#instead of a wooden spoon since i keep on forgetting to buy one

[fadefromthelight]

I'm pretty sure the way I cook in my apartment would be offensive to anyone who knows how to cook

[angelanimedesaray]

Through the Looking Glass Chapter 12:  The Caged Bird

AN:  ....I feel like this went by really fast, but CLEARLY it did not, considering this is almost 13000 words and I STILL ended up splitting it into two parts...but I still feel like it happened SO FAST!!!  And that worries me...for reasons that will become obvious, cause you all know I want to try and handle sensitive topics properly, and I don’t like the thought I might have rushed through this....

Characters:  Levi, Reader, Roy (Original Character), Furlan, Reader’s Father, Various BG Characters

Pairing:  Levi x Reader

Warnings:  Language, Violence, Injuries, Blood, Threats of Death, Peril, (SPOILER) Abusive Relationships, Mentions of Sexual Assault, Mentions of Past Violence, Mentions of Past Abuse, Allusions to Abuse.  NOTE  (Also a spoiler):  If you’re worried that the actual trauma/effects of abuse wasn’t properly handled, most of that is coming in the next part.  This part is dealing with the ESCAPE of abuse, dealing with the event/aftermath itself is the next part.

Word Count:  12558

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(Gif found HERE)

(Four Years Later)

*Levi’s POV*

“Levi--I found something you might appreciate.  It was tucked away at the bottom of this crate--I think someone was trying to hide it.”

Levi came over to where Furlan was going through one of the three crates they’d managed to snag in a riskier heist earlier today, taking the tin Furlan was offering him and checking the label.  Tea.  High end stuff, too.  Normally he’d celebrate by instantly taking it for himself, but considering where it was hidden and the size of the payload, he was a little worried.  What the hell was it doing tucked into the bottom of one of these crates?

“You don’t think these crates--or at least this one--were going to any of the big shots down here, do you?” Furlan asked, a serious look in his eyes.

Levi set the tin aside for the time being, resolving to take it for himself if they decided it was safe to keep the crates.  “Keep looking.  If there’s nothing particularly dangerous or valuable in here, we might be able to avoid trouble so long as we sell the goods fast,” Levi rationalized.

“And if there is?”

“Ditch the crates with the high risk stuff and let it be someone else’s problem,” Levi said flatly, crouching back down in front of the crate he’d been looking for, seeing if there was anything else they should keep for themselves.

Finding a friend down here had certainly been...unexpected, and at first Furlan had followed him around like an overly eager puppy, wanting to follow after Levi when Levi turned down following him.  They’d been working together for almost two years now, and Levi was finally comfortable being around the other young man, the two of them working well together on the heists they pulled to pool their money together--both to survive, and to save up enough money to buy citizenship on the surface and at least a starting place to live, even if it was just one room.  The main goal was getting topside, where they started out living didn’t matter much--improvements could be made after they were up under open sky instead of underground.

Open sky…Crystal blue or dark as ink with thousands of stars burning above, or a cloudy grey with swirls of snow falling to coat the world below.  It had been four years, but he still remembered every detail, from the freezing air against his cheeks or droplets of rain sliding down his upturned face, the sound of snow crunching beneath his feet or a roll of thunder in the distance, a warm hand in his or a flash of a brilliant smile framed by soaked hair.

His fingertips patted out the piano keys to a song, the light tapping audible, but no musical sound to accompany it except his memory of the times he’d practiced it with her.

“You’re timing something in your head before you try it?” Furlan abruptly guessed.  Levi stopped his tapping, but otherwise didn’t react, shifting through a bolt of fabric in the crate to see if anything was concealed in it.

“No,” he answered bluntly, and Furlan sighed before going back to what he was doing.

He’d been trying to guess what that tick of Levi’s was since he first saw Levi do it, and he so far hadn’t guessed.  He probably wouldn’t, either, but it was amusing to watch him try sometimes.

Even if he guessed right by some miracle, Levi wouldn’t tell him.  That time...that time was a memory for him.  Those little pieces of music some of the only things he could take with him to remember her by, besides the memories themselves.  It was why he still practiced in the dirt and open air, or against his leg or whatever he happened to be holding at the time, why he still tried to remember the sound and the pattern after all this time.

Sometimes, if he let his focus drift away from the present, he could almost feel her hands against his.

Levi let the old ache persist for a few more moments, holding the memories at the front of his mind before he reminded himself it did him no good to dwell on what was unreachable to him now.  At least when he was supposed to be focused on something else.  The dwelling was meant for the quiet moments he was left to himself, or while he stayed up with nothing but his insomnia and the memories to keep him company.

After the first two, three years of not going back, he’d resigned himself to the reality that his worst fear regarding his visits to her world had finally happened.  One day the visits had simply stopped, and he had to find a way to move on from the brief glimpses into a better world he’d been given, the door appearing to be fully shut and sealed to him now, with Y/N on the other side.

He hoped she was all right, wherever she was now.  He hoped she got into that college she’d wanted to go to despite everyone telling her she couldn’t make it.  He hoped she got far away from that town, but she was still in close contact with her family.  He hoped she found more friends, that she was able to build up a comfy lifestyle by now.  Or at the very least, was well on the way there by now.

He knew how hard that could be, but at least she’d started well above where he was at now.  He had longer and farther to climb.

He just wished it could have been to where she lived.

“All right, I don’t see anything with too much heat on it in here.  What about you?” Furlan asked.

Levi sighed, eyes roaming over the contents he’d been shuffling through while he spaced out with a much sharper eye, looking for anything he might consider a red flag item.

He closed his eyes, shaking his head slightly.  He was usually so focused, he was almost embarrassed how much his memories were sweeping him away and bringing his mind elsewhere right now.

Opening his eyes, Levi was determined to focus and make sure him and Furlan didn’t accidentally bring home anything that was going to be more trouble than it was worth.

The crate was gone.  And his hand was hovering just above a dull beige carpet, the light much brighter than it had been a few moments ago, and artificial instead of the usual firelight he was used to.

Levi’s breath had caught, and he held very still, as if afraid the slightest movement might shatter the reality around him.  A slight stretch forward, and he could feel the sponginess of the carpet in front of him, which confirmed that what he was seeing was real.

Heart pounding, Levi turned his head to look around him, taking in the sight of a small house, fairly sparse, lots of flat and dull colors, a few cracks in the walls, and he was pretty sure there was a picture strategically placed on the wall to hide a hole.  He was standing in a hallway with an open archway behind him and what looked like a back door at the end of the hall, stairs just off to the side in the same direction leading to a second story.  He turned enough to see a small dining room behind him with a simple table and two chairs, and just around the corner must have been the kitchen.  And from there, he could hear movement.

Y/N...?

Levi got to his feet slowly, his steps careful and quiet just in case he was wrong.  He crept towards the kitchen, heartbeat rapid in his ears as he peeked around the corner, hand pressed lightly against the wall.

There she was, standing at a stove in this tiny little kitchen, bent over two pots as she cooked something to eat, a recipe book open just off to her left to give instructions on how to make whatever it was she was focused on.

She hadn't noticed him yet, and he had to swallow a sudden wave of complicated emotions at seeing her again, the most predominant of which was joy and longing.  It had been four long years.  He was only praying the universe wouldn't be cruel again and separate them before he had time to say something to her.

Well then, he shouldn't be standing here gawking like an idiot if he didn't want that to happen.  He needed to say something--anything.

"Y/N?" He managed to get himself to say, tone making it sound like a question, the word feeling strange but reverent falling from his lips after so long not uttering them.

She jumped at the sudden voice, turning with wide eyes to see who had spoken, then freezing like a deer who'd just made eye contact with a predator.  Her shock lasted a few moments, neither one of them daring to move and break the illusion before she spoke, the wooden spoon falling from her hands with a clunk into the water and against the metal rim of the pot.

"Levi?" She asked, voice breathless and small as she stared at him, eyes drinking him in as she took two hesitant steps forwards before she suddenly barreled towards him, hands clutching the front of his shirt as she buried her head in his chest.

There was a sharp intake of breath from both of them at the contact.  Levi because he'd expected excitement, but not her throwing herself into his arms and...his shirt was damp, was she crying?  Not to mention it had been years since someone touched him like this--he'd started to forget how he was supposed to react, how he wanted to react.

As for Y/N, the contact was when she breathed in and held it, the confirmation that he was real.  She might have been trying to stem the flow of tears as well.

"Oh my God, you're real.  It's been so long since…" she swallowed, a shaken laugh leaving her as she pulled back, looking up at his startled features.  “I didn’t think you were ever going to come back!  Where have you been?  How have you been?  How are you here now?”

Those tears were still in her eyes, and she was throwing herself at him with unrestrained...ambition?  Passion?  He was rusty reading her moods, so he couldn’t quite pinpoint what she was feeling, especially while she was still teary and still recovering from the shock of seeing him again.

She pulled away completely, seeming to realize how emotional she was getting right now as she wiped her eyes with her wrists, trying to regain her composure.  “I’m sorry, I-I’m overwhelming you, aren’t I?  Sorry, one question at a time…” she said with a nervous laugh.

“Are you all right?” Levi asked in mild concern.  There had been far more waterworks than he’d expected in that reunion, and it made him worry.

“I’m okay, I’m okay, I just...I really didn’t think I was going to see you again,” she said in a tiny voice.

“Neither did I,” Levi admitted.  Now that he was here, and the awkwardness was settling over them…

The last time they’d seen each other, he’d kissed her.  And now it had been four years.  Was it even relevant even more?  Was it even something he should bring up?  Probably not right away, maybe save it until a little further into the day.

Levi looked around at the dull-looking house around him, the slightest pull of a frown starting to appear on his features.  Now that he was looking...there was no piano.  No splashes of color or personal touches, no scattered magazines or little projects she was working on.  He’d always felt the places she lived were warm and personal, cozy, comfortable.  This place was...indifferent and impersonal.  Worn down, even.  The cracks along the walls, the low-end furnishings...it reminded him of the Underground, and that didn’t sit well with him.

“You moved again,” he commented, eyes still moving around the surroundings.

“Yeah.  I moved out for college, so no living with my parents anymore.  They’re both...in different states now.  Mom’s still in the same state as before with my stepdad and little sibling, and my dad’s a little closer, but still quite a ways away, and in another state as well...It’s a new area, though.  Northwest--very northwest.  It’s…”  She seemed to struggle not to say dreary, settling instead on simply saying, “it rains a lot.”

Levi’s frown only grew.  “I thought you said that school you were trying so hard to get into was out on the east coast?” Levi asked observantly, studying her closely.  She turned away, but not before Levi caught a flash of pain in her eyes as she tried to feign that she was reminded of the food on the stove and was trying to focus on it.

“Yeah...but, ah...plans changed,” she said quietly.

Levi’s eyes narrowed at something in her tone he couldn’t pinpoint, but he certainly didn’t like it.  “Plans change?  Did you not get accepted?”

“I did.”

“Then it was too expensive.”

“No, I had a full ride, it was all completely paid for, nothing out of pocket.”

“Was it not what you expected?”

“It just didn’t work out,” she said much sharper than Levi had been anticipating, agitated by Levi poking at the subject trying to figure out what exactly had changed.  “I don’t want to talk about it, Levi,” she said softly, body language stiff and closed off.

What happened in the four years he was gone?  What had he missed?  And why was she so...different?  She didn’t feel like the same girl who’d pulled him into a rainstorm and drove him out to a hayfield simply to look at the stars, who’d marveled at snow and ice right with him and pulled him into so many different situations without hesitation, no reservations, just pure energy and happiness.

Now that he stepped back and looked at her, really took a moment to feel the energy in the room and take the time to get a proper read on her once the excitement of being back started to fade...she wasn’t bright, she was dulled.  She was withdrawn and reserved, hesitant and quiet, a slight hunch to her shoulders, hiding her face.

What the hell happened?  And why had he missed it?

She sighed over where she was bent over her food, and Levi felt himself rapidly withdrawing inside himself, kicking himself for thinking this was going to be even a modicum of what it used to be.  His gaze was turned away, expression going from the worried frown and maybe a spark of hurt in his eyes that she cut him off so sharply to his usual indifferent expression in the silence that hung in the room.  He suddenly became painfully aware of a distance that seemed to be yawning between them, four years of distance, so much apparently happening and he had no idea what besides college “didn’t work out” for reasons unknown.

And the last he’d seen, she’d been desperate to crawl out of the place she was living and get to the east coast.  Instead she ended up in this dump on the complete other side?

“What about you?  Are you still underground?” she asked, her tone suddenly normal and casual, though something about it felt insincere, like it was a front.  Maybe not the question itself, it sounded like she genuinely wanted to know what had happened with him the past four years, but the casualness, the appearance that everything was fine--that was what felt false.

“Yeah,” he said shortly, watching as she moved away from the food to reach for the glasses in one of the cabinet and fill them with tap water, offering one to Levi, who left it sitting on the table beside him as he chose instead to watch her closely, his steely blue gaze following her every move and expression.

“Okay...I know you didn’t really talk much about what your life is like, but...is there anything you can tell me about it?  How you’ve been, how you’re doing?”

“Only if you tell me how you’ve been in return,” Levi countered quickly.  She looked away uncomfortably, going to open the fridge and fish around for the milk.  As the door drifted further open, Levi’s gaze zoned in on the collection of brown bottles that clinked as she moved them aside to get to a small container of milk in the back.  Whether it was his world or another, beer seemed universally recognizable.  And there was a lot stocked in that fridge.

“I didn’t know you drank,” Levi said, his expression and tone as unreadable as he could manage, gaze fixated on her.  She quickly shut the door, milk in hand as she headed over to the pots again to add a little milk to one of them.

“I don’t--those aren’t mine,” she said briefly.

“Whose are they, then?” Levi asked before she could try to direct the conversation back towards him.  He didn’t want to talk about all his thievery and fights in the Underground, anyway.  He wanted to know what had changed...everything, so drastically.

And if those weren’t her beer bottles, what were they doing in her fridge, and whose were they?

She was ignoring him, it seemed, choosing not to answer, her back to him so he couldn’t see her face once more.

“Y/N…” Levi started to say, the worry seeping into his tone this time as a rumble outside grew louder, and for a second, Levi thought that it was raining outside and he just hadn’t bothered to look out a window.  Y/N, however, stiffened, then swore, abandoning what she was to suddenly start pushing him down the hall.

“Quick, out the back,” she said frantically.

“What?  Why?” Levi asked, thrown off as the rumble got loud enough to be coming from just outside before abruptly ending.

“Because it looks really, really bad that I’m home alone right now with another guy--just, just--down the street to the intersection, take a left, then a right, another left, wait for me by the store that says Wal-Mart on Kensington Avenue, I’ll come as soon as I can get away, okay?”

“Y/N--”

“Just go!” she said sharply in a hiss, pointing towards the back door by the stairs he’d noticed earlier as she disappeared through another door towards the front door, straightening her long sleeve shirt and nervously brushing hair from her face before she vanished from his sight, Levi hesitantly creeping towards the back door even though he had no idea why he had to flee so suddenly when he never had to before.

As Levi quietly opened the back door, he heard conversation faintly from the living room.

“You’re home early, darling.  I’ve almost got dinner ready, just a little longer.  Let me get that for you…”

Levi paused with his hand still on the doorknob, even though he knew she might be trying to buy him time to slip out the back.  But hearing that--darling, home, the beer in the fridge, her comment about being home alone with another guy--

Suddenly he felt like some kind of secret lover being smuggled out the back window.  And it bothered him far more than he wanted to admit, the thought of being the other man, even if as far as he knew they were still just friends, considering their kiss had been years ago.  She had every right to move on, and he had no right to be jealous.  It shouldn’t bother him, he shouldn’t expect her to stay single when neither of them expected to see the other again.

But it still bothered him.

Before he could cause any drama between the two, Levi did as he was asked, shutting the door quietly behind him and hopping the fence of the back yard to sneak out to the street out front.  There was an unnecessarily high off the ground truck out front that must have been the source of the rumble sound.  Levi spared it a glance before taking a look up at the murky skies up above, a gloominess seeming to hang over the area that seemed like a conglomeration of small, thin houses in various states of disrepair, messy front lawns, cracked pavement…

Levi hesitated in front of the sidewalk, a bad feeling stirring in his gut as he stared back at the house.  Nothing about this felt right to him.  This wasn’t how it was supposed to be here.  Yeah, he knew life was shitty, but she’d always made it...brighter.  There was nothing bright or warm about this place, and what little conversation they’d had so far left a bitter aftertaste in his mouth, her sudden (At least, sudden to him) shift in attitude and demeanor was disconcerting, and he was worried about her.

The chill in the air, however, turned his attention away from the house she didn’t want him inside right now and back towards the street in front of him, mind shifting to finding the location she’d mentioned in the hopes he could find a warmer spot.  He wasn’t exactly dressed for a cold breeze, since he was below ground where he lived and currently didn’t have to worry about that kind of thing.

He followed her instructions until he ended up outside a grey and blue building, standing on the sidewalk near the sign that had the street name on it, on the end closest to the direction her place was.  He wanted to make sure she could see him when she came, so he stayed outside, even though he was worried it would be a while since she’d mentioned she was making dinner for her and...whoever that was.

Levi sulked, his expression darkening as he stared at the ground, trying desperately not to think about their relationship.  Clearly it was further than just dating, they were living together.  Were they married?  Was she happy with him?

He wouldn’t think so, given her attitude change and the look of the run down house, but who was he to judge?  How would he know?  He’d been gone for four years, and clearly a lot had changed.  Plans for college out the window, she was far from family, she was living in a place that reminded him of Underground houses...It was fucked up how the man’s truck looked more expensive than the house.  Wouldn’t you spend more money on where you lived, not your mode of transportation?  Y/N had owned a car that was reliable--it wasn’t shiny with a fresh pain of coat, she’d mentioned it was an older car, but it was reliable...and he noticed it wasn’t out front.  There was no second car, just the truck.

Is she okay?  Is she really okay with this?  Is this really what she wants to be doing?

Time continued to stretch by, time that Levi spent simply standing by a street sign waiting for someone who still wasn’t showing up.  He was starting to freeze up over here, and while he’d expected it to be a bit of a wait, this was getting a little too long.  He was starting to get anxious that he’d spend whatever little time he had here trying to get her.

Just as he started to think to hell with it, he would head back to the house anyway and knock on the front door, she finally appeared on the other side of the street, fiddling with her long sleeves to pull them down again and with a scarf tied neatly around her neck, cheeks flushed and breathing a little heavy like she ran over here.  She crossed quickly to reach him, a flicker of that old fire of hers in her eyes as she smiled shyly at him, coming to a stop in front of him.

“Sorry I made you wait,” she said timidly, though she offered no explanation as to why it took so long.  “What?” she asked self-consciously, fixing the scarf when she realized he was staring at her with an odd look.

“Why the scarf?” he asked.  This was the same girl who rolled around and played in the snow with him without a scarf, leaving it stuffed in her pocket after it kept falling off in all the roughhousing.  And that hadn’t been just because they were kids and they didn’t know better or care--this had been four years ago.  She hadn’t cared about now sneezy the cold might make her, and she hadn’t cared to even wear the scarf loosely thrown around her neck when she /did/ wear it.  Yet now that it was a little nippy out, she wore a scarf tied so neatly around her neck like a second skin, but nothing else?  No coat, no hat, no gloves?

She shrugged.  “It’s not too bad out--I just wanted something to keep my neck and cheeks warm on the way here.”

Yet the scarf wasn’t pulled high enough to cover her cheeks.  Just her neck.

Maybe he was just over analyzing because he was worried about her...

Before he could question her again, she started forward, cutting across a brief green space to head towards the store, pulling briefly on his sleeve before letting go and keeping her hands to herself.

“Come on, let’s get inside where it’ll be warmer.  I snuck a twenty, so we should be able to treat ourselves to something.  I’d say ice cream for the good old days, but I don’t think the weather’s fitting for that,” she said sheepishly, prattling away.  Once more, it didn’t feel quite as natural as it should have been.  It felt force, purposeful to distract him.  Like she was putting all her effort into putting up a front as she led him through the doors.

What gave it away was her inability to stop talking.  Even before, she’d known when to stop and let the silence speak for itself, when to give Levi a chance to talk.  She wasn’t doing that right now, prattling on about the store being a chain store found all over the place, talking about how normally the outdoor section they walked through was filled with plants in the spring and summer but they had been put away or pulled inside for the fall and winter seasons, how you could find a general collection for most needs here--whatever came to mind as they walked, she droned on and on about, like it was a nervous tick.

Eventually, when it was just them at the end of an aisle with no one around and he’d listened to the meaningless prattle for a good fifteen, twenty minutes, he couldn’t take it anymore, and he lightly grasped her arm to bring her to a stop.  She flinched slightly at the sudden contact, words stuttering to a halt as Levi’s gaze burned into hers.

“What’s wrong?” he asked her bluntly.  She forced a smile, and it sickened him, made his heart sink.  Was this the same girl who’d gotten him to open up and show her some of the broken pieces he kept hidden inside himself?  The same girl who’d vented and cried into his shoulder before?  Who was at least honest with him before if something was bothering her, simply telling him if it was something she’d rather not talk about, but giving in if it was something she should talk about.  Who was this stranger in front of him, thinking forced smiles and lies would convince him that she was fine here.

“Nothing’s wrong--” she started to say, the answer rehearsed and the most false she’d given him yet.

“Don’t pretend.  Not with me.  It’s insulting,” Levi cut her off before she could continue, wounded that she thought such a thin charade was going to pacify him, and wanting nothing more than to do something if there was something wrong.

The smile faltered, and something deep and dark flashed in her eyes.  Not dark as in threatening.  The scared kind.  The emotional kind.  The arm he was still holding trembled slightly in his grip.

“It’s nothing that you can fix, Levi,” she said in a small voice, looking like she suddenly wanted to bolt.

“Why not?”

“It’s complicated.”

“It’s not.  You’re just making it complicated.  And I don’t know why,” Levi said, letting a bit of his frustrations leak through as well as his worries as his eyes roamed her face, trying desperately to find the answers of what happened, what changed.  “You’re not even yourself right now, you’re just pretending everything’s fine when it’s not.  What’s really going on with you?”

“It’s been four years--”

“That’s an excuse, not an explanation.”

“Levi, please, let it go.”

“No.  Not this time.  Whatever this is, it's not something you can sweep under a rug, Y/N.  It’s everywhere I looked in that damn house, and you’re an entirely different person, so tell me so I can try to help--”

“Y/N?”

The new voice made them both look up in surprise, both of them lost in their hushed conversation and as such, completely missing that someone had spotted Y/N from the other end of the aisle and was currently making their way towards a scene that could easily be misinterpreted.

Levi let go of her instinctively before anyone could freak out about the shady guy that wasn’t her boyfriend or whatever that had a hold of her arm, staring at the man that was now approaching them, worry in his gaze as he looked between the two.

Y/N had turned fidgety, staring at the other man with a bit of recognition in her eyes, but not familiarity.  “Is there something you need?”

A spark of pity appeared in the man’s eyes.  “You’ve wandered a little ways from home, haven’t you?”

Levi’s brows furrowed in confusion at what the man was saying, but Y/N seemed to grow nervous, which put Levi on edge.

“No, I’m just--I’m just out with a friend.  For a little while.”

The man’s gaze flickered to Levi, his expression telling Levi that he didn’t really believe her.  “Right...but I’m sure Roy is worried sick about you.  Let me just call him and let him know where you are so he can--”

“No! No, listen,” she said with panic in her voice, and Levi felt a chill go down his spine as a thought started to take root in his mind, growing with each word uttered in this bizarre exchange in front of him.  “I haven’t seen anyone in two years, I know, I’m going home after this, but I just want to spend some time with a friend for a while before I head back.”

“I know what it means when Roy’s not here, you can’t be out on your own like this, you’re confused, you could get hurt--”

“I’m not crazy!” she snapped.  The stranger reached out for her arm, she flinched away, and Levi’s hand snapped out to grab his wrist before it could reach again.

The eyes that looked at him were not filled with pity, but hard accusation, apparently deeming Levi as some kind of threat.  He wasn’t to her, but he was about to be to whoever the hell this was.

“I don’t know who you think you are taking advantage of a confused girl like this--” the man started to say, but Levi cut him off in a harsh and hard voice.

“I’m a friend who’s known her longer than this Roy guy, and if you don’t keep your hands off her, I will remove them myself.”

The man flinched back from Levi’s grip, which Levi allowed because his attention was elsewhere now, the suspicion that was growing in the back of his mind just needed a little physical proof he was certain he was about to see.

Without asking for permission or giving her any kind of warning that might give her time to try and hide again, Levi gently grasped her arm and yanked back the sleeve.  Instead of smooth, unblemished skin, there was a collection of bruises and even a few cuts.  His hands turned deceptively still as hers began to tremble.

“Levi, stop, what are you--” she tried to protest, the panic clear in her voice as he grabbed the other arm--gently, again--to pull back that sleeve and reveal the same thing beneath the second sleeve.  She tried to flinch away when he reached for the scarf, but he had enough of a grip it pulled loose, revealing fresh, ugly bruises around her throat she’d been trying to cover up by wearing it.

The man behind them was finally silent, and Levi stared wordlessly at Y/N, processing what he was seeing and the confirmation of his theory as she refused to look him in the eyes, tears slipping down her cheeks as she looked away in shame.

He’d been trying to figure out what happened to her, what changed, why she was so different.  He’d thought maybe his disappearance had hurt her more than he thought, maybe something went wrong at college and things had spiraled out of control, maybe something happened that made her give up hope.

Except this was worse.  This was much, much worse.

Of all the things that came to mind in this very moment, he thought of the day he’d seen the fire in her eyes when she swore she wouldn’t be caged.  And now he was staring at the shaken form of a woman who had been forced into a cage when she’d fought so hard to escape them and their limitations.  Someone had forced that fiery soul he’d admired to bend and break and conform until it was jammed into a too-small and isolated box without color or life.

It was wrong.  It was disgusting.

And he was livid.

“Levi...Levi, wait!” Y/N called out in a panic, but for once, he ignored her, gaze dark as he turned without a word and left the building, purposeful steps leading him back the way he came as Y/N chased after him with calls of his name, trying to stop him.  He wasn’t going to let her stop him, not this time.

By the time the house came into view, Levi’s blood was burning in his veins, that power in himself that he’d unlocked long ago when he’d decided to protect her from this ugly world rearing its head and chomping at the bit to sink its teeth into this Roy guy.

He tried the front door, only to discover it was locked.  She must have snuck out the back, earlier, then, like he had.

“There you are you little sl--”

The angry growl from another man’s voice was cut sharply off as Levi, not in the mood to waste time jumping a fence and coming through the back door, kicked the door in with one simple move.  The door’s abrupt burst inwards was what caused the voice to be cut off, as the edge of the door slammed into the man’s face and sent him reeling back.

Levi wasn’t paying attention to physical features, what he looked like, how much larger than him he was, nothing like that.  He stepped inside, saw the man holding his nose in surprise, and descended on him like a sicced dog.

Eyes flashing dangerously, Levi gave no explanation for why he, a stranger to this man, kicked down his door and attacked him.  He just started swinging, one hand grabbing Roy’s shirt so tight it started to rip and the fabric cut into his throat while the other formed a fist and started repeatedly bashing into his face.  Blood sprayed in the first two seconds, but Levi kept going, ducking out of the way as he tried to return a swing, getting underneath him and tackling him into an end table that splintered with the force of the impact, sending them both to the floor.

At that point, Y/N had caught up, and she was standing in the doorway shouting for him to stop.  Again, Levi ignored her.  He would stop when he felt like Roy’d had enough, and right now, he didn’t think he had.  He was on his feet now, foot flying out in violent kicks to do damage to more than just the man’s face, taking his fury of what Roy had done to her out on any body part that came within reach of his foot.

Timid hands locked around his arm, and Levi turned to see Y/N grabbing his arms with tears in her eyes, looking scared and desperate and shaken.  He finally stopped, staring at her for a few moments and the tears in her eyes as, once more, she begged him to stop, except now he was looking at her, and he was paying attention.

“Levi, please, I just…” She sniffled, sobbed, and then started to cry, and Levi’s rage started to melt away, heart softening and aching painfully to see her clinging to him sobbing so openly.  The last time she’d done that had been when she’d ran away and got lost, and that had been nothing like this.

He turned to face her, hand gently reaching out to touch her shoulder, part of him wanting to stop and comfort her, but the other part knowing this wasn’t the time for that, not yet, anyway.

“Is the house yours?” he asked.

“No…”

“The car?”

“No.”

“Pack your stuff.  Whatever’s yours, whatever you want to keep, pack it.  I’ll meet you outside,” Levi said softly, giving her a gentle push towards the hall to get her moving and away from the bloody sight of Roy on the ground.

Well, he’d pushed himself up and crawled over to the weathered chest in the center of the room that acted as a coffee table as Levi was focused on and talking to you, flipping open the lid and drawing Levi’s attention back towards him as he heard a faint but recognizable, even in this world, click.

And the weapon was not aimed at Levi, but Y/N still standing in the doorway of the living room looking timid and afraid to leave because of what Levi might do while she was gone.

“Fucking bitch--” Roy yelled as Levi’s hand shot out to knock the weapon out of his hand, the gun firing and the shot going wild as Levi yanked Roy’s hand closer towards him--but the barrel wasn’t aimed at Levi, he wasn’t stupid.  The bullet embedded itself into the wall right of Y/N, who screamed as the shot went off.

Levi twisted Roy’s hand until there was a snap and the gun clattered to the floor as Roy let out a short scream of pain, Levi kicking the gun far out reach and pulling out his knife to keep Roy compliant, dragging the man effortlessly out the front door and onto the front lawn, throwing him to the ground as Y/N followed at least just outside the door instead of heading back inside.

“Levi!” she started to shout, but Levi pointed one of his bloodied hands back at the door behind her.

“Go get your stuff--I’ll handle this,” he said firmly, and she hesitated a few moments before she finally headed inside the house to go pack, leaving Levi alone with Roy.

Levi pressed his knee against the man’s back to hold him down, one hand fisted into his hair to hold his head back, knife out and pressed into his throat until blood started to dribble down the blade.

“The only reason you’re not dead, is because I don’t want her to see that.  Not to mention you’ve got her so fucked up right now I doubt it would only make her more upset,” Levi said in a low, threatening tone, keeping his words quiet as he spoke so only him and Roy could hear if Y/N came back outside.  “So I’m taking her, we’re leaving, and you’re never going to darken the same town as her.  If you so much as think of her again, I will gut you and leave you for dead in some dark alley no one will ever find you in.  And I was gutting grown men before you had your first beer and started calling yourself a man, so when I say that’s what I’ll do to you, I mean it.”

Levi removed the blade, stepping away and pulling out his handkerchief to start cleaning the blood off his hands and knife, keeping his gaze sharply on the beaten man below him as he waited for Y/N to make a reappearance.

“Who the hell do you think you are to take what’s mine?” Roy spat.

Levi kicked him so he would turn over, putting his boot on the man’s throat to stop him from talking anymore--he didn’t want to hear the filth pouring from his lips.

“I’m the man who will kill you without a second thought if you try anything with her ever again.  And she was never yours.  She’s a person, not an object.”

Levi watched him struggling underneath him, putting more pressure on his throat whenever Roy tried to claw him off, not an ounce of his currently vicious attention leaving him.  He was aware that they had an audience--some neighbors were standing on their porch to see what was going on, no one brave enough to come face the man with the knife who’d beaten Roy to a pulp.  Though some of them seemed to be on phones, probably calling for actual help.  No matter.  They’d be out of here before any police arrived.

Y/N finally appeared, a single, small suitcase in hand, a coat on her frame this time, the scarf tied in place once more to hide the bruise on her throat.  Levi’s boot lifted off Roy’s neck, the knife he’d been cleaning now tucked away and out of sight and his hands clean as Y/N timidly started to approach him.

“You won’t make it out of town before the cops--” Roy started to wheeze, but Levi kicked him hard in the head, knocking him out in the process.

He should have done that earlier, honestly.

Levi held out an arm, pulling her protectively to his side with his arm around her shoulders as they quickly left the house behind.

“People are staring,” Y/N mumbled.  Her eyes were red from the crying, her cheeks flushed and wet with tears.  Levi’s hand gave her shoulder a gentle rub of comfort, trying to give her a bit of assurance.

“Don’t worry about that, let’s just get you out of here,” Levi muttered, taking the directions she’d given him to at least get them to the store she’d had him meet her at.

They could have taken the truck to get out of there faster, so they could just start driving, but he didn’t want to risk Roy coming after her for stealing anything that was legally his, so they were going to have to start on foot until they could find transport.

And as much as he wanted to be the one to take care of her right now, to tell her she didn’t have to worry about anything and he would take care of it all, he was a stranger in this world, and he didn’t understand it nearly as well as she did.  He needed her help to get her out of here, get her somewhere safe and secure where Roy couldn’t touch her.

They needed transportation and money.  Those were the two important things right now.

“Do you have any money?  Any at all?” Levi asked her as they came up on the store.

“No--I haven’t had a job in two years.  The twenty from earlier I took from Roy,” she said quietly.

“What about a phone so we can call someone, like your parents?”

“I haven’t had a phone in two years, either.”

Levi made a noise of frustration with how truly stuck Roy made her.  He moved her across the country away from everyone she knew (Besides Levi, who appeared wherever she was, but had been missing for four years), took away her transportation, took away her phone so she couldn’t contact anyone, took all of her money so she couldn’t buy her way anywhere, told their neighbors if she was out and about without him she was in trouble because she was unwell or sick in the head or some bullshit…

“If we go inside we might be able to borrow the store’s phone, though,” she said in a small voice.  “And get you a new shirt.  There’s blood on yours.”

There was.  They would probably get odd looks if he went inside with blood on him with a girl that looked shaken and scared, maybe get the police called on them again.  This wasn’t the Underground, people weren’t guaranteed to look the other way.

“Give me your coat, then.  We’ll go inside, get a new shirt, and you can borrow a phone to call your parents...do you remember their numbers?”

The only number he had to remember was 911 with that lesson she gave him a while back, but he was aware the other numbers were ten digits.  And it had been a while since she called them.

“I’ve always known my dad’s number like the back of my hand.  And he’s never changed it, so...I can call him,” she said, her voice shaking slightly at the prospect.  But she was shrugging off her coat, so clearly she was accepting the idea.

Levi pulled on her coat and covered himself up so the blood on his shirt wasn’t noticeable.  The blood on his pants and boots was another story, but that he might be able to brush off as paint or mud considering the dreary weather.  Once his hands were through the sleeves, he grasped her hand in his own and gave it a firm squeeze to reassure her, pulling her along after him as he headed for the doors they’d gone through earlier.

“Come on, let’s get you out of here,” he said lowly, guiding them inside.  Once inside, though, she took over, walking unsteadily to the other side of the store and approaching the counter with a nervous, jittery disposition as the lady on the other side stared expectantly at her.  “Can we, um...can I...I mean…”

“Can we borrow a phone?” Levi interrupted after watching her struggle to get the words out for several painful moments.  The lady looked taken aback, gaze scanning them over and narrowing at them suspiciously.  “She needs to make a call to her father.”

The woman’s analytical gaze didn’t lessen, but she did gesture to a phone behind the counter.  “You can use this one.”

*Reader’s POV*

Your hands were still shaking as you moved around the counter, repeating the number in your head over and over in the hopes that doing so would make it correct.  When you were younger, you’d always mixed up two of the numbers, and you were hoping you weren’t about to do that again.  You needed this call to go through.

You were still shaken by the abrupt turn this day had taken.  When you’d first seen Levi, you were just happy to see /anyone/ outside of Roy.  Especially the young man you had been convinced you’d never see again.

But Levi had always been observant, always good at reading people, and it hadn’t taken him long to start digging at things that made you reflexively panic, instinctively trying to hide the truth of your situation even from the one person you thought you might be able to be open with.  But Roy had too tight a hold on you and your life--you were too terrified to even let anyone suspect what was going on behind closed doors.  It wasn’t like you’d had a way out.  He’d stripped you of every freedom and mode of independence until it was too late, until you were isolated and locked in with no sign of ever escaping.  So you tried desperately to make it work, for your sake.

And when Roy got home, the thought of him seeing you with another man...you’d felt like you were staring death in the face.  No amount of saying Levi was just a friend would convince him, which was why you’d sent him out the back.  Of course, you’d forgotten about the two glasses you’d poured earlier, which was where the bruise around your neck came from.  Roy had picked you up by the throat and slammed you against the wall, demanding the truth as you desperately spun a lie about pouring yourself a glass and forgetting where you put it until after pouring a second.  Your insistence even after you ran out of air might have been what saved your life.

Getting out had consisted of waiting until after you’d finished and served Roy dinner, claiming you were going to take a bath to clean up after all the housework and instead sneaking out the back door.  You knew there would be hell to pay when you came back, that Roy would be furious you snuck out of the house he kept you restrained inside, but to see Levi...seeing Levi made it worth it.

Even being in his presence made you feel a little safer, made the air feel clearer instead of suffocating, made a bit of hope peak through the gloom you’d been trapped in.  You just wanted a few minutes of that before Levi inevitably disappeared, just a few moments of safety and warmth beside him would be worth any retaliation Roy doled out when it ended.

But the moment was shattered.  Any attempt you made to keep Levi from finding out, afraid of what would happen when he did, only made Levi more suspicious, because he knew you, and he’d known something was wrong from the start.  It had only taken one look for him to realize you were a bird with broken wings shoved in a corner of a cage and left to die.  But you were too afraid to say anything, too afraid of the fallout, of what would happen to Roy.  Because part of you had kept believing that if you just tried a little harder, if you just stopped messing up, if you could do one thing right, maybe he would go back to the way he’d been when you first met, maybe you could fix it.  It was your fault it had developed to this point, anyway, not his.  That was what you believed, anyway.

So seeing the dark fury in Levi’s eyes, remembering the few times he’d come through to your world in the middle of a fight, that one time when you were young that he came back covered in blood, you’d been afraid.  You might have never seen Levi like that, but you knew what it would lead to.  But Levi was faster than you, and unlike before, he wasn’t going to listen to your pleas to let it go, to stop and leave it be.  He was going to do something about it.

The fight had been terrifying to witness--mostly because every witnessed blow made you flinch, and you had never seen Levi with that dark fury in his eyes lashing out at someone with such murderous intent.  You really thought Levi was going to kill Roy in that moment.

When you stopped him, maybe part of it had been a conditioned reaction to not let Roy be hurt, maybe part of you was still afraid for Roy because he was still your partner.  But Levi was close to you in a way Roy could never fill, no matter how badly you tried to fit the cold and cutting square peg that was Roy into the round hole that was where Levi’s warmth and comfort was supposed to be.  You were afraid, but while Roy had conditioned you to be obedient and follow his whims, Levi was the one with your loyalty, with the history, with the true and even reciprocated affection.  When you’d stopped that fight, if it could be called that, it was because you just wanted it all to be over.  You just wanted out of that hell house and somewhere safe, you wanted Levi to take you with him anywhere but here.  You didn’t want him to look scary and covered in blood right now, you wanted him to whisk you away and hold you and tell you it was going to be all right.

But it seemed right now wasn’t the time for that in his mind.  He was taking the part about getting you out of here seriously.  The only form of comfort you had right now was the fact you were away from Roy at the moment, the small squeezes Levi gave your hand, and the protective arm around your shoulders.

But you kept thinking what would happen when Roy caught up to you.  When the police were called and this was considered a kidnapping, when Levi got arrested for the assault at least, possibly worse.  When you were dragged back to the house where a punishment that would probably finally leave you dead would be waiting for you.  It was what had you so terrified.  That someone would pull you out of Levi’s comforting grip and throw you back to Roy, that this couldn’t last, that you’d be dragged back.  You had nowhere to go, and no way to leave.  No money, no car, no phone, no friends or family in the area, you were isolated and surrounded by people who might see Levi and think he was the abuser.

Your fingers shook as you dialed the number, almost messing up more than once pressing the buttons on the cord phone that was used in the Wal-Mart, waiting as the rings droned on, then ended with your father’s voicemail.

It was the right number.

You just needed him to pick up even though the Caller ID would likely be Wal-Mart from a state he didn’t even go to.  He would think it was a scam call.  So you had to keep calling until he answered--praying he would answer before the cops caught up, before Roy came back, before the woman at the counter stopped eyeing Levi like that and decided to just do something about whatever she was assuming in her head.

You called again.  No answer.

Again.  No answer.

No answer.

Nothing.

“Pick up, please,” you let out in a small sob, only realizing then that you were openly crying as you desperately tried to get your father to pick up the phone.  You felt a warm hand on your back and looked over to see Levi standing beside you with concern in his eyes.

“Breathe.  Just keep trying,” he said softly, giving your back a small rub to help calm you down as you sucked in sharp breaths of air in your effort to calm back down, rubbing at the tears in your eyes as you kept trying the number back to back.

You tried five more times before you finally heard the dial tone interrupted, your heart leaping into your throat.  “Whoever this is--” came the familiar voice of your father, the same time that you squeaked out, 

“Daddy?”

The word shook and cracked, already showing that you were vulnerable and emotional and needed help.  There was a second of silence as your father registered that you were the mysterious caller, and the tone immediately softened from angry and annoyed to worried and even a little panicked.

“Y/N?  Are you all right?  What are you doing calling from a Wal-Mart?  Why haven’t we heard from you in so long?  Are you in Washington?  Where have you been?” he asked, a thousand bottled questions from two years of silence starting to flow out.

“I’m not.  I mean, I am but I’m not.  Daddy, I’m in a really bad...Levi found me, he got me out,” you said, looking at Levi as your voice shook, glad to see he was staying firmly by your side with his hand on your back as you spoke, giving you silent encouragement and not moving away at the vulnerability.  You didn’t think you could speak if he wasn’t right there to reassure you.  “But we don’t have anywhere to go now.  We don’t have a car, or money, or even a phone, we stopped at the Wal-Mart two miles from…”

You sniffled, tears blurring your vision as pent up emotions started to bubble to the surface.  You didn’t even care that you were in a public place anymore.  You just knew you had a man who truly cared about you that you cared for in return at your side, your father on the other end of the line, and you wanted desperately to go with them and be safe and not get dragged back to Roy’s.

“Daddy, I’m scared,” You admitted, hand shaking on the phone and feeling Levi step closer and his grip reflexively tighten on you at your words.  “I think they called the police--the neighbors.  Levi sort of...he hurt Roy really bad and I think they think he kidnapped me, Roy might try to have Levi arrested, but I don’t want to--I can’t go back there, I just want to get out of here, I can’t go back there.”

Levi full on wrapped you up in one of his awkward but learning hugs, and you turned your head to cry into his chest for a few moments as he murmured to you that it was going to be alright, he wouldn’t let anyone take you away, you holding the phone further away in the hopes your dad wouldn’t hear because a part of you didn’t want him to hear just how bad it was at the same time you wanted to tell him everything.

“Sweetheart, you need to listen to me,” he said once you had the phone pressed back against your ear to hear him.  You recognized that voice--it was his ‘I’ve seen a lot of shit as a soldier and led an interesting life, and I’m about to teach you something important as gently as I can, but you need to listen to me’ voice.  “I’m going to give you my bank information, you go to the ATM at the Wal-Mart and pull out two or three hundred dollars.  Use it to buy a burner phone, get at least a few hours on it, get some food and something to carry it in, anything else you need for two or three days.  I’m going to buy greyhound bus tickets the closest to you I can find that’s leaving in an hour or two, one for you and one for Levi so he can keep you safe, so you have enough time to get what you need and get there.  Text me on the phone you buy so I know where to send the tickets, I’ll send you the information, and then you need to call the police and tell them what happened so they arrest Roy, make sure you stress that Levi was defending you and trying to get you to safety and they might not come after the two of you to arrest him.  Just focus on getting out of the state first.”

You were fairly certain, considering you knew your father and the way he phrased that, that he was telling you two to evade the police at the same time so Levi wouldn’t be arrested and he could stay with you to keep you safe.  You were pretty sure extraditing was a thing, but you weren’t going to worry about it right now--especially because you knew Levi would disappear from custody anyway.

“Okay,” you said in a small voice, listening intently as your father moved on to explain how a cardless cash withdraw worked on an ATM and how he was going to approve the withdraw from an app on his phone, while you only needed to enter his number and the codes he was about to tell you, and the amount, and you would have the money.  You said a very shaky goodbye that consisted of some I love you’s before you hung up the phone with the codes running in a loop through your mind, hurrying with Levi over to the ATM that was correspondent with your father’s mainstream bank, entering the phone number, the codes, and then ending up with three hundred dollars in your hands, plus the twenty you took from the house.

Levi let you take the lead in this, since you knew what you were doing even if you were the shaken one that was being rescued.  You hurried back to the electronics section, buying and quickly activating the first phone that would suit your needs.  Once you had it in hand, you texted your father, who replied with four greyhound bus tickets--two for you and two for Levi, the reason for which being he included a transfer, with enough gap between drop off and pick up time for you and Levi to get a room at a hotel and get a good night’s rest before having to get on the next bus.  He explained that there was a curbside pickup spot close to your location at a local gas station that would only require you to show the ticket to the bus driver before you were let on, and that it would be there in a little less than an hour.  That allowed you time to do any supply shopping and hurry over there, though he again stressed you needed to call the police immediately and try to explain as much of the situation as possible so you could safely run from Roy without it being considered evading the police.  And so they wouldn’t be after Levi for kidnapping, at least.

You were pretty sure what Levi had done to Roy went beyond defense, though, so you weren’t optimistic about that.  At least there was no trace of him here in this world besides your stories, not even a birth certificate or a match to a fingerprint.  Levi was a ghost here.  So long as they didn’t catch him, they couldn’t prosecute him.

That was your thinking right now, anyway.

You grabbed a cart, headed over to the fresh foods section, and started grabbing from the lemonade, salads, wraps, sub sandwiches, potato salad, crackers and cheese trays--everything that was premade and ready for you and would keep in a lukewarm environment until you were in a hotel to put it in a minifridge for a while.  Stuff you could eat when you felt like it when you needed it.  You hurried over to the men’s aisle, and the two of you found a nice white button down and a pair of black dress pants that he could replace the ones he’d been wearing with.  By that point you felt like the breath was being squeezed out of you as you ran out of time and pushed your luck only a few miles from Roy’s house, the police probably at the scene and taking statements by now.  But that phone conversation was not one you wanted to have in a store surrounded by all kinds of people.  You’d probably cry again, and maybe you’d be asked questions you couldn’t answer around so many people.

So you rushed through buying the food and Levi’s replacement shirt, Levi going into the men’s room with the bag to change while you shakily dialed 911 on the phone as you waited for him to finish, putting the phone to your ear.

“911, what’s your emergency?” came a woman’s voice.

“Um...my name’s...my name’s Y/N L/N...I don’t know if there’s been any calls regarding me yet, but I...I needed to call and clarify what hap--what happened before a false report happened, or whatever it is.”

“I’m sorry, what exactly are you calling for?”

You looked around to make sure there weren’t a lot of people, lowering your voice as you tucked yourself against the wall you were leaning against with your bags at your feet, the food in a newly bought, spacious satchel bag and your suitcase on the other side of it.

“My, um...my boyfriend, Roy Higgins, he um...he was...it was a really, really bad situation.  An old friend of mine found me--”

“Found you?  What do you mean by found you?”

“Roy isolated me.  Moved me where there was no one around that I knew, took away my phone and my car and my money, told people I was sick so if I was out alone, without him, to bring me right back.  No one knew where I was, they probably thought it was voluntary.”

“Just to clarify, Roy was abusing you.”

“Yes.”

“And you say your friend found you?”

“Yes.  He found me, and he saw...he saw how bad I was hurt when I snuck away to see him, and he went back, to Roy and he...they got into a fight.  He beat up Roy pretty bad, and Roy drew a gun on me and he tried to shoot me--”

“Was this before or after the fight?”

“In the middle.  My friend was...He was coming to get me out of there, he told me to go pack and we were going to leave, and that’s when Roy tried to shoot me, and L--my friend dragged him out front, I don’t know what happened out there cause I was packing, but...I’m not in danger now, I just, I know neighbors were on phones and I didn’t want the police thinking I was kidnapped, or Roy telling the police I was taken, I want to leave, I don’t want to go back there--I can’t go back there and…” You choked off again, ducking your head away as someone walked by so they wouldn’t see you were crying.  “My friend’s just trying to get me somewhere safe, where Roy can’t find and hurt me.  I didn’t want any police arresting him or bringing me back there, so I...I called 911 so I could...I could report the abuse...and make sure that it was known I left willingly, my friend didn’t take me he was helping and defending me, and he felt my life was in danger, which it was because Roy almost...before I snuck away to see my friend he almost...and Roy’s just trying to drag me back there.”

“Y/N, is it possible for you to come into the police station to give a statement to clear things up?”

“No.  No, I can’t stay here, I just, I have to get away, I just want to get far away from here.  If you want a statement just let me, let me do it over the phone, or at the station in the other state when I’ve finally stopped running from him.”

At that point, Levi came out of the men’s restroom, looking clean and proper as he took in the sight of you on the phone again, fresh tears on your face.  You rubbed your eyes to get rid of them and straightened, Levi picking up the bags at your feet and gesturing for the two of you to get moving.

You followed after him as you continued speaking on the phone, knowing he knew where to go because you’d told him while the two of you were shopping for clothes and food.

“Okay, then Y/N, would you be willing to at least answer some questions right now so the police know some of what Roy’s done, so they can charge him properly?”

“Yes,” you said simply, staring at Levi’s shoes as you spoke while the two of you walked almost side by side.  The questions that were coming, you felt like they might be the kind you didn’t want Levi to hear, but you wanted as much as possible on the record as fast as possible.  Hopefully Roy would be locked up, and you would have some time before he could come after you.

Because, surely, he’d come after you.  He’d want his prize back.

“How long were you two in a relationship?”

“Three years.  Roughly.”

“Was he always abusive?”

“Not at first.  He eased into it.”

“Was the abuse physical, mental, emotional?”

“All of it.”

“Did he ever sexually abuse you?”

Your gaze flickered to Levi, your voice tiny and barely heard as you spoke into the phone.  “How...how would you define that?” You asked quietly, your mind flashing back to what happened to Levi, at long last able to understand what had happened that day, exactly, beyond ‘someone hurt him terribly,’ but unsure if what happened to you counted as that kind of abuse.

“Did he every touch you when you didn’t want to be touched, or pressure or force you to have sex with him when you didn’t want to?”

“Yes,” you said, voice somehow getting lower as you confirmed it.  “More than once.”

You were trying to be very brief and vague about the way you confirmed what she was asking, because you didn’t want Levi to figure out what you were talking about, still attempting to shield him from at least some modicum of the reality of what you went through.

What you didn’t know was the Levi could hear what was being said.  He was on full alert, keeping his eyes out for the slightest sign of trouble or Roy, and one of the things that meant was that he was listening very hard to his surroundings...and he could pick up the words coming from the other end of the phone with how close to him you were standing.  If you were looking at his hands instead of his feet, you would have noticed the white knuckle grip on the bags in his hands, as well as the slight tremble in them.

“You mentioned earlier that your friend was trying to protect you, and that he felt you were in danger.  That Roy shot at you.  He actively tried to kill you?”

“Twice.  Also before I met with my friend,” you told her.

“Had he reached that level of violence before?”

“Yes, but he usually stopped just short of it.”

The questions continued beyond that, the operator fishing for chargeable incidents she could put on the record of the call that you could talk about right now, your answers still kept brief with Levi next to you but still trying to make it clear so no one could claim too much ambiguity and shiftiness in her answers.  You were still on the phone as you and Levi stood at the pickup point for the greyhound bus, Levi keeping to himself for the time being as you answered questions on the phone before, at long last, you hung up, pulling up the tickets on your burner phone and making sure to keep your father updated.  You told him you were at the stop and that you’d given your side of the story, as well as telling him how much money you had left after the phone, food, and Levi’s clean change of clothes.  He mentioned you might need to withdraw a bit more when you stopped to sleep at a hotel, and that he would shift around some money in the meantime so it would be there if you needed it, and that he would be ready to set up the bank withdraw through his phone again if you needed it.

Finally, finally, you tucked the phone into your pocket, looking up and around you at the bus stop, the sun starting to set and making darkness quickly settle over the area, the already chilly air getting gradually colder.  The unknown yawning in front of you was terrifying, waiting for a greyhound bus to come and take you far, far away from Roy.  The freedom was enough to make fresh tears well in your eyes, but the fear that the rug could still get yanked out from under you, the fact that you didn’t know where to go from here, that still terrified you.

You looked at Levi at your side, noticing that his eyes were still on you even though he’d been keeping to himself and letting you have your conversations in peace.  He was tense, even though the lean against the bus stop bench glass wall suggested relaxation.  There was only a bit of blood on the brown vest he was wearing over the white button up, the rest thoroughly washed away.

Fully grown, past the teenage years and childhood in general, Levi’s features were sharp and...even more attractive than they had been before.  Though he also had a tougher exterior now, a general air of ‘do not mess with me’ that usually the kids in actual gangs in high school used to have.  But that vibe wasn’t a deterrent for you, because you knew him as a person.  You knew how soft and gentle and warm he could be--as he’d been with you since he’d appeared even when he pushed to try and get the truth from you for your own good, so he could protect you.

And after seeing him beat the shit out of Roy, even if the violence hadn’t been what you wanted because you were so sick of violence right now, and seeing him derail the shot so no one got hurt, you were never going to doubt that he could protect you ever again.

“Everything set?” Levi asked as you stared at him, straightening up and coming to stand directly beside you now.

You nodded.  “The trip should bring us...or me, if you disappear again...to Dad’s,” you said, a slight waver in your voice at the thought of him disappearing.  You didn’t want to go again.  He was your safety blanket, your stability, the thing you were clinging to right now to get you through this, to get you to take the necessary steps to freedom, what was making you feel safe right now.  You didn’t want him to disappear, you weren’t ready for him to disappear, especially with that lingering fear that it might be for years again, that you wouldn’t see him for so long--

“I’m not going anywhere until I know you’re safe,” he said bluntly, holding your gaze to make sure you understood he meant it.

Though you didn’t know how he was going to stop the universe throwing him back into his world, you didn’t question him.  Instead, you stepped closer, put your arms around him, buried your face in his chest, and started to silently cry, seeking his comfort once more.

He put his arms around you tenderly, holding you securely against him until the greyhound bus appeared at the end of the street to take both of you far, far away from this place.

Next Chapter---->

Levi Tags:  @clary-quinn​ @humanitys-hottestsoldier @whalerus​ @sunny-flo​ @thirstyforsometea​ @hauntedhousecat​ @peaches-and-clouds​ @queenofcurse​

Through the Looking Glass Tags:  @artist-bby @kaz2y5-pie @tartheyes @super-peace-fangirl @huntersbunker @nefelimalfoy @soft-levi-girl-blog @honeygivemeachainsaw @regalillegal @sugas-daddy7 @cathyannecookie @chaoticshepardplaid @roayaloveslife @sanrioclit @wvnderfvllyalvne @sparkling-gayyyy @do-not-feed-sugar​

[jinmukangwrites]

Whumptober Day 18

Panic Attacks

Ao3

Warnings: panic attacks, referenced past character death, referenced past rape/non-con, recreational drug use, triggers, Dick Grayson Having Unresolved Trauma

-o-o-o-o-

It's a quiet night. One that has Dick wondering if he really needed to stay out as long as he did before returning to his apartment from patrol. Blüdhaven, in a rather out of character manner, decided to give him an easy one tonight. Just run-of-the-mill crime. Muggings. Theft. Sexual harassment. No huge underground schemes or plots being executed within the walls of a warehouse, as unbelievable as it sounds.

Just a good old fashioned patrol with good old fashioned criminals which ended up with Dick returning home to collapse onto his couch, his muscles burning from a good workout instead of a tussle. He spent a solid thirty minutes just going through his phone until his stomach reminded him that he's hungry. He should probably get some food… and get out of his Nightwing suit. He jumps up from the couch and heads towards the kitchen, planning what to make based on the limited amount of ingredients that he has. 

His kitchen always seems to be so empty, and he always forgets to buy more things. But that's okay, he manages. So long as he doesn't starve, he can deal with eggs and toast for breakfast and dinner. 

He takes his gloves off his fingers and sets them down by the sink before he washes his hands. It would be really bad if someone walked in right now, but his blinds are all closed and his door is supplied with Bruce Approved™ locks, so he's really not all that worried. He's too lazy right now to head towards his room and change. 

He goes to the fridge and begins to take out the eggs, humming under his breath. He cracks the eggs into a saucepan, dumps in a handful of cheese, then goes to his cupboard to find he's all out of bread.

And… that's okay. Eggs and cheese with some syrup is satisfying in its own way. 

He returns to his eggs, stirring the meal with a wooden spoon. 

He's about to turn off the heat to the stove when he gets the feeling that something was… wrong. Or maybe, there was always something wrong, and he’s just now noticing it. There's a tense feeling in his ribs that has him taking a deeper inhale to catch his breath. Is he forgetting something? 

Eggs… cheese… no bread… gloves on the counter… oh yeah. He shakes his head and turns off the stove, feeling like an idiot within the walls of his own home. He goes to grab a plate while ignoring the tightness of his ribcage—must just be sore from patrol. That's all. 

Eating dinner isn't as enjoyable as he thought it would be. He keeps having to shift every two or three second to place a hand on his lower ribs, just to make sure he hasn't cracked or strained anything. He presses and pokes, but nothing feels wrong. He takes a deep breath, expanding his lungs as far as they can go in-between bites, but all the good it does is make his heart beat faster. 

His heart… is beating really fast. Pounding. So much so that when he puts his hand on his chest he can almost feel it thumping through his skin. 

He forces himself to finish the eggs before standing up and bringing his plate towards the sink. He looks at his gloves just sitting there, adding to the mess that is his sink. There's dirty dishes, not a whole lot, but just enough that has him looking down at the dish in his hand and sighing. He should clean up. He had time to. 

He doesn't have the energy to all of a sudden.

He places his plate in the sink then grabs his gloves. Rubbing his ribs, he walks towards the medicine cabinet. He really can't think of what would be making them hurt like this unless it was just soreness. He doesn't particularly remember taking any hits to the chest while on patrol tonight, but things happen. He wakes up with bruises he can't remember where he got all the time. 

Maybe he took a hit to the chest and just doesn't recall. It's possible. Adrenalin makes you forget stuff.

He opens the cabinet, now making a conscious effort to keep his breathing even, and looks over the bottles he has stuffed in here. Why does it feel so much like something is wrong? Like he's missing something? He can't think of what would cause him to feel like this so late at night. Maybe it's just the stress of having to wake up tomorrow for work. 

His eyes land on the Advil and he once again makes an attempt to even his breathing. He grabs the bottle, opens it, and taps the little red pills into his hands. Two should be enough. Two is usually enough. A little chest pain doesn't call for three. 

Two little red pills sit in his hand, and for a second he thinks they might be white. 

He blinks. Shakes his head. He returns the bottle to the cabinet and returns to his messy sink in his messy kitchen in his messy apartment to get a glass of water. 

He goes to find a cup, and then stands uselessly as he finds his cabinet empty of clean cups. 

He needs to wash one. 

With tremors running down his hands, he places the red pills down onto the counter and grabs a cup. He pumps soap onto the sponge and quickly rinses the cup out. He fills it with water, grabs the pills, then stops.

Two little red pills. His heart pounds. His chest aches. He blinks and breathes harshly in and out like the air is thin. It feels thin. He forces his hand towards his mouth, then stops right before the white pill—red pills red pills, it's Advil—can touch his lips. 

He has just a second to realize that oh, he's having a panic attack, before it crashes into him.

He slams his hands against the counter, gasping and practically tossing the pills away from him. He lets go of the cup and he's sure it crashes to the ground to shatter, but he can barely concentrate over the tunneling thoughts of I'm having a panic attack I'm having a panic attack why and I having a panic attack I'm having a panic attack-

He tries to get a hold of himself, forcing his legs to remain standing even though he wants to collapse. He can't breath. The air is so thin, and his chest hurts so badly. What were the things he was supposed to do to get out of a panic attack?

He can't think. He can taste the powdery residue of pills on his tongue even though he didn't even put any in his mouth yet. 

He gasps for air. His ears ring and he can only stare wide-eyed at nothing. 

In what feels like forever, but was probably only a couple minutes, he slowly begins to get a hold of himself. Slowly, he's able to twitch his fingers and shuffle his feet and claim a gasp of air that isn’t short and impossible to take. 

The moment his brain connects back to the present reality, it's all he can do to not launch into another panic attack at with the realization that he's just had an honest to fucking God panic attack for no reason. 

He brings a hand to his chest and keeps the other flat on the counter, left there to keep him stable as he leans forward. He forces himself to control his breathing. As he does, his eyes slide to the two red pills discarded about a foot from his splayed fingers, both slowly dissolving in little puddles of water left on the counter. 

He vaguely recognizes that he might have been triggered into having a panic attack. Triggered. Which... isn't something he's really had claim to having before. A trigger. Sure, things make him uncomfortable. Sometimes things cause him to get sick to his stomach and leave the room. Sometimes he sees a baseball bat and his heart quickens. Sometimes he sees a woman force herself onto a man and any food in his stomach wants to rise. And sure, taking pills have never been something he's particularly enjoyed doing ever since… ever since. But none of these things have ever caused him to lose control like this before.

And besides, the tight feeling in his chest started before he went to the medicine cabinet. Something else gave him enough anxiety to cause this. The pills just tossed him over the edge. 

Now that he thinks of that… he's not sure if that's good or bad. 

It's one thing to have a trigger. It's another to have a panic attack for absolutely no fucking reason. 

Jesus. His chest still hurts. Breathing still hurts. His feet… he looks down and almost sighs at how ridiculous it is. He's stepped in glass. Water is all over his floor. 

He takes a stiff deep breath. The first one in what feels like forever. He doesn't have any energy to bend down to clean the shattered glass, water, and his own blood from his tiled floor. He wants to go to his bed, climb under the comforter, and blast rain noises until his ribs stop aching and his heart stops pounding. Until he's falling into a dreamless sleep. Until he's unconscious enough to not exist in a world where Lex Luthor stopped his heart, where Two-Face beat him with a baseball bat, where Joker didn't kill Jason, where Catalina never- 

His phone's ringing. Over on the table, where he had finished eating just a few minutes before. 

His spirits instantly lift, and he vaguely realizes it's because he now has something to be distracted by. He pushes himself from the counter and carefully steps over the glass and water, walking on the sides of his feet to avoid treading on more glass or spreading any blood for him to clean up later, and grabs his phone. He places it to his ear without even looking at the caller ID.

"Yeah?" he asks, breathless. 

"Dick! I'm glad you're still up-" Tim's voice. Tim. Timmy. Timmy who's alive and healthy sans spleen. Timmy who's upset with Dick because he gave Damian Robin. Timmy who's smarter than Dick and gets frustrated when Dick doesn't understand. Timmy who never thinks Dick's on his side Timmy who hates Dick Timmy who- stop. Stop. None of that is true. Stop. "Listen, you remember Jula Zarina? The lady who worked at the bank? I was pulling up her files, and it turns out she might have connections to one of the robbers and I was thinking-"

Dick slowly lowers himself into the chair of his dining table. He lets out a breath and places his elbows on the table. Yeah. Yeah he remembers Jula. She’s the broker at the bank Dick and Tim stopped from being shot up about a week ago. 

He lets out a breath. His chest still hurts, but he doesn't feel on the brink of another panic attack any more. 

"-so I was wondering what your thoughts are about it?"

And Dick wasn't listening. Or he was. But for some reason, no words are really sticking with him. He's tired. Everything hurts. He has what feels like the beginnings of a migraine but he doesn't trust himself to even look at the medicine cabinet at the moment. 

"I'm sorry, Tim," Dick says, and his voice sounds so fake. He clears his throat. "I missed what you were saying… you think you can say it again?"

It's silent on the other side of the line, and for a moment Dick almost thinks Tim hung up or something. He wouldn’t blame him. But then, there's the sound of bedsheets shifting on the other side of the line. His lips almost twitch upwards at the sound. Of course Tim was in bed, pulling up files on random people, instead of sleeping. 

"Dick…" Tim starts, and why does Dick get the feeling he's not going to like what's said next? Are you okay? You sound weird."

Like he's just come off from some freak panic attack even though the night was good and nothing warranted one in the first place? Dick closes his eyes and wills his voice sound normal. "It's nothing, Tim. I'm just… tired."

"Please don't lie to me," Tim says, and Dick instantly knows he's failed at playing normal. "Your tired voice is different. You sound…"

"Panicked?" Dick offers, more like a joke, but he realizes his mistake the second Tim sucks in a sharp breath. "Tim really, I'm-"

"If you say you're fine, I'm stealing the Batjet to come over and smack you." Dick winces, because Tim sounds serious. "Are you hurt? What happened?"

Dick opens his mouth, but no words come out. His eyes sting suddenly, and he's hit with the intense need to just cry. He doesn't even know what about. He doesn't want to cry, especially if it's about nothing. He swallows. "It's nothing… I just… I just had a little… little panic attack I guess. Something, um, triggered one."

Do you... Do you want to talk about it? Should I get Br-"

I trained you to live, and I watched you die.

"No," Dick says sharply. More sharply that he meant to. The pain in his chest intensifies suddenly, and for a terrifying moment he almost thinks he's about to launch into yet another attack. The thought of Bruce knowing that Dick was still upset about Crime Syndicate raised his anxiety levels almost to a ten. Dick shouldn't still be hung up on that… it's not like he really died. "No… I just… Tim I'm really fine. This was just a random thing. I don't get attacks like these normally. I just need to go to bed and I'll be better in the morning."

"Panic attacks aren't usually random-" Tim begins but Dick cuts him off. 

"Really, Tim, I'm already feeling better. How about you call me tomorrow and we can talk about Jula? I really should go to bed. And you should too."

"I… okay… if you're sure-?"

"I'm sure."

It takes just a moment to finally say goodnight to Tim, but it feels like hours. He sets his phone down and sits there. Breathing. 

He's fine. This is all okay. Dick Grayson gets panic attacks sometimes. This isn't new.

He'll get over this. 

He always does. 

[storybycorey]

Happy Halfway Point, guys!  

Thanks so much to all of you who’ve been following along with this fluffy, romantic alphabet of Mulder’s!  I hope you’re all enjoying reading Mulder’s thoughts about Scully as much as I enjoyed writing them!

Since we’ve gotten to M (halfway through the alphabet), I thought I’d post the fic up til this point, for anyone who may have seen the individual letter posts floating around and been intrigued. Here is A-M all in one place, for easy reading!

The Fox Mulder Phonetic Alphabet

author: @storybycorey

rating: PG-13

wordcount (so far): 2163

A is for Apple

She brings her lunch from home most days. Well-balanced, just as he’d expect— portions of protein, fruit, and grains—while he grazes a bit less elegantly on a plethora of offerings from the upstairs vending machine.  

She packs an apple once, eats it right in front of him.  Red and juicy, but not nearly as red and juicy as her lips, or at least the way he’s imagined her lips to be after nearly seven years of imagining such things.  He wonders whether, if he ever works up the nerve to kiss her, he’ll taste her on his mouth afterwards, the way you taste an apple—tart and sweet and lingering there. 

He realizes he’s staring, goes quickly back to his bag of Funyuns (Onions, Scully! They’re vegetables!). Later, when she throws her apple core in the trash, he feels a sudden urge to retrieve it, as a reminder of things he wants but probably doesn’t deserve to have.

B is for Basketball

She beats him at basketball one day. Unbelievably. Finds him in the gym one evening after an endless day of seminars. She knows how to find him the way a dog finds its bone—even when he’s buried, even when he’s mangled and chewed-upon and disgusting.  On this day though, he’s none of those things; instead he’s just plain bored.

In her black suit and heels, she stands out like a sharp smear of ink, poignantly distinct amidst the wooden floors and the bleachers. He doesn’t expect a response to his hey Scullz, wanna go one-on-one?, but she lifts her eyebrow in challenge and slips off her blazer.  The tank top hidden beneath is tight and it’s blue (and made of a soft, shiny material his fingers ache to touch). 

He could say he lets her win, but honestly, imagining that mystery material sandwiched between his palm and her skin leaves him much too distracted to pay attention to the game.

C is for Candles

He’ll forever associate candle-light with her pale and trembling back.  With a maroon satin robe and hair that curls up sweetly in the rain (she’d never allow that now). 

Before that night, the only candles he owned were a melted-down cluster from some birthday or another, remnants of a relationship he’d rather forget. He owns an assortment now though, scented and not, but all at the ready should the opportunity arise.  His greatest want is to see the rest of her body lit by that warm, amber glow, to trail his fingertips across more than just her back, to chase the soft shadows around her curves as her breath hitches with desire.

He and the candles are prepared; they’ve been prepared for seven years now. She and her curves and her shadows? He thinks they’re getting there. He hopes anyway.

D is for Dana

Her first name is a secretive, foreign thing to him these days.  Scully is Scully—strong, competent, loyal.  But Dana is an enigma.  He catches glimpses of Dana sometimes—a woman, a girl—and he wonders whether she’s fighting to break free.  It saddens him to think he may have stolen that girlish part away from her, filed her inside a metal cabinet down in a basement office like everything else that crosses his path. 

Sometimes he whispers it and it gives him a small thrill, like there’s a hidden part of her he has yet to know.  He imagines saying it intimately, with his mouth pressed to her ear, but can’t decide whether it feels terribly wrong or perfectly, undeniably right. He only know that his lips are ready, should he ever earn the chance to try. 

E is for Earrings

He almost buys her earrings once. Foolish, really.  But while waiting for a watch battery to be replaced, he can’t help but browse.  The sapphires would match her eyes so stunningly.  Has he ever seen her in anything but small diamond studs or pearls?  Anything but a business suit or hotel room pajamas? He wonders whether she likes dressing up, whether she stands before her mirror and admires herself, deciding between this evening gown or that one, holding earrings up next to her cheek.  

He stands at the counter and looks at the earrings for ten minutes, picturing the delicate arc of her neck and the auburn of her hair and those earrings sparkling between.  He’d be lying if he doesn’t also admit to imagining his tongue tracing around them and his teeth scraping against them and the moan he’s sure would slip from her throat while he plays. 

A pushy saleswoman interrupts his thoughts, asks “For your wife?  Girlfriend?”

He shakes his head, “Neither.”

He leaves with a hard-on and a working watch, but the earrings stay behind for someone with a little more courage.

F is for Friends

They use the term friends sometimes.  Usually it’s partners, occasionally colleagues, coworkers, but really, none of those words does their relationship the slightest bit of justice.  He couldn’t define it to a stranger (should one ask) if he tried.  Hell, he can’t even define it to himself.

How do you define someone so ingrained in your bones, you taste marrow at the back of your throat each time she walks away?  Webster would be hard-pressed to condense that into a single word, he’s sure. Even best friend feels trite and inadequate where Scully’s concerned. She’s not just a friend, not just a partner, not just a lover (even in his most daring of fantasies)—she’s not just anything. 

She’s Scully, and she’s everything.  

G is for Globe

He used to play a game with Samantha.  Spin the Globe it was called.  They played it when their parents were fighting, when they wanted nothing more than to be far, far away.  He tells Scully about it once, when he can tell she can’t get out of her head.  Luckily, amidst the files and slides and mess of the office, he happens to have a globe.

“Spin it, Scully.  Close your eyes and point, and I’ll take you on an adventure wherever your finger lands.”

She rolls her eyes, but plays along, extending her French-tipped fingernail to land upon the spinning globe.  Antarctica. 

“Spin again,” he murmurs quickly, “That one didn’t count,” but she stops him with a hand curled around his like a comma.

“You found me, Mulder.  That was more extraordinary than any adventure.” 

H is for Hands

Once on a stakeout, he holds her hand. 

Hours in a darkened car breed strange and wonderful things sometimes—discussions and games that only boredom can inspire.  He tells her he can read palms (he’s lying, of course, but at least it’s something to do), and she scoffs, but then surprisingly offers her hand.  It’s really too dark to see, but he tickles her palm and bullshits his way through, blathering about wealth and fate until her giggle makes his heart stand still.

“According to your palm…,” he says softly, “…true love awaits…as soon as you’re ready.”

She’s silent at first, and he worries he’s ruined things— ruined seven years’ worth of things in the span of a minute. 

But then, in a quiet voice he’s never heard before, she responds, “I’ll be ready… soon.” 

He holds her hand until their shift is over.

I is for Ice Cream

Her favorite ice cream flavor is Mint Chocolate Chip.  He knows this (even though she doesn’t know he knows this), and once, during a rough case, he brings her some. He sneaks from his room after dinner, stops at three different gas stations before finding his prize. Sylvia’s Sundries and Smokes perhaps wouldn’t have been his first choice of establishments, but beggars can’t be choosers where ice cream’s concerned.

Surprise in hand, he knocks on Scully’s door and, with flourish, whips two plastic spoons from his pocket.  The nice thing about it?  She doesn’t even pretend not to want it.  She smiles a shy little smile and invites him in.  They climb up onto her bed where they scoop big whopping spoonfuls right out of the tub.  She’s full after only a few bites but sits with him while he finishes, lays her head on his shoulder. They watch the Late Late Show until it’s late late late, until it isn’t even the same day anymore.

J is for Jacket

Her suit jackets (he supposes they’re probably technically called blazers) have shrunk over the years.  Dana Scully of the plaid and boxy, of the oversized shoulder-pads, is now Dana Scully of the sleek and fitted, of the black and stylish and sexy.   He finds himself tugging his collar from his overheated neck sometimes. More than sometimes.

He wonders when things changed, because he can’t quite place a pin on it, when she went from a woman he loves to a woman he lusts after as well. Or maybe it’s unclear because he’s always done a little of both where Scully’s concerned. 

She left a jacket (blazer, whatever) at his apartment last year and he keeps forgetting to tell her he found it.  It hangs now in his closet next to pairs of pressed dress slacks.  He catches a glimpse of it sometimes, stands there wondering how soon ‘soon’ will come.

K is for Kiss

Back in the 60s, the 70s, when the turn of the millennium seemed ridiculously far away, Fox Mulder fantasized about the future. His comic books predicted: In the year 2000, there will be flying cars, teleportation devices, vacations on the moon and Mars... 

He imagined the party awaiting him on New Year’s Eve, complete with robot wait staff and space-age hors d’oeuvres.  Never would he have guessed he’d actually spend the evening in a hospital corridor, arm in a sling, nary a party nor robot in sight.

They were wrong about more than just the robots though, dead wrong, because not a single one of those comic books predicted this:  In the year 2000, there will be Dana Scully and her flame-red hair, Dana Scully and her skeptical sighs, Dana Scully and the world not ending while she presses her lips to his for the very first time. 

To think that at one time he wanted robots and jetpacks.  It’s laughable really, to have ever wanted anything on this earth (or on the moon, or on Mars) but Dana Katherine Scully.

L is for Lists

He arrives earlier than usual one morning, finds Scully’s open notebook lying flat on the desk. The beginnings of a list, he’s sure.  Scully loves lists. Books to Read, Articles to Write, Times Mulder Has Driven Me Crazy… He hasn’t physically seen that last one, but he’s sure it exists, somewhere in her purse or briefcase, or maybe just hidden away in her head.  

A quick glance confirms his suspicions. Personal Goals.  

He’s taken aback; he’d expected something trivial. Pros and Cons of Sunflower Seeds perhaps, but this…

He stalls, waits a minute, maybe two, but in the end is much too intrigued not to peek.  

1. Call Mom more often

2. Reach out to Bill

3. Volunteer at the church

They’re all so wonderfully Scully.  He’s not sure what else he expected.  Curiosity satisfied, he’s about to turn away when:  

15. Stop being afraid of my feelings

and below that:

16. Mulder

He stands stunned. He’s joked about appearing on Scully’s lists, but never like this, never as #16, never as a personal goal.  

He makes a list himself that night, condenses every one of his own goals down into just six letters.

1. Scully

2. Scully

3. Scully…

372. Scully…

1049. Scully…

He types her name until dawn has broken, until the printed ‘S’ has all but disappeared off his keyboard.

M is for Maybe

Maybe tomorrow’s the day.  He’ll toss her an innuendo, and instead of just catching it, she’ll throw one back herself.

The sun’ll come out tomorrow, isn’t that how the song goes?  Good things happen in the darkness, too, though—cemetery downpours, X-marked stretches of highway where her hair grows wavy from the rain. He and Scully manage just fine with no sun at all; they thrive in the darkness, no matter what the song says.

He packs up his things on a Friday afternoon, grabs his coat and offers his usual weekend farewell. But instead of Have a nice weekend, Mulder, she stops him, hand to his forearm, “It’s supposed to be beautiful tomorrow… Do you wanna… Maybe…”

Her cheeks are pink as she ducks her chin to her chest, and it’s the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

“Yeah,” he interrupts quickly, “Yeah, I do.”   He’s a bit too enthusiastic probably, but maybe tomorrows don’t actually happen that often for him on Friday afternoons.  

She smiles, cheeks still flushed, “Okay, then. Tomorrow…”  

On his way out the door he finds himself humming. Maybe the forecast for tomorrow is sunny after all, and not just because a little orphan girl told him so.

to be continued- we still have N-Z to go, and I promise Z will have been worth the wait!

[minyoongijjangjjangmanboongboong]

Ephemera Chapter Twelve

Ephemera: In art, transitory written and printed matter (receipts, notes, tickets, clippings, etc.) not originally intended to be kept or preserved.

Alternatively, things that exist or are used for only a short time.

Description: Nobody knows who Vante really is. Everything about the popular artist is shrouded in secrecy: from his face to his name to everything in between. After years of working for his art gallery, Y/N feels she may just be the closest thing he has to a friend. Between her success at work and her relationship with campus hot-shot Jeon Jungkook, Y/N’s life has never been better. But is Jungkook truly who he says he is? And who will Y/N protect now that she knows Vante’s livelihood may be on the line?

Genre: Romance, Drama, Fluff, Angst

Pairing: Jungkook x (f) Reader x Taehyung

Word Count: 6.6k

Tags: Non-Idol!Au, Gang!Au, Art History Student!Reader, Film Student!Jungkook, Art Student!Taehyung

Warnings: Swearing and mentions of alcohol, although infrequently

A/N: Hello friends! Here’s another chapter for ya. I’m excited about what’s coming soon, so please stay tuned! And thank you guys so much for the support. It means the world to me. Please don’t be shy and send feedback, critique, questions, theories, and comments my way. I’ll be sure to respond to all asks I receive within a day of receiving them! Links will be added later!

And again, if you want to follow my Twitter, my username is @/plzpunchmebts. I’m super active over there and hopefully in the future I’ll do some livestreams/chats with you all!

- Mercury

Previous Chapter – Next Chapter

Masterlist

Weekly updates: Sunday, 1PM (PST)

Nara and I lay side-by-side on her bed, Hyun nothing more than a pool of white fur at our feet, as the television droned on, glowing through the bedroom, flashing like a lighthouse. She hadn’t asked why I’d come over still dressed to the nines in a designer dress, hadn’t really needed to, and had instead simply scanned my face, opened the door wide, and thrown her arms around my shoulders. An hour later and my makeup was long gone, feet red with blisters, drowning in one of Nara’s massive sleep shirts.

“How are classes?” I asked in the darkness, staring at the ceiling.

She hummed, rubbing Hyun’s side with her foot. “Good.”

I glanced at her out the corner of my eye and saw her face was blanker than mine. I turned onto my side and furrowed my brow, searching her profile. “Tell me the truth.”

She sighed, eyes slipping shut, and flitted her hand. “I dunno. It’s just…it’s a lot right now, you know?”

“English literature still giving you a hard time?” I asked, resting my cheek on my hand.

She pulled the covers up under her chin and nodded. “Yeah. And work. I tried to ask for more time off to work on my studies, but you know how it is…”

“Is there anything I can do?” I asked.

She laughed and patted my arm. “No. I just…need to get through it I guess.”

“Are you working late?”

She nodded. “Yeah, these days. It’s not a problem though. The neighborhood is safe enough.”

“Yeah, when you’re alert,” I said, poking her cheek. “But you’re spacey when you’re stressed. You sure it’s a good idea to work late?”

She shrugged and her eyes slid towards me, brows raised. “I mean, what choice do I have?” she asked, then grinned. “Us normal folks don’t have the luxury of being so rich we can buy thousand-dollar dresses then skip work on Monday.”

I laughed, flopping onto my back once more with a sigh. “It’s ridiculous, isn’t it?”

“Kinda.”

“All of it.”

“Yeah…”

I shut my eyes and exhaled, long and slow. “Taehyung is Vante.”

Nara was quiet for a while. I thought maybe she was processing everything, taking it in, but her silence stretched a little too long for that. “I saw it. On the news.”

“Already?” I asked, then shook my head. “Should’ve figured.”

She nodded. “People are really freaking out about it.”

“It’s shocking, I guess.”

She glanced at me, turning onto her side to get a better look. “You guess?” she asked. “I figured you’d be the most shocked out of anyone.”

I shrugged. “I don’t really wanna talk about it.”

She nodded. “I understand,” she said, then sighed. “All men do is lie.”

I laughed a little, rousing Hyun from his resting spot at our feet as he lifted his fluffy head to eye me sidelong. “You’re right.”

“Jungkook…,” she began, then stopped, clamping her mouth shut with a sharp shake of her head. “Forget it.”

Hyun sauntered over, the mattress bowing under his heavy paws as he slowly stepped toward us before falling in a heap between Nara’s chest and mine. I turned towards the big dog and reached a hand out, stroking his fur with shut eyes. the rhythm of the motion settled something in me and settled it enough for me to summon my voice.

“I told him I don’t wanna see him anymore,” I said with a nod.

Nara kept her silence for a few seconds before sighing. “Well, duh,” she said. “You can’t keep dating someone like that.”

I shook my head, my chest constricting. “No,” I said. “I mean…like I don’t want to see him ever again.”

Nara jolted upright and looked down at me. My heart jumped a little at her sudden movements, but when I opened my eyes to look at her, her expression was even more surprising. Furrowed brow, mouth agape…concern or disbelief? Maybe both?

“Y/N…,” she began, trailing off.

I inhaled sharply and snuggled closer to Hyun, holding him flush against my front as I rested my cheek on the side of his face. “What?” I asked, spooning him.

She sighed and leaned back on one palm. “Are you okay?”

I swallowed the lump in my throat and buried my head in Hyun’s fur, nodding my head. “I’m fine,” I said, but the waver in my voice gave me away.

Nara let out a few frustrated sounds like maybe she’d say something, scold me, tell me it was alright, but instead she simply sighed and I heard the bed shift as she bundled herself back up beneath the blankets. Instead of saying a thing, she reached her hand out and began petting Hyun, stroking him like I was. I felt like a kid, holding a big teddy bear to keep from crying.

I was grateful to Nara in that moment. For a lot of things, really.

But mostly for knowing that if she asked me anything else, I’d break apart completely.

Professor Jung settled beside me as I sketched a rough human figure, copying the gesture of the student modeling in the center of the room. He cocked his head to the side, crossing his arms. My sketch, rough edges and dark, awkward lines that followed no real flow, was perhaps one step above stick figures. But as Professor Jung stewed over it, I didn’t get the sense that he was judging it. Instead, rather, that he was trying to understand it.

And that made me even more insecure.

I tried to hide my work with my forearm, glancing toward the other side of the room where I expected to see Taehyung. Normally, he’d be the first to come over and help, or otherwise distract Professor Jung to take the heat off of me. But there was nobody in his light wooden stool, set up right by the window with the best natural light. With a deflated sigh, I glanced back down at my paper.

It was Monday and already the second day that week that Taehyung and I hadn’t spoken. I knew why. Of course, after revealing his identity like that it would be almost dangerous to return to everyday life. But part of me felt oddly guilty looking at his empty stool. Like it was my fault he had to go public.

“It’s a little stiff, Y/N,” said Professor Jung.

I nodded and rested my pencil on its side next to my fingertips. “I know,” I said with a sigh. “I think my mind’s somewhere else today.”

He smiled gently, the benevolent man, and gave my shoulder a pat. “Don’t worry. With everything that’s been happening these days, I wouldn’t expect you to be all that focused.”

I furrowed my brow and glanced at the man. “What do you mean?” I asked.

He stiffened. “Oh. I figured…well, at any rate, don’t worry too much.”

I blinked after him as he stood with a grunt and wandered toward another student. If nothing else, this whole ordeal had taught me to pay very close attention to the things people say in passing. I glanced back down at my artwork, abysmal and awkward, and inhaled sharply. I had a sinking feeling that something more was coming…

“Do you think so?” whispered a young girl beside me in the library.

I was stationed steadfastly in a corner beside the window, overlooking the sprawling campus, smooth white table beneath me and periodicals beside me. Nobody really came this way. I lifted my eyes to look at her. Petite and dark-haired and maybe eighteen, the girl’s eyes went wide and she turned slightly to offer me a view of her shoulder. She lowered her voice as she continued whispering with her friend, a young guy who kept casting me shifty looks. Was I paranoid or was there something they knew that I didn’t?

“Can’t be,” he whispered back. “That girl’s different.”

“You think?” asked the girl, just loud enough for me to hear. “I think they look the same…” She peeked over her shoulder at me and stiffened when she saw I was still looking.

I leaned back in my chair and crossed my arms, raising my brows. “Are you guys talking about me?” I asked, surprised by my own reaction. Since when was I so direct?

The girl coughed a little and grabbed her friend by the crook of his arm, steering him into the stacks of books. “No! S-Sorry,” she called over her shoulder as the two disappeared quickly.

I sighed and gripped the bridge of my nose, squeezing my eyes shut. The whole point of coming to the library was to get some coursework done, since God only knows I couldn’t summon the strength to do it over the weekend. And even the peaceful respite of the library was riddled with distractions.

I peered down at my coursework, spread out haphazardly across the table, and sighed as I collected it. Messily, I shoved it into my backpack and stood. I didn’t even bother wrapping my scarf properly, simply shucked on my jacket, slung my scarf over my arm, and walked as quickly as I could through the rows of bookshelves.

But was it just me or did the library patrons give me funny looks out the corners of their eyes as I walked past?

I stood quietly beside the front door of the gallery as hordes of patrons rushed in, hoping to catch a glimpse of Taehyung in the flesh. Of course, he was nowhere to be found. But his stunt had successfully transformed Gallery V into a tourist attraction. All around, patrons chatted too loud for the ambient gallery and scuffed their shoes on the polished floor. Kids chased each other while parents took photos with the art. Not a single person approached me for a tour, likely because none of these people were looking to purchase any pieces.

I was half-tempted to just go home.

“This is insane,” Yuri whispered to me out the corner of her mouth, her eyes wide as she scanned the floor beside me.

I nodded. “I didn’t even see this many people at N Seoul Tower when I first moved,” I said, then sighed and rolled the toe of my shoe into the ground. “I bet Kwon’s having an aneurism.”

Yuri glanced at me and pushed a lock of dark hair behind her ear. “Speaking of Kwon,” she began, then pointed down at her shoes which, like mine, were sleek black ballet flats. She grinned. “Dress code’s officially been changed. Direct orders from Vante himself.”

I raised my brows. He followed through on that promise? I swallowed hard and hummed. “That’s good.”

“It’s because you started your whistle-blowing, you know,” Yuri said with a laugh. “Good things happen when nice people get pissed off.”

I chuckled and shrugged. “It’s bad to allow blatant sexism.”

“It’s also out of character,” she said with a grin. “You know, for you to stir the pot.”

I was about to respond, but a patron approached the two of us with a big grin. A young man with a slight build and big eyes smiled up at me with an expression I couldn’t put my finger on. He blinked a few times, mouth agape, as if he may say something at any moment. As if I’d be able to hear him properly over the shouting in the gallery…

“Can I help you, Sir?” I asked with a smile, resting my hands on my stomach and bending slightly to meet his eyes.

He blinked a few times before shaking his head and laughing. “Sorry! I was just a little starstruck.”

“S-Starstruck?” I asked, brows going low as my brain worked a mile a minute to figure out what he could possibly mean.

He grinned. “You’re her right?” he asked, then shook his head again. “Sorry, you’re that girl from the pictures, right?”

I took a half-step back and thought. “I…don’t know…?” My intonation lilted at the end and, taking my confusion as an opportunity to educate me, the young man held up his hands as if I might run away and grabbed for his cell phone.

“This girl, this girl,” he said like a mantra as he scrolled through his phone. Eventually, he held the screen out for me to see and both Yuri and I leaned in close to get a better look.

Before me was an online article, screenshotted and zoomed in to reveal a photo that I could vaguely place as having been taken in the grand ballroom. It was blurry and slightly tilted, but the image was clear enough. Two figures embracing in the corner of the room, half-shrouded in shadow, far from prying eyes. One, a tall, honey-haired man with good proportions and the other, a girl in a champagne-colored dress, face obscured in the man’s chest.

And it hit me like a freight train.

It was Taehyung and that girl was me.

I sighed as Yuri grabbed the phone and zoomed in even further, squinting at the photo with a gape. “Y/N!” she shouted, then seemed to remember her job as she cleared her throat and returned the young man’s phone. She turned to me with wide eyes. “Is that you?”

I rubbed my cheeks, shutting my eyes. “Yeah,” I said, sighing long enough to account for several inhales. After a few bracing moments, I opened my eyes and gave the young man a smile. “Excuse me, but where is that photo from?”

He furrowed his brow. “You really didn’t see it before?” he asked.

I shook my head. “Unfortunately not.”

“It’s from Korea Times,” he said, then clapped his hands. “Could I get a selfie with you?” he asked, smiling big and bright.

I gave him a bow. “Thank you,” I said with a smile before turning on my heel and striding quickly out the door and into the hallway.

Yuri gasped and jogged after me, Areum watching the two of us with mild interest from the front desk. “Wait! Y/N, where are you going?” she asked, holding on to the doorframe while casting worried looks over her shoulder at the crowded gallery.

I pounded the elevator call button several times, like that might make it come faster, and turned toward her halfway. “I’m have to talk to someone,” I said, tapping my foot impatiently as the elevator doors opened and a fresh gaggle of people flowed in a steady stream into the gallery.

She groaned and shook her head, leaning heavily on the doorframe. “But what are we gonna do here? You see how busy it is!” she whined.

Quickly, I rushed into the elevator and met her eyes. I gave a shrug. “You’re gonna have to figure it out yourself for now,” I said, smiling as I slammed my palm against the ground floor button.

Yuri gaped after me, and the last thing I saw as the doors shut was her knitted brows and slumped shoulders.

Taehyung swung open his apartment door with an expression of pure surprise. He stared down at me with wide brown eyes and hair once again unruly, draped in leisure clothes. “Y/N?” he asked, as if it was a question.

I crossed my arms and clenched my jaw. “Have you seen the article?”

“What article?” he asked, yielding to me as I slid past him into the apartment.

Unlike the first time I’d visited, the place was a mess. Shoes were strewn about, nowhere near the shoe rack by the front door. Throw blankets lay in heaps on the floor beside a single beanbag chair and PlayStation controller, empty beer cans littered the coffee table and the smell of coffee was strong in the air, even in the late afternoon.

I furrowed my brow and turned toward him. “What’ve you been doing the past few days?” I asked, resting a hand on my hip.

He flushed and rushed to begin picking up the mess around his living room and kitchen. “I-I, uh, I’ve been like…laying low?” he said, then shook his head. “I didn’t mean that as a question. That’s what I’ve been doing. Laying low.”

I nodded and helped him gather cans, following him into the spacious kitchen to toss them into the trash under the sink. “I got that. I mean like…what have you been doing?”

Taehyung patted his hands on his sweatpants and averted his eyes, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Um…well, since I can’t really leave the apartment I’ve just been…watching dramas and playing games.”

I cocked a brow and glanced around. “This really looks like a bachelor pad right now,” I said idly, sighing as I leaned back against the marble countertop. “Anyway, have you been on the internet at all?”

He hummed and shook his head, grabbing a mug of coffee and taking a deep swig. “No,” he said with a shrug. “On blackout days I tend to avoid the internet.”

“Blackout days?” I asked, then waved my hand to dismiss the thought. “Forget it. Artist thing, right?”

“Yeah,” he said, then crossed his arms and cocked his head to the side. “Anyway, you mentioned an article?”

I nodded and pulled out my phone, searching up the article that the young man had shown me. I scrolled to the middle and zoomed in on the photo, turning the phone toward him. He adjusted this glasses to see the screen better and raised his brows. I nodded as I watched him scan the article quickly, reading side to side.

“After revealing his identity as twenty-three-year-old Kim Taehyung, famed artist Vante is seen embracing a young woman at Ori Technologies’ charity gala…?” he read aloud, then shook his head. “Who even took this?”

I shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine,” I said, then shut the phone and pocketed it once again. The two of us exchanged a charged look. “What’re we gonna do about it?”

He raised his brows and rubbed his jaw, his grey sweatshirt bunching around the elbows. “I guess…we’ve gotta suppress the article. You…you definitely shouldn’t be involved in this stuff anymore.”

“What?” I asked, brow furrowed as I crossed my arms. “What do you mean I shouldn’t be involved? Haven’t I been involved from the start?”

He met my eyes and there was something serious in the set of them, in the way he revealed the whited beneath his irises, lowering his chin. “Y/N, this is a lot bigger than it seems. And the more intimately involved you are, the more vulnerable you are.”

I scoffed, leaning away. “Taehyung, that’s stupid. I’m the one who told you about all of this stuff.”

“Yes, because you were a pawn. Even Jungkook probably never wanted you to get this involved.” He sighed and rubbed his temples. “Listen, this isn’t just some argument between a gang and an artist. There are players involved that you don’t even know yet.”

Kim Namjoon.

I opened my mouth to retort, but something told me to keep that name to myself. Namjoon said he was part of this whole thing, that it had to do with him. And if that was the case, if I revealed that I knew his involvement…I was sure Taehyung would keep him from talking to me.

Truthfully, I’d hoped I could avoid taking Kim Namjoon up on his offer. After all, Taehyung was just as in-the-know, and he was someone I trusted. But this reaction was not what I’d expected. Looking at him, at the way he scanned me, made me feel fragile. Like he was trying to keep me from crumbling under the weight of something heavy that he carried without me.

At least Jungkook wanted to tell me everything…

“A pawn…,” I repeated slowly, nodding my head. I smoothed down my hair which had become messy from the dash over here, and pushed off from his counter. “You’re right.”

“Y/N, I didn’t mean it-,”

“No, you’re absolutely right,” I said with a laugh, shaking my head. “From the start, that’s all I was.”

He stepped toward me and reached out to grab my hand, but I took a step back. “I’m just trying to keep you safe,” he said softly, eyes falling to the floor.

I swallowed hard. I couldn’t be mad at him, not really. His intentions were good. “I understand,” I said, letting him take my hand and rub it softly.

What I couldn’t accept, however, was being made fragile by yet another man.

As he pulled me slowly against his chest and wrapped his arms around me, I hugged him back, shutting my eyes and leaning into him. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

For someone who had been pushing me for years to start becoming stronger, he sure had a penchant for treating me like I was weak.

“Thank you. I really only came by to let you know about the article,” I said, nodding as he sighed and held me tighter. There was something intimate in the way he embraced me, but all I could feel was a tightness around me.

Like I was being suffocated.

And God was I fucking sick of being suffocated.

I sat stiffly in a leather chair, staring at an empty white desk. Everything in this massive company was white: white chairs, white desks, white cubicles. Even the employees’ smiles were all pearly white. I’d never seen so many people so happy to be at work. As the receptionist led me through, I couldn’t help but feel slightly awed by the scale of the place. The walls were crawling with ivy, plants hanging in baskets all over the facility. Windows lined the walls on two sides, revealing an impeccable view of busy Gangnam below, the Han River sitting just beyond. Everywhere, employees were collaborating, one bending down over another’s cubicle to share reports, another group of three standing beside the coffee maker with pamphlets that looked not quite finished, another two sitting at a table by the windows, conversing over a single tablet.

Kim Namjoon had answered my phone call on the third ring an hour prior as I was walking out of Taehyung’s apartment complex. I’d only needed to say ‘Hello’ for the man to know exactly who I was. Without wasting any time on pleasantries, he simply said, Come to the company building, and hung up the phone. I’d assumed he was busy, as I could hear the sound of chatter behind him on the other line, and tried to manage my nerves before catching the subway over to Gangnam.

But still, as I sat with my knees bouncing and my palms gathering sweat, I couldn’t stop the incessant anxiety that pressed into the inside of my skull. I glanced around the large, empty office and saw on the walls were several shelves all filled with books. Perhaps if the circumstances were different, I’d have wandered around his office, running my fingers along the spines of all the books. Perhaps I’d have flipped a few open.

But instead, I was sitting with shaking hands and darting eyes and a racing heart and questions that only a multi-millionaire CEO was willing to answer. I checked my phone, clicking on the missed text from Nara that I hadn’t seen.

Nararawr: Girl, you’re on the NEWS news

Along with the text was an image of her television screen, that image of Taehyung and me hugging taking up half the screen as a news anchor seemed to be mid-sentence beside it. Beneath, the caption: Artist Vante’s Secret Lover?

I sighed, my head lolling down toward my chest, and let my eyes slip shut. “You seem tired,” said a deep, rumbling voice from behind me.

I jumped, clutching my chest as I nearly launched my phone across the room, and stood to greet Namjoon with a bow. Unlike the last time I saw him, he was dressed more moderately in a simple dark purple button-down and slacks, dimpled smile on his face and eyes softer than before. He looked at ease, comfortable, and that comfort radiated out toward me, settling my nerves just a little. He held out a hand for me to shake and I was quick to grab it.

“I just got off of work,” I said, then thought a moment and shook my head. “Actually…I guess I just kind of…left work.”

He laughed and gestured for me to sit once more. Gratefully, I obliged, smoothing down my skirt as I settled in. “You make a habit of playing hokey from work, then?” he asked, smiling as he laced his fingers in front of his chin.

I shook my head, waving my hands. “Not at all! In fact, this is the first time.”

“Hm,” he said, then laughed. “Well, this puts a damper on the job offer I was going to give you.”

I detected a hint of jest in his tone and, on a limb, decided to parry it. I sighed. “Darn,” I said, crossing my legs. “And here I was, ready to quit the gallery altogether.”

He chuckled and smiled. “How do you like it?” he asked before, noticing my confusion, shook his head and laughed. “Working for Taehyung, I mean.”

I sighed and reclined back against the chair, relaxing slightly. I drummed my fingers on the chair’s arms. “It’s fine,” I said with a shrug. “I’ve wanted to be in this industry for most of my life, so it’s really great that I’ve been able to land a job in my field so easily.”

Namjoon nodded, humming, and met my eyes over his knuckles. “He told me about you before all this stuff with your ex.”

My eyes widened. “H-He did?”

He smiled. “When you had your interview, I remember him giving me a call saying that you reminded him of someone close to him.”

“Someone close to him?”

“I’m not about to tell you who that someone is,” he said with a laugh, wiggling his brows. “You think I’m a snitch?”

I scoffed, crossing my arms, and cocked a brow. “You’re playing with me, aren’t you?”

He smirked. “Only a little.”

I sighed. “Well, as much as I’d love to continue this round of teasing, I actually came to talk to you about what we discussed on Saturday.”

“Ah, your ex’s motives?” he asked.

I nodded. “Yes.”

“Tae still won’t tell you?” He scanned me, and I had a feeling my next answer would be important.

I inhaled slowly, calming myself, and met his eyes. “He says he doesn’t want me getting involved.”

Namjoon chuckled and the tension in the air dissipated slightly. “What a joke,” he said, rolling his eyes as he leaned on his palm, running his fingers through his hair with his free hand. “He’s like that, you know? Like…a martyr.”

I sighed. “Boy, do I know it.”

“He thinks he’s the only one who can fix something,” Namjoon said with a laugh. “Even if it’s not his responsibility to fix it.”

“And…is this not his responsibility then?” I hedged, eyeing him to see if I’d pushed too hard. We had to follow his pace after all if I wanted information.

Namjoon laughed and raised a hand. “Patience,” he said, shutting his eyes. “I’m actually very busy. I wouldn’t have made time to talk to you if I didn’t intend on telling you what you want to know.”

I nodded. “What’s in it for you?” I asked, lacing my fingers atop my knee and scanning him. “Telling me…what’s the benefit?”

Namjoon tilted his head down and eyed me. “Ah,” he said, pointing at me. “Clever girl.”

“Are you gonna tell me?” I asked.

He smiled. “Well, I figure once I tell you, you’ll owe me.”

“Owe you what?”

“A favor.”

I sighed. “I promise you, whatever favor you want done would be better off given to someone else,” I said, bobbing my foot in the air.

He smirked. “I disagree,” he said. “In fact, I’d say the only person who can do this favor for me is you.”

“Hold on a minute,” I said, raising my index finger with a pout. “If this favor is so specific and important, then it seems a little uneven that all I get in return is information.”

“How about that job offer I mentioned before?” he asked.

I rolled my eyes. “I’m very happy at my job, thank you.”

He smiled. “How about your family members? Do they need jobs?” he asked, and there was a joking lilt to his voice that wasn’t quite all the way there. I suspected from his tone and the mischievous smile on his face that the man was quite serious.

I sighed. “Nobody I know is…,” I began, then paused.

Nara.

Working at that pet store all hours of the day, stressing about rent, unable to properly support herself…wouldn’t a job with this company do a lot for her? Being an English major, perhaps she could move up the ranks and help with international relations…

I met Namjoon’s eyes and shut my mouth. “Ah,” he said with a smile. “So there is someone?”

I set my lips thin and glanced to the side. “I…guess I can think of one person.”

He grinned and clapped. “Great! Well then, where shall we start?” he asked.

I raised my brows. “Start…anywhere, I guess…?”

“Well…I suppose the beginning works,” he said with a laugh. “I mentioned that Taehyung and I knew each other before. Well, each of us had our lofty dreams. He just achieved his before I achieved mine.”

“And yours,” I began, scooting my chair closer to his desk. “What was it?”

He smiled and his eyes want far away. “I wanted to open a transparent company,” he said with a nod. “Capitalism is a blessing and a curse. While it has the potential to offer opportunities for people like me to create a livelihood, it also has the potential to create power so large that it corrupts.”

I raised my brows. “You sound knowledgable about corruption…,” I urged, watching his expression go sour.

“Well, when you grow up poor you get to know corruption very intimately,” he said with a sigh. “It’s always the same: the rich exploiting the poor for profit, the powerful suppressing the weak. It never changes.”

“You wanted to do something different?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I wanted to make a company that people were proud to belong to. A place where secrets weren’t currency and competition was seen not as a threat to be eliminated but as a healthy challenge to be accepted. I wanted to create an environment where nobody is taken advantage of or pushed around,” he said, then sighed. “It was hard at first to find investors. Nobody wanted to associate themselves with a young nobody tech engineer. And moreover, I had no proof of concept. Just my convictions.”

“I’d have invested,” I said, mostly to myself, with a sigh. He met my eyes. “What you’re doing sounds amazing.”

He smiled and nodded, almost bashful. “Thank you,” he said. “Well, most rich people don’t think like you do unfortunately. It was nearly impossible to find any financial backing. It’s one thing to say you’re going to ethically source your materials and hire indiscriminately regardless of specs, but it’s quite another thing to prove to an investor that you can reasonably accomplish this without hemorrhaging money. Their money, to be precise.”

I nodded. “You were stuck, huh?”

“Yeah. Which is when Taehyung came and said he’d invest,” he said with a smile. “By then, he was pretty successful and had the extra funds to afford it, but I was hesitant to accept his investment. When money changes hands among friends, things can go bad really quick.” Namjoon sighed and shrugged. “We were lucky. Nothing like that happened.”

“You two must trust each other,” I said.

He smiled. “We do,” he said, then glanced over my head out into the sea of greenery and cubicles beyond. “At any rate, I felt like I was exploiting him. So I decided that the company had to operate on public shares and social media. And besides, I didn’t have any other investors. I’d always wanted to be a privately held company, but I had to bend otherwise I’d never have gotten the funding.”

“You had to compromise?”

“Yes,” he said, rubbing his neck. “Something I learned early was that if you want to manage a company, you have to be flexible. And anyway, I didn’t want Taehyung’s investment to go to waste. So I used it on creating a proof of concept and promotion online and before I knew it, I had people buying shares. Having Vante’s name associated with my company early on helped people trust me.”

“So Taehyung invested…?” I hedged, hoping he’d get to the part that connected to our current dilemma.

He nodded. “Yeah. And to boost my credibility, he became a major shareholder,” he said, eyeing me. “I hope you see where this is going…”

Slowly, I nodded. “If a major shareholder were to sell their stocks…,” I began, applying what little knowledge I had of business. But I didn’t need Namjoon to spell it out to understand what would happen to Ori Technologies.

“Our market value would crash with so many shares becoming available. You know that scarcity is what drives the price of goods in a commercial society, right?” he asked.

I understood indeed. “Ori would be ruined.”

He nodded. “And then some,” he said with a chuckle. “Someone really doesn’t like that we’re succeeding here,” he began, glancing at me out the corner of his eye. “And I have a feeling I know exactly who it is.”

I raised my brows. “You do?” I asked.

“But I can’t prove it,” he said, smiling slowly. “Not on my own anyway.”

I was quiet for a long moment, connecting the dots, before I sighed and met his eyes. “That’s where I come in, isn’t it?”

He nodded. “You’re close with one of the agents that they hired to get Taehyung to sell his shares.” Namjoon eyed me.

I shook my head. “I can’t,” I said. “I’m sorry, but I’ve stopped all communication with Jungkook. There’s no way-,”

“There is a way,” he said, lowering his gaze in such a way that felt vaguely frightening. I could understand his intensity. It was his livelihood at stake after all. “Taehyung mentioned that this boy has feelings for you.”

I sighed and crossed my arms, leaning back. “You want me to convince him to betray his company?”

Namjoon shrugged his shoulders. “I’m not saying that,” he said. “However you choose to go about it is your business. However,” he began, leaning forward across the desk to meet my eyes, “you need to get me proof.”

“I don’t need to do anything,” I said.

“Then that person you care for won’t have a position at my company,” he said with a shrug.

I stiffened, remembering Nara’s tired eyes, her absentmindedness, her stress. She hid it well, but I could see the threads that held her together unraveling slowly. Her boss wouldn’t so much as give her time off. And working those late hours…

I swallowed hard and steeled myself against Namjoon’s intense gaze. I inhaled sharply and furrowed my brow. “What do you need me to do?”

The sun had descended in the sky, leaving Gangnam in a late-autumn nighttime haze, the air crisp and the sky navy overhead. I shivered as I walked out into the brisk night, pulling my jacket closer around myself as my footfalls landed noisily on the concrete sidewalk. Namjoon and I had talked for a while longer, establishing a plan of action and a few rules: namely, that Taehyung must never know that we were working together. At least not until after we’d exposed whoever was behind this. He also gave me his personal contact information and instructed me on how to save his number so that Taehyung would never know it was him.

And so now, after years of having no contact under this name, I now had Kim Namjoon, CEO of Ori Technologies, saved in my cell phone under ‘Mom’.

I sighed as I continued down the quiet street, turning down an alley in the hopes of cutting my walking time short. I knew Gangnam about as well as the next guy, but I was well-acquainted enough to feel comfortable moving around in the backroads. After all, Gangnam wasn’t exactly famous for its crime.

Quietly, I walked down the empty alleyway, teahouses and off-the-beaten-path snack shops sitting on every corner in every intersection. When I heard footsteps approaching behind me, I wasn’t even surprised. Namjoon had mentioned this after all. You’ll likely be followed out of here, he’d said. But don’t worry. They’re not stupid enough to try anything in my neighborhood.

I sighed. All of this was beginning to feel overwhelming. What was I now anyway? A…triple agent? Pretending to work with Taehyung while I was really working with Namjoon to convert Jungkook so he would betray his fellow workers and work for Namjoon too…?

It was so complicated. And somehow, I was at the very center of all of it.

I glanced behind me and saw a darkly-clad figure with a slim, athletic build and a black face-mask covering his lips. His eyes were sharp, however, heavy-lidded, and focused right on me.

Was I really so tired that this didn’t even scare me?

But as I rounded the corner around the side of a tall building, aiming for the main street once more, I felt strong hands grab me by the crook of the elbow and yank me into the shadows. I shouted, but the strong hand clamped down over my lips to silence me.

Now I was scared.

My heart raced as this stranger pressed themselves against my back, and I writhed in their grip, struggling to break free. But by then, they had wrapped an arm around my waist and their grip was far stronger than mine. I kicked and thrashed and shouted, but most businesses were closed by then and nobody was around to hear or help me. Tears sprung to my eyes on instinct and I realized for the first time just how dangerous my predicament was. How dangerous it had always been, right from the start.

In a moment of blind panic, I opened my mouth and grabbed the stranger’s finger between my teeth, chomping down hard enough to hopefully gnaw through it, and the stranger yelped, briefly loosening their grip on my waist. Quickly, I wriggled free and fell to my knees, ripping my stockings and scraping my knees until droplets of blood formed on my skin. I scrambled to my feet and looked back with wild eyes at the person who had grabbed me.

To my horror, I saw none other than Kim Seokjin, wincing as he nursed his bitten hand. “Jimin! Come here and finish it! Bitch bit me!” Seokjin shouted.

And before I could scream or attack or run or eve react, a pair of hands was on my face once more and, along with them, a towel that smelled like sweet ether. One deep, frantic inhale and I felt my eyes slipping shut, my body going limp in this unknown man’s arms as Seokjin’s distant grumbling grew more and more hazy.

[wordsandshawn]

Before Now - chapter 1

Read the Prologue here

1.

December 2016

It’s my first time back home after my first semester at Uni. After seeing and spending some time with my family, I drive straight over to the Mendes house. I missed Karen and Manny, and last week, I promised Aaliyah I’d pick her up and take her Christmas shopping as soon as I got home. She missed me as much as my own siblings did. In fact, arguably, she missed me more than my own brothers did. I knock once, then I enter the house without waiting for someone to let me in, just like I have always done ever since I was little. What I don’t expect at 4:30 in the afternoon is to find Shawn standing at the stove, his back toward me, only wearing basketball shorts. I didn’t expect him to be at home at all, much less shirtless in his kitchen.

Thankfully he hadn’t heard me come in, which gives me just enough time to recover from my shocked expression. “Hey,” I say to announce my presence, probably a little awkwardly, and mostly embarrassed that I just barged into his kitchen without waiting for someone to answer the door. And even though I’ve always done this and never felt uncomfortable before, this time seems different. I caught him off guard as much as he caught me off guard. He spins around, the wooden spoon still in his hand, “I knocked, but—“ I trail off, not really knowing what to say next since I don’t have any explanation.

His surprised expression is replaced by a smile. “Oh hey, Ky, don’t worry about it. You know you’re always welcome.” I freeze momentarily, hearing Shawn use his nickname for me catches me off-guard since it’s been so long since I’ve heard it. He is the only person to ever call me that. Its not exactly the most obvious nickname to come from the name Skylar. I was too young to remember, but our parents told us that when we were just learning to talk, the sharp “S” sound in my name was hard for him, so he dropped it entirely. Apparently, he called me Kyla for a while, disregarding my last “R” too, before finally settling on Ky a little while later. Our parents thought it was cute, probably thought he’d grow out of it one day, but apparently, he never has.

I try not to let my eyes travel any lower than his face, but his muscular chest and his well-defined abs are hard to miss when they’re right in front of me, practically daring me to stare. My still teenaged mind can’t help but wonder, when did he get abs, did he really bulk up this much since I last saw him? It has been a while, now that I really think about it.

He leaves his pot on the stove, coming around the counter to give me a hug, something that should have been totally normal, but yet felt different somehow. “Did you just get back home?” He questions, obviously being the one to carry the conversation this time. As far as I can remember, I had always been the one to do most of the talking between the two of us. He was more of the thinker, but a lot has changed, I have to keep reminding myself.

“Yeah, I did.” I say, stepping back from him a bit, intentionally creating space between us, “How long have you been home?”

“Just a couple of days, but I leave again on Saturday.” He says, sounding a little disappointed and I don’t blame him.

“Oh, but you’ll be back home for Christmas, though right?” I ask.

He nods, “Yeah, I’ll be back on the twenty-third, just in time for Christmas.” He forces a smile past the hint of sadness.

I smile too, nodding. A short silence elapses, where we both take each other in. He’s probably realizing how much I changed just like I’m realizing how much he’s changed. Luckily, Karen walks in saving us both from whatever awkwardness would have otherwise ensued after the moment passed. “Skylar!” She says, rushing over as soon as she notices me.

I smile and wrap my arms around her, “Hi Karen,” I say as I melt into her motherly embrace.

When she finally releases me from the hug, she asks, “How’s Uni?” but she gets too excited and before I can even begin to answer, she speaks again, “We’ve missed you so much around here, you can’t leave again, we miss you too much when you’re gone.”

I can’t help but pull her in for another hug. “I’ve missed you too.”

“No more leaving,” She basically commands, and I just smile.

“I’ll be home for a month,” I tell her, trying to make the fact that I fully intend to leave after a month seem a little less bad.

“Alright,” She says, “I guess that’ll have to do. Are you hungry? I don’t know what Shawn is making. It’s probably not safe to eat, but I think I have some leftovers in the fridge.”

At this, Shawn makes a bit of an offended sound. “I’m making rice, and chicken. And it’s definitely, probably going to be edible, if you want some, Ky.” Shawn offers, and I just smile.

“I’m not hungry, actually, but thank you. I just came to pick up Aaliyah, and say hi, of course.” I say, making sure they know that I’m there for them too, even though the main reason really was that I had promised to take Aaliyah Christmas shopping.

Aaliyah comes bounding down the stairs now. She probably heard us all talking downstairs, and she rushes straight into my arms. “I missed you,” She practically screams in my ear, but I missed her too, so I’m not even worried that I might be deaf from her scream. I say goodbye to Karen and Shawn and try to forget the way that he actually seemed happy to see me and interested in what I had to say. I try to forget about how I actually felt sad that I didn’t have more time to talk to him.

~

After a few hours of shopping, Aaliyah and I get smoothies and sit down in the middle of the mall because we’re tired from all the walking. We had talked nonstop, quickly catching each other up on the last few months of our lives. Although we talked on the phone frequently while I was gone, catching up in person is different. She told me everything that had been going on with her at school, and I filled her in on my first semester of University.

“So, are there any cute boys? College boys?” She questions with a raised eyebrow and a mischievous grin.

I laugh at this innocent question coming from her, and I tell her about one boy who’s caught my eye, just to appease her, even though absolutely nothing was going on between the two of us. Suddenly, she’s asking if I’m going to get a boyfriend. She’s asking all kinds of questions about him and boyfriends and boys in general, but I can’t help how my mind keeps wandering back to her brother at all of her inquiries. Even just the thought of it makes my stomach twist into knots in a way it never has before.

~

Shawn isn’t home when I drop Aaliyah back at their house after shopping. I decide it is probably a good thing that I don’t see him again, despite the unfamiliar and seemingly inappropriate feeling of slight disappointment. I don’t think I can handle another encounter like that one. It was so strange, too strange.

But what is even more strange is a text that I receive from Shawn the next day. I didn’t even realize that he still has my number. I definitely don’t have his saved in my phone. Well, I had a number of his saved in my phone, but probably an old number.

Hey Skylar, this is Shawn, I was wondering if you wanted to catch up and hang out before I leave on Saturday?

Everything in my gut is telling me to say no, to stay away from this boy who knew my heart before it was full of anything but lofty dreams and love. He knew me then, but that doesn’t mean he knows me now. And I don’t know him, not anymore. Sure, my encounter with him in his kitchen gave me no reason to stay away from him or avoid getting to know him, but I’m still not sure if I want to. I’m not ready to let anyone in, and certainly not someone world famous.

My internal battle prevents me from answering for a day. In the end, my curiosity over Shawn’s sudden interest in catching up gets the best of me. I can’t help but say yes. He wants to pick me up, always the gentleman, but instead I suggest we grab coffee, meeting at a coffee shop between his house and mine. It seemed safer to me, less pressure. Old friends always meet for coffee and it doesn’t have to mean anything.

Maybe I’m being hyper aware, or maybe it’s just that obvious how everyone in the tiny, relatively empty coffee shop seems to look twice at Shawn, and then they look at me, and I pretend not to notice. Shawn insists on buying the coffee, the first major hint that this might be more than just old friends catching up.

Once we find a table in the corner with our drinks, we start simple. The kind of catch up conversation I expected. He asks about my parents, my little brothers and my first semester at college. He seems content to talk about me, genuinely interested in how I’ve been doing, and it occurs to me that he may know my family and my childhood, but he has no real knowledge of who I am now. And in a way, maybe I can start over with him. He didn’t know me for almost all of high school since we stopped spending much time together around middle school, and we certainly never really talked. I decide to take advantage of the opportunity to be who I want to be, to share the parts of me I want to share without worrying that he knows more. Because the truth is, he’s barely been home at all for the last three years.

I ask about his family, even though I never lost touch and already know most of what he tells me. Then I ask about his career, a topic I’m not quite sure how to approach, and, if I’m being honest, intimidates me completely. He doesn’t go into much detail, doesn’t share anything more than what I believe is common knowledge. Maybe it’s better that way.  

After about an hour we say our goodbyes and go our separate ways. At the end of the day it didn’t feel like much more than catching up with someone I used to know, and I realize that I’m grateful for that. I’m not ready for anything more with Shawn. Not because of him so much as all of the things I’m sure come with Shawn Mendes. The things I know nothing about and have no desire to discover. He seemed like he felt the same way about me, content to catch up and go our separate ways, or maybe that’s just what I forced myself to believe.

This is probably why I’m so caught off guard when he calls me later that night, explaining that he wouldn’t normally do something like this, but that he really wants to see me again before he leaves for a week on Saturday. I’m not good under pressure, and I’m even worse at saying no.

....

chapter 2

[captain-azoren]

White Knight, Red Queen - Chapter 2: The Mirror

Claudia repairs a broken magic mirror, only for her and Soren to get sucked in and sent straight into the clutches of the Fire Nation! And on the day Soren was to be sworn into the Crownguard no less.

FF.net

AO3

Now it really begins.

2 years ago…

 Soren marched proudly and triumphantly through the halls of Castle Katolis, donned in a shining new set of armor and the signature black and white tabard of the Crownguard, the most elite class of knights in Katolis. Today was his day, the day he would officially become the youngest Crownguard in the history of Katolis, and Soren could not be happier as he thumbed the hilt of his new sword. Soren grinned and winked at the other servants and soldiers as he made his way to the tower where his father’s study was located. Soren threw the doors open and made his entrance.

“Hey, future almost newly appointed Crownguard here!” Soren shouted into the room as he entered. He looked around to find Claudia nose deep in a spell book and carrying her bag of dark magic items. “Hey Clods, where’s dad? My knighthood ceremony is in an hour…and what are you up to?” Soren watched as Claudia walked over towards a table covered in ingredients, the kind she and their father Viren used for dark magic. There was a small cauldron in the center, into which Claudia poured in a vial of glowing orange liquid. The sorceress finally looked up to her brother.

“Oh, hey Soren!” Claudia greeted her brother cheerfully. “Sorry, I’ve been trying to crack this spell for dad. You see that mirror?” Claudia pointed towards the back wall, and Soren’s gaze followed to find a large, rectangular mirror, framed with gold flames and beset with rubies. The glass, however, was cracked into several shards, though all the pieces remained within the frame. Soren frowned and crossed his arms.

“Yeah, how could I forget,” Soren pouted. “That’s the mirror dad got mad at me for breaking all those years ago.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have been fooling around in his secret magic room,” Claudia replied and gave Soren’s shoulder a playful shove. “But it’s been over seven years since then, so your bad luck should be all out, right?” Soren simply huffed and turned his head away. “Aw come on Sore-bear, dad’s not still mad about that. Here, have an apple. Don’t worry, it’s not poisonous.”

Claudia handed Soren an apple from the table. She knew he liked to eat when he was upset. Years ago, Viren had found Soren in his secret chamber in the library, and the gold framed mirror smashed. Viren had been furious at the time, and ever since then the cracked mirror had been a reminder to Soren, hence why Viren still kept it in his study and not moved it along with all his other magic items to a more secure location.

Soren eyed the apple before biting into it. “Well, whatever. I don’t see how it’s so hard to fix a mirror anyway.” He said between mouthfuls. “I don’t even remember how I broke this stupid thing! It wasn’t my fault…” Claudia threw a spoonful of crushed butterfly wings into the cauldron, and a poof of smoke evaporated into the room.

“This is no ordinary mirror, the glass is magic,” Claudia explained. “The pieces are all attracted to each other, but they need a spell to properly repair. I’m betting we could use it to spy on people, or maybe even talk to them!”

“Look, just don’t take too long, okay?” Soren bit off another chunk of apple. “I don’t want you or dad to miss the ceremony. This is my special day, and I don’t want to be one upped by a mirror.” Claudia nodded absent mindedly as she gave the cauldron the juices from a sparrow’s gizzard, making Soren queasy. Another puff of smoke shot from the cauldron, and Claudia smiled gleefully as her concoction began to bubble and glow.

“Alright, let’s see if it works…” Claudia whispered excitedly, making Soren roll his eyes. He watched as Claudia dipped a ladle into the cauldron and carry it over to the mirror. With a flourish, Claudia took the ladle and splashed the glass with the dark magic brew. The liquid sizzled against the cracked glass, glowed, then evaporated….and did nothing. Claudia waited a moment and Soren watched, bemused. The sorceress let out a groan of frustration and set the cauldron back onto the table. “I was sure that would work.”

“Well, too bad, let’s go Claudia.” Soren said in a hurry. He took one last bite of his apple and swallowed. “We’ve got more important places to be.” The young knight took the apple core and spitefully threw it at the mirror. Every time he saw it, he heard his father’s shouts of anger, and the sooner he could get away from it the better.

The core flew through the air, and both siblings expected it to bounce off the mirror and fall to the floor harmlessly. But no apple core hit the floor. No core hit the mirror either. In fact, there was no core anymore. Soren and Claudia watched with amazement as the apple core disappeared into the mirror, the cracked glass rippling like still water being disturbed. Claudia let out a long, slow gasp of amazement.

“Soren, you did it!” Claudia shouted and took Soren by the arm to drag him to the mirror. Soren himself was dumbfounded as they both watched a mirror that was simultaneously cracked, yet rippling. “This isn’t used to spy or talk, this mirror is a por-!”

Claudia was cut short as, without warning, the mirror’s cracked surface fell inward, and within the frame was now a starry sky…and empty space. There was a moment of calm before both siblings felt themselves being sucked into a vacuum. They cried out in shock as they were pulled in by the rush of wind. Soren and Claudia both instinctively reached out for one another, grabbing each other’s arms as they went tumbling through a star filled voice.

“Claudia, don’t let go!” Soren shouted over the gusts of wind pushing them. His sister clung tight to him with one arm, while he other hand went to her satchel to pull out a dried crab claw. Claudia crushed it in her hand, and a lavender liquid formed around the two of them into a bubble. The two of them steadied as they rode the wind. Soren stood up and looked into the direction they were heading. There was a star ahead, growing ever brighter. The closer it came, the more it looked like a doorway.

“Soren, I think we’re about to exit!” Claudia stated. Soren nodded as it was clear where they were going. Their bubble reached the light, and the siblings shielded their eyes as they passed through. The bubble popped, and Soren and Claudia fell back to earth.

Viren’s children landed face first with a thud onto a red, carpeted floor. Soren shook his head as he got to his knees, still blinded and disoriented from the light. As his vision returned, he looked around to see where he was. The walls were red, covered in ornate patterns of gold depicting long, serpentine dragons. Lining these walls were dozens of different ornate items and artifacts, not unlike a museum, but very lustrous. Exotic, spiky sets of armor that were definitely not from Katolis, treasure chests, wall scrolls, tables of books and maps all filled the great hall which Soren and Claudia found themselves in.

What caught Soren’s attention the most, however, was the striking figure standing before him. Clad in red and black armor with gold trim, a teenage girl about the same age as Claudia, with dark brown hair tied up into a top knot with a gold hair pin shaped like a flame. Her sharp features were framed by two long bangs. Soren’s blue eyes met the girl’s golden ones, and for a moment they gazed back at each other with shock and wonder. Then the girl shouted.

“GUARDS!”

Soren and Claudia had a second to react before the girl extended her palm and an intense blue jet of flame shot from it. Soren grabbed Claudia and pulled her out of the way just in time as the flames singed the carpet where they had landed. It was then that they saw the guards coming through the doors, wielding spears and wearing the same type of armor as the girl. They blocked the exit, but Soren charged forward. Drawing his longsword, Soren cut through the wooden spear shafts, their points falling to the floor harmlessly. The guards blinked in confusion before Soren bulldozed his way past them, knocking the men aside with his own armored body and clearing the way for Claudia.

“I’ve got your back Soren!” Claudia shouted as she took out a green bundle of vines from her satchel. Her eyes glowed as she whispered the incantation, “tpure seniv,” purple magic flowing into the bundle before she tossed it at the doorway. The bundle burst into a web of vines that covered the doorway, buying the siblings some time as they began running down the halls of this strange, new palace. The vines would not last long though, as they were engulfed in blue flames and burned to ashes. The girl who had called the guards walked past the smoldering plant life and looked down the halls where Claudia and Soren had run, squinting her eyes with intrigue.

“Claudia, where on Earth are we?!” Soren shouted as they ran. A young servant girl squeaked in fright as the two of them ran past her, almost dropping the bowl of cherries she was carrying.

“I don’t know Soren, I don’t think we’re in Katolis anymore,” Claudia answered while she tried to keep up. “I’d say we’re in Xadia, but nothing here looks like an elf!”

“Well they’re still trying to kill us anyway!” Soren retorted as they rounded a corner. By now the commotion had alerted the entire palace, and more guards were beginning to swarm and chase after them. Some of them began to shoot fire from their hands like the girl did, but these were orange flames instead.

“These people, they’re doing fire magic like it’s nothing…” Claudia observed as she pulled out a glass globe filled with water and a tiny, floating clam shell. She recited yet another incantation, “doolf tnerrot,” and threw it onto the floor. The small globe broke and unleashed a torrent of water that rushed down the hall and swept away the fire mages. That gave the siblings some breathing room, and both ducked through an open door to catch their breath.

“Claudia, wherever we are, this is really, really bad.” Soren began. “Not only are we surrounded by hostiles that can do magic, but dad is going to kill us for messing with the mirror. And worst of all, I’m going to miss my knighting ceremony!”

“Calm down Sore-bear,” Claudia said reassuringly. “We can still get back, we just need to get to the portal we came out from. Makes sense, right?” Claudia smiled at Soren, hoping her logic would cheer him up. Her brother took a deep breath and sighed.

“Okay, but that means having to get past that scary lady with the blue fire. Kind of hot though…” Soren smirked as he rubbed his chin, before Claudia gave him a light smack on the head.

“Focus Soren. We have to find a way back to that museum-y looking room. How’s your sense of direction?” Claudia asked. Soren shook his head.

“Sorry, kind of hard to get your bearings when you’re fleeing like a scared bunny.” He answered.

“Why don’t I show you,” Came a voice. Soren and Claudia looked to the doorway to see a grim looking young man with dark hair and a horribly burned face standing there, wielding two curved swords. “We can start with the prison...” The young man rushed at the two and brandished his swords. Soren blocked Claudia as he raised his own sword and the blades clashed.

“Claudia, move! I’ve got this!” Soren shouted as he and the boy with the burned face locked blades. Claudia moved out of the way as the two sword masters began to duel. Soren’s longsword had the range advantage, but the burned one could attack and defend at the same time. Claudia fumbled through her satchel trying to find the right spell to use. Soren swiped at the dual wielder, who blocked and swung back with his other curved sword. Soren thought he was out of range, until a wave of fire shot out from the sword tip.

Soren was blasted back by the fire and stumbled. Fortunately, his armor was resistant enough to negate the worst of it, as Soren regained his posture and stance. The burned swordsman began to swing his swords once more, throwing wider arcs of fire at Soren. Soren blocked, parried, and dodged the fire as best he could, but took another hit. Meanwhile, Claudia found the item she was looking for, a short chain bracelet in the style of twin snakes.

“Got it! Soren, snake chains!” Claudia signaled to her brother. Soren grit his teeth as he stood his ground.

“Okay ugly, block this one.” Soren growled before charging at his opponent. The burned boy took a defensive stance, but was surprised when Soren gripped his longsword by the blade instead of the hilt. Soren swung the sword at the burned one hilt first. He tried to block it, but extra weight of the blow broke through, and the cross guard of Soren’s sword struck the burned one in the shoulder. He dropped his guard and stumbled back, gripping his shoulder in pain.

“Meht dnib leets nirehtyls!” Claudia shouted. The chains in her hand grew long, and transformed into large snakes that quickly slithered towards the enemy. The burned one gasped as they wrapped themselves around his body, trapping him, before changing back into heavy chains. The burned one fell to his knees and grunted as he struggled to break free.

“Come on.” Soren took his sister’s hand and they ran out of the room. More guards were closing in on them once more, and neither sibling had time to gain their bearings, turning any corner that seemed safe and dispatching any guards that got in their way. They ran for minutes, not stopping to rest or catch their breath, until finally they came to a long hallway leading to a large doorway with light shining through the cracks. Soren and Claudia both instinctively knew it was an exit, and made a beeline for it. Two guards moved in to halt them, but Soren easily knocked them out with quick blows of his pommel.

Claudia readied another spell as Soren began to push open the heavy double doors, and they ran outside into the palace courtyard. The light of the sun shined down upon them, and for a moment they felt relieved to be out, until they saw the rest of the guards and fire mages swarm in on all sides. The siblings stood back to back, guarding each other as the hostiles closed in.

“Claudia, if you’ve got something big and flashy you wanna throw out, now’s the time…” Soren said to his sister as he brandished his sword. Several of the fire mages held fire in their hands, ready to unleash.

“Then it’s time to bring out the big magic…” Claudia replied as she reached into her satchel and pulled out one of her most powerful relics, the Sky Primal Stone. A small thunderstorm raged inside the tiny sphere, and Claudia drew the power of lightning into her hand before raising it skyward. “Fulminis!”

The lightning shot up into the sky, and all the soldiers surrounding them stepped back in fear and awe. Soren grinned triumphantly. Claudia always came through, and now was their chance to escape. Soren was about to make a path for them, when suddenly, another bolt of lightning struck the sky, only it was not from Claudia. Everyone turned to the palace’s entrance to see the girl from before, her two fingertips smoking as she stood in a low stance.

“Whoa…” Soren could only say as he gazed at her. After a brief pause, the soldiers quickly moved in, pointing their spears and readying their flames. What opportunity the siblings had to flee was gone. Soren kept his sword held high, but he knew it would do them little good. Claudia held more lightning ready in her hand, but they were too close now for her to manage another casting. A guard had a spear now pointed close to her throat. Soren growled as he switched places with Claudia and knocked the spear tip away. “Don’t you touch her!”

“Stand down!” The blue fire girl shouted to the soldiers as she began to approach. Running up behind her was the burned swordsman from before, having freed himself from his chains. “Good of you to join us brother. Guards! Disarm these two so they can’t cause any more trouble!” The soldiers did as they were ordered, pulling Claudia’s satchel away from her and taking the primal stone, leaving her powerless. Two more guards took Soren’s sword and forced the siblings down on their knees. The rest of the soldiers cleared a path as the other pair approached.

“Don’t underestimate them,” The burned one began to say, his dual swords sharing one sheath at his back. “The boy is strong, and the girl has powers like a spirit.”

“Yes, I see they gave you trouble,” The girl replied dismissively. She stood before Soren now, looking down at him as he looked back up defiantly. She tilted her head as she studied his features, then reached down to tug at his dirty blond locks, making him grunt in pain.

“Ow, hey! Watch the hair!” Soren snapped at her. The girl let go and squinted at him.

“Golden hair and blue eyes…” The girl said. She looked over to Claudia to study her features next. “Green eyes too, with strange clothing and equipment…” Her gaze shifted back to Soren, and they met eye to eye. Soren did his best to match her gaze, but it felt like her eyes were piercing right through to his soul. “Who are you? What nation are you from?” She demanded.

“I’m Soren, Crownguard of the Kingdom of Katolis!” Soren shouted out for all to hear, loud and proud. “And this is my sister, Claudia, a master of magic. Who are you?!” He hoped that would get them some respect. The burned one crossed his arms.  The girl’s face was blank for a moment as she gazed at the blond boy and processed the information.

“…Soren…?” The girl asked, then smirked at him and leaned forward. Her face came dangerously close as she met Soren eye to eye, and for a moment the Crownguard felt a sense of unease at his personal space being invaded.

“Don’t you know?” The girl asked, keeping eye contact with Soren. “I’m Princess Azula of the Fire Nation. This one here is my brother, Prince Zuko,” She motioned to the burned one, who simply glared in silence. The girl, Azula, stood up straight and put her hands on her hips, asserting her authority. “And the two of you just managed to storm out of the royal palace of the Fire Nation, making it past hundreds of guards and firebenders.”

“Firebenders? Is that what you are?” Claudia asked, her curiosity piqued. There were spells that controlled fire, but nothing on the level that these firebenders seemed to display. Azula raised an eyebrow at the question.

“Yes, that’s right. You two really aren’t from around here, are you?” Azula asked, holding her chin as she studied the siblings. “You come stumbling out of a mirror without warning, no idea where you are, and you managed to get this far…I’m impressed. Just a little.” A small smile formed on her lips as she stroked her chin. “Still, I’m afraid we’re going to have to detain you, for now. Guards, take them to the treasure room and keep them there.” Azula turned and began walking away, with Zuko following suit. “I need to speak to father first.”

The guards lifted Soren and Claudia up and placed shackles around their wrists. With their weapons confiscated, they had no choice but to obey as they were led back into the palace. All the servants and staff watched with curiosity as the two outsiders were led back down the long halls to the treasure room, the place where they had first appeared. Meanwhile, Azula and Zuko took a different direction, to the throne room where Fire Lord Ozai was seated. He had a look of annoyance as his two children approached and kneeled, heads bowed.

“What is this disturbance?” Ozai asked hotly.

“There were two intruders Father, a boy and a girl. They appeared without warning within the palace.” Zuko answered, keeping his head bowed.

“Intruders? But the day of Black Sun is weeks away.” Ozai retorted. “Was your intel incorrect?”

“No, never, Father, these two are different,” Azula began to say, and raised her head to meet her father’s gaze. “They’re unlike anything we’ve ever seen before, from an unknown kingdom they call Katolis.”

“They’re not benders, but they possess great skill and strange powers. One of them can even control lightning.” Zuko explained. Ozai’s eyes widened, and he furrowed his brow.

“I want these intruders executed,” He said as he stood, the flames surrounding his throne intensifying. “I’ll not have would be assassins thinking they can come for me and live to tell about it.”

“Actually father, I don’t think they are assassins,” Azula said. “They came through a mirror, that large one which the late Admiral Zhao brought to us from the hidden library he found in the Earth Kingdom. It must hold some kind of spirit magic. I saw the whole thing happen, and judging by their reactions, these intruders came by accident.” Ozai turned his nose up as he sat back down.

“They came through a mirror? That sounds like some preposterous spirit tale, strange people traveling from another world through a looking glass.” The situation had rattled Ozai. He did not let his children see it, but he had been on edge ever since he was told about the Day of Black Sun and the coming invasion. “So? What is your point, my dear?” The Fire Lord asked, and Azula smiled at him.

“Father, I think we have an opportunity to gain new allies, and new power,” Azula stood to her feet, while Zuko eyed her suspiciously from the floor. “Even though there were only two of them, our strange visitors fought their way past our imperial firebenders from the treasure room to the courtyard. They even managed to subdue Prince Zuko,” Azula shot a smug smirk down at her brother, who scoffed and rolled his eyes. “The day of Black Sun will be here soon, taking away our bending and leaving us vulnerable. While we have a foolproof plan for the invasion to come, a little more insurance would not hurt.” Ozai stroked his long beard as he considered Azula’s words.

“So, you believe that convincing these…aliens to join us is worthwhile?” Ozai asked. Azula nodded, her smile growing larger as she could already feel her father’s approval.

“Yes Father, and not only that, but we could learn how they wield this magic,” Azula answered. “The boy is strong and resilient, but the girl, his sister, holds the real power, to control elements without bending, to use real magic like the spirits can.” The Fire Lord smirked back at his daughter, amused by her choice of words as his son stayed silent. Ozai nodded to them.

“Very well then, if you can turn this…incident to our advantage, then do so,” Ozai commanded. “Keep our visitors here as our new guests, make them feel right at home for as long as you can. We will show them the glory of the Fire Nation, and they will come to us in our time of need to tell us their secrets. You two are dismissed.”

Azula and Zuko bowed to their father before turning to leave. Zuko frowned at his sister.

“You think it’s going to be easy to convince them to join us?” The prince asked. “I have a feeling they might not be too thrilled about it if they knew why we’re being invaded.”

“Don’t worry so much Zuzu.” Azula replied, her smirk still present. “What our guests won’t know won’t hurt them, right? Besides, I’m sure these poor lost souls would appreciate the infinite hospitality that the Fire Nation has to offer. Just leave it all to me…”

Meanwhile, Soren and Claudia were taken back to the treasure room where they had arrived. The two of them were seated down at one of the large tables, side by side. Claudia’s eyes scanned the room until she spotted what she was looking for, a large mirror, though this one was different from the one in Katolis. It was a large circle, with a grey stone frame lined with runes, and a winged dragon perched on top. The glass was not cracked, but perfectly smooth and reflected the rest of the room.

“Soren, there it is…” Claudia whispered to her brother. Soren followed her gaze to the mirror and smiled excitedly.

“Clods, all we have to do is make a break for it,” Soren whispered back. Claudia gave him a worried look, but he did not notice. “I can overpower these guys easy, then we just bolt for the mirror and we’re out of here.” Soren took a deep breath and readied himself, tensing his legs to spring into action. “On my mark….one….two…th-“

“I’m so sorry about that,” Came a female voice from outside. The guards made way as Princess Azula and Prince Zuko entered the treasure room and walked up to the siblings. “Guards, please take these shackles off, these two are our guests and we should treat them better than prisoners.” The guards did as they were ordered and unlocked the cuffs from Soren and Claudia’s wrists. Soren was taken back, his plan interrupted before it could begin. He and Claudia watched as Azula walked up to the large mirror, studying it inquisitively, before pushing her hand towards it. The glass stayed firm, as glass normally does. Claudia and Soren were surprised by this, and Azula turned to them. “You both came through this, but it seems that you can’t go back.”

“What!?” Soren exclaimed as he walked towards the princess. Two guards moved in his way, and Soren glared at them. “You mean we’re stuck here?” Soren stomped his foot and huffed. “I had places to be…” Azula put on an expression of pity. She had already known the mirror would not work, having tested it before pursuing Claudia and Soren earlier. Azula just needed to make sure they knew they were stuck, before one of them tried to do something rash. Azula motioned for the guards to move, and she put a hand on Soren’s shoulder.

“I know this must be difficult for you, being stranded in a strange new world,” Azula said, her words coated with honey. Soren looked back at Azula, he and Claudia oblivious to her intentions, and began to feel more at ease. “But not to worry. The Royal Family are generous hosts, and we will gladly let you stay at the palace until you find your way back home.”

“Really? Oh, thank you!” Claudia said as she got up from her seat and went to give Azula a hug. Azula did her best not to shove the sorceress to the ground and set her long hair on fire for her insolence, and she managed to keep her composure.

“It’s nothing, you’re more than welcome,” Azula replied as she pried Claudia off of her. Zuko watched from the edge of the table, glowering at the spectacle. Lying always did come easy to Azula. While the prince did not trust these outsiders, using them the way Azula did made him uncomfortable. Still, it was better than executing them, as long as they truly were not assassins. Ozai had restored his honor, and Zuko would not shame himself by disobeying his father again.

“Okay, so, what now?” Soren asked impatiently. It did not look like he was going to be home in time for his ceremony. He still considered himself a Crownguard though, regardless of if he was officially sworn in and took the oath. Soren would make sure no one forgot that. “What do we need to do?”

“I’ll have to create a new spell to try and reopen the portal home,” Claudia said, scratching her head. “Some of those ingredients I used were not easy to get either. You wouldn’t happen to have any unicorn mane lying around, would you?”

“What is a unicorn?” Zuko asked incredulously. “Is that like some kind of tiger monkey?” Claudia sighed and rubbed her temple, causing Zuko to shrug in confusion.

“Okay, I have to make a new spell using all new different ingredients then…” Claudia grumbled for a moment, and Soren was worried until Claudia put a bright smile on her face. “But hey! That just means I get to experiment with a whole new kingdom of animals! Imagine all the new spells I could invent!”

“We will assist you in any way we can, Claudia was it?” Azula said, her words still sweet. “I would love to learn how your spells work, but first, I think you both need some rest after such a harrowing experience. Come, we’ll show you a tour of the palace and where you’ll be staying. I’ll make sure the guards and staff know you are our most esteemed guests in your time of need.”

Azula snapped her fingers, and the guards stepped in line as she led Soren and Claudia out of the treasure room with Zuko not far behind. Things were already starting off even better than she planned, and Azula loved every bit of it.

[langblr-o-kebek]

How to feed yourself cheaply when you live alone

It can be so frustrating and difficult to get used to living by yourself. Apparently cabinets don’t come magically stocked with spices and you have to buy things??? with money???? So here’s a few things I’ve learned along the way along with some links to other great posts that have information along this subject too.

1. Secretly assassinate a relative and collect inheritance

2. Find a sugar daddy

If 1 and 2 are options then the rest of this post is worthless to you, if they are not options, keep reading.

Your first visit to the grocery store Buckle up because it’s going to be the most expensive one

You need to stock your kitchen since you are not a roach and can’t just eat the wooden cabinets. Every kitchen should have some combination of the “basics” which will be your non-perishable pantry items-those things that your parents house seemingly never runs out of. 

The Basics

-Rice -Pasta (+any other grains you might like such as couscous, wheat berries etc.) -Flour -Sugar -Brown sugar (if you’re into baking like I am) -Baking Soda -Baking powder -Spices (for example, cumin, cayenne, oregano, basil, paprika, etc.) -Salt and pepper -Oats -Boullion or cans of stock -Cans of soup/packets of ramen -Coffee/tea

I suggest you buy these kinds of items in bulk if possible. If you have the space to store them, they will last you forever and items like these can make a meal that is supposed to be 1-2 servings into somethings thats 4-6 which I’ll explain later. Also, buying in bulk is cheaper per pound/100 grams (whatever system you’re using) so in the long run, you’ll save lots of money by buying one fat ass sack of rice a year instead of 15 every few weeks. Check your area for bulk stores, places that sell spices and grains by the weight. This will save you cash and can be more eco-friendly if you’re able to use your own bags/containers.

Tips for meals

It is so much cheaper to cook a larger amount of food at a time than making something for each individual meal. This is because for the most part, you can’t buy ingredients sufficient for one serving at the grocery store and you don’t want to buy something you’ll only use once and then the rest goes bad and bye-bye money. Making a meal that will last you 3-4 days is not only cheaper, but also saves time since after the initial cooking, all you have to do is reheat a little at a time later. You can take this a step further and use grains like rice, pasta and couscous to “cut” the food thereby doubling the amount of servings you have. Below are some really easy recipes that I use that last me days.

Things you can make at home for cheap

HUMMUS! Bc it’s a great snack, filling, healthy and is stupid expensive at the store and stupid cheap and easy to make.

-1 can of garbanzo beans -2 T of tahini (you can leave this out if you want, tahini can be expensive) -1 T lemon juice -1 clove of garlic, minced -Cumin, paprika, salt, pepper

Literally throw it all in a food processor and blend. If it’s too thick, you can add more olive oil or save some of the water from the beans and add that as well. If you do that, less salt will need to be added. If you use dried beans that you’ve soaked and shit you will need more salt.

If you don’t have a food processor, you can heat the beans up and smash it by hand, it’s more effort and it may be chunkier but it works. Same goes for immersion blenders.

Fun ways to shake this hummus up

-Roasted Red pepper: Chop 1/3 C of roasted red pepper and add. Replace some of the olive oil with some of the juice from the pepper jar.

-Roasted Garlic: Instead of mincing a garlic clove, expose the head of the garlic (lol) and rub with a little olive oil, making sure it gets into the cracks (lol). Wrap in foil and roast at 400 degrees (~200 C) for 30-35 minutes. Garlic should be nice and soft when it’s done. Roasted garlic is sweet instead of biting like raw garlic so using a whole head is okay and you won’t die when you eat it.

-Artichoke heart+black olive: Chop up one can of artichoke hearts with however many chopped black olives as you would like

-Pesto: Add in at least one tablespoon of pesto

Now the question is, how do I eat my hummus and the answer is, there’s actually a billion ways

-Put it on a sandwich or wrap! -Dip celery, cucumber, carrots, peppers in it! -Eat it with pretzels or tortilla chips OR if you’re a cheap bastard like me, make your own tortilla chips by cutting up some tortilla rounds, brushing them with olive oil, sprinkling them with salt and bake at 350 for 10ish minutes. I usually put mine into the oven right when I turn it on and pull them out when the oven is preheated bc I can’t be bothered to actually figure out a proper cooking time. Whatever, this is way cheaper than buying chips and they’re more filling. You can also make tortillas, it’s cheap and simple, I find they taste better, but it is slightly time consuming. Here’s a recipe. -Eat it with a spoon wgaf you live alone no judgement.

Coffee Creamer

Hell yes you can make this at home. The basic is about 1 3/4 cup of milk (whatever kind of milk, the more fat in the milk the creamier the creamer) and 14oz of sweetened condensed milk. You can also add in a few drops of any sort of extract/honey or some sprinkles of cinnamon/nutmeg whatever suits your fancy! Here is a bunch of variations. Also put 1/4 of a teaspoon of cinnamon per cup of coffee in with your coffee grounds in the filter for a cinnamon scented coffee.

Popcorn

Well, we all knew this one. But honest to god it is so much cheaper and healthier to pop popcorn using a bag of kernels than it is to buy a box of microwave popcorn. Just pour some oil and a tablespoon of butter into a large pan, add the popcorn and cook covered over medium heat. As soon as the kernels start to pop make sure you start jiggling the pan to keep them moving so they don’t burn and ruin your pan. I’m pretty sure you can put the kernels in a paper bag in the microwave too. Throw salt on it, or even cinnamon and sugar cuz why not.

RULES FOR GROCERY SHOPPING

1. buying in bulk saves

2. Don’t buy in bulk if you can’t use it all before it expires-like yeast! Most expiration dates are pretty generous and you can actually continue using the product beyond the date (this amount of time varies, please for your own safety please google it). Yeast is the only food I know of that is true to its expiration.

3. Avoid superstores when possible. Most of the time, you’re paying for the convenience. Superstores are often more expensive because you’re paying for the convenience of doing all your shopping in one place. 

4. Ethnic markets are almost always cheaper-especially for trendy things like Coconut oil (so cheap at indian food markets!!) Find Chinese, Arabic, Indian, Mexican food markets around you and split up your shopping accordingly. 

5. MAKE YOUR OWN BREAD, it can be very easy. Google it.

6. Off brand is just as good as the rest

7. Coupons, grab them in the front of the store if available

8. Just because something is a good deal doesn’t mean you have to buy it. I don’t care if orange juice is on sale, I don’t drink a lot of orange juice. You know what’s cheaper than something being 50% off? Not buying it at all. It costs $0.00 to be smart. 

9. Don’t make grocery shopping a habitual thing. By that I mean don’t go grocery shopping every Sunday or whatever. Go grocery shopping when you need to go grocery shopping. If it’s been a week but you can wait 4 more days, wait 4 more days.

10. Don’t buy fresh herbs, grow them. A packet of seeds is cheap. Plastic pots are cheap. Potting soil can be cheap if you can find a place where you can buy by the weight instead of a massive bag. Plant the seeds according to the packet. Things like basil need to be watered often. Things like rosemary and thyme are okay chilling a couple of days without it. Read the packets and google it. Also it’s so rewarding to watch your little baby plants grow. An herb garden costs $10 dollars at the most to make. Fresh herbs at the grocery store cost $2-6 per package. Fresh herbs make meals taste a million times better I swear to god it’s the best thing you can do for yourself. Growing herbs also helped me with my depression so bonus.

11. If shopping at a super store, as much as possible stay out of the “middle”. What I mean is, things you buy should come from the sections closest to the wall-these include the produce, meat, dairy and frozen vegetables. All the processed foods are in the middle and though some can be cheap, they’re not filling and you end up buying them a lot. Doing things like making your own hummus can keep you out of the middle aisles and it’s healthier. Things from the middle you may need though are tea, ramen, grains, soup, peanut butter. 

12. Plan your trip. Thoroughly look through your fridge and cabinets to see what you’re out of. I even keep a little white board on my fridge where I write what’s in the fridge and what’s run out. Write down what needs to be replaced/what you need for the next couple of meals. Do not stray from the list when shopping.

13. Go to Marshalls or Winners or whatever equivalent for things like olive oil, K cups if you have a Keurig (oh fancy fancy) and cool pink salt. They also have other kinds of oils like sunflower and avocado, and even sometimes protein powders. It’s way cheaper there and you can buy a liter sized bottle of olive oil for like 7 dollars when it would cost at least twice that at a grocery store. 

14. Do not have the same grocery list every week. Prices of things change, your list should reflect that. If you’re wanting to get some sort of fruit for a snack, don’t get apples every week. Get whatever is in season. The prices of fresh produce in stores and markets will reflect what’s in season (i.e. the cheapest things). Lucky for us Bananas are always in season and are a super cheap snack that people forget about. I often wait until they’re ripe, cut them up and freeze them to make smoothies. 

15. Don’t be afraid of tofu. It’s cheap as hell and once you learn how to prepare it, can be a fantastic substitute for animal proteins if meat/fish are too expensive.

16. Don’t forget, so many foods can be frozen. If something is crazy on sale, don’t be afraid to buy more than usual if you are able to freeze it. Here’s a list of things that can be frozen. TBH here, in Canada, I buy those big 3L bags of milk and store the little baggies in the freezer. 

Finally, go to Goodwill stores and thrift shops to find kitchen appliances, dishes, and cookware for cheap! The best 7 dollars I ever spent was on a crock pot. These stores have so many items that last FOREVER, like a good pan, or a classic cafeteria.  Don’t think you can’t cook because you can’t afford the equipment. Kitchen equipment doesn’t have to be a huge investment.

That’s all I have for today. Good luck out there guys.

[youre-not-a-cat-youre-a-rat]

CSJJ Day 21: “The Best Things Happen While You Dance”

CSJJ Day 21: “The Best Things Happen While You Dance” (1/1)

(AO3)

Rating: E (for unsanitary kitchen activity, which I imagine is typical for these two.)

Words: 3,577

Emma likes to dance. Killian likes that Emma likes to dance. Though it can get distracting when he’s only home because he forgot his phone and he’s trying to get back to his shift at the station and there’s NO TIME to be seduced by his wife, bloody hell, woman...

A/N: I guess all I want to write is Killian’s opinions on popular culture?? Also, ha ha I meant for this to be something fun and domestic about Killian being perplexed by modern music/dancing and then smut happened, whoops.

@csjanuaryjoy, @lenfaz

His wife liked to dance.

Killian discovered this gradually even before their courtship began.

While in her vehicle, on that awkward journey back from New York, he’d caught her mouthing along silently to something on the radio, her finger tapping along with the oddly prominent percussion on the steering wheel. Upon the sea where the misty moon is playing havoc with the tide...

During late nights at the station, pouring over town census records, he’d watch her stand up and stretch only to relax into a sway, a faint pulse to her movement matching the mellow rhythm of the music emanating from her computer. She’d tap a key to increase the volume so she could hum along. I could never see tomorrow...I was never told about the sorrow…

Truthfully, Killian was too over-stimulated from watching the stretch to process the dancing at the time. But later he’d been quietly thrilled that she felt comfortable enough to let her guard down in his presence, that she trusted him enough to let him see her be carefree, to see her be silly.

But he didn’t realize how musically inclined Emma really was until they began living under the same roof.

Everything seemed to call for accompaniment in Emma’s mind. Paperwork, exercise, showering (as if she needed the excuse to take even longer with this particular task). Killian often found her in the kitchen, too busy whipping her hair or belting “the best part” to notice she was burning breakfast.

Henry was worse. If Killian entered a room where the lad had music playing, he was usually pestered into sitting and scolded into staying quiet so he could “really absorb” the song. This was typically followed by a brief contextual lecture courtesy of Henry’s ongoing quest to educate Killian on the popular culture of his adopted realm.

The boy often acted as a fellow culprit of their burned meals, the “Shoop” incident being a prime example.

It was a weekend and Killian was half way down the stairs when he heard the beat from the kitchen. He recognized the style - the type that was more like spoken verse, heavily laden with modern slang. The most difficult to get used to, though the rhythm was a revelation

(“If you really want to appreciate it,” Henry had told him him, “you’ve gotta do your research, ‘cause it started out as, like, protest music? But now it’s gotten all commercial in the mainstream - well, not totally.” He pulled out his phone to add to Killian’s film curriculum. “We’re gonna have to watch The Get Down, and DEFINITELY Straight Outta Compton, maybe Paris is Burning? But I guess that’s more about dance…)

Naturally, when Killian rounded the corner to the kitchen it was to find his wife in his robe (“Why should we buy another one if there’s no overlap in when we want to wear it?”) and his step-son...bouncing? That was the best way he could describe the action. Bouncing - and waxing verse into a spatula and a wooden spoon as if they were microphones.

“Girls, what’s my weakness? MEN.”

Killian could really only stand back and behold.

Emma caught sight of him and began to saunter over, the lyrics aimed at a target now. “Can I get some fries with that shake-shake, booby?”

“Excuse me?” he said.

She ignored his bafflement, her arms rising over her head as her body seemed to roll. The movements were nothing one could find in a ballroom, but with so many years of sailing under his belt, they weren’t completely unfamiliar to Killian. His eyes followed the motion down from her torso to her hips and he promptly lost his train of thought.

She smirked at him - of course - turning so he could appreciate the dance from a different angle. And he appreciated. Up until he smelled the smoke.

“Shit!” came the confirmation from Henry.

They finished the morning at Granny’s, where the lad found the song on the jukebox for an encore.

Lucky for both of the lunatics he lived with that Killian enjoyed their antics. Such as when Henry brought speakers on an afternoon sail, and the sunset had been made truly transcendent thanks to some fellow named Pink Floyd. “Better than lasers,” Emma had said.

But Floyd’s music wasn’t particularly conducive to dancing. More often, Killian found his wife dancing to “hip hop,” or “motown,” or something with layered, ethereal sounds (occasionally, Killian could swear he heard a harpsichord) over a uniform, pulsing rhythm.

“Disco, baby,” Emma had labeled it with one of her fey little smiles. The term of endearment made Killian smirk even as he felt his ears go hot. He was proud to consider himself an accomplished flirt, but his wife could be rather dashing when she wanted to be.

But it was never guaranteed what sort of music he’d find her listening to, especially these days. With the weather turning colder and with no more seasonal festivities to distract her, Emma seemed to rely on her music even more than usual - even just to get out of bed.

She would sit up, wrapped in blankets, and squint at her phone before choosing a song, only leaving her cocoon - with plenty of grumbling - on the second or third selection.

Her mood usually improved in the shower, where she’d sing. Killian was becoming familiar enough with the lyrics to sing along, as he’d taken to joining her in the shower, since he had no hope for hot water otherwise.

This night, Emma had the house to herself. Killian had sensed her delight at the prospect. He could understand it. He enjoyed his own occasional moments of peace at the house or on the Roger. They weren’t as rare since they’d broken the Dark Fairy’s curse, but that didn’t mean he and Emma (and everyone in town) were taking them for granted.

Killian had the late shift at the sheriff’s station with David, and he was to drop Henry off at a party at Violet’s residence (their parting had been amicable, apparently). But first he had to drag the boy away from the latest of a series of arguments with his mother.

“I can handle it, Mom! You said I’m a good driver!”

“In a car, yes. This is different, and you haven’t even been driving that long.”

“I’ve been driving longer than him.” He waved a hand in Killian’s direction.

Killian didn’t bristle at the disparaging tone. His mastery of Emma’s yellow vehicle had taken many exhausting hours of practice and patient coaching from Belle on an apparatus called a “stick shift.”

“Yeah, well he’s definitely not getting a motorcycle,” Emma said.

“Mom, if you would just - ”

“Henry,” she said, “we’ll talk about it later.”

Henry sighed. “You’re just trying to get me out the door.”

“I’m not saying no,” Emma said. “I’m saying we’ll talk about it later and we will.”

He nodded, if sulkily, and allowed himself to be kissed goodbye.

“Come on, lad.” Killian looped his arm around the boy’s shoulder and steered him out of the house.

The drive was silent, Henry too distracted to turn on the radio.

“Look at things her way, lad. She only wants to keep you safe.”

“I’m not a kid anymore, I can take care of myself,” he said, quietly.

“She knows that,” Killian said. “But she also knows what’s in store for you, she knows the world won’t pull it’s punches no matter how capable you are. She’s not looking forward to giving you up to that.” Almost to himself, he said. “I know I’m not.”

“You make it sound like I’m going to leave,” Henry said.

“You might, lad. You’re parents were wanderers, don’t forget. Perhaps by necessity, but they were.”

“And so were you.”

“Aye, and so was I. Though Emma might be happier if you took the Roger instead of a - a motor -”

“Motorcycle.”

“- cycle, right. Aye.”

“Well,” Henry grinned, “would you let me?”

Killian sucked in a deep breath. “I suppose - ”

Henry burst out laughing. “Oh my god, no. Relax, your face.”

Killian sighed, lips twitching as he allowed himself to be mocked. They pulled up to the house shortly after anyway, where Henry turned to him, thoughtful again.

“She shouldn’t worry,” he said, “because if I do wander, it’ll only be until I’ve found my family. Like you both did.”

Killian considered this and dipped his head. “Aye, lad. Very true.”

The boy smiled at him, satisfied and excited, and Killian marveled at him. He was a boy still, but Killian imagined there would always be a spark about Henry, even when he grew into adulthood. It made something pinch in his chest to know that he would get to see it for himself.

He reached out to muss the lad’s hair, which resulted in an angry squawk. “Killian! I just fixed it.”

“Ugh,” Killian said, rubbing the residue between his fingers with exaggerated disgust. “With what? I told you to use -”

“No! I’m not having this argument with you again.” Henry stepped out of the car, frantically trying to smooth out his fringe.”

Killian rolled down the window to shout, “Be responsible, lad! Be a gentleman!” as per his wife’s custom when leaving Henry with his friends.

(“If we aren’t embarrassing him, we aren’t doing it right. My parents embarrass me all the time.”

“That’s because you’re an adult, love.”

“No, it’s because they’re obviously making up for the years they didn’t get to embarrass me.”)

He planned to include the moment in his report when he texted her but as he walked into the station, he reached a hand into his pocket and found it empty.

He cursed and ran back to the parking lot to search the car.

Nothing.

Dave waved him off when he told him where he was going, already pulling up solitaire on his computer. He hated late shifts.

As he pulled into the driveway of the house, curious in spite of himself about how his wife was spending her personal evening.

Music was playing on the amplifier in the kitchen, the rhythm upbeat if lazy, the instruments varied - guitar, harmonica, horns.

She was in a towel, her hair plastered in a wet coil against her neck and shoulder. She wasn’t so much dancing as performing. Her face concentrated in a mask of agony or ecstasy as she sang along, shaking a fist before clutching it to her chest, draping herself across the fridge to pose dramatically. She was ridiculous. Killian bit his lip to keep from laughing.

“Woah!” She jerked as she caught sight of him, a crack of energy sparking off the palm she raised in reaction. Killian ducked but the magic fizzled before it could reach him.

“God, Killian! I could have killed you!”

Killian was laughing as he walked over and gathered her up into his arms. “I’m sorry, love, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He rubbed her bare shoulder as she grumbled into his neck. “I forgot my phone. And then I was so enthralled by your performance -”

She shoved him and he laughed again, turning to hunt down the damned device.

When he returned she was pulling a box of something out of the freezer (how she could eat that dreck he’d never understand). The same song was playing, perhaps she’d set it to repeat, but her movements were brisk and efficient. She was focused entirely on her task.

Killian felt a pang of guilt. “Oh love, I am sorry.”

She gave him a self-depreciating smile over her shoulder. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine, you were relaxed and I worked you up again.”

“Really, Killian, it’s fine.”

He wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, nuzzling her neck trying to think of a way to spike her mood again. “I made sure to embarrass Henry when I dropped him off,” he said.

She lifted a hand to his cheek. “No you didn’t. All his friends have a crush on you, they never notice what you’re saying to him.”

Killian made a face at that disturbing thought. “No I think that little ginger girl might fancy you, actually.”

“Hmm,” she said.

He felt the vibration in her throat, felt her body relax back against his and cheered to himself at the little triumph.

Slowly, he began to rock her, side to side. Trying to lead her back into her dance.

“Am I doing this right?”

She snorted. “Sure. Very ‘PDA couple at a night club.’” She turned in his arms and he moved his hand up between her shoulders.

“No, no,” she said, moving his hand back down to her waist. “This is how we did it in junior high.” She brought his hook to her other side and wound her arms around his neck.

“It’s more in the hips now than anything else,” she said.

Dutifully, he rubbed his hand against the warm terrycloth and felt her hips roll in slow, tight circles, dragging enough to follow the syncopated rhythm.

It was bloody mesmerizing, really.

After a few bars, he found himself matching her movements. She rubbed her cheek along his beard as she pulled away enough to smile at him. He let the satisfaction of seeing the pink burn on her jaw settle heavy in his stomach.

Her fingers had been teasing the hair on his neck, but now her hands (someday, he would have to compose some terrible poetry in tribute to her hands) ran down along his shoulders and arms, making him shiver. She gripped his hand and stepped back, swinging out.

He watched her, expectant, following her lead. Her lips twitched and her eyes danced and all at once she spun back into him, her back to his front, her free hand snagging his hook again, wrapping herself up in him.

She slid down his chest slightly as her hips wound again in a quick little phrase at twice the speed as before. She repeated the move, straightening, and he sucked in a breath as she nestled, plush and warm, against his crotch.

Her head fell back to rest on his shoulder, and still helplessly following her cues, he pressed his mouth to her neck. She hummed approvingly, her hand coming back to his cheek as he trailed kisses up to that place under her ear that made her gasp.

She turned her head to capture his mouth with hers, soft and hot, her fingers snaking back into the hair at the nape of his neck, her hand dragging his up to her breast, her arse grinding insistently against the suddenly aching bulge in his trousers.

He broke away with a groan. “Why are you like this?”

She laughed, breathless. “You bring it out in me.” She spun to face him fully and kissed him again, one hand anchoring his jaw, the other at the small of his back, locking them together, flush from lips to thighs.

“Emma -” the word was smothered against her kisses “- can’t - have to go - I’m on duty.”

“It’s fine.” The word of the night, “I can be quick.”

He laughed, low and desperate. “No you can’t, you greedy minx.”

“Yes.” Now the kisses were punctuation. “When I’m focused - ” Kiss. “When it’s just for you - ” Kiss. Long kiss.

Just as Killian was forgetting the topic of debate - forgetting his own name - she broke off with a snicker. She sang her plea along with the music.

Killian laughed, surprised and delighted.

“Let me...take you there,” she repeated.

“The Savior serenading me?”

“Is that a yes?”

He looked at her, skin pink from the cold because she was too lazy to put on clothes after her shower. Still swaying, pulsing, dancing. Wicked glint in her eye.

He nudged at her nose with his, drawn to her like a magnet, chasing her breath, her taste. “It’s a ‘Do your worst, wife.”

Needing no further prompting, Emma fisted her hands into his jacket and pinned him to the fridge.

“As you wish, husband,” she murmured against his lips.

She devoured him. An onslaught of lips and tongue and teeth. Killian could only grab her hip and hold on. Her kisses traveled from his mouth to his neck, stopping to nip at his earring, and settling at the base of his throat where she licked at the sweat there. She worked open a few buttons of his vest and shirt before she grew impatient and yanked them to the side so she could finish her trail to his nipple. She dragged the flat of her tongue against it making him hiss.

Her hands flew to his belt as she nuzzled her face into his clothed torso, mouthing a kiss to his sternum through the fabric. He stroked his fingers over her wet hair as she kneeled.

“Fuck,” he bit out as her hand seized his cock. She held him up and licked him messily from root to tip then twisted her fist to coat him all over with her saliva. He had to close his eyes, still overwhelmed by the extent of her capacity for depravity.

She pumped him twice, squeezing ruthlessly. His head thunked back against the freezer door. Somehow it registered that the vocalist in the long forgotten song was begging for mercy. He might have laughed if Emma’s mouth didn’t close over him at that moment.

He stiffened, letting out a strangled groan. He struggled to keep still, to let her work comfortably, to be a bloody gentleman. But of course she was having none of it. She gripped the base of him and sucked in long, unbearable pulls that had him growling her name like an animal.

His hips finally bucked forward when her eyes flicked up to snare his. Sometimes the expression in them was fierce and challenging when they made love. Possessive. Now they were serene and smug, reveling in his reaction. Hypnotizing him as he gasped and shuddered and twitched, rendering him a helpless mess plastered to their kitchen fridge, undone by her expert mouth.

She took his hand from where it was clawing at the formica counter and laced their fingers together. Her eyes never strayed from his face as she doubled her pace, her pressure, grounding him even as she sent him careening over the edge into oblivion.

“I needed that.”

“You did?”

“Is that so hard to believe?”

“Not in the slightest. I know I live with a sexual tyrant.”

She smacked his chest with the back of her hand.

“And happily, so,” Killian added.

She hummed her satisfaction, her eyes closed.

He reached over and stroked her neck, frowning at the tension in her frame. “Worried about the lad?”

She hummed again, her lips pursing.

He lifted his to look at her, sitting next to him on the tile, their backs against the cabinets. Still in her towell. “He’s not going to leave us.”

She exhaled sharply, a sad little laugh. “Yes he will. And I get it. I mean, I don’t want him to stay if that’s not what he wants.”

He drew her hair over her shoulder to her back. It had started to dry in unruly yellow waves. “Very well, perhaps he will. But I know you. You’ll make sure we see him again.”

“You know this.”

He gave her a look. “What’s that bloody family motto of yours, love?”

She rolled her eyes.

He cupped her cheek, turned her face to his. “Emma Swan?” he murmured. “She always finds her man.”

She snorted.

He gave her a wry smile. “Henry knows he’s as stuck with you as you are with me.”

Her eyes filled with something deep and steady. “You’re stuck with me too,” she said.

Ah, there it was. A moment of peace. “I know it, love,” he said, and pressed a kiss against her lips.

Something rattled on the counter. His phone.

She broke away. “That’ll be my dad.”

“Yes, I’m stuck with you seducing me away from my duty.”

She laughed, unrepentant, and kissed him all the way to the door.

“I have to go,” he said. “Weren’t you excited to be on your own tonight?”

“Well I changed my mind,” she said. “Now I think it’s a good night to try and beat our record.”

“Goodbye,” he told her firmly. Though the effect was probably ruined by the pathetic grin he felt stretching his cheeks. “Put on some clothes.”

“Put on a scarf!” She nagged back.

His phone buzzed just as he was stepping into the car again.

She’d sent him a link to a song.

Here’s something for you to annoy Dad with at the station, I know he hates late shifts.

I love you.

Killian attached the phone to the car’s sound system before pulling away from the house, and smiled at the opening strains.

She’d played this one for him before, possibly for the first time after their second engagement. Those few calm days before the storm, when they’d shut out the rest of the world, alone together in their house, soaking each other up again. The music she’d gravitated to then had been comforting, and sensual, and hopeful. A serenade for their apologies, their absolutions, their vows, their growth. Their partnership. She might have even played the song he’d found her dancing to tonight.

The moon was high as Killian drove on, but the lyrics rang true as he sang them out, tapping his hook against the wheel.

Just one look at you, and I know it’s gonna be a lovely day

Title from the Irving Berlin song of White Christmas fame.

Songs referenced:

Don’t Get Me Wrong - The Pretenders

How Can You Mend A Broken Heart - Al Green (my “gazing out a window while it rains” song)

Shoop - Salt-N-Pepa

They played Dark Side of the Moon on that sail.

I’ll Take You There - The Staple Singers

Lovely Day - Bill Withers

[paranoidwino]

the bilgesnipe in the room

Where the elephant doesn’t really describe the size of the situation, and you’d rather pretend the antlers aren’t poking you in the back. I made it, @bloomsoftly ! For you! Yaaay! Because you’re having a hard time and I wanted to make you smile! :D

Special thanks to @ragwitch who checked the whole thing (and enforced work hours... and helped me with blocks) and @hollyspacey that pretended she was Sam and filled me the conversation voids. You’re awesome! Read in on AO3: here.

“There’s another one.”

Darcy groaned. Loudly. This was the fourth time this week. And yes, she kind of got it, but man this was getting ridiculous.

She opened the doors of Baker Shelter and yep, sure enough, the sounds of battle were already creeping up from the streets and people were trying to find somewhere to hide.

“What is it today?” She sighed, “Doombots? A giant hamster?” she shook her head, “no matter. Open the doors. Close the big pen and let the people in.”

Amanda nodded and rushed to the pens.

It was becoming some sort of routine for the people to come and hide in the Shelter. Darcy hadn’t planned on this, it was a Dog sanctuary not some kind of catastrophe refuge, but when she finally realized it was time they prepped for such a situation, they noticed that many people actually had nowhere to go back to. And they couldn’t turn them away, they weren’t monsters.

And so Darcy had planned accordingly, and had turned to the only person that could have helped her in such a situation: JARVIS.

Nothing about Baker Shelter had been planned. It had been a spur of the moment thing. Like, this kind of thing? Never happened to people like her. Then again, not many could say they outlived not one but two alien invasions, three if you counted New York (and it did so count!).

And so, the day she purchased a Lottery ticket from the National Lottery website while staying at  Jane’s mother’s tiny dingy apartment, she… well, she had thought ‘well, we almost died, might as well invest 2£ in this.’ She had not really expected to win the Jackpot. She had not expected to become a millionaire overnight. But Holy Shit.

She was rich now. Filthy rich. Her student debts were no more, her problems with finding a job? Forget it, she’d feed her grandkids if she had her way. And Jane. Who needed grants anymore? She could have everything.

Jane hadn’t been enthused. Or rather, Jane hadn’t really listened, or noticed, at all. And it had probably been that - the absent minded, involuntary rejection - that had stung Darcy  badly enough to decide not to tell her best friend anything.

And the ‘lie’ grew and grew, until it was impossible for Darcy to tell Jane, well, anything. So when Stark had swooped in and offered them a place (and unlimited funding, that got Jane going real fast), she’d been worried her secret was no longer going to be one.

She was wrong. Tony had been very understanding of her predicament and agreed not to say anything.

The Shelter just… kinda happened as a consequence of his contaminating her and her bleeding heart. She had the money, the means, and now a powerful ally such as Tony Stark (and Jarvis!). Opening a shelter by remaining anonymous, buying off a ton of land and pretending to be a volunteer at her own creation had been stupidly easy. She was actually surprised she’d pulled it off.

But no matter.  In the end, Baker’s Dog Sanctuary for Third Strike Dogs had evolved into Baker Shelter, and it was one of the biggest non profit compounds in the city, comprised of the actual Dog Sanctuary building and greenery, and then proper human buildings that, in reality, hosted people in a much more permanent situation than they should. Not that Darcy cared much about it. These people needed it.

She armed herself with a trashcan lid and a wooden spoon she used for the dog food, checked that no canine was nearby (she was not going to spend the afternoon looking for poor terrorized creatures during a whatchamacallit attack) and loudly banged the spoon on the lid. “This way!” She shouted.

The running crowd didn’t need to be told twice. They poured into the buildings and followed the lights into the underground panic rooms she’d insisted they install after the first attacks (if New York had more of these? Yeah, they’d solve so many problems instead of sending people down to the subway stations). They barricaded themselves in and waited for the alarms to go off at any time. The booms and screams from upstairs were deafening despite being so far away.

As soon as the sirens stopped blaring, the poor civilians tentatively poked their heads around, ready to get back to their lives.

And as per usual, the Avengers dealt with the situation within a couple of hours and that left, well, everyone else cleaning up.

No, that wasn’t fair, Tony and his very government friendly cleaning crew did a lot to remove the big stuff. But in the end, apart from paying damages, people literally had to pick up the ruins of their houses and start anew. This time,after a couple of hours of these bouncing magical watermelons (which were a thing!), 35 people had lost their homes for the foreseeable future. Okay. Okay. She had this.

“Everyone, please listen up.” She tried to look imposing, but since vertically challenged people were usually invisible from afar, she had to stand on a chair to become the centre of attention. If only it worked with superheroes or science!bros as well. “For those of you who can’t go home, there’s temporary apartments in the compound, you just need to register at the Emergency desk. Please don’t occupy rooms if you have your house in habitable conditions. We’re trying to help, help us help you!” She recited by heart with a droning voice. Sounding hardly interested and not very impressive? Check.

The crowd dispersed, and Darcy congratulated herself for another good job. Hopefully this situation would solve itself soon. They were almost out of room and she didn’t want to start turning people away.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with this city.” Mumbled Alan from behind the desk at the makeshift reception. “But seriously, this is like the sixth attack in a fortnight.”

Darcy nodded. “I just hope this is the last time.”

***

It wasn’t.

In fact, it took three more attacks on the population for the ‘real Mastermind’ to come forward and another for the Avengers to finally capture them (Darcy suspected it was a man, but it was seriously hard with the costumes and all that...so). That didn’t stop her from complaining, that day at the Tower.

“Toh-neeeey,” she wailed exaggeratedly walking into his lab, “what is wrong with this city lately? Huh? We’re filled to the brim. Filled. Us! We’re like, the biggest compound in New York! We can’t keep up like this.” No answer.

Tony was deeply focused at his workstation, the soldering iron in his hands.

“Hey, J?” she asked then.

“Yes, Miss Lewis?” JARVIS promptly answered her. J was the absolute best. She should start thinking about adoption.

“Is Tony doing something very dangerous that will explode if I distract him?”

“I don’t think so, Miss Lewis, though may I suggest waiting until Sir is done with the soldering iron?”

She nodded, “got it.” As soon as Tony put down the instrument, she put two fingers at the corners of her mouth and whistled. Loudly.

Tony yelped. “Wha-! Shortstack!” He looked around, as if checking no one was there to witness his unmanly (girlish) scream. “What’s up?”

“We’re out of space. Again.” She sighed. “I’m seriously considering digging under the Subway. Jarvis, what are the chances of me getting away with creating an underground society?”

“The chances of creating a safe and functional secret underground society are extremely small, Miss Lewis.”

Tch. “I knew it.” She deflated on top of Tony’s empty table. “We need more space, more people, this is such a mess, Tony. Like, it was meant to be a tiny dog shelter, not a fully functioning people housing, society rehab center. How did it escalate so quickly?”

“...I blame your bleeding heart.” deadpanned Tony, then held out his hand expectantly. “Give me your phone.”

Her knee jerk reaction was to take a step back and her hand flew instinctively to her phone in her purse. “No?”

He made an impatient gesture with his hand, “Come on, DoubleD, give me some credit here.”

“Yeah, no.” She argued back, “What do you want to do to him?”

“Nothing terrible, I promise. Now gimme.”

Suspiciously, she handed him her phone. He didn’t take it. They stood staring at the phone in her hand for a few seconds. “...Tony?”

“I don’t like to be handed things. Put it on the desk and come back in an hour or so.” Why you!

***

One hour later her phone was laying on the desk. She was almost afraid it would explode in her hands.

“Okay… I’m almost scared to ask, Tony.”

“You wound me, Shorty, wound me!” He exclaimed dramatically. “But no, really, it should be okay.”

She opened her phone hesitantly.

“Good Evening, Miss Lewis, I’m FRIDAY.”

Her phone had an AI. “You… you got me an AI.” She said dumbfounded.

“Well, no.” He defended, “It’s… it’s not like Jarvis, okay? It’s a tiny AI. She can help you vet people and order the stuff you need and book appointments and staff and… why are your eyes wet Shorty?! You said you needed help!”

She had no words, so she shook her head and despite the grease stains on his shirt, she still hugged him (and was she glad there was no arc reactor on his chest anymore). “Thank you, thank you.”

“Yes, yes,” he said awkwardly. “Okay, remove yourself. Now.” He wasn’t really fighting her though.

***

FRIDAY was much more than Tony had given her credit for (he’d been downplaying her abilities, the smug genius!).

First, she was as quick as JARVIS when compiling data and extrapolating from the results.

Second, once Tony taught her how to access the computers inside the facilities, she’d been the source of invaluable help and information.

She was good enough not to spy into the private homes, but she did check traffic from and to illegal sites. That was fair.

Of course, not even FRIDAY the ‘almost-AI’ could have prepared her for what happened when the houses destroyed by the Doombots were finally habitable again and they needed to empty the temporary ones.

“Darcy?” Billy, a lanky, 30 years old volunteer that was responsible for the Monday shift, started. “We have problems in relocating some of the people?”

Darcy sighed. Of course. It wasn’t the first time they happened to host the homeless, or people that couldn’t go back to their homes. “Okay, we have space for them right?”

“Uhm, yeah…” Billy didn’t sound convinced. “But this one doesn’t even have an ID… I mean, we can’t check without a name, right?”

That was slightly more unusual. How had he entered without giving reception his name? “Okay, let me check, uhm?”

Billy’s face morphed into a relieved grin. “Thanks. I owe you.”

Sweet Celestia you owe me, Billy. You owe me all the money and the favours. All of it.

Dressed in a too big jacket and a baseball cap, in one of her temporary apartments awkwardly stood the Winter Soldier.

***

Okay. Okay. This is cool. You’ve done this with scared animals and stray dogs, this is no different.

Apart from the whole… 200 pounds of murdery ex-POW with a metal arm, sure. Oh God.

Psyching herself up wasn’t working.

What would anyone with a lick of sense do in this situation?

Call Tony. The answer was literally right there. She was one phone call away to solve the problem and probably reunite History’s greatest team. Because that man was Bucky Barnes.  Even if she hadn’t been bombarded with historical pictures of the Howling Commandos since she started school (and if you didn’t know about the Howling Commandos what kind of patriot were you?), and even if you missed all of those memos and somehow forgot what James Buchanan Barnes looked like, the glinting of the metal arm was a dead giveaway.

But.

She did also remember how Bucky had not looked for Steve. In fact, how he’d been so extremely careful not to be found at all by his oldest friend, and how she’d heard Sam say that they needed to respect his need of privacy and time.

And yeah, having hosted more than a dozen scared women in her compound, Darcy had seen first hand the effects of ‘too much love’ and how quickly it devolved into ‘obsession’. If James Buchanan Barnes didn’t want to go to Steve, she had no right to force him into meeting Steve.

That didn’t really solve her problem, though.  

James Barnes hadn’t really moved throughout her inner monologue, but his eyes had narrowed and his posture had tensed minutely. She could relate. It didn’t take a genius to understand he’d been recognized, and he was probably debating if one casualty was worth his anonymity.

Props for not having killed her the first second. And bonus points because he was being very polite, what with waiting and not trying to reach for the cutlery or yeah, showing any kind of reaction that wasn’t the resigned puppy look she was on the receiving end of. Come ooon.

Three seconds into the stare, Darcy knew James Buchanan knew exactly how his handsome looks and that stare worked with the ladies, because they way he could keep it going was extremely artificial. But eh.

“I need your name, dude, if you’re staying here.” She sighed resignedly. He perked up. “And you’re not freeloading, either. I know you can work. I’m not raising the alarm, if you help around, yeah?”

“The alarm?” He asked, feigning ignorance

She nodded quickly. “Yep. You have a metal arm, dude. I mean, it’s none of my business, and I respect your space and all that, but you are a public figure, you know. There’s even a ‘wanted dead or alive’ sign somewhere, I’m sure.” She joked, and was pleased when he snorted.

“Okay, for the record?” She said when he relaxed. “I did tell you that Steve misses you very much and he’d love to have you back. Okay, my job’s done. What’s your name dude?”

He fidgeted for a while, and then tried, “...Jack?”

“Ooookay, …’Jack’” she air-quoted, “you need new clothes, but we need to repaint the nursery in the other building, so keep those for tomorrow.”

“You’re serious.” He was surprised. “You’ll host me for labour.”

She nodded. “Yep. Told you, it’s none of my business. But I did try to convince you to go back to Steve and was very disappointed when you said no, okay?”

He smiled, and it made him look at least five years younger. “Okay.”

***

Jack Robins, the people at Baker Shelter found out, was an extremely hard worker.

He didn’t mind doing the heavy lifting, which he did with ease, and didn’t care about getting dirty chasing the dogs or repainting the buildings. He wasn’t very outgoing, but he was polite and understanding.

He’d rapidly become the kids favourite, too.

If one overlooked the long sleeves and the gloved fingers, Jack was a perfectly normal, great guy with a good heart.

Darcy was pleased their arrangement was working so well.

After a few weeks, she could almost forget about the brainwashed murdery thing (notion quickly squashed the moment an entitled asshole of one of the girls had marched into the Shelter. Bucky slash Jack had excellent protective instincts and a mean right hook. Not even the police had anything to say).

After a couple of months, she could forget entirely about the whole affair. She wasn’t making much progress on the ‘Steve’ front, and while that was fine, she couldn’t not worry about the fact that ‘Bucky’ may never really be coming back.

These worries were assuaged by the fact that they were now adding another building, and there was too much to do to think about anything else.

Darcy’s days started to become very hectic. Between juggling Jane and Tony (and sometimes Bruce) and running the Shelter, and despite FRIDAY’s amazing job, she had hardly any spare time left.

And so, when FRIDAY told her that Steve and Sam were back from another unsuccessful expedition, she didn’t even register in her mind that this was the moment to worry a bit more about concealing what she was doing in her ‘spare time’.

“Hey, Darcy!” Sam was always the first to greet her, since Steve sometimes needed to cool off or just sigh and mope around a bit. Frankly, it was a relief; Darcy always felt a bit guilty whenever he talked about ‘his Buck’.

“Hey, Sam!” She waved back. It was impossible not to smile with him around, despite her tiredness. “Are you okay?” He asked, after taking a good look at her. “You look… well, I don’t know how to say it politely?”

“...Like a zombie?” She supplied and he winced. “Yeah I know, don’t worry, no offense and all that. There’s just been a lot to do. Yeah.” She yawned.

Sam frowned and looked around, and Darcy could see the wheels turning. No Jane in sight, Bruce nowhere to be seen, Tony quietly poking Dum-E in a corner… it didn’t look like the war camp she was coming from. “What-”

She waved him off. “No no, it’s not that. It’s the work at the Shelter.” She added without thinking. What. Oh God she must be more tired than she thought. She almost choked and slapped her hand on her mouth, but restrained. Okay, play it cool.

“So, uhm, I mean...”

“Miss Lewis?” FRIDAY asked from her phone.

Sam’s eyebrows raised another notch.

“There seems to be some kind of problem at the Baker Sanctuary.” Of course there was. Like, no rest for the wicked, yeah?

She sighed. She had no time to distract Sam and FRIDAY wouldn’t warn her for nothing.

“Sorry, Sam, I need to go… just…” She focused on Tony in the corner. “Ask Tony, yeah? Bye!”

She barely heard Tony’s sputtering as she trotted out of the Tower.

***

Talking to Tony Stark had reassured Sam Wilson as much as hearing the latest news about the Election rallies. Read, not at all.

He believed Stark when he said that Darcy was okay, and that if she wasn’t she had a panic button, an AI in her phone and no less than three trackers on her person (Yes Birdman, she knows about them and she’s not stupid enough to complain considering the kind of spotlight people who work with Avengers get!), but he couldn’t help but worry about the dark circles under her eyes and the disheveled appearance.

So, as soon as Tony gave him the address of this Baker Shelter she was volunteering at in her spare time, after checking that Darcy had really preceded him by at least fifteen minutes, he made his way to the Sanctuary for Third Strike Dogs.

Well, he hadn’t expected that.

When Tony had said ‘Shelter’ he had expected some kind of tiny building with some pens, they were in the middle of New York after all, not… this. A huge compound of four buildings was not in the cards, was it?

But here it was, and in front of it a group of people in green T-Shirts or tank tops proclaiming ‘I support Baker, do you?’ barring access to the premises to what looked like the NYPD.

“Look, ma’am, we just-” The officer was stammering in front of a very pissed looking Darcy.

“You just nothing, agent. We didn’t do anything wrong. This place is a Safe Haven, this is legal. We have the papers!” She was almost shrieking, her hands balled into fists.

“We are not disputing the legality of this thing!” protested loudly the agent, “we just received a report of a missing woman and this was her last whereabout. Her husband is quite-”

“She’ll be pressing charges against him!” A redhead with glasses shouted from the line of volunteers and the others backed her up, tightening their ranks in front of the door.

“Look, agent,” Darcy tried with practised calm, “we understand you’re doing your job, but we cannot and will not give names of our guests. We can’t. Take it to your boss, take it to the Heads of Baker Shelter, but we volunteers are not letting you pass and violate the rights of these people!” She gestured to a lanky boy and a megaphone was thrust in her hand. “We’re not afraid of making ourselves heard, WE HAVE RIGHTS!”

A chorus of ‘We have rights’ was heard all around and Sam found himself chanting it as well, albeit with a very low voice. It was the kind of fight he could understand, the need to protect the weak and to not give in to the unjust demands. Cap would have approved too.

The police were clearly there because ordered, because they weren’t really trying to get any sort of information or to even pass across the group of people. It was a token attempt at best (one of the officers gave a thumbs up to the volunteers, Sam was sure the captain was going to overlook that as well). However, when the officers left, the volunteers almost slumped as one, clearly spent. They were massaging their foreheads and cheering each other very quietly.

“Okay, we have stuff to do, guys!” The redhead that had shouted before tried to say cheerily, and everyone left.

Sam scrambled to intercept Darcy before she entered the bowels of the giant building.

“Hey Darce!” She tensed, turned and, surprisingly, laughed nervously.

“Hi… Sam!” Her smile was tense as well, and alarms started going off in his head.

“What was that?”

“Oh!” Okay, that wasn’t the problem because she started talking a mile an hour, “That was the last attempt of entitled asshole number fifty-two, I think. They’re always trying to find ‘legal ways’ to get their ‘beloved’ back, right? Pity it doesn’t work here.” She nodded at herself, very satisfied.

He nodded back. “Thought this was a dog shelter, though.”

“It… was. And then… it wasn’t?” She winced. “Like, we started as a dog shelter but before we knew it we were taking in people running from Doombots whose houses were destroyed, and then women and men running from abusive partners, homeless people and shit. Now we’re a fully legal compound for Safe Haven and Shelter.” She seemed surprised such a thing had happened. He’d be surprised too, all things considered. It was certainly an impressive building that required a lot of people and attention...

“And that AI of yours helps you run things, yeah got it.”

She choked. “I… I’m a volunteer here, I don’t know what you’re talking about!” She whispered harshly.

“Okay, okay, got you!” He raised his hands. “I think it’s cool. Honestly.”

They spent the next few moments in silence, watching the people bustling around with tools and wallpapers.

“Can you give me a tour?”

Darcy smiled widely. “Sure!”

***

They were walking around the new building when it happened.

And okay, Darcy should have seen it coming, she’d just hoped it wouldn’t be quite this soon.

But Sam stopped dead in his tracks and, following his gaze, Darcy’s stomach sank.

Bucky slash ‘Jack’ was passing by with two humongous paint cans that couldn’t possibly be moved around by a normal human being. Fuck.

Sam’s eyes sought out hers quickly and his mouth tried to work a few times. Was he paler? Oh God, he looked paler.

“Darcy… is that…?” Oh no. Nope.

“That’s Jack,” she said with a completely straight face.

"Jack."

"Yes. Jack," she replied with finality.

"The same Jack that once tried to murder me on a bridge?" he worked out after a few seconds.

"I don't know about that Jack, but this one has a sparkly Elsa on his arm. Did your Jack have it too?" The kids had drawn that one day, and it had stuck. Darcy found it deliciously ironic.

"...I don't think so. I got a pretty good look at it when he riPPED MY STEERING WHEEL OUT OF MY CAR."

"Then yeah, it's a totally different Jack. Why don't you help me with this and we let him do his job?"

He wasn’t convinced. “Darcy, that man, he’s-”

“A guest,” she said, slowly. “Jack Robins is a guest of the Baker Shelter. He lives here, works here and is legally registered here. Do you understand, Sam?” She kept her eyes fixed on him. “I understand where you’re coming from and your concerns, they’re noted, but Jack is one of us, now. He has the same rights as everyone else. He’s a hard worker, and he’s trying very hard. He’s great with the kids and kind to the other people. This is his second chance and you have no right to force him to do anything.”

Sam’s arms shot up at the first ‘trying very hard’. “Okay, okay, woah, girl. Calm down.” He took a deep breath. “I’ve worked at the VA for a while, Darcy, I’m not the judgy douche that wants to criticize you, okay? I just… how long has… Jack, been staying with you?”

“Five months.” She replied promptly.

“And, everything okay? Like, no accidents.. nothing?”

“No,” she stressed. “Look, Sam, I get it. I know that there will be setbacks, okay? But I trust him to know when it’s too much, I trust him to trust himself. Can you do that too? Without alerting Steve, possibly?”

Sam thought about it for a while, sometimes looking at the back of Jack, who was now wrestling the paint like a pro to decorate the interior of the building.

“I… yeah of course. But I’m coming over to check on him, frequently. And I still don’t like him.”

Darcy smiled, nodding easily, “I don’t expect you to like him, but that’s okay. Thanks Sam, you’re the best.”

“...You’re welcome. I just wish I didn’t have this feeling of ‘you sold yourself to the devil’ … you know?”

She laughed uneasily. He had no idea.

***

Steve’s wingman was there again.

Looking at him.

Staring at him.

At least it wasn’t the hateful or terrified look he was expecting.

Wilson, Sam, pararescue, didn’t particularly like him. That was cool, he didn’t like him either.

And he supposed he could understand, what with the whole ‘I tried to kill you’ shtick he’d pulled last year.

He wasn’t going to chicken out of his responsibilities on that one, despite the words of his therapist. Yes, it wasn’t his ‘his’ fault, but he could understand the other man’s reservations.  

It didn’t stop making his back itch every time his stare turned towards him, though.

“Are you quite done staring, wingman?” He snarked from the kitchen sink he was fixing.

“Nnope.” Sam drawled from the opposite side of the room. Bucky had no idea how, but Darcy had managed to rope him into mounting the shelves and the suspended cabinets. She was that kind of taskmaster, the boss-lady.

“Careful with those, kids will be in this room a lot.” He remarked.

Wilson cursed from behind him “Dude, I know. Ouch.”

Bucky snickered. “Did you just hammer your finger?”

“...No. Shut up.” Bucky’s lips twitched. Kids these days. “Get back to your sink, old man.” Sam grumbled.

“You okay here, boys?” Darcy poked her head from the other room, looking at them with narrowed eyes.

“Yes, Darcy,” they droned.

“Good, good. Hey, Jack, the sink screw’s loose.”

“..Wha?” But yeah, with a hissing sound the sink decided that this was an excellent moment to spit its whole contents on him.

Wilson’s braying was heard all over the compound.

Oh yes, he disliked him too.

***

“Hey, Darce!”

The voice was so unexpected in the silence of the room that Darcy dropped her needles and yarn on the floor. Their loud clattering was ominous.

“Crap.” Bucky whispered.

“Oh. My. God.” Darcy reached for her needles, but it was too late, she’d dropped at least one stitch.

“You… you... you made me drop a stitch. Oh my God you-” She couldn’t find the right words to express the pain at the idea of restarting from scratch. Or having to re-ladder them. Oh God.

“Sorry?” He looked contrite, but you could never tell with his puppy eyes. “In my defense, I had no idea you were doing… whatever you were knitting, doll, sorry.”

“It’s… I have no chances of actually murdering you, right?” She could always die trying…

He laughed. “No. You can always try, but that’s not happening.”

“Yeah thought so. I have a taser though?”

He winced. “Yeah no, let’s not test that. What were you making?”

She tried to smooth over her project and put it away very carefully (it was delicate stuff!). “It’s a sweater. Or at least, it will be?”

He nodded and probably contemplated looking at it, but one look at her made him rethink his position. He dropped his hand and sat on the sofa beside Darcy.

“Isn’t it a bit too warm for sweaters?”

“By the time I finish this, it’ll be December,” she grumbled, peeved. He chuckled softly. She hit him on the shoulder. He just chuckled harder.

“Sorry,” he said again.

She sighed. “It’s okay. You couldn’t have known. Anyways, did you need something?”

“Mh? Oh yeah.” He stood up. “We’re done with the top floor, we need to move up to the attic.”

Whoa, that was fast! They’d started repainting it three days ago. She smiled happily and cheered “Nice, I’ll be right there. Seriously, you do as much as ten men would in the same amount of time. We’re glad to have you here.”

His face broke into a pleased smile, “I’m glad to be here, too.”

But then his face darkened a bit and she could see right through him. Steve.

“Uhm.. Buc-Jack… Do you, I mean… It’s been over five months since you’ve been here… Do you.. uhm, would you like to tell… Steeve?” She tried delicately, and tactfully. Seriously, this was not her forte

“No.” He said quickly. “I… I’m not… Not today. Maybe later...”

“Hey hey, it’s okay. No problem, dropped it. Like a hot potato,” she said quickly, “Speaking of potatoes, I’m hungry.”

She wasn’t going to push this, for today.

And she didn’t push tomorrow, and the day after. And then, it never seemed a good time.

***

Turns out, it’s ‘The American Way’ that creates ‘a good time’.

Or, for another wording, finds out the stupidest way it can to fuck with your life...

***

For a different reading: It didn’t take long for Steve to notice that Sam was hiding something, and that it was somehow related to the many afternoons he spent outside the Tower.

He’d almost believed Tony when he said it could be a girlfriend (or a lady friend), but carefully blank looks Sam was giving him every time had started to become suspicious.

Covert agent he was not, but he was certain he could find a way to follow Sam, if he wanted to.

So he wore his most nondescript jersey, a baseball cap and was ready to leave.

“Are you going somewhere, Captain Rogers?” JARVIS’s voice interrupted his train of thoughts.

“Oh. Yes, Jarvis, I’ll be back for dinner. I think.”

“So noted, Captain Rogers.”

“Thanks, Jarvis.” And then he pondered. “Say, Jarvis, do you know where Sam spends all of his time recently?”

“Certainly, sir.” The AI responded promptly. “Mr Sam Wilson spends his afternoons with Miss Lewis...” There was a girlfriend?! “...at the Baker Shelter for Third Strike animals, sir.”

Oh.

That was… nice.

He had not expected that. “Are they dating?” Not that it was any of his business, but now he was admittedly curious.

“Not to my knowledge, sir,” JARVIS said politely, “they’re fixing a new housing facility for women in need. It’s one of the activities of the Foundation, after all.” He seemed almost… proud of this. Could an AI be proud? Well, JARVIS certainly was.

“...Do you know where it is, Jarvis?”

“Certainly, sir. Take the third…”

***

This was certainly impressive.

The buildings formed a massive compound of tiny apartments and the central, big building that Steve was pretty sure was meant to be the actual Shelter.

He walked through the gates without a problem; in fact, no one seemed to care that Captain America was walking among them. He kind of liked it.

He hadn’t seen any dog yet, but it was pretty cloudy and he still had no idea where he was going. Well, not precisely, at least.

Of course all these thoughts flew out of the window when he got close to the building in construction at the far right corner of the compound.

Because laughing softly at some guy’s joke like he belonged there while hauling wooden boards, was his friend Bucky.

And it was like the air was sucked out of his lungs, and for a second he felt dizzy.

In that moment, Sam’s unwillingness to go out and search for Bucky made a lot more sense. Of course.

In the end, though, he didn't even care that Sam had hidden it from him, because Bucky was here. Bucky was right in front of him.

And by the way he’d dropped the boards he was hoisting on his shoulder, Bucky had seen him too.

Steve saw the exact moment in which Bucky contemplated running, and tensed, because there was no way they were doing that cat and mouse shtick of his in a populated area (Hydra bases were tasteless enough), but Bucky steeled himself and made his way towards him.

“Bucky.” He breathed.

“...Steve,” he said. “What are you doing here?”

That… didn’t sound like the correct question. Was there a script for this kind of situation? “I was looking for Sam, actually… Didn’t expect to find you here.”

Bucky shrugged, and Steve felt a pang of something in his chest. “Bucky, I’ve been looking for you for over a year. You- How-... How long have you been here?”

“...Six months…” Bucky didn’t really sound pleased to be interrogated.

“Six- Six months!?” Steve choked. He’d been looking for him all over God’s green Earth and he’d been living less than five minutes from the tower for six months?!

“Yes. Steve, I-”

Steve shook his head. “No, I… I’m sorry, Bucky, I should have been there for you, I should have looked for you… You’re my best pal and I left you behind, I’m so sorry.” He put his arms around his friend and hugged him, not caring of the dirty clothes. “There’s so much we need to catch up on.”

Bucky looked stricken. “Steve, that’s-”

Steve dropped his arms. “I know now things are different and-”

“Steve.” Steve stopped at the tone of Bucky’s voice. “I. I’m not coming with you.” What? Steve frowned. Bucky sighed. “I- I want to stay here. I didn’t come back to you, because I… I don’t want to fight again. You’ll always want to fight, you always did, punk. Gave me a few heart attacks back in the day. But… that’s it. I’m done fighting. I’m done with superheroes and supersoldiers and… I’m done. I… I’m just ‘Jack’ here, and it’s… I like it.”

Steve knew everything about his Bucky, upside down and front and backwards, and he was still shocked to hear that from his mouth. And then, he looked into his friend's eyes, and he realized that he was tired. And ready to start a new page. And if there was someone who deserved it, it was Bucky. "...Okay."

And he saw the relief in his friend’s eyes, and knew it had been the right thing to do.

“Hey, Jack!” A voice behind them made him turn around. It was Darcy, looking at her phone, “what’s taking you so long, you’re usually-Hiiiii Steve…” Her smiled turned forced. “Oh boy.”

***

Life went… surprisingly normal after that.

If you didn’t count the fact that Tony almost thought of a murderbot but was stopped by Bruce, the Avengers stormed a Sokovian base and found tortured kids (and Darcy appointed herself as caretaker there, because she didn’t believe any of them, except maaaybe Clint?, were able to take care of teenagers with their hero schedule), Bucky found himself a black dog he named Dodger and that ‘Captain America’ had become a fixture at the shelter (and that was great for keeping the ne'er do well far enough off), life was extremely boring.

It was almost Christmas and everyone was freezing their asses off. “What’s this?” Darcy turned to a curious Bucky, who was using his ungloved hand to poke at a fluffy package on the table.

“It’s yours. It’s the thing.” She tried to be cool about it, but she’d been debating whether or not to give it to him all day.

True to her words, it’d taken Darcy that long to finish her sweater.

It was a red, fluffy thing with a black and white dog knitted on it. “...Thanks?”

He didn’t really understand the reference, and Darcy probably got that, because, “It’s Baker.”

“...What?” Baker the shelter name?

“Uhm, long story short, Murderbot attacked us all in New Mexico and I saved that dog from wreckage, I named him Baker but I had to let him go. So.. uhm, yeah. That’s Baker.”

She smiled tentatively “It’s a … ‘one of us’ sorta thing, right? But I thought you’d appreciate something warmer than the T-Shirt…”

Oh.

Well, he’d have appreciated a gift from a pretty girl back in the day, and he’d have appreciated a gift from Darcy these days, but this had a whole different meaning.

“Thanks” He said, sincerely.

Her smile lit up the whole room.

[theasstour]

Please Don’t Say You Love Me , Chapter 24

a/n: yo brothers whats up long time no see tf. ANYWAY my ugly ass bitch of a laptop wont let me send emails or upload images to tumblr so here i am posting a boring ass post without images for this chapter hope it wont be a party pooper

13 June 2015 : breakfast at alice’s (scrambled eggs with smoked salmon)

“We have tried to find out where mum is,” Alice told me when I was at our flat the next morning making breakfast; scrambled eggs with smoked salmon. She sat by the kitchen island with a cup of coffee in her hands, looking at me through her glasses that slid further and further down her nose. “Without any luck, though.”

“Has she called again?” I asked while I began to scramble the eggs with a wooden spoon.

“No,” Alice sipped her coffee. “And Suzie is pissed at her. She doesn’t want to know shit about mum or why she isn’t interested in the three daughters she left behind.”

Being used to Alice’s cruel language and attitude towards mum, I let it slide. I continued on scrambling the eggs. “I’m sure she had her reasons.” I said, not really believing the words leaving my mouth myself.

“Daisy,” Alice said after a short while. “Mum left us. There is no reason to take her side in this. She isn’t here to kiss your cheek and give you chocolate for taking her side.”

“I’m not. I’m just saying that I’m sure she had a reason to leave other than not being in love with that anymore.” I explained while starting to stir in the chopped up salmon.

Alice nodded and the two of us remained silent for the little while until I served our breakfast. I gave her a plate with two toasted bread slices and the scrambled eggs and salmon, and a plate for myself, the butter between us if we wanted to have some on our toasts and orange juice in both of our glasses. We started eating in silence as well. It wasn’t an awkward one, but rather one that was necessary for Alice to understand what I had just told her. A part of me knew that she was processing it, and there wasn’t anything else I wanted her to do. Wanting my sisters to understand why I was looking at everything from a new angle, I decided to drop the little bomb on Alice then, when it was just the two of us.

“I’m going to visit dad tomorrow.”

Alice stopped eating her toast with scrambled eggs and looked over at me, disbelief in her eyes. “Seriously?”

“Yea, he hasn’t seen his daughters in such a long time and I was hoping you guys would tag along, but I know you won’t.” I sipped my orange juice.

“We won’t.” Alice confirmed. “It’s his own fault. He could have contacted us, come to visit, done something. He hasn’t and I don’t see why we should.”

I nodded. I could see that. I understood why they would feel that way, but having that kind of approach on this wouldn’t get us any further. Looking down at my plate, I said, “Alice, ever thought that there is a reason for his behaviour? Just like mum?”

“Of course, I’ve just never cared for it.” Alice truthfully admitted.

“I have and I want to find out why.”

Alice looked at me for a long while. Something in her eyes told me she almost didn’t believe me, like the person sitting in front of her was someone else than whom had left to work as a cook on tour a month earlier. Glancing back at her, I let our identical brown eyes lock and I let my look tell her how sincere I really was about this.

“What happened to you on tour?” Alice tried to hide her smile, but I could see hints of it. “You’ve grown, Dais.”

“I just want to find out what happened to our family.”

I mentioned that mum had called me quite a lot and Alice flipped, swearing and doing the dishes rather overdramatically. Failing to calm her down right away, I watched as she sat by the kitchen island, pushing her glasses up her nose and sipping her coffee. We talked for quite some time and Tiago came over after a little while. After Alice took her contacts on and sunglasses on instead, we all went to sit in the living room. I got to know Tiago and he got to know me, also then searching around the web for a look at 5 Seconds of Summer so he could see who I was working for. While Alice started talking about them and Tiago looked at pictured of them, I took a picture and posted it on my Instagram with the caption ‘Like strawberries and raspberries for a pavlova! J’.

Suzie came over with Travis and all five of us went out together. Since my sisters thought I deserved it, they wanted to buy some clothes for me, telling me I couldn’t keep walking around in the same clothes. I told them I didn’t need much and Suzie groaned at me, telling me that I needed to quit being so modest. So, I let them buy me some clothes, and the five of us spent quite some time together before I had to get back to the arena to make some dinner. I hugged all of them because this would be the last I’d see of any of them till 10th August, at Suzie and Travis’ wedding.

¤ ¤ ¤

I came walking into the parking lot behind the stadium after taking the Underground and almost getting lost. London may be my hometown, but I didn’t know every street or attraction. I hummed to myself and looked up at the sky through my heart-shaped sunglasses, pretty satisfied with how this day had turned out so far. Not only did I finally get to meet Tiago, I also had some new clothes and a pretty bomb idea for a breakfast dish in mind. I texted Miriam to find out where she and Sasha were, and got a reply pretty quick telling me that they had taken a tourist bus around London. Smiling, I told them to get a picture in front of Big Ben together. John had also texted me to tell me that everyone was going out to eat today, they had apparently rented a whole bar for the crew and everyone to have a blast. This meant that I had no real plans for the rest of the day, so I put my phone in the pocket of my skirt and started walking toward the crew bus.

That’s when I noticed Ashton walking out of the boys’ bus, his hazel eyes on me and somewhere deep within me lit a sweet scented candle. As he drew closer, it was like the sun shone brighter and someone softly plucked the most graceful, the loveliest melody on a harp. I hadn’t seen him since last night when he had drawn me and I had walked away from him when he wondered why I had stopped humming. I bit my lip as he came to a stop, his mouth hanging a bit open as he took me in. My oversized pink tee shirt that I had tucked into my white shirt with pockets, black converse and my hair in a ponytail with a braid. And I took him in; his black tank top, black jeans and blue flip flops.

“Where have you been all day?” Ashton asked, dragging a hand through his long, curly hair.

“I’ve been with my sisters.”

Ashton sighed, looking at something over my shoulder. “Jesus Christ, I’ve been trying to reach you all day.” He looked back at me, what he previously looked at not interesting anymore. “I’ve been calling.”

Fishing my phone out of my pocket, I noticed that Ashton had indeed been calling me; 5 times even, and even some texts asking me where I was. Smiling a little bit, I looked up at Ashton while putting my phone back in my skirt-pocket. “Why did you call, Ashton?”

“I wanted to talk to you.”

My smile widened a little. “Here I am.”

“I wanted to tell you that you don’t have to be afraid of me, okay? You can talk to me about anything.”

I tried not to resemble the Cheshire Car, but when Ashton was showing the feeling side of himself, I couldn’t help myself. My inner grinning cat crawled out to sigh happily. “And you can talk to me if you want, but there is nothing to talk about-“

“-I know you started thinking about something yesterday when we sat outside. I know something made you think hard because you stopped humming… and it was really relaxing so, yes, I noticed.”

“You think my humming was relaxing?”

“Forget I said that and talk to me.” A there they were again, those eyes that held too much emotion for their own good; those shoulders that carried the weight of a thousand planets; those hands that held too many burdens for sanity. “Please.”

Could I tell him? Could I tell him that I was nervous for meeting my dad for the first time in a long while? Could I tell him that I needed to meet my mum and understand why she left me, my sisters and dad? Could I tell him the darkest secret that no one but my family knew about? Could I tell him how it was eating at me till this very day, that it was nights when I was still dreaming about it? Could I tell him that I wanted to contact Frederik and talk about it?

I couldn’t.

I couldn’t tell anyone. Telling someone would somehow make it come back into my life again – make it a new reality – and I didn’t want it to be a part of me. I didn’t want Ashton to know.

So I gave him a little smile, seeing as the one I had had plastered on my face a minute ago had vanished. Looking at him, I didn’t think he quite understood just how fast my heart started to race when he talked to me like that. I walked past him and towards the crew bus, my initial destination, feeling the turbulence within Ashton as I turned the corner of the bus, out of sight.

¤ ¤ ¤

As the whole crew made their way to the bar that had been rented for everyone in mini vans, I texted my dad to ask if I could come over the next day, the 14th. I put my phone down and looked out of the window of the van, watching as the roads and buildings of London rushed past. Though I didn’t like to admit it, I had kind of missed London.

The minivan came to a halt and everyone walked outside. The bar wasn’t big, but it was a classical English bar with dark lighting, a long wooden bar, a billiard table in the bar and low music playing over the speakers. It was practically packed and I could see Finn on top of the bar with a glass of beer in his hands, singing God Save the Queen at the top of his lungs. Spotting Miriam and Sasha, I walked over to them by the bar.

“How was your day?” I asked, smiling at both of them, knowing that it probably was amazing.

“She paid for everything.” Miriam said, pointing at Sasha. “She insisted on buying all of my clothes, make-up and food. What a gentlewoman.” Miriam beamed and leaned over to Sasha, kissing her straight on the mouth, not once not smiling from ear to ear.

“London is awesome, Daisy. I can’t wrap my head around why you’d want to leave.”

I only smiled at Sasha and started directing the conversation towards their day again. They told me how the tour guide had fallen down the stairs of the bus and passed out, so the bus had to stop and an American called for an ambulance. The tour guide was fine in the end and Sasha and Miriam didn’t leave until they were certain that she was. Then they went shopping in Oxford Street, both buying clothes and sitting at a café not too far away talking for two hours straight, completely forgetting about the concept of time. I was so invested in their retelling of their day that I didn’t notice Ashton entering the bar with the rest of the boys.

“Could I get a Coke, please? Thank you.”

I turned in my seat at the sound of his voice, my back now facing Miriam and Sasha who were giggling and whispering behind my back. Eyes locked and I felt like I had been captured, embraced with warmth. We glanced at each other until Ashton’s Coke came, which only took about 20 seconds.

“Thanks, man.” Ashton said before sipping it. When he put it down again, he looked at it before looking at me again. “How’s Alice and Suzie?” He asked casually, like he hadn’t tried to squeeze some information out of me some hours prior. “Suzie is getting married this August, right?”

He remembered. Smiling a little, I looked at the glass of water in my hands. “They’re great. Alice and her boyfriend, Tiago, are so cute. She’s learning Spanish so she can come home to him in Cuba. His family doesn’t talk English, so to communicate she needs to talk their language. She’s struggling, but Tiago isn’t far if she needs help, so…” I sighed a little, knowing that my sister was so very happy with that man. “And yes, Suzie is getting married this August.” I looked at him. “Her and Travis are very busy organising the whole thing, but even though she tries to make it seem like she’s stressed beyond belief, I know she’s secretly enjoying it more than she’s letting on.”

On later research, I found out that Say You Won’t Let Go – Luca Schreiner Remix by James Arthur was playing in the background when a small smile stretched out over Ashton’s lips. Colourful butterflies took flight in the pit of my stomach.

“Do you know what you’re wearing yet?”

“No, of course not.” I giggled a little. “It’s two months away still. Well, actually it’s 56 days.” Ashton let a chuckle escape his smiling mouth. “But then again, Suzie is choosing the dress for her bridesmaids, so she’ll probably be sending me a picture of it any day now.”

“You’re her bridesmaid?”

“Yea.” I nodded, proud of being it. “It will probably be purple or pink. She’s not sure yet, but those are my guesses.”

Ashton looked at his Coke again. “Will you bring a date?”

I was a little stunned by the question, but something in his posture, biting his lips and fingers gently stroking the foggy glass in his hands, had me smiling a little. He would be jealous if I did bring a date. “Oh, I’m not sure yet. I’m sure Calum is keen on tagging along.”

“I’m sure he is.” Ashton said, nodding. “But I – uh – think you should… you know, bring someone you’d really want to bring.” He looked at me then, his hazel eyes and secret desire to accompany me to the wedding being both the confusion and the adoration of my heart.

I didn’t know what to say, and before I even had a chance to think further about it, Finn interrupted everyone.

“Yo!” He called out. “Cut the music, I have an announcement to make!” He waved from atop the bar disk, the music stopping not at all soon after. “I just want to thank everyone for coming tonight, and especially thank you to the lads of 5SOS for giving everyone here jobs and payment so we all can live.” Laughter burst around the bar. “Anyway, I love you guys and I love alcohol, so let’s party!” Everyone started clapping and cheering while Finn signalled for the music to be turned on again, a little louder this time around. I looked back to Ashton and he was suddenly much closer, and this startled me a little, but quickly recovering, I glanced up into his eyes. Licking my lips a little, I bit down on it, being suddenly very nervous of being this close to him. Mirror Man – Alex Adair Remix by Ella Henderson started playing and it felt like it wasn’t enough air in the bar as our faces inched closer. Was he going to kiss me? My thoughts travelled back to what he had said to me in Liverpool.

Don’t ever say you love me, Daisy.

Pressing my lips together, I looked at my glass of water, needing to distract myself from Ashton and his breath mixing with mine. I drank the water before getting off the chair and walking over to where Calum and Luke were at the billiard table. I spent some time there, trying to forget what had happened. He couldn’t be both. He couldn’t want to kiss me one minute and then tell me not to fall in love with him the next. It didn’t work that way. Calum showed me how billiard worked and I watched everyone play with great interest. Even though I didn’t master it myself – and I had tried a few times – I found it very fascinating.

“You find everything fascinating.” Calum said, making Luke laugh and me giggle.

Where was the joy if you didn’t find things fascinating?

Sometime later, my dad finally texted me back, telling me that he was okay with me visiting tomorrow. A sigh of relief left my lips and I continued to watch them play billiard. Finn came over with beer about half-an-hour after that.

“Here comes your saviour!” He grinned, giving everyone around the billiard table a glass each. Luke took a huge gulp right away and Calum eyed me as Finn thrusted a glass in my hand as well. I stood there, dumfounded, not knowing what to do with the substance in my hand. Paralyzed, a flashback rolled through my mind…

“Dad,” I tried to take the beer glass out of his hands. “Dad, we need to go home. It’s late.”

Tears in his eyes and redness covering his face, dad looked my way. “You remind me too much of your mother, Daisy.” He had said, not at all saying it as a compliment. “Too much.” He echoed as a whisper.

I swallowed. “It’s a school’s night. I need to go home. Come on, daddy.”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Dad shouted in my face, scaring me till I was blinking my eyes rapidly in fear of him hurting himself or somebody else. People were staring our way, whispering under their breaths abour dad’s behaviour.

“Hey,” Someone from behind me said. “I think that’s enough for tonight, yea?”

Looking over my shoulder, a tall, blonde haired boy stood there, probably around 18. Glancing down at me, his hazel eyes locked with mine and I inhaled.

“You all right?”

I nodded.

“Don’t talk to my daughter.” Dad said, looking at the boy as if he didn’t want him to be anywhere near this bar, or me for that matter.

“That’s for her to decide and you to sulk over. Get your arse back home or I will call the police. Got that?”

Dad spat something at him under his breath before he threw some pounds on the bar disk and then starting to walk out. “Come along, Daisy.”

I watched dad, but then looked up at the guy that had helped me. “Thank you.” I said, smiling a little his way. “He isn’t usually like… he isn’t normally like… that’s not him.”

“With some alcohol in their body, no one really is.” The boy sighed. “Be careful. And if he starts attacking you or anyone, call the police. He may be your father, but he is not to put his hands on anyone.”

Understanding the warning, I nodded.

“Oh,” he smiled a wry smile, showing off some slightly crooked teeth. He was really handsome for a girl like me that wasn’t used to anyone giving me a second glance. “I’m Frederik.”

“Daisy.”

“I know.”

“Daisy Eleanor!” Dad called from the door. “Come on! You rush me out and… and… you don’t c-come.” Dad started swaying then, and my heart raced. Not in a good way.

“Dad.”

He hit the floor.

“Dad!”

“I’ll take that.”

Looking up, I saw another set of hazel eyes, these a little lighter than those I had just seen in my mind. Ashton took the beer from my hand, his other hand on my lower back. Every of Ashton’s smallest actions and every word he had spoken to me today was like water colour on a canvas, unpredictable, yet beautiful and graceful. And then there was me, a puzzle no one dared to solve; the girl no one stopped to take a second glance at. But when Ashton laid his eyes on me, he made me think that he may be an angel and I may be the devil, but somehow we could make our own heaven together. Then again, I was scared beyond belief of the love I had for him. Because I knew it would ruin me. And I knew I would let it. So, instead of cracking my heart open like an egg against the bowl, I stepped away from him and towards Miriam and Sasha, still at the bar.

“I’ll be leaving.” I told them. “In case you wanted to know.” Giggling a little.

Miriam patted my cheek. “Get back safe, okay?”

“Always.”

I gave them both a hug each and then walked over to the door, opening it and walking out. Not even a second later, the bell into the bar ringed again.

“Daisy.”

I looked over my shoulder at Ashton jogging after me.

“Heading back?”

“Yea.”

“I’ll join you.”

The first part of the walk was silent. Neither of us really needed to say anything. The quiet pace of London and the far away honking was enough to keep us company, and I was okay with that. I bit down on my lip and tried to forget what I had remembered in the bar. Easier said than done. Frederik had quite suddenly appeared and he was easier to remember than forget.

“What’s on your mind?” Ashton pushed on, his hands in his jean pockets and his eyes on me.

The past.

“I’ll be visiting my dad tomorrow.” I admitted. “I need to see him to make sure he’s okay.”

Ashton licked his lips a little. “Are you nervous about that? Meeting your dad, I mean?”

I nodded. “Of course.” I said. “But I’m looking forward to it as well. There are a lot of things I want to talk about. We haven’t seen each other in such a long time and…” I sighed. “Well, I just need to see my father.”

“I can see that one.” Ashton admitted.

“He lives in the same house my sisters and I were raised in still. Not that I would have expected him to leave.” Some drunk people sang as they passed is and a motorcycle roared away in the distance. “But it will be good to see it. I remember the garden. Mum would always sit out there, making it look prettier and more expensive than what the house and garden really was.”

I remember watching mum make the flower beds and cut the hedges. She loved being a gardener almost as much as I loved being a cook. As much as I disliked to admit it, my humongous passion for food and big heart for the cooking business, I had that from my mother. She had a passion for gardening no other and her heart was nowhere else than with her little gardening business.

We didn’t talk more than that. Neither of us felt obligated to and no one felt like it. Comfortable silence settled upon us as the night sky surrounded us and London. Somewhere not too far away, someone burst out laughing and from an open bar-door floated live jazz music out into the streets. Stone buildings enveloped us on both sides, and in the street in front of us were old tree houses on each corner, both supporting old English coffee shops that had closed for the day. The spirit of London floated through the damp air; circling around the 12 million living her and soaking us up in real British spirits. I had missed that; walking around in London and feeling almost overwhelmed with how welcome I felt.

It didn’t take us too long to reach Wembley Arena, and once we were there, we only exchanged a glance before going in separate directions. Once on the crew bus, I got ready for bed and then sat down with Angel by my side and Miriam’s laptop in my lap. I needed to find information about mum, I couldn’t wait till tomorrow. Going onto Safari, I searched for ‘Elle Bushnell’ first. Nothing. Go figure. When she was still named that, the internet wasn’t that common and everyone read only the papers. Going with her surname before she married that, I typed in ‘Elle Fitzpatrick’.

Results showed up. Relevant results.

Articles about some business she ran called “Garden Make-Over” in USA came up and some pictures. Pictures. Fresh pictures of my mum. I clicked on some and studied her. The Bushnell sisters had adopted their mother’s eyes, the easy glow of her smile and their short figure. Her black hair none of us had, that our dad had given us. He had also given me and Alice pretty similar noses, while Suzie had mum’s nose (she wouldn’t be too happy about that). I could see what dad meant when he said that I reminded him too much of my mother. I could imagine me looking pretty similar when I reached the same age. I inhaled sharply and clicked out of the pictures.

Clicking onto her webpage, I quickly found her ‘About’ page. A picture of her small form, dark hair, brown eyes and glowing smile were there, a beautiful garden behind her and gardening gloves on her hands. I looked away from it and started to read.

‘  Hi and welcome! My name is Elle Hough Fitzpatrick. I am happily married to Ellis Hough, best lawyer in the state, and together we have three cats – Sally, Annie, Della -, two rabbits – Oliver and Tom – and a goldfish – Mr Goldfish. Ever since I was little…  ‘

I stopped reading once what I had read really sank in. ‘I am happily married to Ellis Hough’. Something inside me split in two, like cutting up and apple or anything else. Like having a knife cut you up. The image of mum living happily with another husband while dad still sat alone here in London, miserable since the day she left him, was sickening to me. How could she leave dad? And if she wanted to leave him, why not get a divorce? Why did she have to leave dad, Suzie, Alice and me like that? What had really happened?

[marilynnewbury-blog]

Oh, My Bleeding Heart!

"How long before Mom kills this one?” my children predict, more than ask, every time I bring home a plant.  My husband and daughter-in-law chime in their agreement.

I laugh to myself.  I’m not sure that it matters, as plants are cheap.  Their survival is not as important as the colour and design of the pots, the contours of the leaf shapes, and the vibrancy of the flower hues - in the rare event that one of my plants actually blooms.  If one dies, I replace it as I would a broken dish.

I am not attached to plants like my house cleaner, Angelica.  She talks to my plant victims and apologizes for my neglect. If a plant is unresponsive or dying, I give it to her.  After a few weeks, she shows me pictures of the now-humongous plant with gorgeous blooms.  Oh well, I think. The plant would not fit in its pot, anyway.

When my daughter, Julia, was growing up, I would let her pick out plants for her room.  Under my tutelage, she would choose one for its visual attractiveness and how it would match the room colour.  If the plant died, I just bought her a new cheap one, always of the smallest size, since my budget had to withstand many plant purchases.

Julia now has her own home and has discovered that her mother never knew anything about horticulture.  Ruth, my son-in-law's mother, has blown my cover.  She is teaching my daughter to consider such boring factors as the type of soil, time and quantity of sunlight, and when and how to water the plant.  Apparently, even the pot size matters.

Too many things to think about, in my opinion.  It is so much easier to just consider how the plant foliage will look next to the colour of the pot.

No wonder none of my plants survived.  I placed them in rooms where they looked best and didn't worry about sunlight.  I gave them a good dousing when I thought of it or happened to notice their wilted appearance.  Unfortunately, I often forgot to look, especially during the first three months of my pregnancies when I absolutely did not think about feeding greenery when I myself could barely drink tea or eat crackers.  All plants needed replacing.

When we moved to our current residence, I decided to cease my growing efforts.  I gave all of my plants to Angelica and successfully kept my house plant-free for over a year.  Then I read on facebook that we would sleep better if we had certain oxygen-emitting plants in our bedroom.

I dutifully traipsed off to Rona to buy these supposedly insomnia-healing plants.  The clerk, probably thinking that I had failed high school biology, patiently explained to me that ALL plants give out oxygen, not just the five facebook recommends.  But I persisted, and purchased four of the five suggested specimens - with plant pots to match.  I resisted the rest of the colourful displays until a cute cactus with bright yellow blooms caught my eye, reminding me of my father's love for both cacti and the colour yellow.  Four plants became five.

My family did not admire the plants, not even the sentimental purchase, but rather engaged in another round of mockery in the game of How Long Will These Last?  They did not have to wait long, for one soon to show signs of dying.

For Mother's Day, my daughter offered to help me weed and plant the small flowerbed under my front window. I politely tried to distract her from this line of thought, hoping to avoid another plant disaster, but she persisted.  I finally gave in, knowing that I needed help, given my questionable skill level with dirt and living plant organisms.

My artistic side wanted to immediately shop for new plants, but Julia wisely insisted that we needed to weed first.

The flower bed was a disaster, in the same state as when we purchased the house.

Two huge rocks, a profusion of weeds, two stone ladybugs, renamed Poop by my grandson, and one lone plant, awkardly placed - a bleeding heart.

Amazingly, I actually knew the name of this plant.  My grandmother, Julia, (also my daughter's namesake), grew this perennial.  I remember her telling me the legend of the bleeding heart as she pulled the flower apart, showing me the bunnies, earrings, slippers, sword, and stabbed heart.  I will forever treasure the precious times sitting beside my grandmother, feeling her love and affirmation in those suspended-in-time moments, as she retold the same story over and over.

For those memories, I had to keep this plant and so ruthlessly transplanted it to a better spot,

figuring that any plant called a bleeding heart could survive being cut off at the roots.

My daughter does not think it will survive, but if it is still alive next summer, she will buy me dinner.

As usual, most of the remaining plant choices were for their design and colour scheme of white, pink, and periwinkle blue with a splash of yellow.

Some made the cut for sentimental reasons.

Spirea

I partially chose this shrub as I had grown it with modest success in a more northern climate, but mostly because it reminded me of my wonderful Aunty Betty who once had a lovely profusion of spireas by her front walkway.

Silver Mound

My cousin, Sherry, is a successful gardener, despite our shared gene pool.  Ever since she told me how much she loved her Silver Mound, I try to plant one everywhere I live.  She told me that no matter how you damage it, it will always grow back to a round shape.  We'll see.  My daughter is doubtful.

Jack Frost, but I call it a Forget-Me-Not

As I recall, my Dad loved forget-me-nots.  My Mom had a forget-me-not china tea set - because Dad liked them, she told me.  In any case, I like the periwinkle flowers, and will think of my father every time I look at them.

Nameless Plant - My Substitute Rose Bush

For my father, who loved yellow roses

Actually, yellow was the only colour he could easily recognize, due to his colour blindness.  He failed Kindergarten because he coloured tree branches brown and tree trunks green.  Too bad the teacher did not notice that his suns were always coloured yellow.

A few years before he died, he commented that he recognized how much I loved colour:  this meant a lot to me, since he saw colours differently than most.  He deserves yellow flowers in his honour.

For my mother, who loved roses, especially red ones, and could grow them anywhere

I admit, the flowers are not red, and they are not roses, but I am not foolish enough to attempt to grow roses - of any colour.  The yellow flowers on the nameless pseudo-rose plant will have to do as stand-ins for red in honour of my mom.

It was a good day.

My daughter and I bumbled along together, guessing at how deep to dig the holes, how much water to use, and how to follow the instructions to massage the roots. With high hopes for success, we randomly sprinkled bone meal and mixed soils with varying degrees of proportion.

I named the first two shrubs Betty and Betsy. My daughter said that I couldn’t use alliteration and so named the third Caroline.

Mostly, we giggled at my lack of skill and knowledge. She laughed when I told her that I had considered marrying a farmer and that a higher power had saved me from such a disaster, knowing that I would be better suited to managing unruly students in a classroom than rampant weeds in a vegetable garden.  My daughter said she was happy for the said farmer.

We laughed as we threw newspaper on the ground and covered it with mulch because the internet said we could.  We disagreed amicably and proudly viewed our work.

Not all of our days have been so.

Somewhere, starting in the preteen years, the arguments outnumbered the good times.

Pictures of family events do not always evoke pleasant memories.

Thankfully, my daughter and I are finding a new rhythm in our relationship.

Hurting hearts lie mostly buried and new growth is emerging as we share experiences of marriage and motherhood,

preferring the safety of common ground to unpacking potentially explosive landmines of the past.

New pictures of family are emerging...

My daughter and I in front of my new beautiful flower bed with all of its colour and variegated foliage.

I treasure the memories this day symbolizes, of easy mother-daughter banter and the sounds of Julia singing “Sweet Caroline”.

Other Thoughtful and Symbolical Mother's Day Gifts from my Family...

A hand-carved wooden spoon made by my son-in-law, Jeremy @Lotholz and Company

Multi-coloured daisies from my husband, Cliff, each colour representing a different season in our marriage.

His message in my Mother's Day card was appropriate for this as yet unwritten article:  You ground me.

An African Violet from my daughter-in-law, Breanna, displayed on my Grandma Ida's sewing machine, well-used in days gone by.  Breanna had no idea how much my mother loved African Violets.

A framed picture from my son, Stephen, and his wife, Breanna.

To make this beautiful keepsake, Breanna used dried flowers from a birthday bouquet from my siblings and a quote from my blog.

My son, Stephen, and I are taking our relationship to a new level as he repairs our basement and edits my blog.

Grandchildren...sharing the scents and blooms of the fresh growth.

I am grateful for the opportunity for forming new family relationships.

A  red rose bush from my son, Michael, in honour of his grandmother and me, his mother.

My relationship with my son, Michael, is marked by elements of unpredictability and the unexpected.

Once, before he could even talk, I asked him for a kiss, but he kissed the wall instead.

I love the times when he surprises me with a symphony concert or a rafting trip.

Today, as I watch him plant the roses, I celebrate the past, present, and future of family.

While I wonder how to cope with the inescapable challenge of growing these red blooms, I embrace the pain and struggle of nurturing both roses and relationships.

Meanwhile, the jury is still out on the bleeding heart's survival,but it is showing new buds and flowers, boding well for the future.

Perhaps human bleeding hearts can also survive - and even bloom.

POSTSCRIPT

I just saw a facebook post about six plants that repel mosquitoes.

Tempting..

Previously published on https:www.marilynnewbury.com