowing he probably was just protecting himself and you from what awaited when you walked through the door after school. 

You saw your uncle and John sitting there waiting with Bobby. None of their faces really looked happy. 

“Dad-“ you heard Sam say as he walked in behind you.

“Time to pack your bags boys,” he instructed. “We’re moving on.”

“Yes sir,” you heard Dean state as he started for the stairs.

“Where are you going?” You asked out loud, making them all look at you in disbelief that you would even question what was happening. 

“Say goodbye to Sam and Dean, Y/N,” Danny stated as he stood up and gave you a small hug. “It’ll be awhile before you see them again.”

“This is bullshit,” you exclaimed. “Why do any of them, any of us have to go anywhere? What to live in the back of a car or a crappy motel, not knowing if any of you will ever come back?”

“Danny, settle down that girl there,” John advised.

“No, fuck you, ya prick,” you spat out, causing his eyes to widen in surprise. “They’re happy here, we all are. Bobby may not be our family, but he’s been here. He is at least trying to give us a normal life. Why can’t you just leave us alone?”

You felt guilty after hearing your words leave your mouth, as you looked up to your uncle. He had tried to be there, he just couldn’t. You now realized why he had brought you here in the first place. He knew he couldn’t do everything you needed. He was really trying to give you the life you deserved. 

“I’m… I’m sorry,” you cried to your uncle before you ran out the door.

You plopped yourself down on the ground, tears flowing down your face. You heard the sound of gravel moving under someone’s steps, but you didn’t flinch. 

“That was some speech you gave in there,” John’s rough voice stated as he sat himself down next to you. “I can see you’ve really become attached to my boys and this place.”

You just nodded your head, feeling anger and resentment towards the man next to you.

“Me too,” he confessed. “That’s why they’re coming with me.”

You looked at him baffled, not understanding why he was even talking to you after what you just said.

“Your uncle is a strong man. One of the best guys I’ve ever known. He is doing right by you in letting you stay. I’m not as strong,” he sighed. “I need them around. I look at them and on my weakest days I can see my Mary in their faces. It’s what keeps me going as I try to figure out what happened to her.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I feel like everything has been sugar coated for you for probably way too long,” he replied. “What happened to her, what happened to your parents, well someone has to stop it.”

“My parents…”

“We’re not sure if it’s the same thing, but we sure as hell won’t stop until we find it and kill it,” he answered back. “I know it’s a tough life for all of you kids, but you’re getting older now. You should know. Dean, he has been in this for so long, he knows what is expected. Sam, well although I’d like to keep him out of it, this has been his whole life. This is just what happens. You say your goodbyes and move on.”

“I still don’t understand.”

“You will,” he smiled. 

You both heard the door of the house swing open and shut, Dean walking out with a green duffel bag with Sam behind him. He paused as he looked at you both, unsure of what was happening. John looked over at you and Dean staring at each other, as Dean put his head down and helped Sam into the car. 

“They’ll be alright Y/N,” John stated, making you turn your head to him. “And so will you.”

He got up from his spot and brushed the dirt off of him as he walked towards his sleek black car.

“You boys all set?” He asked. 

Dean nodded as he stood there with the car door open, looking at you with sadness in his eyes. John turned to see you doing the same as he opened up the drivers door.

“Let’s get a move on it,” he said as he sat himself inside.

Dean looked down again, before looking back to you. You mouthed the word ‘goodbye’ as he nodded and got inside the car. The trail of dust they had left behind took minutes to disappear, but as it went down slowly and was gone, you knew they were now as well.

John’s words with everything that had happened replayed in your head. ‘You will’ he said, and at that moment, you hadn’t realized or known just how true that really was.

Tags: (Let me know if you don’t want added!)   @snffbeebee​ @waywardnerd67​ @waywardbaby​ @dean-winchesters-bacon​ @jaylarkson​ @ladywinchester1967​ @wildefire​ @i-hear-crazy-calling-my-name @hobby27​ @iamabeautifulperson18​ @19agbrown​ @sonotalice​ @drakelover78​ @aloneanddesperate​ @pisces-cutie​ @biawol​ @jamielea81​ @fallininjapan​ @justkending​

[la-fille-en-aiguilles]

The Beautiful & Damned (1/7)

Female Reader x Young!Remus Lupin | Female Reader x Young!Sirius Black

Chapter 1 : The Golden Couple 

A/N: Those who have been following my chaotic writing for a while (a massive shoutout to you, beautiful people) know that I am an incoherent little shit, and for that, I truly apologise. I’m only starting to figure out my writing habits, and it turns out they’re more a “spur of a moment” kind of stories. In short, if I have an idea, I better type away before I get another one and move on.  This was originally planned to be a 7-part story (which is huge for me), and I promise I’ll keep them chapters coming as long as there are readers. Also, I absolutely love talking to people, not only about writing in general but also about the way they see the characters (in this case, the Marauders), so please feel free to hit up my inbox if you want to share anything at all. Also, the feedback is always appreciated. 

I truly hope you enjoy! 

During days like this, the Great Hall seemed to have a life of its own: laughter, exaggerated whispers and the clinging of forks against the fine porcelain echoed in its walls, giving the place a voice, vivacious and cheerful banter. The ceiling turned into a clear blue sky today, not a cloud in sight but infinite azure. Late October chill was kept at bay by the thick stain-glass windows while students were enjoying their Friday lunch and hot apple cider. 

You always thought lazy autumn days in Hogwarts were the best.

As you walked into the main gathering area, your heels clicking on the centuries old floors, you immediately felt the vagabond stares of the students settle on your frame. You weren’t particularly dressed up – for you, the weekend had started early – but no loose sweater and jeans could hide your delicious curves and legs that went on for days. Ignoring the feeling of being gazed at, you walked on, your eyes drifting around in search for your friends. Soft smile bloomed on your lips as you spotted Lily, Marlene and the incomplete Marauder gang at their usual spot. 

Throwing your long, thick hair out of your face and letting it fall in loose curls down your back, you strutted confidently to the Gryffindor table. Remus Lupin was the first to notice you. The corners of his lips curled upwards as he paused his mindless activity of cutting a toast for a moment. Noticing Moony’s stare, James turned his head in your direction, instantly beaming at you. 

“If that isn’t our Siren”, he spoke, as you approached the table. “You’re up early, considering the state in which Padfoot finally decided to show his dogface at four in the morning...”

“Oh stuff it Potter”, you chuckled, leaning over the table between him and Remus, reaching for the green grapes on Lupin’s plate. 

Popping one into your mouth, you shamelessly wiggled your way in between them as James groaned in protest. Remus gave you a chiding stare, but his bright hazel eyes were smiling. 

You bit your bottom lip innocently, slowly reaching for another grape. Young Lupin shook his head helplessly, pushing his plate towards you, inviting you to share his meal. You full-on grinned at him as you tousled his unruly hair with your fingers, quite relishing the silky feeling under your fingertips. 

“Just so I am mentally prepared,” Remus took a pitcher with the hot apple cider and served you a glass before filling his own. “For how much longer are you going to steal my food, Y/N?” he turned his upper body in your direction, his chest almost touching your shoulder. The veil of sleep still clouded his radiating eyes, framed with impossibly long eyelashes. You studied the hues of colour in his irises for a millisecond, not sure which shade dominated them all. 

Winking at him mischievously, you made a show of dipping one of your fingers into his chocolate cream desert. Once he sighed and shook his head again, you quickly licked the sticky sweetness off your skin. 

“For as long as you are going to have food, Rem, obviously”, you happily told him, taking the glass of cider he offered you. Gulping it down rather hastily, you switched your attention to Lily, Marlene and James, arguing about something quite animatedly.

“...For the last time, Potter,” Marlene gave James a poignant look, barely content with whatever he had proposed. “We can’t just show up at the Ravenclaw common room and pretend we’ve been invited! Especially after that prank you pulled last week!”

James looked both desperate and amused. For those who knew him, really knew him, it was clear that he either argued for the sake of arguing, not being all that interested in breaking into Ravenclaw’s quarters, or he stubbornly refused to let it go because the girl he was so madly in love with was watching his little performance. 

“Okay first of all, that trap wasn’t meant for that moron of a Ravenclaw prefect. Second of all, it wasn’t all that bad!” James defended all the more ardently, seeing Marlene roll her eyes. He switched his glance to Lily – the redhead didn’t look particularly convinced by his monologue either. “So what he spent hanging head down for a couple of hours? Didn’t kill him, right?” he searched for Moony’s eyes, begging for a word of support, after finding none in Marlene’s stern features and Lily’s judging bright green eyes. 

Remus gave Potter a sympathetic look, that of a person who wants to help but truly doesn’t know how. Still, the reassurance in his kind orbs gave James an illusion of hope. 

Until Lupin spoke, that is. 

“Right, Prongs. I don’t understand either, why would one be so royally pissed off after hanging a couple of them hours head down from the Astronomy Tower?” Remus feigned confusion, shrugging his shoulders. “And how dare he stutter now?”  

James threw both of his hands in the air – a confused and desperate gesture - looking at his pranking companion, whose idea the whole thing was to begin with. Getting no reaction from Moony, who remained utterly unfazed, James hid his eyes in a facepalm that came from the heart. 

You tried desperately not to burst out laughing as you watched the entire happening. Remus winking at you once he knew Prongs wasn’t watching was the last drop. Throwing your head back, you let out a loud laugh. 

That would have probably made everyone turn their attention to you, if they hadn’t been following your every move already, from the moment you walked in. 

Regaining your breath, you bit you lip, mindlessly resting your head on Moony’s shoulder. For a moment there, you could swear you felt him stiffen, but the sensation was so short-lived, you might have imagined it. 

Meanwhile, James mumbled something about Remus being a traitor before turning away dramatically and stuffing his mouth full of fried eggs. 

���I honestly don’t even like that Prefect McGillan,” Lily suddenly stated. “He’s a snob and an arrogant know-it-all”, she stole a quick glance at the back of James’ head, thinking nobody would notice. “And maybe he deserved a small knock off his pedestal...”

“Lily Evans!...” Both you and Remus gasped in unison, all smiles now. Hearing the other’s voice, you exchanged mischievous glances, your eyes sparkling with secret knowledge. “Are you saying James here did something right for once?” Moony suggested, giving you a quick wink. 

“Godric no!” the redhead blurted out immediately, her cheeks turning a lovely shade of pink. “No one deserves to be treated like that... It’s just… I guess it must be true then. Karma works in its mysterious ways...”

Remus threw you a meaningful glance, and you bit hard on your bottom lip, fighting to hide an emerging smile. You could bet ten galleons Potter was beaming like an idiot that very second and would tell and re-tell Lily’s reaction to Padfoot once that last had finished nursing his head-splitting hangover.

“Well I work in my own mysterious ways, as well” you chirped, taking a sip of your hot cider - Remus must have served you another glass without you noticing, “And my name ain’t Karma”.

Everyone’s eyes were on you now, even James turned back to face you with an expectant stare.

“Pads and I are both invited to that party”, you simply confined, “I don’t see why we cannot bring plus... four?” 

Prongs threw his head back, puffing his lips at your last words (“Brilliant!”); Remus just kept looking at you, with what you could only pin down as admiration lighting up his face. 

“So that’s settled then,” with a wide smile, Marlene served herself a spoonful of strawberries. “With you and Black being the guests of honour, no one will ever dream of kicking us out.”

You rolled your eyes, small grin still ghosting over your lips. 

“Please,” you said, stuffing two more grapes into your mouth. “They just want a couple of bottles of firewhisky, and they think Sirius and I are the only ones who know where to get some.”

Watching you smile at some stupid-ass comment James threw your way, and laugh out loud at his face after a witty comeback you shot at him, all that Remus could think about was no. No, oh Godric no, you were so wrong, and so oblivious. Firewhisky wasn’t the reason everyone wanted you to sit next to them during every Quidditch game. Or dance along them on the makeshift dancefloor. Or walk by their side on your trip to Hogsmeade. It was so much simpler than that. It was you. You and your magnetic, celestial kind of beauty. Divine. That’s the first word that came to mind when people first saw you. 

Your beauty was the power that could fix everything that was wrong with the world, but Sweet Merlin, was it merciless. You were dazzling, and it was an agony to comprehend your exquisiteness in a glance. With eyes that held captive for eternity, with smell so enthralling it drove insane, with legs that wizards ought to write books about, your presence in a room promised so much, yet allowed for so little. 

A queen with a little bit of savage. That’s who you were. Queen, building a kingdom worthy of her magnificence, with a king to match. You and Sirius mingled well indeed – an exquisite siren and the hottest and the baddest debauchee in Hogwarts. The Golden Couple, although as far as Remus knew, you were just friends. Everyone felt special as soon as you two walked into a room, because you graced them with your presence. No one could resist your charms. Everyone enjoyed bathing in your glow, devouring it, getting drunk on it...

“Remus?” he nearly jumped, feeling your soft breath hit his neck. “You’re coming too, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” he rattled without thinking, turning your way sharply. His breath caught in his throat as his eyes met yours, so dangerously close. 

“Good”, you smiled at him contentedly. “Thanks for wanting to share your Charms notes with me, Lils,” you gave the redhead a grateful look, already rising on your feet. “I’m going to go get Pads to move his lazy ass – we have firewhisky to stock on. I’ll see you lot tonight then, yeah?”

Remus released the breath he didn’t know he was holding as he watched you walk back to the Grand Hall’s entrance. His heartbeats matched the echo of your steps, as he bit the inside of his cheek till it bled. The floors were your runway as you walked, your hips swinging deliciously, your perfume still keeping him entranced. 

He needed to learn how to breathe again. 

“I thought you were going to have a go at that Wolfsbane potion tonight, Moony,” Remus heard James whisper, his every word laced with an understanding Lupin hated to acknowledge. 

“Not anymore,” Remus uttered, his eyes still fixed on the heavy doors, the ghost of your silhouette a fixture in Moony’s feverish mind, your voice still softly ringing in his ears… 

Accio Chapter 2: No, Definitely

My Beautiful Tags (I am tagging the people who have previously showed interest in my Remus Lupin story - please, please let me know if you don’t want me to tag you in this! Much Love!): @zakthedrak, @marauder–harder, @davros2004, @firefurr, @heyjess-marie, @kapolisradomthoughts

[aleapoffaithfiction]

XII.

Take care of me Talk all day then at night fall in deep Stimulate me I want you mental and physically I belong to you

Humans have always summed up paradise to be some sort of a place that we travel to in order to escape whatever is burdening our reality. It’s those Sandals Resort commercials that flash across our screens at random hours of the evening to entice us to bite the bait by making a phone call and grabbing our credit cards. Sometimes it’s a very specific place that you’ll have on a list of locations around the world that you often fantasize about visiting. It’s beaches that have sand that reflect in hues of gold with water so clear that it almost seems like it’s not even there as it surrounds you. It’s full body massages and facials done as a cool outdoor breeze brushes over your bare skin. Hell, sometimes it’s a great cocktail, a good Vogue magazine, and a nice amount of sun for a tan. 

I get it. I do. A change in scenery is always great, but I’m starting to realize that paradise is truly a state of mind. It’s where you stand emotionally. For as long as you’re mentally at peace, you can have nirvana anywhere in the world.

I didn’t expect to be amongst so much of nature’s beauty towards the tail end of November. Typically, in the tristate area, the autumn toned leaves have already began to descend from the trees and cover the sidewalks, leaving the trees naked from the fall’s wrath. The brittle cold often brings about this lifelessness to anything green and we’re all covered in layers while trying our best to mentally and physically prepare for the brutally crisp weather that’s soon to come. We’re in our garages making sure the snowblowers are working properly and making sure the snow brushes are in our trunks for those mornings when we have to rush out ahead of time to get the car cleaned off.

Baton Rouge still feels as vibrant with color and life as it would be if it were the middle of a blazing hot summer. I feel like I’m walking in the midst of a canvas of colors painted by the divine. I cannot call it paradise because it’s not. It’s what the man who’s walking alongside me has made me feel since he’s come into my life. I’m smiling more. The laughing is so undeniable and endless. I rise in the morning without a mental clutter to sort through in order to have somewhat of a decent day. I rest at night with care and comfort covering me. I’m accepting emotional challenges that I’ve run from for quite some time.

I feel joy.

“Right here is good, stand there.”

“Beckham.” Yet again, I am the muse to his lens, or rather his iPhone. I’ve lost count of how many pictures I’ve posed for. I’m not sure when he added professional photographer to his resume but he’s edging my father out with his love of photographical keepsakes.

“Just pose.”

“I am not Naomi Campbell.”

“You could give her a run for her money though.”

“Now you’re really trying to butter me up. Naomi?” As I lean against the tree, I slipped my hands into my jacket to adjust the straps on the silk slip dress I’ve chosen to wear. Based upon my attire, it’s quite easy to tell that I’m not from here. Whether it’s the fact that I have on low top Converses with a dress or the leather jacket and Yankee cap, I stick out like a sore thumb. Though the late afternoon is slipping away and the early evening skies are trickling in, he still obliged my desire to have a walk by bringing me to the botanical garden owned by LSU. After the crawfish boil, I had to burn off the food and the Smirnoff coolers we guzzled down as if they were water. I’m not drunk but do I have a very slight buzz? For sure.

“Naomi, Tyra, those Hadid sisters. All of them.”

“Let’s make it a selfie. Come here.” Though we send one another whatever pictures we take, we captured a new selfie to add to our soon to be extensive collection with both of our phones. It turned out to be so adorable that I nearly made it my wallpaper.

“I must say that both Raton Rouge and New Orleans are quite beautiful. I’ve felt the cultural importance since we’ve arrived. I appreciate it.” We’ve been alone since we began walking here. Maybe it’s something that he called and made sure of or maybe he knows the hours when people aren’t very likely to be hanging around, but it’s been nice. While he may not consider it to be as such, it’s been a perfect date to me.

“I’m glad that you’ve enjoyed yourself baby. This place is a part of me and I figured if you’re going to know all of me then you have to know about where I come from. No article or pictures on Google will give you an accurate depiction. If anything, I think I need to start appreciating it more myself.”

“What do you mean?” My hand tightened around his own while our fingers remained laced together.

“Usually, when I’m looking to escape the cold or just have a change of scenery during the off season, I fly out to L.A. For the past couple of years, it’s been where I’ve done my training and lived until mandatory camps started in the middle of the summer. I’m starting to feel like I’ve neglected home. I have a realtor out here who sends me information on any property she thinks I’ll be interested in but usually end up blowing it off. I need to stop, though. I’m going to get a place down here and start visiting more often.”

“I think that’ll be good for you. Instead of doing your off-season training at UCLA, you can do it right over there at LSU. Maybe you should come down here and do a bit of that when you really get back out there after physical therapy. I feel like it could be super motivating.”

“I like that idea a lot.”

“And then you can have some big brother time with brothers in the midst of it. You know, let Sonny run around the field and tire himself out.”

“Yeah, Kordell is getting up there. He and Jazzy are growing like crazy. I want to take them both under my wings as much as possible.”

“They tease the hell out of you, but they all adore you in their own ways. Jazzy made sure to note how cute we are while we all were at the game the other day. She claimed that she can’t believe you pulled it off.” I knew he’d suck his teeth but it didn’t make it any less hilarious.

“Real funny. She said that shit to me too. Too bad she doesn’t realize how much her big brother has game.”

“Game? Sir, have a seat. That is not how you pulled it off.”

“Oh? How did I pull it off then?” His smirk wasn’t arrogance, but rather confidence in this so-called game that he speaks of.

“You humbled yourself and came correct.”

“Oh, so I’m not charming?”

“I didn’t say that. Coming correct includes the charm. I think more than anything I feel like in the midst of all of this, you’ve become my friend too. That’s important to me. It’s the little things; the little details. Those are the things that matter to me and you know it.”

“Oh. So…game.” As soon as I let go of his hand, I used my own to mush him out of the way as he loudly laughed at his own joke. He can’t help himself. Sadly, I’m laughing just as much as he is.

“Don’t play.”

“Nah, you know I’ve been sweating you for a long time now. Still sweating you too. I had no game. I just hoped you ended up liking me.”

“It’s so hilarious hearing this from you. I’ve sat in rooms with women who were and still are willing to do whatever for just a minute of your attention. These aren’t just any ol’ women either. Many of them are well known in many different professional areas. Whenever I’m asked how do I keep my composure around such fine men, your name is one of the first ones to be mentioned.”

“It’s flattering but there’s a shallowness in it that becomes boring quickly. I’m not capable of making connections with people who view me in that way. I guess it’s cool for a night in a hotel room together, but what comes after that?”

“You sure that you feel that way?” It sounds good, but ultimately, he’s going to always be viewed in that light and women will continue to make themselves readily available to do whatever is needed to appease his desires. Some are in the race for self-gain and there are others who are genuinely interested in the man that he is. I am only one person. I can offer him every part of me, but will that be enough for someone who has everything?

“I wouldn’t have pursued you if I didn’t. I have no intention to waste your time. I want you. That’s it.”

“That’s sweet.” Rather than kissing his lips, I cupped his face and annoyingly planted sloppy ones on his cheeks. A straight forward man is one to be appreciated. There aren’t too many of them who are ready and willing to admit what they feel without their pride formulating the words for them or standing in the way.

“Let’s go and get some ice cream.”

“Stop feeding me!” I’ve yet to turn anything down.

“What’s wrong with eating? It’s all gon’ go back here anyway.” His hand instantly smacked into my backside once he said that.

“We can get the ice cream, but I want a bottle of wine too. It’ll be nice to have a glass while we lounge around near the pool or something back at the house. No wait, let’s watch The Best Man.”

“Deal.”

While my feet rested on his lap, I nearly moaned as the taste of blackberry, black raspberry, and black cherry bitterly hit my tongue and went down my throat in the smoothest manner. My honey certainly held up his end of our bargain. I sat in the car while he grabbed chocolate sundaes from one of his favorite local ice cream parlors and he made a stop for the wine just minutes later. I didn’t expect him to grab bottles that were hundreds of dollars in price but I should have known better. He’s emphasized his desires to give me the best.

“If I find out that my best friend fucked my soon to be wife, we’re not getting married. I’m sorry.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’d never be able to look at her the same way. You know it’s true too. If you knew that your best friend slept with your soon to be husband, would you be able to look at him the same way? Not just him; the both of them.” If it happened in a cheating situation, hell no. If it happened before he and I knew one another, I guess we’d have to agree upon girl code. So, no.

“Probably not.”

“Exactly. You see those parts when he kept envisioning that shit going down between Harper and Mia? That’s exactly what would be going through my mind. I wouldn’t be able to deal with it. Salute to him for the courage though.”

“Sometimes love overcomes all. Then again, I’d have to put an asterisk next to that.”

“Yeah, because there’s no overcoming that kind of shit. I’m not even trying to be sexist about it because I know a lot of cheating conversations can be that way. I’ve had plenty of conversations with my boys to know that our ideologies of what we will and will not tolerate from women are super hypocritical and childish. It’s an ego thing.”

“At least you know. Jay did an interview and they asked him if the tables were turned, would he forgive Beyoncé for cheating on him and he admitted that it would be very hard. The expectation of forgiveness that men have is beyond unfair. Women tend to be valued not based upon the goodness that we bring to the table but instead by just how much bullshit we’re willing to endure. I was in that situation. I know it well.” Shamel once wrote in a card that my endurance for his nonsense is one of the main reasons why he loves me and it was yet another sign of how wrong I’d gone in trying to keep up with our failing relationship.

“That’s true. It’s all in part because we think too highly of ourselves. It’s also part of the reasons why we need to be needed. To be needed comes with a certain type of power that allows feelings to be taken advantage of. I want to be wanted and needed, but not in that sense. I love my pop, but there’s a lot of immaturity still within him and I don’t want to be his age with that mindset. It’s not a good look.” I’ve yet to meet him and I’m sure it’s with reason. They spoke on the phone once since we��ve been here and that was it.

My phone vibrated as it laid in my lap. Taylor. We haven’t spoken in a few days.

“Let me take this. I’ll be right back. You can turn to whatever since the movie is over. That’s all I wanted to watch.”

As I stood up, I took the glass of wine with me to the kitchen. It’s too damn good to leave behind.

“What’s up stranger? You’re either caught up with Jesse or you’re caught up with work. I’m betting on Jesse though, because when you’re caught up with work, I don’t hear the end of it.” She has one of the loudest giggles ever. It always sounds like a full-on laugh.

“It’s been work. Actually, that’s why I’m calling. I’ll be crashing at your place once I get up there tomorrow. Why stay in a hotel when I can just make myself comfortable in your guestroom, raid your fridge and eat for free, and spend some quality time with my friend? Win, win, win.”

“Freeloader.” She’s more than welcome.

“You love me anyway. What are you up too? How cold is it up there? What do I need to bring?”

“Girl, we’re one day away from December. You know what you need to bring. Warm clothes to cover your ass and a good quality coat. It’s sexy boot season, so bring a pair or two of those.”

“I am. Jesse’s flying out, so we’re all going to hang out.”

“I am no third will.”

“It won’t be like that. That’s all I’ll tell you.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You’ll see.” The playfulness in her tone is alarming. I know that voice. She’s up to something and whatever it is, is sure to annoy me.

“I am not double dating with you two. Don’t even try it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Anyway, we should grab tickets to the Radio City Christmas Spectacular and see it. Ice skating would be nice too, actually. We should do it.”


“That sounds like fun. I’m down.”

“And a spa day. Let’s do a spa day. My treat.”

“Your treat? I’m even more down for that. I want the works too.”

“I need the works, especially a facial. I might need two of them. Oh, and what are we doing for New Years? We should plan something.” These past couple of New Years, I’ve watched the ball drop right in my living room with a glass of wine and went to bed straight after. Just the thought of being out in New York City in the midst of the madness give me anxiety and I don’t want to sit alongside my folks in church.

“Actually, no. We’re going to Miami for Diddy’s party on Star Island.” I’ve been invited to that multiple times and have never gone.

“Why? That’s so mixxy.”

“But it always looks like a great time. Think about it.” It does look like a great time, on the surface. It’s the perfect occasion to put on something ridiculously expensive and mingle amongst the elite in the entertainment world, but I tend to shy away from that. It’s troublesome. A lot of those people have their heads so far up their own asses, that their eyelashes are nearly poking out of their mouths.

“We’ll see.”

“My flight lands around like four-ish, I think. So, I’ll see you sometime after that.”

“Alright. Luckily, I took the day off, so I’ll be home.”

“We’ll have pizza for dinner. I have such a bad craving for it.”

“Sounds like a plan. Have a safe flight. Text me before you board.”

“Will do. Love you. See you tomorrow.”

“Love you.”

In one swallow, I took in the remnants of wine awaiting me. Along with the glass, I left my phone on the island counter top before I returned to him. I don’t need it; at least not for the remainder of the night. I just want to bask in him as I’ve been doing for three days.

The emerald green silk slip dress barely served as a barrier between the skin of my body and the denim covering his as I brazenly straddled his lap as a mere distraction to the television that currently had my likeness on its screen. There was something about the way he attentively focused on all that I had to say that sent every aspect of myself into overdrive. I know he’s seen that particular segment before. It’s only a replay of a discussion our panel had about what’s next for Lebron James. My confident commentary about the West Coast being next on his destinations to play has sparked a buzz that I don’t mind because my credibility will only level up once it’s proven to be true next summer.

I initially believed that it caught and kept his attention because it’s commentary on his all-time favorite NBA player and yet, he only glanced up at the screen when it was my turn to speak. His once lax body slightly arose and leaned forward as if it were going to bring him any closer to me. His damp tongue ran over his both of his lips while his slightly drunken eyes darkened and narrowed, in a manner that I couldn’t quite understand.

“Beckham.”

“I’ve been watching you on the show since its beginning. I don’t think I’ve missed many episodes and those that I did miss, I made sure to watch the clips on YouTube. It was the only way I could see you.” The aroma of red wine radiated from his tongue and into my nose while the warmth of his supple lips sluggishly grazed mine.

“And now that you’re here with me and you’re mine, I almost can’t believe it. It’s so surreal baby.”

“But why? I’m here.” Softly, I pecked his bottom lip as it lingered nearby.

“Are you really? You’re here? It’s me and you?” His questions held so many undertones and pleas for the unknown that’s ahead of us. He, much like myself, yearned for a certainty that I’m not sure if we’ll ever have no matter how much we dream of it. What have we done to ourselves?

“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.” And that’s my truth.

A hint of his breath soothed the chills trickling onto my neck and then came the gentle brush of his lips. My yearning for him was no match to the manner in which he chose his touch to be drawn out and savoring.

“Sarai Nazaire.” No one else says my name with such awe and tenderness. It only sounds beautiful in his tone of voice.

I stifled a sudden gasp as best as I could as his large palms met the bareness of my backside underneath the dress. My barely there panties weren’t an intentional choice. I only grabbed them because they were the first pair within my line of eyesight when I was looking through my luggage for undergarments but within this moment, I cannot bring myself to regret the decision to wear them. They’re red; yet another unintentional choice. Like the up and coming festive holiday, I’m covered in green and red and ready to be unwrapped by the man who views me as his present.

“O…” My eyes flew open at his sudden movement. As he stood to his feet, I was holstered up into his arms while my legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. A thick rush of heat oozed from between my thighs as the mesh material began to drown in my aching for him. A flush filled my cheeks in distress at the reality of what I may be doing to the front of his dark washed jeans and yet it didn’t stop me from grinding against what was awakening beneath me.

“Your ankle.” Both the weight of his own body and mine pressing down on it couldn’t be a good thing for its current delicate state but my worry went ignored as he trekked towards the stairs that leads to the second floor. Those same stairs were also our pit stop.

Unlike before, he pressed more impenetrably and rougher onto my lips further awakening a ferociousness I don’t think I’ve ever felt before. His insistent tongue parted my quivering lips and further sent wild tremors along my nerves. My only response was to draw him closer to me, proving that I too, want him just as bad as he wants me. He turned my chosen task of getting his shirt over his head into difficulty because he refused to leave my lips without the taste of his, but with a momentary pause for breaths that we both needed to take, I succeeded and was finally able to wash my hands over the intricate artwork covering the smoothness of his entire back.

His beauty rendered me to speechlessness under the dim lighting cascading over us. No one feature makes him handsome; it seems like God judiciously created his every feature to perfectly correlate with all of the others in a manner to use him as an example of the goodness in all the work that he does. There’s something about his eyes though. They’d be beautiful in any shade, because it’s not the physical form but rather the intensity and honesty held within them that speaks his truth.

I needed to taste the additional skin now exposed to me. Running my hands over it was no longer satisfying within the moment. I left his velvety lips with pecks of a promise to return them and slowly trailed my kisses down over his dewy neck and onto his chest. In fairness, he paused to allow me the satisfaction and I laved my tongue over his caramel nipple as soon as I felt it against my lips. My heart pummeled against my lightly heaving chest as he lightly grunted and slipped his hands under the emerald silk yet again. This time, it wasn’t to feel anything, but rather to remove. As his glare trailed down to my own, my lips fell agape as the tips of his fingers calmly wrapped around the red meshed fabric and drew it down my thighs until it was it was dangling in front of me.

“These are nice.” He admired them for a few seconds before bringing them to his nose for a sharp inhale. My gasp was barely audible as he closed his eyes and savored the aroma of me. To further anguish me, his tongue made contact with the damage I’d done to them. Finally, it was his fingers. They glistened as we both admired them and like a man dying of thirst, he too, sucked those into his mouth to lap up every lingering bit.

“Sarai. Fuck.” His words were whispered. They weren’t to me but rather out loud commentary about what he’d just experienced. I’m not sure why I haven’t combusted into a pillar of nothingness because I don’t know how much more of this, I’m going to be able to withstand. Suddenly, I’ve drawn a blank on what it means to pleasure a man and I feel like the inexperienced girl back in Brooklyn trying to find her way within her womanhood and sexuality. I gave myself my first orgasm and the many others I’ve had since the first time I laid down with a man, have been by my own doing as well. I’m sure it makes perfect sense that I know me better than anyone else does, but it hasn’t stopped me from fantasizing about someone stepping up to the challenge to know and teach me things that I’ve yet to learn about myself. I now know more than ever, that I should be careful about what I ask for.

The cool air brushing against all that continued to seep from me drew a whimper. Every throb is a plea. The pulsations seem like the pending death of me. It’s been so long since I’ve been fully exposed to a man and I can only hope that I’m enough for him.

The bit of my nectar that seeped onto his tongue met mine as he snaked his own back into my mouth for a fervent kiss. I had no shirt to pull, so I drew him in by his shoulders. Yet again, I swathed my legs around him and used the heels of my feet to further sink his body between my tender thighs.

“Please.” I never beg. I never fucking beg.

“Please, what Sarai?” He no longer smelled of wine. I superseded it.

I thought it was mind clutter ruining every complete thought I’ve been trying to make all along but instead it’s all of me trying my hardest to respond to the frenzy he’s taking me through. He only worsened it when he dropped the dress that he was once complimenting earlier alongside his feet. His eyes held a warning in them and I halted what would have been a movement to cover myself. The ravenousness glaring over me is beyond intimidating. It’s a brink of life and death. His gawking felt like hours. It left us in a stillness while his hands caressed my sides and his mind attempted to remember the detailing of everything that I am.

“You’re flawless.”

“No, I’m not.” I’m well enough. Flawless? No.

“It wasn’t a question.”

He silenced me.

With both hands placed on my thighs, he stepped down three steps to leave his face directly angled with what yearned for all of his attention the most. The further he pries my thighs apart, the more I could feel myself peeling apart for him. He wasted no time using his fingers to get a sample of what he’d done to me. I thought he’d be amused, but determination filled his expression. Moving was no option as his head leaned in and his lips met the flesh awaiting him. A simple kiss was all it took to intensify the electricity in my steaming skin. Then came another lingering one. My back lightly pressed against the edges of a few steps in a manner to relax myself but that was short lived as his tongue slithered around my clit with just the right amount of a flicker to evoke slight numbness in my fingers and the tips of my toes.

“Odell…” His name was all I could remember. He made sure of that.

He deliberately lagged his tongue in a manner to become further acquainted with the teaser of a taste he had of me just minutes ago. It trailed from the very end of me and made its way to the top, only stopping to quench his thirst with every bit of liquid flowing out of me. My hips bucked, pushing forward to meet him as my fingers met the blond mane of curls resting on top of his head. I quickly developed a love and hate relationship with the manner that he chose to go about this. Time was of no essence. I can only imagine the discomfort he’s feeling and the freedom he needs from the remainder of clothes that he’s wearing and yet, not even me sinking his head further into my heat could quicken his pace.

“Oh my God!”

I could no longer keep up with the rhythms in which he chose to lap at me with. He interchangeable sucked at me and delved his tongue deep within my pulsating walls with a hum that was sure to cause them to collapse. He refuses to miss a single drop.  My pleas for mercy go unanswered because he only answered to my body’s call for him to continue.

His attack on my clit drew yelps from me that reached pitches I’d never heard from myself. I’ve never been a screamer. I’ve always viewed it as over exaggeration of pleasure and overcompensation for a poor performance from a man that you either expected more from or never wanted in your bed in the first place. Much like Miranda Hobbes, I can admit to being the “hurry up and get it over with” woman with men. If they got theirs before I did, I usually wasn’t too upset because it allowed me the opportunity to get the hell out of dodge sooner. I learned tricks to make my ex cum faster so he’d get the fuck out of my face. The control worked for me.

Now? I have none. I’m at his mercy. He’s owning me and I cannot find an ounce of willpower to resist it for the sake of my ego. His tongue in all of its viciousness is staking a claim on me as he laps every letter of not his first, but his last name, within me. I could feel the loops of the B. I clenched at the four lines of the E. The C, like a crescent moon, was a teaser but he made it up to me with the lines of the K as he plunged his tongue within my depths to lick it out. H was done on the outskirts of my clit; then he ran his tongue against it to make the connecting bar. A was done by him trailing his tongue down each side of me and yet again running it over my clit to create a connecting bar. Dear God. It was so drawn out, I shuttered through every moment of it.

“You want the Jr. too baby?”

“Odell please. Don’t.”

And he gave it to me. Both letters and the ending punctuation.

His fingers returned and my walls swallowed them as his tongue continued its assault on me. A shrill spilled out of me in unison with his own intoxicating moans. The pressure within my pelvis only intensified the more he continued. My body basked in the elation he chose to grant me. My chest heaved in a need for more oxygen than I was receiving and the trembling of my thighs as they lay on either side of his head only urged him on even more. Every limb that he stole control from, filled with goosebumps and jittered against the steps as the peak of his tongue’s performance ripped through me in a ferocity that I wasn’t be prepared for. Nothingness became of me as my voice filled every space throughout our home for the weekend and my weakened limbs unraveled in a manner that felt like dead weight as I lay there quivering through euphoria.

“Let’s go get in the bed.”

“Okay.” Jell-O. He turned my once sturdy legs into exactly that. All concern for his ankle went out of the window when he lifted me up and carried me the rest of the way. I’m sure I would have slept on the steps if he didn’t.

The softness of the Barocco print comforter lulled my bare frame the further I sank myself into it. Prickling still teased random portions of me. He didn’t have to touch me. Just the sight of his impeccably chiseled body standing alongside the bed was enough to rev me up once again. Unlike earlier, a rush of edginess washed over me as the bed dipped signifying his presence and what is to be the beginning of a closeness that we’ve yet to have.

My thighs parted, awaiting his arrival, and he nestled himself in-between them. Both of his hands cupped the sides of my face and I arose to meet his lips halfway. Every nerve ending within me synced with him in a manner that I can’t quite put into words. The beating of our hearts meshed in a unison that gave me comfort and reassurance.

“You trust me?”

“I do.” The taste of his kiss left me heavily drunken from him. He left no part of my lips untouched; savoring them in a manner that felt like they were only made for his touch.

“You don’t know what you do to me, Sarai.”

“I…”

My lips fell apart in a hitch as my back arched at the sudden feel of him surging through me. Chills sieged every piece of me as I internally welcomed all that he pummeled forth. A gasp instantly turned into a hiss as he paced himself and further sank into me with groans that filled my ears like the sweetest notes. He paused, allowing the both of us to revere in our oneness. My imagination failed me. The quiet fantasies are all laughable. Absolutely none of them hold a candle to the feeling of him. Anything I thought I knew is unrivaled. This fullness is beyond anything. I’ve lost all sense of everything. Time has escaped us and diminished.  

“Damn…”  

His teeth deeply sank into his bottom lip as he bore into my eyes. His profanity was met with my own uncontainable clenching around him. I could feel him everywhere as he withdrew from me and plunged even further, to the point of driving me into a delirium that I may not be able to come back from. No matter how much I widen my legs or attempt to loosen the tightness in my core, I can’t get used to him and yet it’s a challenge that I’m willing to take endlessly. I thought the pace was for me, but he’s intentionally drawing this out, wanting to feel my every response to him. Every stroke is snatching my voice; leaving cracks in-between my cries and streaks of hoarseness to follow. The wetness on my face isn’t sweat, but instead my tears.

In almost feels experimental. He’s learning me. With his head buried into my chest and his lips attached to the skin of my nipple, he continued to find new ways to submerge me into a world that’s only about he and I. My once still hips, rocked in the rhythms of his choice.

“You feel so fucking good.”

Our eyes met and I could see nothing else but myself within them. The reality of who he is vanished and he’s nothing more than a man; my man. There is no worry or fear here. Every chance encounter I avoided was fate. I’m marveling in the beauty of his spirit and the way it calls for mine to live in solace with it.

I don’t want to overthink but instead just be. I’m caught in his storm and blissfully dancing and singing in the rain. He sees me, just as much as I do him. Unstripped, unraveled, and unmasked, he’s sought to go beyond the barriers and to find the vulnerable me that I’ve buried in the deepest abyss some years ago. I cannot question why or how. I have no answers either. It’s all above and beyond me in every single sense; God’s reasons and timing.

“Look at me.” All of his fingers dug into the softness of my hips. “Look at me.”

An unbearable tension filled the pit of my core as his drive only intensified. My toes tightly curl, touching the bottom inches of my feet. My every sense went into overdrive in an attempt to match the energy exerting from my body and into his. Every pulsation shook my dampened limbs as a wave of sightlessness left me blinded to all that surrounded me. I leaked onto his flesh ferociously; coating him with what he’d been sucking from me on the steps.

He worked through it. It was of no distraction to him and his missions. The pulsating coerced a challenge. He intended to master me. He groaned against my lips, muffling my croaky yelps. If he didn’t know his name before, he certainly knows it now because it’s all I know and can say to him. I trembled to his touch; his fingers digging into my skin, the heat radiating from his chest being pressed against mine, and most of all, from the way he’s swelling inside of me and further expanding my soaking flesh.

“Sarai!”

His calls for me shattered my soul. The roaring grunt that poured out of him came in harmony with my beckoning for mercy. Skin to skin, breath to breath, I soaked up all that he oozed into me like a hot lava. As he shuttered against me, he sucked on my bottom lip to pacify himself. We’d both been rendered to a speechlessness that made perfect sense.

The aroma of the burning wood within the fireplace meddled with the scent of us. A soft wind howled against the windows in a medley that I hadn’t heard until now.

I caressed him in a silent plea to keep him as close to me as he is now. His kisses don’t cease; instead his tongue is yet again meeting mine, deepening them.  

I love this city; the city that birthed him.

God, I love it so much.