#other contestants during a challenge for no reason! just pack up and go home and get drunk on box wine!

[toss-a-coin-to-your-stan-account]

going from UK The Traitors to US The Traitors is like dining out at a fucking three michelin star restaurant one night and having a fucking delectable meal and the next day reheating day-old mcdonalds and one of your nuggets has one of those hard bits that make you pause mid chew bc it felt weird

[tippedbykreider]

it’s all coming back to me | c. kreider (i)

Word Count: 8.2k Warnings: Slow burn, exes to friends to lovers, relationship breakdown, swearing, alcohol mention. Author’s Note: So many of you have been requesting for this to be brought back! The consensus was that you’d rather have it in smaller chunks so I’ll be posting each new part weekly and they’ll come in between 6 & 9k per chapter. Not only is it more manageable for you guys but it also gives me chance to keep writing new content for it 💖 There is a playlist for this fic which I posted separately, it gives a chronological feel for their relationship and their story. This has been a tonne of fun to write so far and I can’t wait to tell the rest of their story. Summary: Chris Kreider x Reader Insert. They say that all good things come to an end, that you can never have too much of a good thing, but when Chris decided to end your relationship you wondered how anything could ever be good again. A chance meeting 9 years later drags up all those feelings you both thought you were done with. Can you work through your hurt and pain to see what it is that Chris is trying to show you? Or are some things better left forgotten? Tagging: @danglesnipecelly - this girl deserves a writing credit on this thing because she’s pushed me to keep going with this and her input and advice has been invaluable. Thank you for all the support on this one, K 💖

*Italics indicates a flashback*

The notion of fresh starts is often something that is associated with the arrival of the New Year. People use the turning of the calendar to turn over a new leaf, to learn a new skill, to challenge themselves to be better than the year before and to let go of all that was and focus on all that will be. There’s something inherently magical about a new beginning, a fresh start; sometimes it’s the excitement of what might lie ahead and other times it’s the comfort in knowing that you can seize the opportunity be whoever you want to be and to reinvent yourself. It’s the line in the sand and the final full stop at the end of the chapter and it’s the anticipation of picking up the pen and writing those first few words on the new page.

For Chris Kreider this feeling wasn’t one that was brought about by the strike of the clock at midnight on New Year’s Eve because while the date on the calendar changed and while he still spent the next couple of weeks dating things with the wrong year just like everybody else, it still often felt like nothing really changed for him. Chris could only feel like the year was truly coming to an end when the first petals of spring exploded like fireworks in a symphony of technicolour blooms and he found himself giving the locker-room clearout interview. That was the end of the year, the full stop, the line and the warmer days and the balmy nights would give him the opportunity to decompress ready for the turning of the page come September when his focus would once again turn back to hockey.

Chris loved New York; that much was undeniably true. He loved the vibrancy of the city but he also loved the way that he could melt into the background or enjoy the feeling of quiet solace his apartment gave him. It was oftentimes a bolthole, an oasis of peace during an otherwise hectic few months between September and May but the end of the hockey season and the arrival of summer had him seeking the cry of gulls on the breath of a gentle breeze and that crisp, purifying sea air that always managed to fill his lungs differently. Rowayton wasn’t far, a little over an hour on a good day but with its coastal Connecticut charm, slower pace and pretty houses, especially the ones that overlooked the water, it was a world away from NYC and exactly what Chris needed to reset and recharge.

It was a Saturday morning in mid-July and for the first time in a long time, longer than Chris could recall, he allowed himself to sleep in. His bedroom window had been open all night and the welcome breeze snaked through the slats in the blinds and carried on it the faintest smell of salt and sunshine. Chris stretched his muscles in big pulls around the bed before he settled on his back and inhaled deeply, the fresh air clearing his mind and filling his body as the last remnants of sleep slipped away on the exhale of breath. Imbued with energy, he climbed out of bed and pulled the blinds all the way up, flooding the bedroom with beautiful incandescence born out of a cloudless sky. He didn’t make his bed though, not yet, because while he had left his room and was padding down the stairs, he had every intention of returning to the still warm sheets to read a chapter or two of the book on his nightstand with a fresh cup of coffee, a cinnamon and raisin bagel, that invigorating coastal air and the oceanscape outside as the soundtrack.

One chapter turned into two and two became three and before Chris knew it, the sun was high in the sky and lunchtime beckoned. It was shaping up to be a beautiful summer day in Rowayton and Chris thought it would be a crying shame to spend his time at home, even if the page-turner he’d held in his hands moments ago seemed incredibly appealing out on the back deck overlooking the water. It was then he decided to take advantage of that gorgeous sunshine, take in the scenery and stretch his legs by going for a walk into town to pick up a few essentials at Rowayton Market. For all it was a small, it contained everything he would need to keep him going for a few more days until he’d finally need to drive into Norwalk to do a more substantial grocery shop, something that he’d admittedly been putting off. The Market also had some of the best baked goods and fresh coffee in the village and if you asked Chris it would be pretty rude to not take advantage – it was right there, after all, and Chris never could say no to a still-warm Danish and Americano.

He walked slower than he usually would, a conscious effort on his part due to the fact that his legs seemed to want to go into an auto-pilot primed for life in New York City. He was in no rush though, he never was whenever he came here and even though it was a route he’d walked hundreds of times before, and one he would walk hundreds more, Chris still wanted to soak in all the pretty trees and shrubs that were nestled in amongst those classical New England style homes, all shingled exteriors and white, gridded windows in soft muted colours that mirrored the coastal landscape of the village. It was a world away from the brick and the concrete and the bright lights of the city and while Chris loved all of those things about New York and loved wandering through the streets of Tribeca and Soho, getting lost in bookstores and hole-in-the-wall cafes, he also loved the sand, shale and stars and those were things that he just couldn’t find in the city that never slept.

There were quite a few people out and about, Chris noted, most of them he recognised as being residents with their friendly smiles and waved greetings, but there were a handful of tourists too; there always was on weekends during the summer. Not that Chris minded, of course, because for all the village was a popular escape for those seeking a break from the metropolitan life of the nearby hub of cities, it never succumbed to the all-too-often inevitability of commercialisation and still managed to hold on to its peaceful charm, despite it not quite being the quaint fishing village it once was back in the days before the Civil War.

It was one of the reasons why Chris found himself retreating here in the summer and not making the trip back home to spend the off-season in Massachusetts. He would go back to Boxford for a couple of weeks, naturally, because family was something that had always been important to Chris and he would never miss an opportunity to spend time with his parents and sister, but if he had the choice between spending his entire summer being bitten to death by mosquitoes back home (his father always did say that they were the town bird, after all) or feeling the gentle kiss of the ocean breeze against his skin, there was no real contest. Rowayton would always win.

The main street through town was busier, which wasn’t exactly unexpected and if anything it only seemed to add to the charm of the village. Chris decided to head straight to the market to pick up his groceries, if only to facilitate the Danish eating in a more timely-fashion. He picked up a basket as he entered and proceeded to add only the essentials he’d need to get him through the next couple of days. He’d pay for his shopping before going to the coffee bar, because trying to pack his reusable grocery bag with a full takeout cup was a mistake he’d made once before and was sure to never repeat again.

With his groceries purchased and bags packed in such a way that the couple of bottles of wine he’d picked up wouldn’t clink together when he walked (it was three to be exact but after seeing the selection of cured meats, cheeses and olives available he thought it’d be a crime if they didn’t find their way into his basket to come home with him, and if there was cheese there had to be wine), Chris made his way to the coffee counter situated near the Market entrance.

*

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d taken a trip away without the company of anyone else but the last couple of months at work had been incredibly stressful, with projects seemingly coming out of your ears and while you knew your mother had been worried by your suggestion of taking off somewhere alone for the weekend, she also knew better than to fight you on something you’d quite clearly already set your mind to. If you were being completely honest, your plans for the first full weekend you’d had off in months would have consisted of not setting foot outside of your apartment or engaging in any kind of unnecessary conversation had you decided to stay home in Hartford, at least this way you’d be getting some fresh air and the sun on your face.

It was just shy of a two hour drive down to Rowayton, which had the dual benefit of being close enough to home that it didn’t feel like a huge trek just to get there, but also being far enough away that you would be a complete stranger in this town and could take the time to decompress and recharge while blending into the background, and the place was pretty to boot. You’d found a little studio Airbnb not too far away in South Norwalk, figuring that you’d only be using it as somewhere to sleep as you’d planned on spending as much of your time as possible being right by that ocean with the wind in your hair and the warm sun on your skin.

That’s how you’d planned on spending your Saturday afternoon, sat on the sand of Bayley Beach with a good book and a cup of coffee. It was set to be a balmy day, with temperatures sitting in the mid-eighties and the last thing you wanted to be doing in the heat was any amount of excessive walking. So with that in mind, you’d spent your morning exploring the village and taking in the sights and sounds. The gentle protest of your stomach told you it was lunchtime before you’d even taken the opportunity to glance down at your watch and a quick Google search pointed you in the direction of somewhere to get that all important cup of coffee and a small bite to eat.

Rowayton Market didn’t look like much from the outside in the sense that it was a little on the petite side, but the reviews were great and the coffee was allegedly some of the best in the village and that was good enough for you. You were greeted with the smell of freshly baked goods and ground coffee, which was welcoming enough before you even saw the bright smile of the girl behind the counter. Your eyes drifted over the selection of pastries, each one more delicious looking than the last and you knew that you were going to have a hard time choosing just one. You knew you’d have to make a decision, though, suddenly aware of the small line that had seemingly materialised right out of thin air behind you and while you were sure that these people were more accustomed to a slower pace of life, the city girl in you, who was so used to living life in the fast lane, didn’t want to keep these good people waiting while you deliberated. You’d go with your usual and that would be that.

Chris’s attention was fixed out of the large glass windows at the front of the shop, watching as people milled in the street and went about their daily business. It was something he quite often did, whether he was here or back home in New York. There was something oddly soothing about watching the world go by, he thought, and occasionally he’d catch something that would quirk his lips up into a smile, like the sight before him now of a rather large gull in the process of committing larceny against what he could only assume was an unsuspecting tourist. Their sandwich was held high above their head while their free hand attempted to shoo the bird away with little success. He chuckled quietly to himself then, not least because the gulls seemed to get more brazen with each year that passed and he was sure that one of these days he’d see someone’s lunch get snatched right out of their hand by the feathered menaces.

Chris had no reason at all to believe as he stood in that line that everything was about to change. Why would he? The day had started like any other. He’d picked up his groceries in this store more times than he could count, he’d waited in a line just like this one for his coffee and Danish and yet, in that moment, something as innocuous as a woman’s voice would bring feelings that he thought he was done with, and memories he thought had strayed out of his mind for good, flooding back to the surface. But it wasn’t just any woman’s voice, no, it wasn’t as detached and neutral as that. It was your voice; a voice he hadn’t heard in nine years and it was something as simple as a coffee order, an order that he now knew to have remained the same since the day you’d first met at Boston College all those years ago, that blew the dam wide open and every word the two of you had ever spoken, from day one to the last thing you ever said to him, came rushing back.

The sound of Chris’s voice calling your name was something you never thought you’d hear out loud again. It was a voice you’d only heard in your dreams for many years after he walked out of your life, but even that had faded beyond memory to where you weren’t a hundred percent certain that you’d be able to remember what it sounded like anymore. And yet, in the middle of a tiny supermarket in Rowayton, you heard him clear as day with his tongue rolling around the syllables of your name with the same fondness, even after all this time and it was like you’d never forgotten the sound at all.

*

Autumn was beginning to make her presence felt in Boston. The palette on campus had shifted from a spectrum of vivid greens to shades of deep russet, amber, ochre and vermillion; but even above the changing leaves, the turning of the calendar brought a slight chill to the air that had you reaching for your jacket on a morning as you left your dorm.

Today was no different. The temperature had dropped again overnight as November creeped ever closer and it was chilly enough that you had to draw your coat tighter around you as you walked across campus towards class. Your brisk pace had bought you enough time to make a stop at the coffee stand just outside of Campion where your first class of the day was being held. There was a decent selection on offer, but it wasn’t enough to sway you from ordering your usual.

You rooted around your backpack for your wallet while the barista prepared your coffee and grabbed you your cinnamon roll, unaware of the new presence to your right, before handing over the money and taking the coffee and pastry bag from the young man’s hands.

“Coffee and cinnamon roll, eh? Now that’s the breakfast of champions.”

You turned your head towards the source of the voice, lips quirking into a small smile at the sight of the stranger beside you who looked to be not much older than you were, incredibly tall and broad for his apparent age but not for his height. He was grinning at you with a fullness that made his eyes crinkle at the corners and gave him a unique kind of softness.

“My mom would disagree,” you replied with a smirk. “If she found out I was having this for breakfast she’d be in her car so fast and dragging my ass back to Hartford.”

He laughed at that, loud and bright with his head tipped back slightly before running a hand through his dark brown hair that was shorter on the sides but had the faintest hint of a curl at the longer strands on top.

“I won’t tell her if you don’t.”

“Oh, I’m definitely not telling her,” you grinned as you swung your backpack over one shoulder. “So looks like you’re sworn to secrecy.”

You studied him for a brief moment, with the way he was still grinning at you and his eyes that seemed to sparkle behind his dark lashes before your brain gently reminded you that you, in fact, had somewhere you needed to be. “Well, I hate to impose a vow of silence on you like some sort of mafia boss and then immediately split but I uh I gotta head to class.”

“No problem at all and hey, your secret is safe with me. In fact, I’ve forgotten already. What were we talking about?”

There it was again, that smile of his that made you want to stay rooted right where you were standing and look at it all day, but class beckoned and so you gave an awkward wave of your hand and a soft laugh before you turned and headed into the building behind you without another glance back. If you had you’d have seen the stranger from the coffee stand watch until you’d disappeared from view, with that smile still on his face.

This little routine of yours would continue over the course of the next few weeks. Every Tuesday morning, at around 8:45am, you’d find yourself stood at that coffee stand outside of Campion to get your coffee and cinnamon roll, and every Tuesday morning, at around 8:46am, the tall stranger would appear beside you with his kind eyes and his bright smile. You’d exchange a ‘hello’ and a friendly grin and you’d laugh more often than not too while you made pleasant small talk before you both said your goodbyes and went to your respective classes, though you would always leave first and he would watch you go until you’d disappeared into the building.

It was mid-November, now, and the campus of Boston College was firmly in autumn’s frigid grasp. The temperatures continued to drop, seemingly overnight, which had you bundled up in your hat and scarf and the trees had shed their branches of leaves, crunching underfoot with the slight frost as you made your way towards Campion. Your hands were shoved deep into your coat pockets to ward off the gnawing chill and you were looking forward to being able to warm them around your coffee cup.

You approached the stand as normal, rooting through your backpack for your wallet ready to order.

“Hey!”

You looked up, your features fixed in a state of mild confusion while you looked for the source of the voice you recognised but couldn’t quite place. It was then you saw him though, all bright eyed and bushy tailed with a medium coffee and pastry bag held up in one of his large hands as if on display. He was grinning at you and cocked his head, beckoning you over with the wordless gesture.

“Hey, yourself,” you smiled as you approached. “What’s this then?” You tilted your head slightly at the items in his hand as he offered them to you.

“Breakfast of champions.”

Your eyebrow quirked as you took the coffee from him before taking a tentative sip, smiling while the warm liquid slid down your throat.

“You got my coffee order right.”

“It wasn’t hard,” he smirked. “You order the same thing every week and if you open that little paper bag I think you’ll find a cinnamon roll in there.”

Sure enough, as you opened the bag you were greeted with the sight of a perfectly formed cinnamon roll and you couldn’t help the grin that sparked at your lips and spread the full width of your face.

“I don’t order the same thing every week.”

“You do,” he replied with a laugh. “Every Tuesday for the last 5 weeks you’ve come to this coffee stand and ordered a medium Americano with half and half and a cinnamon roll and every Tuesday for the last 5 weeks I’ve been meaning to ask you your name.”

Your face flushed warm at that, not only at his words but at the sure little smile he was giving you and the way his eyes were sparkling. In fact, now that you were really looking at him properly, you were knocked back a bit by the perpetual kindness that seemed to rest in them and you couldn’t help but notice how they really were the perfect shade of hazel, like a forest with a deep bark heart surrounded by leaves that were every shade of green. You’d been quiet a little too long though and so you took a settling sip of coffee to give you enough time to find your voice again and tell him your name.

“Nice to meet you,” he smiled as he offered you his hand, which was large and warm as you shook it.

“And who should I thank for the coffee?” you asked.

His smile grew into a grin then, the kind that you’d noticed over the course of the last few weeks that made his eyes crinkle and happiness radiate from him, before simply replying:

“Chris.”

*

“Chris?”

It was as if time had stood still in that little Market in Rowayton, where your surroundings become a still-frame and there’s nothing but static in your ears. You’d often thought about what it would have been like to see him again. Those first couple of years after he’d left Boston College had you imagining all kinds of scenarios, much like the one you were in right now where you’d bump into each other in a supermarket or a pharmacy, anywhere really, but now that you were living it, seeing it, breathing it, there was nothing you could have conjured up in your imagination that would have prepared you for what it would really feel like to see him again. If you were to be completely honest, you were glad that your coffee and cinnamon roll were still on the top of the counter because you were certain that they would have fallen right out of your hands and onto the Market floor.

He abandoned his position in the line then, as if you speaking his name was a call to him, and maybe it was, on some level, but the truth and simplicity of it was that you were suspended in a state of pure disbelief and even in the short time it took for him to close the distance between you both, you were still yet to move and fix your features to something more neutral.

“Hey.”

It was a simple greeting that he gave you and logically you knew that there wasn’t really any tangible meaning behind that single word he spoke and yet there was something about the look in his eyes and the warmth in the smile he gave you.

“It’s been a while.”

“It has,” you replied, finally finding your voice. “You look, you look good.”

It wasn’t a lie either, he did look good. The tall college boy you remembered, who was just a little too slight for his height, had filled out; you could tell that just from the way the fabric of his t-shirt stretched across the broad plains of his chest and strained around his biceps, and he was no longer clean shaven, which was something that had always made him look quite baby-faced. Instead he was sporting a neatly trimmed goatee and while he had kept his hair short on the sides, just like you’d remembered it, it was longer on the top than it had been in college and the curls were sweeping in a way that reminded you of the waves just beyond the Market door. He looked older, yes, which is exactly what you would have expected in the nine years since you’d last seen him but his eyes were still exactly the same, sparkling and full of mischief , yet still soft, perhaps even softer than before on account of the faint lines around them drawn by time’s fair hand.

“So do you,” he grinned. “You cut your hair.”

“I did,” you looked down as your face flushed with warmth, unsure exactly what you were supposed to say to him.

It was something you’d thought about during those imagined scenarios where you’d magically bump into each other again and you’d thought about all of the things that you would say to him. You would tell him about how much you’d cried when he left you behind to live out his boyhood dream and how angry you were that he didn’t want you to be a part of that, how it felt like all the plans you’d ever talked about were nothing more than empty words and how hurt that had made you feel. You felt like you at least deserved that, especially given that it was never just a casual fling between you both. After all, you’d been practically inseparable for two years. You’d been inseparable ever since he’d said those three words that mean so much. But now that he was here in front of you, all those words that had swirled around in your head and in your chest like a hurricane for so long, dissipated into nothing and you found yourself clutching at straws to find something, anything, to say.

Chris could sense this though. Of course he could because he was Chris and he had always been so in tune with you and your emotions and the fact that he was still able to read you so well was both a comfort and a knife in your chest, and while he internally grimaced at the fact he was having to fall back on using small talk between you both, he felt like it was what you needed in the moment. He wouldn’t expect things to go back to how they were after all this time, he couldn’t, and so he started with something simple, something he knew you would be able give him an answer to.

“So, what brings you to sunny Rowayton?”

“I could ask you the same question,” you replied.

“Ah,” Chris grinned, trying to keep the mood light. “See I asked you first and also, I live here so therefore the ‘question answering’ responsibility falls back to you.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, at both his words and the silly little expression he was wearing and despite all the years that sat between you both like a void and all of your hurt that was held within it, it all seemed to briefly melt away and in that moment it was like you were back at that little coffee stand outside of Campion.

“I didn’t realise this was an interrogation. Wait is this one of those little weird cult towns? Should I be worried?”

Chris knew by the little smirk you were wearing that you meant no malice behind your words and so he responded by sucking in air through his teeth before speaking again with one of those smiles that went all the way up to his eyes.

“Watch it, Pickle.”

Your stomach fell right into your shoes in that moment, that name he used only for you slipped from his lips like it was the easiest thing in the world for him to do, like he’d never stopped calling you it and like it hadn’t been nine years since you’d last spoke a word to one another. Chris knew all this of course and he didn’t need to rely on intuition either because he could see every emotion written all over your face.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly on the exhale of a breath. “I um.. Force of habit, I guess.”

“It’s okay,” you muttered, not quite meeting his eyes. “Although not exactly ‘habit’, it’s been how long?”

Chris winced at that, the reality of how he left things between you both slapping him in the face and he was filled with the guilt that he’d spent almost a decade pushing out of his chest and shoving into the darkest corner of his memory where he would hope it would rest undisturbed. He knew that you were angry at him for leaving things the way he did, how could you not be? After all, he was the one who had broken your heart and left you in Boston, but it was never as simple as that, even back then there was so much he should have said but that was something he wouldn’t realise until much later when it was too late to repair the damage. The thinly veiled hurt in your eyes and the way your mouth was downturned was demonstrative of that fact.

“I know,” he all but whispered. “It just-“

“It’s fine, Chris. Can we just forget about it? Please?”

He nodded, watching with a quiet kind of sadness on his features as you turned to finally pick your coffee and cinnamon roll up off the counter before he cleared his throat softly to continue speaking.

“You never did say what brought you into town.”

You took a sip of coffee to give yourself long enough to settle the thundering in your chest before answering him, because for all your heart felt like it was about to burst from all the hurt you’d managed to hide away up until now, there was also a weird sense of nostalgia that came with seeing him and hearing his voice again, and even though he’d shattered your heart completely when he decided he no longer wanted you in his life, your mother had raised you right and you knew the proper thing to do was to indulge him in a little small talk, even if for nothing more than old time’s sake.

“Just here for the weekend,” you replied. “Work has been nuts lately and I needed some time away from home.”

Chris shuffled on his feet for a moment as you spoke while his eyes darted between you and the door that would lead to the outside world and the possibility of the two of you parting once more. It was an unexpected pull that he felt in his chest at that thought, you reappearing in his life out of the blue only to slip out of it just as suddenly by doing something as simple as walking out of that supermarket back out into the wide world. For nine years he’d thought about where you were, what you were doing, if you were okay, if you were happy and with each year that passed without seeing your face or hearing your voice, he’d resigned himself to the fact that you were lost to him, drifting out there in the seas of life never to see you again. He didn’t know why you’d suddenly come back to him now, whether by some stroke of luck or twist of fate, although Chris couldn’t have cared less which one it was. All he cared about was the fact that you were here at all and it was an opportunity that he was sure he wasn’t going to waste. He didn’t even know for certain that you would want to give him any of your time after what had happened when he left Boston, but he wanted to at least give you what he should have all those years ago and that was an explanation and an opportunity for you to tell him how his actions had made you feel.

“Hey, what are you up to this afternoon?”

“Not much,” you shrugged. “I was just going to sit on Bayley Beach and enjoy the nice weather.”

“Would you mind some company? No pressure, of course, I understand if you… I understand if you’d rather not want to spend any time with me.”

You exhaled then and Chris’s shoulders visibly sagged, bracing himself for your polite refusal, but your response was not one that he was expecting and truthfully, it wasn’t one that you had expected either.

“Honestly?” you started, getting swept up in the nostalgia of seeing him again before the rational part of your brain could catch up. “That would be nice.”

“Great,” he smiled in what you could see was pure relief. “Do you mind if I grab a coffee before we head out?”

“Sure,” you replied. “I’ll wait outside for you.”

You headed out the door and were sure to stand where Chris could see you, knowing him well enough to realise that he’d be worrying, at least on some level, that you’d slip off into the crowd. You’d never do that to him, of course, even after everything, because while he had broken your heart, he was also the first person you’d ever truly loved and when you’d put the pieces back together, you couldn’t help but keep a part of him wrapped up amongst the tape and string holding those pieces together while you healed. It was in doing that that you understood that he would always have a special place in your heart and honestly? You were kind of okay with that because while the ending hadn’t exactly been perfect, the two years you’d spent together were and you wouldn’t have changed that time for anything.

*

You weren’t sure what exactly had possessed you to let Chris talk you into venturing off campus and out in the early-February snow to get burgers at Eagle’s Deli but you were cursing those sparkling eyes and that roguish grin of his for wearing down your sensibilities as you righted yourself after what felt like the hundredth near-fall. It was slushy underfoot, the kind that’s a twisted ankle or sprained knee waiting to happen and while you’d dressed weather appropriately in your winter boots and heavy parka, you were still very newborn lamb-like in your movements which was amusing Chris to no end.

“Come on, slowpoke,” he called from up ahead as he grinned at you over his shoulder.

“Not all of us can be hockey prodigies and thrive in this kind of inclement weather,” you grumbled, shuffling slowly so as not to slip.

Chris laughed as he came back towards you with confident and purposeful steps, surprising you when he offered his arm for you to loop yours through.

“Now, I’m no expert in geography or meteorology but it snows in Hartford, no?”

He was grinning at you, the kind of grin that you had to fight with every fibre of your being not to reciprocate because you’d already committed to your grumpy act and you couldn’t have him thinking he’d cracked you already, even if he, in fact, had.

“Yes,” you stressed. “But I don’t make a habit of going out in it to get burgers like a crazy person.”

The cackle you received from him in reply was loud and a little wild and you couldn’t help but be completely captivated by the way his cheeks were ruddy from the cold and the snowflakes clinging to the curls on top of his head and long eyelashes. Tuesday morning coffees with him outside of Campion before class had turned into coffees in actual cafes during free periods and getting lunch together. It was even dragging your body out into the cold to the Alumni Stadium with your blanket and your thermos to watch Chris play with the BC Eagles because you couldn’t say no to that damn smile and those damn eyes and even now, as you looked at him taking in the scenery along the Chestnut Hill Reservoir pathway, you knew that they were going to be the death of you.

“It’s really pretty along here,” he spoke, more quietly than before; softer too. “You wouldn’t think we were in the middle of Boston.”

“Yeah, it’s a nice walk,” you agreed before shooting him a smirk and a look. “Would be nice in the spring sunshine too.”

“Yeah, yeah. I get it, Little Miss Chilly.”

“I don’t know what you have against being warm, Kreider. Warm is good, warm is nice-“

You shrieked as your feet went out from under you, courtesy of a patch of black ice hidden under slushy snow and you squeezed your eyes shut in preparation for the impact of your ass hitting the cold, hard ground. But it never came.

“It’s okay,” Chris spoke reassuringly, one hand tight around your bicep while his other arm was curled around your waist, holding you upright. “I’ve got you.”

You opened your eyes then to be met with Chris’s looking right at you, all moss and bark and warm. He was smiling at you but it was different to the easy grin he usually wore around you, this was softer somehow and all rational thought was replaced by one of those monkeys playing the cymbals. For the briefest of seconds, and for reasons completely unknown to you, the monkey tried to take the wheel and the idea of kissing him right there, in the middle of the pathway that had made an attempt on your life, flashed into your head.

Maybe it was the snow and how perfect and picturesque the scene around you felt? Maybe it was the fact he’d just saved you from slipping? But the reality of it was that those eyes and that smile held some sort of power over you that you couldn’t yet fully understand. You shook your head quickly, if only to take back control of the situation before you did something more embarrassing than almost falling on your ass.

“Thanks,” you muttered as you regained your composure. “This damn pathway.”

“I’ve got an idea,” Chris grinned as he turned so his back was to you and stooped slightly. “Hop on.”

“You can’t be serious?”

“I never joke about piggy-backs,” he replied in a faux solemn tone with the face to match. “Come on, we’ll get you to the Deli in one piece one way or another.”

And that was how you ended up with your arms looped around Chris’s shoulders and his strong hands holding the backs of your legs as he carried you on his back to Eagle’s Deli.

Not twenty minutes later, the pair of you were shuffling into a booth as you shed your coats, gloves and scarves, Chris grinning at you while you blew on your fingers in an attempt to restore warmth into them.

“See, told you I’d get you here in one piece.”

You scoffed at him and shot a playful glance across the table separating you both.

“You’re not human, that is the only explanation for how you’re able to walk in that,” you nodded towards the window where the snow was still falling to illustrate your point before continuing, “and not fall flat on your face.”

“Or my ass,” he added with a grin.

“Hey, that never actually happened!”

Chris’s face split into an even bigger smile at your little protest and the pout that had formed on your lips and while the gentle teasing between you was simply a part of the dynamic of your friendship, Chris would have been lying if he didn’t admit that the reason he did it so often was because you always looked so adorable trying to rebut him.

“No, you’re right. It didn’t,” he mused with a smirk, not needing to remind you that it was him who had come to your rescue judging from the unimpressed look you were throwing his way.

“All I’m saying is that we could’ve just gone to Hillside for lunch.”

“But the burgers here are superior,” he countered, smiling at you. “And you got to enjoy a beautiful walk in the snow with me so who’s the real winner he- mmpf!”

Chris was cut off by your damp mitten hitting his face, brows knitting into a slight frown before laughing at the proud grin you wore at the accuracy of your throw.

“That wasn’t very nice,” he said with mock hurt.

“Maybe I’m not a very nice person.”

“I don’t believe that for one second,” he replied, but there was no teasing in his tone this time, only the kind of sincerity that had your face flushing warm and had you reaching for the menu to hide behind under the pretence of looking at the choices available.

He couldn’t help but smile at the awkwardness with which you were trying and failing to hide from him but soon joined you in picking up a menu and perusing it, despite already knowing what he was going to order.

It was a few moments before the waitress came over and while neither of you spoke the silence between you both wasn’t exactly awkward even though Chris knew there was something about his last words that had had some kind of effect on you. He was right, of course, because despite the fact that you’d had hold of this menu for a good couple of minutes already, you hadn’t actually looked at a single thing on it even though you’d made such a show of doing just that and now that Chris had ordered, a cheeseburger with fries and a chocolate milkshake, the waitress was looking at you expectantly. Unable to form any kind of rational thought under that kind of pressure, you found yourself simply saying “same” and soon enough it was just you and Chris at the table once more.

Chris was looking at you like he had something he wanted to say and the unreadable expression on his face had you feeling somewhat uneasy for reasons you hadn’t quite ascertained but probably understood on some level if you let yourself think about it for more than a second. He could feel the nervous energy radiating from you though and so rather than pursue his current train of thought, he picked a topic of conversation that was much safer and knew you’d be comfortable with: school.

You talked about your classes and upcoming assignments while he listened intently and you returned the favour while he spoke earnestly about hockey and his own academic workload. It was so easy to settle into a natural rhythm with Chris whenever you talked, as if you’d been having conversations like these for years when in fact it had only been a few months of knowing him and a few weeks of meeting up like this. None of that seemed to really matter though, not when the conversation was good and the chemistry felt right and especially not when it was clear that you were both on the same page when it came to your friendship. There was something else there though, something that was beyond being purely platonic, that much was becoming crystal clear and yet despite the ease in which it was to talk to him about literally anything else, there was something that had you stumbling over the thought of bringing it up.

You were saved from falling down that particular rabbit hole by the reappearance of the waitress, two burgers that were big enough to have your eyes popping out of your head in her hands. Chris chuckled from behind his milkshake at the look of disbelief on your face as your burger was set down in front of you before he reached for the bottle of ketchup between you both. You took the top of your burger bun off, nose immediately wrinkling at the sight of four pickle slices resting on top of the lettuce and tomato.

“Ugh, I forgot to ask for no pickles.”

Chris looked up from where he was squirting ketchup onto his bun, his eyes meeting yours briefly as his face split into a grin.

“You’re not one of those people, are you?”

“Shut up,” you grumbled as you began to pick the offensive green menaces off your food and set them at the edge of your plate. “I like what I like.”

Chris reached across and began to transfer the pickles from your plate to his burger, smiling widely at you as he did so.

“Well, I might have found a solution to this particular pickle you find yourself in,” he chuckled at the exaggerated groan and roll of your eyes at the expense of his joke. “You see, I love pickles.”

“You love anything,” you countered. “You’re like a human dumpster.”

“Hurtful,” he replied as he clutched at his chest. “But also true so I’ll allow it.”

You picked up a fry from your plate and threw it at him, immediately filled with equal parts surprise and a strange sense of awe as he reflexively moved and caught it in his mouth.

“You really are a dumpster,” you grinned as you shook your head at the proud little smile he was giving you.

“I am, so how about you don’t ask for no pickles on your burgers and you just give ‘em to me instead?”

It was easy to agree to his proposal, not least because his logic actually made a lot of sense when you thought about it, but mostly because of the way his eyes were sparkling and the way his smile made you feel warm all over, like the falling snow and freezing air outside didn’t exist, like your fingers and toes hadn’t been numbed by the biting cold during your walk here, like there had only ever been sunshine. It was also why you’d agreed to let him carry you back through the snow to your dorm, his large hands hooked around the backs of your thighs and your arms draped over his shoulders much like during the walk to the diner. You’d protested initially, of course, not wanting to burden Chris or put you both at risk of an injury due to the slippery conditions, but he wasn’t about to be convinced otherwise and remained unperturbed by the weather, gently reminding you that he had in fact got you to the diner in one piece in the first instance at your objections.

Truthfully, despite the mild embarrassment you felt at your complete ineptitude when it came to walking on ice, you couldn’t help but be more than a little impressed at Chris’s sheer strength. You wondered then, about how hard he must work in the gym to develop such a strong core because while you knew from first-hand experience how slippery it was underfoot, he didn’t falter once throughout the entire walk home and with the way he was talking amiably about his favourite places in the city he called home, and how his hands were holding your legs so surely and securely, you felt safe as houses with your chest pressed into his back – even with your thick coats and layers of winter clothing between you.

He walked with you on his back right up to the entrance of your dorm, setting you down carefully on the pathway that looked to have been newly shovelled before he turned to face you, his cheeks once again ruddy from the cold and your walk home.

“I don’t want to say ‘I told you so’ twice in one day,” he grinned, sucking air in through his teeth and shaking his head slightly. “But didn’t I say that I’d get you home safely?”

“So what if you were right twice?” you rebutted with a playful nudge. “It’s not like it’s ever gonna happen again.”

“Watch it, Pickle. I’ll have you know that I’m right about a lot of things.”

“Pickle?” you barked out a laugh, watching as Chris walked slowly backwards down the path away from you with that smile still on his face. “What kind of a name is that? I don’t even like pickles.”

“I know,” he called out into the growing distance between you both. “But I do, remember?”

You shook your head at him, chuckling to yourself with a smile on your lips that mirrored his as you watched him.

“See ya Tuesday then, Trash Can!” you hollered.

His raucous cackle cut through the silent flurry as he continued to walk slowly backwards, his grin clear as day even through the falling snowflakes.

“Trash Can! Fucking, Trash Can! Man, you got some serious chirps, Pickle. Can you throw hands too? I mean, I know you suck at keeping your balance on the ice but we could use an enforcer! I could push you around?”

“Anytime, anywhere!” you laughed, watching him with a grin until he had waved his goodbye and turned away before he retreated into the heavy snow.

Part ii

[forevercloudnine]

new 52 riddler origin/timeline

I noticed an older 2017 post by @batriddler​ about Edward’s possible New 52 origin story was going around again, so I thought I’d make a timeline adding what we’ve learned about his origins since then through The Riddler: Year of the Villain (2019).

Childhood

So Year of the Villain brings back several elements of Edward’s original backstory. The first was that, as a child, he won a puzzle contest and became fixated on that moment of victory for the rest of his life.

Unlike previous iterations of the character, however, there’s no obvious indication that Edward cheated in order to win it (other than the looming shadow of his future careers). Whether he won it fairly or not, winning the trophy was a turning point for him because it was the first time he was given undiluted positive attention, something he wasn’t getting at home.

Edward’s mother is heavily, HEAVILY implied to be an alcoholic (like there are even more bottles lying around in this panel, I cut them out for the screenshot), and he himself implies in the narration that she was neglectful to the point that he pretty much had to raise himself. Interestingly, there’s no mention of an abusive father, which is the bog standard for Riddler backstories in previous continuities. There’s nothing contradicting the existence of an abusive father in addition, so obviously there’s room for headcanons here (though I’m enjoying that Jonathan’s New 52 daddy issues replacing his retconned Post-Crisis mommy issues was finally mirrored by Edward’s Post-Crisis daddy issues being retconned and replaced with New 52 mommy issues. It’s equality).

[Side note: apparently his actual birth name in the New 52 IS Edward “Nygma,” which is also a return to form to his first origin. Personally I’m much fonder of him being born “Nashton” and changing his name as an adult, but that’s just me.]

He says that winning the trophy was the first time he “felt like [he] meant something,” which would seem to indicate that before this he’d internalized his mother’s neglect into a low sense of self worth. Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem like the high of winning it lasted very long, since his classmates weren’t very appreciative of his victory (which is also very in line with Edward’s previous origins, especially Chuck Dixon’s take in Questions Multiple the Mystery).

There’s not much other information about his childhood available, though Batman Annual #4 does seem to indicate that unlike many of Batman’s other villains, he did grow up in Gotham.

This is just based on him telling Bruce that “all of Gotham City” watched him grow up, and that Edward in particular read and watched a lot of tabloid news about Bruce when they were adolescents (is this a Batman Forever reference??? It’s probably not a Batman Forever reference).

Teenage Years

Assuming we’re supposed to take Bruce’s heat-of-the-moment psychoanalysis in Zero Year seriously (Edward is clearly irritated by it, so... confirmation?), Edward’s desire for attention in childhood results in him breaking into corporate data banks and government safe-blocks as a teenager.

Given what Edward is capable of in Zero Year, this definitely doesn’t seem out of the realm of possibility, but it’s deeply hilarious in the context of what Year of the Villain confirmed he was (also?) doing as a teenager, which is working as a carnie.

I cannot tell you how hilarious I would find it if THIS is the “questionable past” that Bruce’s Uncle Phillip was talking about during Zero Year, but presumably he’s referring to the same kind of high profile crimes that Bruce was.

But seriously, how funny would it be if he was just talking about how Edward literally ran away from home to join the circus as a teenager...

Adulthood

The 2017 post theorizes that Edward started working for Phillip at Wayne Enterprises in his early twenties, and started earning the various degrees you can see stacked up in a corner in the image above during his employment there. That would seem to fit with this timeline, since I’m not willing to add “earned six different university degrees” to teenage years that are apparently already packed full of ripping off carnival goers AND corporate espionage.

In Batman Annual #4 there is the BAREST indication that Edward might have started working at Wayne Enterprises early into Bruce’s sabbatical abroad, since he talked about how “for months” there were nightly vigils at Wayne Tower where there were so many flowers people would have to cross the street not to step on them. Presumably this would have only been in the first year of Bruce’s disappearance, when Bruce was 18; at the very least this indicates that Edward still lived in Gotham when Bruce left, though it would make more sense for him to be visiting Wayne Tower as Phillip’s strategist than as a hacker/carnie.

In general though, Edward’s Zero Year plan is so ridiculously complex that I think it’s reasonable to assume that he took as long to prepare for his debut as Riddler as it took Bruce to train to be Batman.

[Another side note: Not to accuse Edward of projecting or anything (God forbid), but I think it’s interesting that Edward puts so much emphasis on criticizing Bruce for “disappearing for years” and “making everyone think he’s dead” in combination with the COMPLETE absence of his father from his origin story as presented in Year of the Villain.]

I do think it’s fascinating that Edward’s New 52 origin veers away from the whole “cheating” thing that’s so central to his character in previous continuities - not that he DOESN’T cheat when he feels like it (the whole carnie thing), but it’s not presented as an insecurity of his, and here he’s genuinely intelligent enough to mastermind crimes without needing to move the goalposts at the last second (cough Arkhamverse Riddler COUGH).

One final thing from Edward’s adult life that I think could relate back to his origin comes from Batman #23.2, “Solitaire.”

The issue starts with a flashback of Edward having a deck of playing cards confiscated from him in Arkham because he was playing Solitaire (like, genuinely playing Solitaire; he actually wasn’t plotting anything, it was just for stress relief). The comic is his quest for violent revenge against the Arkham guard who took his cards, which initially seems like a pretty average example of Riddler Brand Pettiness, but the story goes out of its way to highlight how much this really bothered him.

The Arkham Guard has moved on to become the head of security at Wayne Enterprises, so to get revenge Edward has to break into his old place of employment. An unexpected altercation with one of the executives leads Edward to totally freak out over her “touching” him, and afterwards he goes to meditate in her old office in order to calm down. His attempt to relax is interrupted by his old Arkham tormentor, who gets in a couple shots at him before Edward takes his revenge...

...which is BLOWING UP THE ARM that the guard used to take away the “small comfort” Edward had in Arkham. Afterwards, he goes up to the roof to play Solitaire, seeming to finally relax from his agitation earlier.

Given Edward’s isolation and neglect in childhood, it would make sense for him to have ended up playing Solitaire a lot: it’s a game that doesn’t require involvement from friends or family, but still requires a player to use strategy and skill despite the lack of an opponent.

[Yet another side note related to the previous side note: Batman is ACTUALLY dead during Solitaire, which takes place after Joker’s Endgame arc. Bruce and Joker are of course later resurrected through shenanigans, so Edward is right to think he’ll be seeing Batman again. But Riddler sitting on the Wayne Enterprises rooftop, indulging in a self-described “small comfort,” waiting for a man who’s disappeared to miraculously show up again is really interesting. Again, not to accuse him of projecting or anything, but... where’s your dad, Edward...]

His affection for Solitaire is also interesting, in the sense that one could argue that’s what he’s doing in Zero Year: playing a game with himself. He’s challenging other people to play with him through his “riddle” game, and he’s clearly prepared for the possibility of having an opponent (given that he has a whole rainbow disco death trap room set up at the end of Zero Year, which he seems DELIGHTED to have a chance to use), but he’s not expecting to have one. Whether this is a perspective rooted in his childhood or not, it seems to have changed after Zero Year, based on his riddle for Batman in “Alone.”

[mischiefapprentice]

Lockdown Relationships

A/N: This short story is my entry for my school's first annual Valentine's Creative Writing contest. It got featured, and I am more than honored to share this one with you all!

March 12, 2020

“Love?” “Yes, darling?” “I can’t travel back to Los Angeles. Lockdown’s to begin on the day of my flight.”

I was supposed to go back to Los Angeles, California on March 13 after two months of my vacation here in Manila. My boyfriend has been constantly calling me, excitement lacing his voice as he waits for me to get home in his arms after two months of being oceans away from each other. He is an actor, and I am his personal assistant up until now. Our relationship may have flakked with his fans, but it didn’t matter to him. All he knew was: he loves me to the moon and back. I’m Reine Gwendolyn Simmons, and you can call me Reine.

As I was saying, I was supposed to be on my flight back to Los Angeles the next day. All my bags were packed, my passport and plane tickets are already secure in my small Louis Vuitton bag, and my heart cannot wait to see my lifeline again. However, hearing the president planning to implement travel bans on the day made my hopes of getting back as soon as I can impossible.

“Can’t it be moved tonight? I’ll ask Matty to arrange a plane ticket for you, or I can ask for my private plane to be sent there to fetch you.” “It can’t be moved; all plane flights for tonight are full.” “Are you really sure?” “Dane, just got straight to the point.”

“Well, I might just have cancelled your flight tomorrow and the plane is on the way to the airport now…”

That’s my boyfriend. He’d always find a way through things, especially if it’s about me. He has done that many times before; he’ll always see to it that I’d be safe and home on time, and most of all, he’d make sure to call me despite the time differences here. Daniel loves me so much that he would give everything just to see that I’m happy. Seeing that there is no way out of this fiasco he did, I decided to go and get on the plane before midnight.

📷

April 2020

I tested positive for COVID-19.

Aside from being my boyfriend’s personal assistant, I also worked as a nurse in one of the quarantine centers in Los Angeles. Daniel and I had a little misunderstanding with this matter, since it means I have to be far from him and he won’t get to see me everyday. He also knows of my respiratory problems, making me vulnerable to the virus too. Luckily, Daniel didn’t get the virus, and he’s safe at home.

“Babe, are you getting any better?” “Little by little, but I need to recover more.” “They could have provided more PPEs for nurses like you, love. Especially you.”

Yes. They don’t have enough Personal Protective Equipment for us. That is also the reason why he wouldn’t want me to go apply as a nurse during this time. My head nurse also warned me about my high risks of getting the virus, but I still said yes. It was a sworn duty that I must complete until I resign or retire. I always put others first before myself, that’s why I became a nurse.

His eyes showed sadness as we talked through FaceTime. He always feared that one day, I’d be gone from him forever. He’d always tell me that it’s fine that I’d be with another guy if we break up, but he’ll never get over my death. It would be the most tragic day for him. Knowing that low chances of survival await me, I’m now reflecting whether to end our relationship of two years or still let him love me until my last breath. I want to spare him of the pains of heartbreak from my death, knowing that my passing will be his end too.

Weeks have passed, and I feel my body slowly deteriorating. It’s as if death’s stark shadow looms over my weakening body as the virus slowly defeats my immunity. I tried to keep up my hopes of surviving this high, knowing that Daniel also keeps his hopes up that I will get through this. Wondering if I told him about me wanting to end our relationship? Yes, I did tell him about it, and he is not really happy with it. Persuading him that I am doing this for him, he never bought it. He insisted that he’d love me until my last day albeit the pains of losing me will swallow him alive.

“Darling, please. I’m not giving up on us just because of this.” He tells me as tears fall on his face. “I want to spare you from the pain when I die, Daniel.” I retort, tears also streaming down as I feel my heart tear into pieces. “I don’t want you staying single because of me. You need to live your life, at least for me.” “I don’t care if I’d suffer heartbreak because you are gone. Just let me love you until your last breath, please.”

📷

November 28, 2020

Having recovered from the virus after 3 months, I was discharged from the hospital I am confined in. July 2020 was the highlight of our relationship; Daniel assured me every single day that he loves me, and he is never giving up on us despite my low chances of surviving this disease. During those three months, he’d always give me a call, despite time differences. He’d be in Seoul, Korea; or in Prague, Czech Republic. He’d also be in Michigan with his family and his Golden Retriever, Marry. There was even a time he tried to visit me before he flew to Korea.

“Oops, remember: two meters away from me, darling.” I reminded him as he was about to hug me. Him being a whiny guy, he’d show me that pout that made me fall for his plans. “I missed hugging you!” He reasons out, his arms crossed on his chest. “Well, I missed those teddy bear hugs of yours, but we have to follow protocols.” I shrug my shoulders.

This very day, I am now finally free from the dangers and tribulations of the quarantine center. My head nurse decided it’s time for me to rest, since it was contractual work for me. I have agreed to work for them from March 2020 up until November 2020. Today is also the day my beloved man was born, and his manager has been planning my return as a surprise. But turns out, I am the one to be surprised.

As soon as I got home from the center and had completed the quarantine on the hotel for nurses like me, Matthew brought me to the golf course park where Daniel and his friend Martin would go to and play golf. Roscoe greeted me with the cutest smile he could muster, leading me to my boyfriend with a quick run. My eyes water up as Daniel looks at me with a smile, waiting for me to come close. Bent down on one knee, he asked me the most crucial question I never thought he’d ask me.

📷

February 15, 2021

Today’s the day. After two months of preparing for the biggest day of our lives, I now change my surname to his. I say we’d marry as soon as the vaccines come, he says we marry on the day after Valentine’s day. Reasoning that vaccines would take long, and he can’t wait that long to marry me, we agreed to marry on this day. Now wearing the white dress that every girl would dream to wear on the day of their wedding, I now patiently wait for the wedding bells to ring, signalling that I enter the church and walk on the aisle that led to the man who never gave up on me. White flowers filling my very own bridal bouquet which shows the purity of my intentions and of my entire being, I am more than ready and happy to open the new chapter of my life alongside him. Tears of happiness stream down on both of our faces as I march alongside my parents to the altar where he waits.

If there is one thing that our love taught and reminded us, it is our patience, trust and determination that led us to this. There might have been points in our life that challenged how strong our love is for each other, we still stepped through those and let the love we have beat everything that comes our way.

[thetravelerwrites]

Monster Match #22: Tikbalang

The Traveler's Masterlist

For @severedreamerbeard​: You’ve been matched with a tikbalang!

Tikbalangs, or Tigbolan, scare travelers by leading them astray and playing tricks on them, such as making them return to an arbitrary path, no matter how far they go or where they turn. A superstition popular with the Tagalogs of Rizal Province is that Tikbalangs are benevolent guardians of elemental kingdoms. They are usually found standing at the foot of large trees looking around for anyone who dares to bestow malignancy on their kingdom's territory.

It is a tall, bony humanoid creature with the head and hooves of a horse and disproportionately long limbs, to the point that its knees reach above its head when it squats down.

In some versions, the tikbalang can also transform itself into human form or turn invisible to humans and they like to lead travelers astray. Tikbalang is generally associated with dark, sparsely populated, foliage-overgrown areas, with legends variously identifying their abode as being beneath bridges, in bamboo clumps or banana groves, and atop Kalumpang (Sterculia foetida) or Balite (Ficus indica) trees.

You met Bayani in your art class on your very first day. He had immigrated from the Philippines to attend college a year before you started school, and due to his unusual appearance, had trouble making friends. You hadn’t seen anyone like him before, and where that made some people uncomfortable, it fascinated you. He was such a sweet person that you couldn’t help befriending him.

It took him some time to open up to you, but once he did, you realized how homesick he was. His kind typically lived in the same grove they were born in for their entire lives. Moving away was highly unlikely, but to actually integrate into society was practically unheard of. As far as you knew, he was the first of his kind to attend college. Anywhere. In history.

The only reason he wasn’t in the news was because he had specifically requested not to be. In fact, his advocates had filed injunctions to prevent the media from reporting on it. He didn’t want attention for doing what millions of people did all the time.

His sweetness made you friends, but it was the shy humility and talent that attracted you to him. He didn’t think much of himself, often having heard the awful things people said about him, and you wanted him to think of himself the way you did: unique and intelligent and kind. You were nervous about speaking your attraction to him. He was new to society and you weren’t sure of his preferences, or if he was even looking for any sort of romance.

“What is it like? Your home?” You asked him once during class. The two of you were sitting a little bit away from everyone else to give his long legs enough room without kicking someone else’s chair or easel.

“It is beautiful,” He told you, starting to sketch on a fresh page. “I lived deep in the jungle on the island of Luzon, near a steam that branched from the Magat River. It was lush and green. It never grew cold there, and there were many birds. My whole family had lived there for hundreds of years undetected before we learned of the Mass Integration. I miss it.”

“Why did you leave?”  

“We had only heard that non-human creatures had joined humanity a few years ago, but we were still nervous to reveal ourselves. I was the first to decide to leave and see what the world was like. When my time in college is over, I plan to travel for a few years, then return with what I’ve learned. The rest of my clan will then decide if they wish to leave or stay.”

“Will you stay home after that?” You asked him.

“I don’t know yet,” He admitted. Looking over, you saw him drawing the thick underbrush of a forest. “I suppose I will decide when the time comes.”

“What’s been the hardest thing? Was it difficult to get into college?” You asked him.

“No, actually, passing the test was relatively easy after I took that year of tutoring. And the scholarship I received has made it rather easy.” He stopped sketching and sighed, looking out of the window. “I… I suppose I… did not realize how… small… people can be. How petty. How… superficial? Is that the word?”

“Yeah, I’m thinking that’s right,” You replied.

He sighed. “I thought, because non-humans felt safe enough to reveal themselves, that it would be… less…” He sighed again sharply. “I can’t think of the words.”

“It’s okay, I understand,” You said. “Humans have a long history of not getting along with each other, so it’s unfortunately not surprising that they aren’t exactly nice to other species of people.”

“I can’t understand that,” He said with a grimace.

“Honestly, I can’t either,” You replied sadly. “Are you drawing home?”

“Yes,” He said, his mood brightening. “See? I can’t get the shape of the houses right, though.”

“Oh,” You said, scooting closer. “What kind of houses are they?”

“Small structures, usually one room, nothing grand. Most had open sides with only one or two complete walls, built up off the ground in case of flooding. Since it gets very hot, it was better to have open homes where the breezes could blow through, and we didn’t mind the rain.”

“Like this?” You asked as you sketched.

“Sloped roofs,” He said. “And they’re all pointed toward the river, so that the runoff drains that way. Yes, just like that.”

After sketching for a few more minutes, you took your paper and laid it over Bayani’s sketch, merging the two perfectly.

“Ha,” Bayani said softly. “There it is. Home.”

“I’d like to see it one day,” You said.

“Perhaps you will,” He replied.

“Isn’t it closed to outsiders?”

“Ordinarily,” He said. “But we make exceptions for friends.”

You smiled. “Are you going to enter the art competition they had on the notice board?” You asked him after a moment. “First prize is ten thousand dollars. You could go traveling on summer break, like you want to. Get a head start on seeing the world.”

“I don’t know,” He said. “I don’t think I’m good enough yet to enter. What about you? You’re a wonderful artist.”

“Thanks,” You said. “But I’m not exactly amazing either.”

“You’re incredibly talented!” Bayani replied, earning a shushing from the professor. He ducked his head and spoke in a lower whisper. “You’ve got to win.”

“I’ll enter the contest if you will,” You told him.

“But I don’t even know what to do for the contest,” Bayani said, their face scrunched. “The theme is comfort. I’m not exactly comfortable right now.”

“I know,” You replied. “But there are things that comfort you. Your home does. Do that.”

“Meh, that’s predictable. I’d have to do something original to win.”

“Hmm, that’s true.”

“You enter and I’ll cheer you on,” Bayani said, smiling. “Competition isn’t natural to my people, so I’m still trying to understand it.”

“That’s why you should enter!” You insisted. “You have such a unique style, it’s sure to win.”

“Well, if you’re doing it, then I will, too. If only to challenge myself.”

“That’s the spirit,” You said as the professor called for the end of class. You began packing up your things and getting ready to leave. Bayani always let everyone leave first, and you always waited for him.

“I do find you a comfort,” Bayani said. “You remind me of a friend I had back home. We were always together. Until he found a mate, that is.”

“And you?” You asked, attempting to be nonchalant. “No interest in a mate?”

“Mm,” He replied noncommittally. “Not really. It’s hard to be interested in people I’ve known my whole life. There’s nothing new to learn about them. I feel like discovering new things about your partner is half the fun of loving them.”

“But what about when you’ve learned all there is to know about a person? Do you stop loving them?”

“Not necessarily,” He said, contemplative. “When you learn all there is to know about someone, then you change the situation and learn new things. I like to learn, and there’s no end to learning, now that the world is bigger than I first thought. And now that I can see the world and all the people in it, I can find someone who understands. Does that make sense?”

You laughed a little. “Honestly, that makes perfect sense.”

“What do you find comforting?” He asked. “In terms of the contest?”

“It differs on how I feel at the time,” You said. “If I’m scared, I like being hugged. If I’m sad, I like hugs. If I’m lonely… Oh. Well, I guess I’m not as complicated as I thought.”

He laughed. “How do you convey that through art?”

“I have no idea,” You said, laughing too. “I suppose I’ll figure it out.”

“What will you do with the money if you win?”

“Dunno,” You said. “Maybe start paying off my student loans.”

“Money is another thing that is odd to me,” He said, his face scrunching again like it did whenever he encountered a notion that was foreign to him. “At home, if you needed something, it was given to you. Debt is not a concept we believe in.”

“I wish it was like that everywhere.” You replied wistfully.

Outside of the Arts building, he bid you farewell. “I should hurry. The bus will be here soon and I don’t want to be late getting home. Today is my host sister’s birthday, and they’ve invited me to her birthday dinner.”

“Oh, have fun!” You said, waving. “Tell them I said hi!”

He waved back and began to jog toward the bus stop.

You walked back to your car, fumbling for your keys, lost in thought. Comfort was such an amorphous thing. Everyone had a different idea of what was comforting to them, but they often overlapped. Music, physical touch, objects, food. Different things, similar themes. How would you find a way to convey what comforted you the most?

You thought back on Bayani describing his home, the soft look of fondness he had when he was drawing it. His expression was familiar, if distant. Maybe it wasn’t your comfort you should focus on. Bayani was homesick, that much was obvious. What could you do to help?

At home in your apartment, trying to work with your roommate singing drunkenly along with the TV, you stared at an empty page. You’d been sitting there for an hour trying to draw something, but nothing was coming to you. Banging your head against the desk hadn’t helped, though it did cause your roommate to rush in with a half-empty vodka bottle, convinced someone was trying to break in. After taking the bottle awawy from him and putting him to bed, you sat back down at your desk and sighed, the blank paper mocking you with its… blankness. Fuck you, paper.

Start simple, you told yourself. A tree. Draw a tree.

You began to draw, and progress was stilted at first, but after a while, you tuned out sound and focused on your work. Time blurred and passed as if you were asleep, and before you knew it, the sun was rising.

Well, you were going to be useless today.

Looking back down, you were a little surprised to see Bayani on the page, sitting on the porch of one of those open-faced houses of his home. He was crouched over paper, drawing an undefined sketch. His face was relaxed, his posture at ease. His legs dangled over the side of the raised platform, and even as long as his legs were, they didn’t touch the ground. There were no stairs, but you imagined his people had no trouble getting up and down. Surrounding him was the forest of his home as he had described it to you, with the tall trees and flowers and birds nesting in the branches. There were younger Tikbalangs playing in the background, the younger siblings he spoke of so often.

“So this is what comfort looks like,” You said softly. “I think I get it now.”

It took a week before you were satisfied with the result, but you entered it without telling Bayani. You weren’t sure how he would feel about you using him as the subject of your submission, and it wasn’t likely that you’d win anyway, so he would probably never see it.

Two months later, you got a letter in the mail from the contest and put it away in your backpack, not thinking anything about it. When you got to school, however, it fell out of your pack and Bayani picked it up.

“What’s this?” He asked.

“Oh, I think it’s something from the art competition.”

“You entered?” He said. “That’s great, you didn’t tell me!”

“I figured I wouldn’t win, so there was no point.”

“It’s unopened. Didn’t you even look?”

“Nah,” You said. “It’s probably just thanking me for my participation or something.”

“Can I open it?”

“Feel free.”

As you were getting your stuff set up to start class, you heard Bayani open the letter and a pause, then a gasp.

“You… won.”

“What?”

“You won!” He offered you the letter. “Look!”

“You’re shitting me,” You said, taking the letter and reading it. There, at the top in big bold letters, was Congratulations! “Well, fuck me.”

“What did you submit?”

“Oh…” You cleared your throat. “There’s a copy here.” You handed it to him.

He looked at it, and was silent for several minutes. You watched him apprehensively, the din of the class fading from your ears and it seemed as if you were the only two in the room.

“This is me,” He said quietly.

“I hope you don’t find this offensive,” You said anxiously. “I just remembered everything you told me about your home and it sounded amazing. I didn’t even realize what I was drawing until I was finished.”

“It’s beautiful,” He said.

“Oh…” You replied. “Thank you.”

He looked at you with a sweet smile. “It’s no wonder you won. I knew you could.”

You smiled back. “Thanks. I was thinking… maybe I could use the money and take us on a trip to your home. I know how homesick you are.”

He shook his head. “You should spend the money on what you want, not on what I want,” He replied.

“That is what I want,” You said. “Although… if I’m honest, there is one other thing I’d like to do.”

“What’s that?” He asked.

“Take you on a date?” You said hopefully.

The smile widened. “A new experience. Will I get to learn more about you?”

“I’m hoping you’ll learn everything about me, but I also hope you won’t get bored.”

He reached across and took your hand. “I don’t think that’s possible. In fact, I think we’ll be learning about each other for quite a long time. I look forward to all of it.”

You squeezed his hand in returned. “So do I.”

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[thehikingviking]

Cerro El Pital y El Picacho, The High Points of El Salvador and San Salvador

It took me 16 years, but I finally decided to return to my mother’s home country of El Salvador. The main purpose behind the trip was to introduce my new born son to my grandpa, but it wouldn’t be right to not hike several mountains while down there. I convinced Zach to fly down with my family, and he would be my hiking partner for most of the trip. He also joined on our previous trip to Guatemala, and had climbed a couple of volcanoes with me down there as well. I used Nahuat Tours as my guide service; they would arrange transport and the local guides when needed. There were some last minute complications due to the national election, which caused us to change our itinerary at the last minute, and while this would add some extra driving, the key objectives on my trip were still attainable. We planned to first climb Cerro El Pital in the morning, followed by El Picacho in the afternoon. Both were short hikes, so the challenge would be the long drive and dealing with the many unknowns of this developing country.

We were picked up at Cadedeu Residence at Lago de Coatepeque before sunrise. We first drove through San Salavdor and then up towards La Palma. We followed a steep but paved road up to Rio Chiquito.

Our driver Eric parked at a dirt lot along Calle El Pital. We could have driven further, but we were here to hike and were already less than 2 miles from the summit. From here Gerardo would show us the way to the summit. Shortly after starting out, I noticed a snake that was run over by a vehicle, reminding me that it’s probably best to stay on the cleared path. Shortly after we reached the park boundaries where Gerardo paid our entrance fees.

I was told to pack warm gear, as this is the coldest place in the country, but I found myself sweating profusely.

At the top of the road, Gerardo started taking us towards the lower southeast summit. I immediately objected, stating that the northwestern summit was higher. He agreed, but for some reason was hesitant to go further. He stated that he wasn’t sure how to get there, and said he would go ask someone. My stress levels skyrocketed, as failing on this easy peak was my worst nightmare. Gerardo came back confirming that there was a way to the summit, but that we shouldn’t follow the road. I learned later that Gerardo had been attacked by a dog along this same road on a previous trip. We instead dropped down to a grassy field at the saddle between the main peak and the false summit.

We followed a foot path that passed next to some buildings. Many homes were in the process of being built, and I expect this area to look much different in a few years. We popped out back onto the original road, and with the threat of the barking dog behind us, we continued upwards. The views opened up as we climbed higher, and it appeared that we were the only ones visiting the summit that day. We followed the main road all the way to the summit structure, where there were several guard dogs barking at us ravenously.

They were locked within the gate, so I paid them no heed. I found the benchmark embedded in a small concrete pedestal just to the left of the building.

To the east was Honduras.

To the south-southeast was Chinchontepec, also known as San Vincente Volcano.

To the south-southwest were El Picacho and El Boquerón, also known as San Salvador Volcano.

I had expected to find armed guards at the summit, but we were the only ones around. I guessed that all police were being mobilized elsewhere in preparation for the elections the following day. 

As this was also the border of Honduras, I took the liberty to walk into the aforementioned country. I did a small loop through the forest, checking another country off my list.

We hung out at the summit for a while, enjoying the peaceful and temperate setting.

We started back down the road once we were satisfied. The cacophony of barking started up again as we passed by the building, but soon we were beyond the nuisance.

We stopped along the way to visit a second benchmark that also marked the border between El Salvador and Honduras. This was in the middle of some crops so we gingerly walked around it.

Once back at the saddle, I could finally relax and enjoy the great views.

We considered exploring a potential bonus rock, but at the end decided against it. We couldn’t see any worthy rock outcropping from our vantage point, and I didn’t see anything on my satellite view. Instead we had brunch at one of the restaurants consisting of pupusas and coffee. We found Eric waiting for us at the top of the road when we finished, and we began our drive back down to La Palma where we stopped to buy some souvenirs.

After another long drive we arrived at the trailhead for El Picacho. There was no information of this hike online, so I wasn’t sure what to expect. Here we met our local guide Chico at a roadside pupuseria at the saddle between El Picacho and El Boquerón. We started up a local trail through a coffee plantation.

-El Picacho

We hiked at an aggressive pace. Chico took the lead with his machete in hand. He would stop from time to time to tell me the local folklore, which really interested me. La Siguanaba was apparently seen in this area. This shapeshifter is viewed as an attractive woman who is often seen bathing in the river. She invites enticed men to come bathe with her, but as soon as they come close enough, she turns her head and reveals her terrifying face, which is sometimes depicted as a horse or a skull. The terrifying sight makes the men go crazy. This story is most likely used to deter unfaithful men from drinking and chasing other women. Often accompanying La Siguanaba is El Cipitio, her baby with a round belly and big sombrero. He doesn’t do much aside from throw flowers at women’s feet, but he seems to creep out many Salvadoran woman, including my mother. Chico then told me about El Gritón de la Medianoche, which translates to the yell of the middle of the night. This creature is apparently a very tall man with a mouth like a trumpet who screams incredibly loud. When he is far away, his scream seems to be coming from nearby. I found this fascinating as this is somewhat similar to North American bigfoot mythology; a tall humanoid screaming though the forest in the night.

Chico stopped to show us some coffee beans growing alongside the trail.

Gerardo explained how the beans can be prepared. Some European countries prefer the beans with the husk, while American coffee companies prefer the beans without. The beans are typically left in the sun to dry for a few weeks before they are exported. Gerardo then instructed us to suck on the bean, and we tasted the natural honey flavor from within the husk.

I’m not much of a coffee drinker so most of the dialogue went in one ear and out the other, but I think the average cafephile would find it quite interesting.

I took note of a pointy peak along the coast, which I believe was El Peñon de Comasagua.

We reached a trail junction along the ridge where we also found an abandoned battery. Apparently these fortifications were not utilized much during the civil war as the Guerrillas never really contested this territory.

We stopped at a clearing where we had great views of San Salvador below.

-Chinchontepec y Lago de Ilopango

I found a rope swing here, and it felt appropriate to risk my life on it.

Chico then climbed a tree and cut off a plant with his machete. I still don’t know why.

We continued along the trail, walking past a tree stand. I don’t think this was used for hunting animals.

As we followed the trail underneath the eastern side of the peak, we heard a high pitched sound somewhere up ahead. I at first thought it was a bird, but as I listened more closely, it was someone squawking, “Ay loco, ay loco.” Chico immediately stopped and motioned us to be silent. He went off ahead by himself, machete in hand. I was very concerned for the few seconds he was gone. Upon his return he stated, “No te preocupes, solo es un bolito,” or “Don’t worry, it’s only a little drunk.” We continued forward, and just off the trail below us in a thicket was the bolito, yapping to himself. They say that the homemade moonshine brewed here makes people hallucinate and gives many young people sepsis. Or perhaps he simply saw La Siguanaba.

The trail eventually led to a road, which we followed a short distance to the radio structure at the top.

Again my stress skyrocketed. There was a watchperson, several guard dogs and a fence surrounding the radio facility. No trespassing signs were posted along the gate. We asked the watchperson if we could continue to the top, but he denied us, stating that there were security cameras throughout the summit complex.

I was disappointed to say the least, so I went to the highest legally accessible point and snapped a photo.

I stood there for a while, but there was no way around it. In my mind, I tried to justify the failure as a valiant effort nonetheless. My mind raced as I walked back down the road. I wondered if I could somehow still reach the summit while staying outside of the enclosure. I asked Chico if I was allowed to try from another angle, and he hesitantly agreed suggesting that it would be fine so long as I didn’t cross the fence. Before he could change his mind, I began bushwhacking up the steep and loose east facing jungle slopes towards where I expected the summit to be. Snakes and guerrillas filled the back of my mind, while in reality all I had to contend with was thick brush and garbage. It seems that some of the tower workers simply throw their trash over the fence. I pulled on small trees and avoided stepping on the empty liquor bottles. At the end I was swimming through a grassy bush, and I eventually popped out at the fence, which was also the bulldozed high point.

With my heart racing, I snapped a few photos. I should have been more patient, but the dogs from inside the complex were on to me. They had started barking, so as not to arouse further suspicion, I returned to the thicket.

I snapped one last photo of Chinchontepec, Lago de Ilopango and San Salvador before descending.

What a relief! I carefully descended the steep slope, but not carefully enough. I dislodged a big boulder from underneath the dirt, and this accelerated quickly towards where the others were waiting for me. I yelled rock, but Guillermo stood there like a deer in the headlights. Luckily, this boulder flew right past him and no one was hurt. The boulder continued to thrash down the steep volcano, and it’s probably still falling today. The other’s looked at me as if I was some sort of lunatic, and maybe they are right.

Our descent went quickly and soon we were back down at the saddle looking up at El Picacho.

I had wanted to climb El Boquerón as well, which is the crater of the greater San Salvador Volcano, however there were some challenges. While it is possible to hike to the highest point along the crater, it’s currently not the safest thing to do. Gerardo expects that in a few more years, the national park service will clean up the area, making it safer for hikers.

-Berries

Once at the bottom, we ordered some yuca and chatted with the locals.

Zach got his yuca with chicharón and I got mine with Pepescas. Zach made the smarter decision, as I got pretty sick afterwards, so for all future hikers, get the pork!

[zanesgirlfriend]

The Reality House | David Dobrik

Requested by anonymous: hiii, can you do one abt knj house and the reader is davids gf or jasons daughter or both(?) and shit goes down with trisha?

_____

It's not like you needed the money. You and Kristen both just wanted to do something fun and crazy. The Reality House seemed like something to fill your time while David was busy.

"Two whole days without you?" David whined as you packed your bag.

"It'll be fun!" You smiled at him.

"I don't wanna sleep without you." He opened his arms and you joined him on the bed.

"We can FaceTime later, okay?"

"What if they keep you up all night?" He tugged on the ends of your hair gently.

"Well you're up all night anyway. You'll live." You chuckled before kissing his cheek.

"Okay."

Your phone buzzed in your pocket and you pulled it out, not expecting the text that appeared. "Oh no."

"What is it?" David peered over your shoulder as you sat up.

"Trisha's gonna be there." You looked at him, some type of sadness in your eyes.

"Deadass?"

"Deadass. Kristen just texted me." You showed him your phone, watching his muted expression change.

"Just try to stay away from her. You already know she's gonna start shit."

"I know, but if she brings you up I will feel very compelled to defend you."

"Don't worry about me, everyone knows she's crazy."

"Yeah, but you're my baby."

"Just ignore her, okay? You'll do great."

So with a nervous tick in your heart you drove to Kristen's house, picking her up, and then you were on your way.

The Reality House was incredible. It seemed like a mansion. There were a million rooms, beautiful decorations, a pool, and a million other incredible things.

People started arriving so Kian and JC made everyone walk up to the door one by one, introducing themselves as they went.

Yours was easy and fun, and you stood in the living room with a few other girls as people continued arriving.

Trisha's sparkley outfit was spotted immediately, you putting your head down as soon as she walked through the door. Things seemed to be going well until she continued talking. She mentioned "Twenty-Two year olds controlling her life" and you rolled your eyes. She continued, talking about David's pranks and some jokes about Tana that allegedly ruined her relationship with Jason. You let it slide.

"Tana's gonna be here." Kian joked.

"Is she? That's fine. We live for Tana, we just fucking hate Jason and David." Trisha put on her sunglasses, obviously glaring at you as she walked into the living room. Kristen's jaw dropped, and your eyebrows raised, giving Trish that "Really, bitch?" glare.

"You hate them. Not 'we.' You don't speak for everyone." You didn't even notice that the words had left your mouth. You were pissed. You hated that she felt the need to comment on David and bring him up, when it was her own problems and insecurities that ended her relationship.

"Hey, I didn't mention you." She jabbed at you with her words, the grudge between you very obvious as she walked into the kitchen and grabbed a drink.

"You mentioned my boyfriend." You stepped a little closer to her.

"I don't know how you can date someone so crazy and manipulative." Her high-pitched valley girl voice drove you insane.

"I don't know how you can continually blame someone else for your break up just because you're insecure." You stepped a little closer still, ready at any moment if she wanted to fight.

"Hey, hey, let's not fight yet." JC stepped in, a chorus of "oh shit" and "damn's" promoting him to stop any physical violence from happening.

"Come chill out a little bit." Kristen grabbed your wrist bringing you back over to the couch. Trisha mumbled some things, you utterly ignoring her. A million thoughts ran through your head, most of them wondering why you even signed up for this.

Once all the contestants were in the house, you all sat around, talking and roasting eachother. You and Kristen stayed inside with a few other girls while people argued outside. Being away from Trisha was your best bet.

You ignored her presence completely until the first challenge. There were thirteen people in the house, and only ten could stay. The rules of the game were that the first ten people to get their ball into the trashcan got to stay. Easy enough.

The first few rounds went fine, a few people getting in one by one. You made it somewhere in the middle, not sure if you were happy that you were staying, or sad that you wouldn't be going home to David. As more people made it in, Kristen seemed like she wasn't going to make it. You needed her to make it, especially instead of Trisha. Hell, you didn't even care if Kristen made it, as long as Trisha didn't make it in either.

The final four were on the line. Kristen, Trisha, and two other people that you didn't really know or care about. There was one more spot. One spot left, reserved for everyone except Trisha.

"Come on Kristen!" You screamed, making it very evident that you wanted her to make it, and not Trisha.

Kristen's heart sank when she didn't make it in, and your heart sank when Trisha did. There was no way you could deal with her any longer, especially not as she got drunker.

You rubbed your face, the headache you got from her presence growing stronger.

"I don't want you to go." You pouted at Kristen. "I don't think I can do this without you."

"I don't wanna leave." She frowned back at you. You were whisked away back inside by one of the other girls, and Kristen was left outside with Kian and JC. She begged and pleaded them, asking what she could do to get back in the house. One of the other losing contestants mentioned buying a spot from someone else, and she had a lightbulb moment.

You were in the backyard when Kristen ran up to you.

"I'll buy you out." She stated excitedly.

"What?" Your head tilted as you looked at the wild expression on her face.

"I'll give you two thousand dollars to trade." She offered. You thought for a moment, wondering if you could make it through, or if it would be better just to go home with more than you started with, and still get to cuddle with David.

"I'm down, I need to get out of here." Trisha's face flashed in your mind and you followed her quickly out to KnJ. They agreed to the deal and Kristen Venmo'd you the money.

You let all your emotions out during confessionals, talking incredible shit about Trisha, and gassing up David.

"Hey, Trisha!" You screamed across the room as you grabbed your bag. "Fuck you, I'm out!" You couldn't deny flipping her off, the alcohol in your system aiding in your craziness.

"Fuck you, too! Go back to your psychopath boyfriend." Her words were slightly slurred, she'd been drinking a lot, but you didn't care. Your uber was almost there and you wanted to have the last word.

"Go back to your boyfriend, oh wait, you don't have one! Because nobody wants to deal with your crazy ass!" Everyone else in the room was holding in laughter, almost silent as the two of you hashed it out.

"I can get any man I want!" She stood up her drink held firmly in her hand.

"But you can't keep one, can you?" Your hand pulled your bag behind you as you walked up to the door.

"You're just a bitter bitch!" Trisha shouted down the entryway at you.

"At least I'm not obsessed with my ex boyfriend! Your drunk tweets tell it all, Trish. Why can't you get it in your head that everyone thinks you're crazy? Just move on. Leave Jason the fuck alone and move the fuck on!" You slammed the door behind you, not caring what the people inside were thinking, or that it would soon be posted all over the internet. You meant what you said, and you didn't care who heard it.

You fell into a deep sleep in David's arms, needing a mental break after what happened, and then rehashing it to David when you got home. You cried out of frustration, David rubbing your back and talking you to sleep.

This was the reason you loved him.

You didn't care if he was a 'psychopath' or if he went overboard sometimes. He's a good person who cares greatly about you, and that's all that matters.

[womanfrown47]

14 Usual Blunders To Avoid When Writing A Will.

The University Of Will Composing

Content

Just How To Write A Will During The Coronavirus Lockdown As Need Rises

Key Wills & Trusts Services

Should You Leave A Recurring Legacy?

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Should You Leave A Recurring Heritage?

If they don't have a guardian, or there are problems, the decision can be made by the family courts. You have control as to what happens with your money, belongings and residential or commercial property when you die, i.e. who obtains what from your estate. It is necessary to keep in mind, that if you and your companion are not married or in a civil partnership, your companion holds no right to inherit your building/ estate if you do not have a will. By writing a will, you have control over where your cash, possessions, residential properties as well as financial investments go. Whether it's to family members or charity, writing a will provides you manage over these points when you're no more around to vocalise your choices. Outstanding solution from start to finish from Nicola and also Natalie! Super responsive to e-mails and also all my questions as a first time solitary buyer.

A Will is an important legal file, and also our team believe that every person needs to make one. Due to the fact that the legislation lays out just how your estate is divided if you do not have a Will, without one, the people you respect are much less likely to receive specific gifts that you want to pass on to them. So just as you can leave a gift of cash to a family members loved one, you can leave a gift to any charity. An easy last will and also testament to leave the whole of your estate to another person, or to a charity, or shared between a team of individuals such as your kids.

Have a look at the instance digital assets listed here to assist you consider what digital possessions you own as well as who you would love to pass them on to. It's a huge responsibility being an executor-- that's why individuals are allowed to decline the role.

Couples Conserve Up To 21% When Making Mirror Wills:.

There is no law that says a will must be created by a lawyer or lawyer. It is a truth that any person can compose their very own will, as well as indeed people may do so using a conventional pre-printed layout, a normal piece of paper or online. The initial piece of advice anybody writing a will need to be provided is to drop in an appropriately certified as well as experienced solicitor or legal representative as well as get them to do it for you. If you make use of a will design template, the business won't take responsibility for any errors in your will or help your family to figure out your financial resources and there will be no lawful resurgence when the will is read. Large errors can invalidate your will completely as well as leave it to the regulation to choose that obtains what. You can compose a will for free by benefiting from a number of events using free will composing by a qualified solicitor, commonly in exchange for a contribution to a registered charity.

Our professionals are fully certified Will composing specialists, who will lead you through the procedure detailed, with no complex lawful lingo, in a personal service that is customized to your needs. Our problem-free visits are readily available throughout the day at your benefit. Your Administrators are the individuals whose obligation it is to see that the arrangements of your Will are executed. The administrative job will usually be done by a lawyer, but the Executors called in the Will sign all formal, lawful files as they are the people left by the Will-maker to address the management. Any kind of grownup can serve as an Administrator and it is no incompetency that the Administrator is also called in the will as a beneficiary. You must educate the persons worried that you desire to designate them. Do you RECOGNIZE who will inherit your residential property, results as well as cash if you die without a Will?

Even if you have actually been proactive as well as produced a will, your loved ones might still remain in for a shock after you have died. The laws bordering wills are typically complex definition there is area for blunders when creating one. It can open the door for the contents of the will to be contested as well as can possibly lead the will to be completely void.

The amount depends upon several factors including the web value of your estate and that you choose to leave it to. Your estate left to your partner or civil partner will immediately be exempt from IHT. If you are divorcing or have actually separated given that writing your Will, your Will still stands. You need to make certain that your Will mirrors your current scenario, otherwise a previous companion might still gain from your estate even if you don't want them to. You can call the legal guardian of your child or youngsters, so you recognize who will have the ability to choose for them if you as well as their other moms and dad die.

The law and also technique described in this article or webinar has been reworded or summed up. It could not be updated with adjustments in the law and also we do not assure the precision of any type of info offered at the time of reading. It must not be construed or relied upon as legal guidance in regard to a certain set of conditions. At this unprecedented time, when leaving your house breaks government advice, several work on the 'to do' list appear unachievable. Nevertheless, will creating need not be influenced, as Rock King companion Dan Harris discusses in a brand-new video. You may be able to decrease or stay clear of the quantity of Estate tax payable on your estate.

Regretfully, the end outcome may be really various from what you and also your family members may have expected. If you CARE, the only way to ensure your dreams are accomplished is to make a Will. People commonly believe creating their dreams down on a bit of paper is enough for them to be lawfully binding.

There might be benefits of using someone who knows with your events, however a solicitor can also do this if you want to save the people near you the job at what is likely to be a challenging time. You might want to include your partner or partner, youngsters and other member of the family, good friends and also charities. In combined family members, stepchildren do not inherit anything if a step-parent dies intestate. Unless you have what is legitimately called step-parental duty, you do not have a legal right to care for your partner's kids.

You can additionally share your desires regarding your funeral service, interment or cremation, along with details such as what ought to happen to family pets. The most common reason individuals offer for not creating a will is that they're intending to do it later, according to scientists. A more 20% of those questioned for the survey didn't think they had enough possessions to make creating a will rewarding, while others believed getting one formulated would certainly be also expensive. And it's not only younger individuals that put off making a will - three quarters of the 35 to 54 age have not had actually a will composed regardless of having dependents as well as financial dedications to take into consideration. The Telegraph explained that having a will ensures that whatever you leave will go to individuals you care about, in addition to making the process of dealing with your estate much easier for those left. Because of the existing coronavirus episode, Osborne Morris & Morgan are providing secure and also safe and secure telephone or Zoom video consultations.

[somethingusefulfromflorida]

13 Keys to the White House

Political historian Allan Lichtman developed a method which has allowed to correctly predict every presidential election since 1984, and working backwards this same method retroactively accounts for every single election since 1860.  The only hiccup was in 2000, when he predicted Gore would win, which he technically did.

Every election comes down to 13 keys, 13 yes or no questions on the state of the union during the previous presidential term.  Lichtman claims that voters are smarter than we give them credit for, and won’t just blindly follow one party or the other, but will consciously reward whichever party maintains some semblance of order during their time in office.  He claims that campaigning and advertisements are irrelevant, because people have usually already made up their minds, and the only thing that matters is election day itself.

Each election, Lichtman asks 13 questions directed towards the incumbent party, to determine how they’ve done over the past few years.  If 8 or more of the questions are true, then the incumbent party is predicted to win.  If 6 or more are false, the challenging party is predicted to win.

Party Mandate:  After the midterm elections, the incumbent party holds more seats in the U.S. House of Representatives than after the previous midterm elections.  FALSE (Democrats won more in 2018 than Republicans won in 2014)

Contest:  There is no serious contest for the incumbent party nomination.  TRUE (Donald Trump faces no real challengers)

Incumbency: The incumbent party candidate is the sitting president.  TRUE (barring the coronavirus, or a heart attack brought on by all the fast food he eats, Donald Trump will be the nominee this November)

Third party:  There is no significant third party or independent campaign.  True, as of right now (Justin Amash is running as a Libertarian, but it’s unclear if he’ll reach Gary Johnson/Jill Stein levels, certainly not Ross Perot levels.  Frankly, he’s only running for president to save face because he doesn’t stand a chance of winning his House seat back; he left the Republican party, so all of his constituents hate him, and he’s too conservative for the Democrats.  We’ll see how this goes)

Short-term economy: The economy is not in recession during the election campaign.  FALSE (The Great Shutdown, the second once-in-a-lifetime economic collapse in less than 15 years. We’re only four months into it right now; things are going to get so much worse before they get better.)

Long-term economy:  Real per capita economic growth during the term equals or exceeds mean growth during the previous two terms.  Unclear (Obama’s first time saw only 3.9% growth due to the end of the Great Recession, but his second term saw dramatic improvement with 8.8%.  This averages to 6.35% growth per term.  As of 2019, Donald Trump’s first term has seen 7.6% growth, but taking into account the recession, it is almost certain that our 2020 GDP will drop because of this.  It only needs to drop 1.25% to be below Obama’s average, so maybe)

Policy change:  The incumbent administration effects major changes in national policy.  Maybe (this is incredibly subjective, now more than ever.  What constitutes “major” change?  The McConnell controlled Senate has been blocking all major legislature since 2015, and Trump still hasn’t managed to meet any of his campaign promises; he didn’t build the wall, he didn’t lock her up, he didn’t get rid of Obamacare.  Then again, he has greatly expanded the executive branch, giving the president total power to just ignore Congress is he so desires, so it could go either way)

Social unrest:  There is no sustained social unrest during the term.  Probably false?  (again, this is subjective; what constitutes “unrest?”  There are regular protests, but they’re all organized and civil.  Some nut jobs stormed the Michigan state capitol with guns to “take back the state,” and nobody was arrested, which seems like unrest to me, except they were on the president’s side.  I don’t think it will get to civil war levels, or martial law declarations, but rest assured the country is not happy with him)

Scandal:  The incumbent administration is untainted by major scandal.  Almost certainly false. (indictments galore; so many of his associates are in jail, almost all of his original cabinet secretaries quit or were fired, and he admitted to trying to blackmail Ukraine to dig up dirt on Joe Biden, was impeached for it, and got away with it.  This man is a walking scandal.  The question is, what does “untainted” mean?  Yes, there have been endless scandals, one after another, but have any of them really stuck around?)

Foreign/military failure:  The incumbent administration suffers no major failure in foreign or military affairs.  Maybe true? (on the one hand, Iran didn’t retaliate when we killed their general, but on the other hand we retreated out of Syria, let thousands of ISIS fighters go, and aided the Turks in a Kurdish genocide.  The tit-for-tat sanctions against China threatened to crash the global economy, but then the coronavirus came in and did that all by itself, so it’s unclear whether we’ve “failed” or simply “not succeeded”)

Foreign/military success:  The incumbent administration achieves a major success in foreign or military affairs.  Maybe false?  (for the same reason as above, it is hard to judge what is or isn’t a success.  USMCA is unpopular and small potatoes.  The North Korean talks are all show with no substance; Kim will never get rid of his nukes.  We’re still caught up in W’s endless wars, and I don’t see an end in sight, so I’d say this is definitely not a success).

Incumbent charisma:  The incumbent party candidate is charismatic or a national hero.  FALSE (Trump is a hero among Republicans, but reviled among everyone else.  He has never had majority approval, and will not go down as one of the universally beloved presidents like Washington, Lincoln, or the Roosevelts)

Challenger charisma:  The challenging party candidate is not charismatic or a national hero.  TRUE (Joe Biden is the Walter Mondale of Al Gores.  Republicans hate him, and only half of Democrats really like him.  He’s old and senile, he keeps making gaffe after gaffe after gaffe, and doesn’t seem to know how the game is played anymore.  Someone needs to find Grampa a nice home so he can retire and talk to his nurse about how he used to get into fist fights with ne’er-do-wells, “buncha malarkey, I tell ya”)

Lets review the scores, from Best to Worst

FALSE

FALSE

FALSE

Almost certainly false

Probably false

Maybe false

Unclear

Maybe

Maybe true

True as of right now

TRUE

TRUE

TRUE

Incumbent Trumps needs 8 true to win.  Challenger Biden needs 6 false to win.

Biden definitely has 3, with 3 teetering towards him, which is a good sign.  He could even flip the unclear key in his favor if the economy continues to tank.

As it stands, both parties seem to have 6 keys each, which predicts that the challenging party will win the election.  The scandal key is tentatively in Biden’s favor, as are the social unrest and military success keys.  This could change in the coming months if Trump does something erratic like assassinating the Ayatollah and declaring that a victory (which would lead to an endless oil war with Iran; it’d be 2003 all over again).  Trumps needs to flip more keys than Biden does, so he’s going into it with as disadvantage, perhaps the only time in his life he has ever not had an advantage.

But then again, there’s always the possibility that it could be a 2000/2016 repeat, where Biden wins the popular vote but Trump ekes by with the electoral college victory yet again.  This model doesn’t take that into account because the popular vote winner almost always wins the EC too.

Trump is not more popular today than he was 4 years ago.  He’s never had majority approval.  While his base loves him more now than ever, they represent a minority of voters, and pretty much everyone else hates him.  Anyone who was on the fence in 2016 is definitively over the fence in 2020.  If he “wins,” it’s not going to be a 1972/1984 blowout, that’s just not gonna happen, too many states hate him too much.  It will be very close; I will not rule out the possibility of a 269-269 tie in the electoral college, triggering a contingent election where the House of Representatives has to pick the president.  Democrats have a majority in the House right now, but in contingent elections they don’t vote as 435 individuals, they vote as 50 state blocs; even though there are more Democrats than Republicans, they’re packed together into as few states as possible, giving Republicans over 26 stateside majorities, enough to ensure they would pick Trump in a contingent election.

It’s a bullshit system, and I pray it doesn’t come to that.

[thetomorrowshow]

The Poignancy Of Silence, Pt. 2

A/N: This is the second half of my entry for @stop-it-anxiety‘s fall fic contest! Here is the first part! This is now completed, but I have ideas for one-shots/an epilogue that takes place in this universe. So those may happen at some point.

Word count: 4735ish

Tw: I don’t even know where to start, depression, discussion/mentions of suicide, brief mentions of self-harm, light kissing, Dee’s a gay disaster

Pairing: Roceit

-

“Oh, Mr. Boiga. You've never done a restraining order, have you?”

“No, sir.”

Professor Reynolds handed him a folder. “There you are. Name's Roman Gutierrez. He's asked for a restraining order against his brother. I'll need you write three pages about each meeting. More details are in the folder.”

Dee rubbed the scruff that grew on one side of his face. “How many meetings will it take?”

“As many as necessary.”

-

Professor Reynolds, wanting the students in his Masters program to get real-world experience, requested local firms to send real cases for his classes. He assigned them to students based on grades, priority, and type. For example, a failing student might be assigned an everyday, low-level case, while the top of the class would get intriguing, high-level cases. Dee was somewhere in the middle, receiving low-priority cases that were still decently interesting, and he was learning a lot.

Those the case concerned were asked to sign a slip, acknowledging that it would be handled by a student, and in turn, that they wouldn't sue the firm. As Dee was handling this case, Roman Gutierrez had obviously given permission.

The public library had a private conference room. Tuesdays, Fridays, and Saturdays, it was reserved from 3pm—8pm for students, who signed up for hour-long slots. This service was generally utilized by the law students and tutors. After some communication, Dee reserved a slot on Friday for 5pm—6pm.

-

Roman Gutierrez hardly spoke. At points during their meeting, Dee looked up and thought that Roman Gutierrez could have been handsome, were his hair combed, his eyes not unbearably sad, the dark shadows from his light grey hood not quite hiding the smattering of freckles on his cheeks and nose.

“So I looked up your brother, Remus Gutierrez. Apparently he's currently on parole after trying to steal the car in the mall?”

Roman Gutierrez shrugged. When he spoke, his voice was unbelievably soft, making Dee wonder if he'd ever raised it. “Hadn't heard about that one. It does sound like Remus, though.”

They'd been in the conference room for forty minutes. Dee kept trying to get a reason out, why he wanted this restraining order, but Roman Gutierrez didn't seem to want to talk about it—or anything, really. He'd even asked outright. The man had just shrugged again and looked away.

“Well, Mr. Gutierrez, unless you feel comfortable telling me why, I'm afraid we'll have to end this meeting here.”

“I'm sorry,” Roman Gutierrez apologized immediately. “I'll—I'll drop it, it's not that important. I'm sorry for wasting your time.” He stood, awkwardly pulling on his over-sized hoodie.

“No, no,” Dee said, standing as well. “It's fine. We can meet every week until we figure this out.” He glanced at the file. “I might be able to get the order based on what he's done alone,” he added dubiously.

Roman Gutierrez sighed. “You're busy. I don't want to bother you.”

“You aren't bothering me.” A lie. He was already annoyed that he'd wasted a good hour of his time trying to work with an uncooperative client who wasn't even paying him. Still, he very much wanted to become a lawyer. He had to be dedicated to this man's case.

“Really, I'll be fine. I don't need it.”

“Roman Gutierrez.”

The man winced, then looked at him. His eyes were an odd mix of grey and brown, a stormy sea, swallowing any positive emotions that tried to brave the thrashing waters. All frustration Dee felt for the man momentarily dissipated, replaced with fathomless pity.

“I will not give up until we resolve the issue. Trust me.” It hurt dully to say that, remembering all the times his lies had eaten away at his trustworthiness. It was okay, though, he realized, as the other man gave him a doubtful look. Roman Gutierrez didn't trust him anyway.

-

Three meetings in and Roman Gutierrez still hadn't explained his reason for wanting the restraining order. Outside of meetings, Dee was digging through reports of Remus Gutierrez, printing everything that could be of any help to his case. His folder grew steadily thicker, but he never opened it in the conference room of the public library.

They talked about memes, movies, politics. Dee expressed the pains of a law major and Roman Gutierrez confessed that he'd dropped out of community college to pursue a failing acting career. Dee found that odd. He didn't really seem the acting type, but maybe he was different onstage. Happy.

Sometimes, a spark of something almost happy flashed in Roman Gutierrez's eyes, pleasing Dee immensely for some unknown reason. The man was warming to him, cautious smiles and eye contact.

Knock. Taptaptap. Knock knock.

Dee's head swiveled toward the door. A couple of classmates were tapping on the window in the door, their personal songs that only Dee could hear emanating from the other side of the glass. They beckoned to Dee, who smiled briefly and shook his head.

“What do they want?” Roman Gutierrez asked uncomfortably.

“Oh, game night. Hitting the slots or whatever.”

Roman Gutierrez stood hurriedly. “Oh, I can go. Sorry for holding you up. Go have fun.”

Dee laughed a little and waved him back into his seat. Two meetings ago, he would've been begging for an escape from the fruitless conversation. Now, for some reason, he found that he was sort of enjoying their awkward chats. “No. Gambling was a habit I kicked about a year ago.” And a year too late, he added to himself.

“Are you sure you don't want to go?” Roman Gutierrez looked awkward as he looked at the door. “That guy seems to really want you to.”

Dee turned back to the door to see a blond man throwing flirty eyes at him. “Oh, that's just Remy. He flirts with literally everyone, but won't commit.” He knew. He'd been down that road.

Silence for a second. Then Roman Gutierrez said quietly, “He's kinda hot.”

Somehow, the words made Dee a little . . . jealous? No. There was nothing to be jealous about. He was just a little mad at being ignored. He'd just said that Remy was a player, hadn't he? Roman Gutierrez needed someone dependable.

-

They were meeting twice a week now. They could only meet once in the library conference room, so where the second meeting was varied. One week it might be in a cafe, the next in the campus library. For confidentiality purposes, Dee didn't bring his folder on Remus Gutierrez to these meetings.

He told Roman Gutierrez that these meetings were for trust, and so he could get a better idea of why he needed a restraining order. There was another reason, though. One that he would never say aloud.

Roman Gutierrez didn't have music.

The man had smiled, laughed (neither of which quite reached his eyes), but never a single note. Dee wondered if he actually had none, or if he just never truly experienced a positive emotion strong enough to trigger a tune. Before he'd met Roman Gutierrez, the only person without music had been Dee himself, a fact that often brought him down. Now, though, he wasn't the only one. Who could blame him for wanting to get to know the man better?

They grew looser, more friendly. Dee found himself reminded of Roman in the most unexpected places and tasks. Their text thread, which had once been strictly formal, was now flooded with memes sent by both, captioned with little “saw this and thought of you”s and “me rn”s.

Dee saw their two meetings as the bright points of his week, his face lighting up when he saw those grey-brown eyes under that mop of dark hair, the fourteen freckles spotting his caramel-toned skin. His heart jumped at every smile, cheeks grew warm at every joke.

Dee couldn't deny it now, couldn't say that the reason he arranged the meetings was to study the man who had no music.

Dee had a crush on Roman Gutierrez.

-

Roman Gutierrez didn't own a car, so Dee often picked him up or dropped him off at his town house. Roman had three roommates who were never home, architecture students who stayed out late and left home early every day.

Roman always seemed down—well, more down—at their parting. Dee always made him swear to send a text the next morning, and though Roman rolled his eyes, he always promised. Dee was growing increasingly worried that . . . that Roman Gutierrez might harm himself. Light research told him that the man displayed a good amount of the symptoms of depression. Maybe he was just being paranoid, maybe he just cared too much. Better safe than sorry, though. He really liked this man—far more than he'd liked anyone in years. He couldn't lose him.

-

“I stayed with my dad on weekends.”

They were in the conference room again, but instead of sitting across from each other at the sleek table, they were relaxed on the floor. Dee had brought some pillows and Roman had ordered a pizza. The heavy folder sat untouched on the table.

“He wanted custody of me and Remus, but my mom wanted us too. They ended up splitting us. I kept dad's name and visited every weekend,” Roman frowned. “Remus never visited us, though.” He smiled brightly; no music sounded. “But, all's well that ends well.”

“It's not the end yet.”

“No. The hero always has more challenges to overcome. But the ending of the story is magnificent.”

Dee hoped that was true. He wanted Roman Gutierrez to have the best ending possible.

He couldn't help but remember everything he'd read in his high school literature class. Happy endings were nice. No one ever said they were guaranteed, or even common.

-

Dee filed the request for the restraining order. The document was packed with Remus Gutierrez's wrong-doings and warnings from the law, as well as a short testimony from Roman.

He tried to tell himself that he hadn't put it off, that he'd needed all his spare time to do homework, that it was okay that this project had extended a month past its tentative deadline.

It was hard to finally click 'send' on the very professional-looking email requesting the order. The meetings would end. He and Roman would drift apart. He'd never get the chance to hear the music that might not exist.

He decided then, that as soon as the request was approved, he would ask Roman Gutierrez out on a date.

-

Hello?

It wasn't necessarily the message that immediately bothered him, nor the tone of it. What first stuck out was the fact that it was a voicemail, not a text.

It's Roman . . . Gutierrez. In case you know any other Romans.

Dee flew out the door, not bothering to put on a coat or shoes, despite the brisk autumn air of the night. He fairly threw himself into his old brown car.

I, uh, I dunno. This is hard to say.

“C'mon, c'mon,” he muttered. The car was slow in the cold, he knew that. But this was important. He didn't have time to wait for it to warm up, he needed to get to Roman.

I've decided to drop everything against Remus.

He'd left an email open on his laptop before going to bed. A message from the firm, saying that they were certain it would be approved, there were just a few more hoops they needed to jump through. It was so close.

So, I won't be bothering you anymore.

The car finally started; Dee threw down his phone and swung it into reverse. His searches were still pulled up: how to talk someone out of suicide—what to do when you find a suicide note—when a loved one takes their own life—

I'm sorry. For taking up your time. You didn't need to patronize me. Sorry—sorry for making you put up with me.

That intersection, the one that was so busy during the day, the one that still brought painful flashbacks of waking up on asphalt and blood and that shining freckled face with the music he hadn't heard in almost three years.

So, um, please. Don't—er, you don't need to contact me again. I—I won't be bothering anyone again. Click.

He drove recklessly. The radio showed a green 1:41 AM. The roads were the quietest Dee had ever seen them, no one waiting at intersections, no one honking at slow-moving pedestrians. He ran three red lights with no consequences, considering this a matter beyond traffic laws.

Roman? Roman, please. When you get this message, call me back. We'll talk about this. Please.

Here it was. The street with too many cars parked on the road. The town house with one car in the drive, the car with two flat tires and no air conditioning that none of Roman's roommates ever bothered to fix.

I'm coming over, okay? I'm coming over right now and we'll talk about this. I'll help you through this. Where are my keys—Click.

He tore the keys from the ignition and leaped out, slamming the door shut and running for the porch, the grass damp and poking under his bare feet. The window glowed through the curtains, so someone was up—and the other tenants weren't home, judging by the singular (broken) car in the driveway.

Knock-knock-knock-knock-knock.

“Roman, let me in,” Dee pleaded. “Come on! Please!”

Knock-knock-knock-kn—

Then the door was open, and Roman was there, and he was alive and here and Dee couldn't hold himself back and wrapped him in a hug, needing to confirm his solidity. Roman froze, then gently detached himself.

“You haven't taken anything, have you?” Dee asked frantically. “No drugs or poisons or anything?”

“What?” Roman sounded confused. Dee looked him up and down for signs of harm—sweatpants, t-shirt (for the first time, he noticed light, uneven scars on his forearms), messy hair. Tear tracks down his cheeks from red-rimmed eyes. “Why are you here?”

“You wouldn't answer when I called!”

Roman shrugged, his feigned nonchalance entirely transparent. “Sorry, my phone died. That doesn't mean you had to drive here at—” he checked an unseen clock— “almost two in the morning.”

All of the emotions that Dee had been keeping inside by sheer will burst out. The mind-numbing fear when he'd received the voicemail, the deep pits of dread in his stomach when Roman wouldn't pick up, the panic as the car wouldn't start and he was certain that Roman Gutierrez would be dead by the time he arrived—and he couldn't stop seeing his lifeless body, blood pooling around his wrists or foam leaking from his mouth or—or—

“I thought you were going to kill yourself!” he yelled, tears spilling out onto his own hideous face. Roman's face grew stony, but a tear rolled down his perfect face as well.

“Why would it matter to you if I did?” he said bitterly.

“Because I love you, you idiot!”

The shout echoed through the neighborhood, and Dee clamped his mouth shut. Never yell at or insult someone you believe is suicidal, one webpage had said. Oops.

Roman let out a jarring bark of laughter. “No, you don't,” he corrected. “You think you do. But you don't. No one ever does.”

“Okay, maybe I don't. But I want to!” The truth was was spilling out uncomfortably, but Dee couldn't stop. “I was planning to ask you out as soon as the case was closed! I—I feel good around you. Like I could mess up and not be embarrassed. Like I could say anything and know you would still care about me! I feel . . . happy.” And he knew it was true, even without music of his own to prove it.

Silence. Too long of a silence. Dee looked away, pretending to be enthralled with the tinkling wind chimes hanging on the neighbor's porch.

“I know,” Roman choked out eventually. Dee turned his eyes back on him, saw the deluge of tears brimming in the man's eyes. “I know. But—I was. . . .”

Dee nodded. He didn't know what Roman was trying to say, but understood somehow.

Roman cleared his throat. “I called you because I just found out I'm getting evicted. Remus was the only person who offered me a place to stay.”

“That would be awkward,” Dee tried. He got a small, sad smile in return.

“Yes. Probably shouldn't get a restraining order against the one person who's giving me a home.”

“Wait—you're actually accepting?”

“It's my only option.”

“Um, no, it isn't.” Dee shuffled his feet on the rough pavement. Now he really wished he'd taken time for shoes, or a jacket, or something. “Heck, I've got an apartment. I'd love to split rent with someone.”

A spark of hope glinted in Roman's eyes, then disappeared, as if he was too scared to let it stay. Dee continued, his teeth chattering.

“Besides, I'm not dropping this case, hon. We're in the final stages. It's going to be approved. And,” he said, quieter, softer, “I don't know—and I never have to know—what Remus did to you. But it's okay to get away from him. Forgiveness doesn't mean you have to put yourself back into a toxic situation.”

A moment of bated breath. Dee counted the fourteen freckles (to make sure that they were all there) and stared into Roman's eyes, the grey-brown irises disbelieving, and brimming with tears, and so so tired.

Finally, suddenly, Roman's face crumpled. “I—I can't say th-that I wasn't—that I didn't think—that I wasn't planning—” he sobbed.

Dee didn't know what he'd said that had broken the dam, or even if it had been something he'd said, but it didn't matter. Roman fell into his arms as soon as they were open, burying his face into Dee's shoulders.

“I—I'm sorry,” Roman gasped, his voice muffled. “I'm sorry I'm so b-broken.”

Dee didn't know how to respond. He let his fingers comb through Roman's hair, mumbling something about how it was going to be okay. He wanted to say that he himself had thought the same thing many times. Wanted to tell Roman that he wasn't broken, he was just hurt, and healing took time. Wanted to say that he would hunt down and threaten whoever had hurt Roman so if they even so much as thought about him.

But he didn't say any of those things. Instead, Dee just held Roman Gutierrez as he shook, and knew that this was just the beginning of a long challenge. But by Jove, would he do anything for the man crying in his arms.

-

“Come on, Dee. We'll miss the opening of the gates!”

Dee straightened the bowler hat and smiled at his reflection. Roman had assured him that Steampunk was perfectly acceptable at a Renaissance Festival, so he'd thrown some gears on a dapper suit and bought a patched leather half-mask, matching the leather of his gloves. He flashed a tentative smile at himself, adjusted his frilly collar, then left the bedroom.

The stowaway bed was pulled out of the couch, blankets curled up on it, as well as a stuffed lion. They'd been 'officially' together for months, but Roman wasn't comfortable sharing a bed (something that made Dee curse Roman's abusive boyfriend from the past).

Dee caught sight of his boyfriend by the front door and felt the oxygen leave his lungs. “Wow, Moondrop. Now I know why you wouldn't let me see it.”

Roman reddened slightly. His princely uniform was a silky white, ornamented with golden accents and a red sash stretching from his right shoulder to his left hip. A sheath at the other hip held a sword Dee knew to be wooden. White pants tucked into tall black boots; shimmering gold make-up applied around his eyes brought out specks of gold in his irises that Dee had never noticed before. The stormy sea that he had always found himself comparing those eyes to now had rays of sun peeking out through the clouds.

A small smile played at Romans lips while he waited for Dee to say something, which made him realize that he had been staring for a little too long.

“Wow,” Dee said again. He leaned closer, swept Roman's dark hair from his forehead. “You look simply breathtaking. Are you sure you don't need a crown?” he added.

Roman laughed. “A prince never wears his crown while on an adventure.”

Dee placed a hand on the back of Roman's head, then leaned in for a kiss. It was quick and light and full of love, and for a moment , he thought he heard some barely-audible violin strains. It had been happening on occasion as of late. He hoped it meant that Roman was happy.

“Let's go, my prince.”

-

The April morning was crisp as they roamed the festival. Roman bounded ahead, his excitement akin to a small child's, his smile threatening to split his cheeks. Sometimes, kids pulled on his sleeve and he suddenly became Prince Roman, holding his head higher and telling stories about faraway lands with dragons and slumbering forests and doves made of pure sunlight. Not for the first time, Dee marveled at his imagination. He caught whispers of maybe-Roman's-music through the dozens of overwhelming tunes that floated in the air. For perhaps the first time, Dee was glad he didn't have a song of his own. If he did, it would only be adding to the cacophony.

They purchased turkey legs and relaxed to watch some shows—a fire-eater named Dr. Dumpe, an act called Bob The Incredible Juggler, a high-school choir. Under the acts was that music.

Under everything there was music, of course. He was good at ignoring it, but this certain music felt important. And it was always in his ear. Always near Roman.

The song was floating and brash, sad and enthusiastic, pondering and rushed. Strains of strings were echoed by brass instruments, an ensemble of discordants coming together to create beauty. Sometimes, when Roman was entertaining a particularly awestruck bystander, an electric guitar or drumbeat would join the mass, somehow accenting the best parts of the tune. It really was the most wonderful sound Dee had ever heard.

Roman Gutierrez was truly happy. Dee couldn't help the joy that rose in his chest.

-

“Dee? Are you all right?”

Dee opened the door to his bedroom. He'd shut it as soon as he'd gotten home, needing to be by himself and knowing that Roman liked to be alone right after a rehearsal. Roman stood outside, his hair mussed with sleep.

“How'd rehearsal go?” Dee asked instead. Roman shrugged.

“Fine. I had to call for my line three times.”

“And what good things happened?”

“Um. . . .” Roman chewed his lip. “I made someone laugh. But what's up with you?”

“Nothing's wrong,” Dee lied. “I'm fine.”

Roman sighed. “You never shut your door. What's wrong?”

He really didn't want to tell his boyfriend the problem. He was afraid Roman would laugh, or brush him off like Patton always did, comforting him in the moment but making him feel worse in the future. “I, uh. I just get fed up with my face sometimes.”

Roman nodded slowly. “That's a start. What happened to make you feel bad now?”

“Nothing,” Dee said. “I just—” and it was all going to come out, he could feel it— “Sometimes I think maybe I would be happy if I looked normal! Maybe—maybe I could have a—” He cut himself off. There was no way that was going to get out of his head.

“A what?”

“Nothing,” Dee muttered. “You can go back to bed.” He hated that he did this, he always did this, pushing people away when he needed them the most, not wanting to bother them with his problems. Roman, however, didn't move. His face was shadowed with stubbornness.

“Dee, you're here for me on my bad days,” Roman said softly. “Let me be here for you on yours.”

“Maybe I could have a . . . a family.” Dee cringed, waiting for Roman to say that he did have one, and it was him. That wasn't what he meant, though. He wanted parents and banter between siblings and a loving home to come to whenever he needed it.

Then Roman's arms were around him, and Dee was crying into his shoulder, the tears that he'd dried before opening the door coming back tenfold; his face pressed into the Lion King themed t-shirt. Roman's hands rubbed small circles on his back.

“I love you,” Roman whispered. “I love you. And I'm going to help you.”

“I love you.”

-

“I hear music.”

There were no nerves, like there had been with Patton Esperanza. He smiled wide across the table at Roman, who had frozen, a forkful of syrupy pancakes halfway to his mouth. Roman had made breakfast—Dee had woken to the smell, padded into the kitchen, smiled when he heard that gorgeous music he could now associate with his boyfriend.

“Like, right now?”

“Well, not right now,” Dee replied. Roman's music had dwindled into silence over breakfast. It was okay. Roman was different from anyone else Dee had known. His music was rare, took much more to play. “But each person has a tune that plays when they have strong feelings of joy or pleasure, or the like.”

“And you . . . hear this—this music?”

“Yes.” He didn't understand why Roman seemed so concerned. Now he had doubts—would his boyfriend truly accept him? Or was his confession just the beginning of another painful break-up?

No. He loved Roman. It wouldn't end like this. Dee pushed back his chair and walked purposefully into the living room. The keyboard wasn't nearly as dusty as he'd expected, he noticed as he sat before it. The scrapes of a chair pushing back and soft footfalls on carpet alerted him to Roman's presence behind him.

He hadn't heard Patton Esperanza's song in years, but it was still the first thing that came to mind. He let it flow out, a cheery, plunking tune that sounded flat, somehow. It didn't hurt to play, as he had suspected it would. It felt . . . boring, like a movie he'd seen one too many times. He cut it off early, looked up at Roman, saw his jaw still hanging open. Probably shocked at just how crazy he was. He cringed inwardly, but looked away.

Silence.

Then Roman spoke, his voice subdued.

“I don't have one.” It wasn't a question. It was a sad statement.

Dee hadn't heard much of his boyfriend's song, but what he knew he'd been learning, recording pieces of it on a piano app and humming along.

He didn't close his eyes. He didn't try to relax. He fumbled through the complex tune, some patches rougher than others, but he heard it come through, and in his head he knew where the trumpets fell, where the flute came in. He stopped as he ran out of material, not sure where the notes were to continue.

“Everyone has a song—except me,” he confessed, feeling a pang of sadness. Every time he thought he was over not having music, it hit him afresh. “Yours is so interwoven and beautiful and loud and you. I tried, but I can't do it justice.”

Again, silence. Dee hadn't turned around, and he was afraid Roman had left during the rough song. Then, soft hands on his shoulders gently urged him to a standing position, then pulled him around the chair. Fourteen freckles met his gaze, then grey-brown eyes flecked with gold and filling with tears. For a moment that wasn't near long enough, their lips touched. Dee blinked, not expecting the display of affection, and before he could comprehend what was happening, music was coming from the keyboard.

Roman had sat. The tune his fingers picked out was mysterious, light, curious. Then the tone suddenly changed—still mysterious, still curious, but any light-heartedness had disappeared, replaced with a dark, intricate, compelling quality. Dee found himself lost in the music, the song he'd never heard before, yet was inexplicably familiar. Then it stopped; Dee found himself blinking back tears as he was forcibly jerked to the present.

Roman's eyes sparkled as he looked up at Dee. “I hear music, too,” he whispered. “And that was yours.”

-

[keeroo92]

Beach HC’s

A quick dose of beachy headcanons for your enjoyement :)

Dante

The beach? He’s so in! He’ll grab his trunks and a pair of sunglasses and be ready to leave in five minutes flat. He cracks a few jokes about seeing you in a swimsuit but you can tell from the sparkle in his eye he’s genuinely excited.

He takes full advantage of the opportunity to rub tanning lotion over your skin. His fingers skim over you, paying special attention to your shoulders and legs. You can’t help but blush as he rubs up your thighs, winking at you and humming suggestively. You promise yourself you’ll pay him back later.

Surfing? Hell yes! He’ll rent a pair of boards and show you the ropes, coaching you until you ride your very first wave. After that, it becomes a race to see which of you gets to the wave first. He lets you win a few rounds, keeping a close eye on you just in case.

Watching him surf is a thing of beauty – his hair blows out behind him and his smirking whoops make you laugh. After a while he starts doing stunts, showing off with glee and shooting a silly face your way during the more complicated moves.

He challenges you to a sandcastle contest once you start to tire, running to the surf shop to get some buckets and shovels. You glance at him as you work on your own creation to see a look of total focus on his face, his hands as careful as they are on your body as he builds a miniature motorcycle, complete with a gas cap. You concede to him and he claims his prize – your lips.

His stubble tickles your chin and sandy fingers pull you closer. You can smell the sea water on his skin and feel the strength of his body as he pulls you down onto the blanket. Even though he doesn’t do anything explicit, you’re still a panting mess by the time he pulls away with a roguish gleam in his eyes. He gets no complaints from you as he packs up, smacking your ass on the way to the car; a promise of how he’ll fully claim his prize when you get home.

Vergil

He’s not keen on the idea until you mention you’ll wear nothing more than is absolutely necessary. At that, his eyes light up with curiosity and he sets aside his book and leads you to the car.

His hand rests on your knee through the whole drive, a subtle twist of his lips the only outward sign of his interest. You can’t resist teasing him and reach out to muss his hair, laughing as he growls at you in annoyance. You tell him it’ll get messy on the beach anyway and he sulks, knowing you’re right but still grumpy.

You duck into a changing booth and don your beach clothing. The twitch of his hands and the bob of his Adam’s apple are all the signal you need to know he’s enjoying the view when you rejoin him. He’s in a pair of board shorts that match his eyes and a light t-shirt and you whistle at him approvingly.

He’s not one to lounge in the sunlight idly and takes you on a leisurely stroll down the shore, looking for shells. You find a particularly shiny one and present it to him, much to his restrained delight. To anyone else, he may seem bored by the trinket, but you spot the sparkle in his icy gaze and know he’ll treasure it.

The tide pools are his favorite part. He can barely look away from the assorted crabs and barnacles, poking an anemone after some prodding. He chuckles at its instinctive retreat and brings your hand to join him, sharing the strange texture. He presses a kiss to your forehead as you pull away and you bring his knuckles to your lips in reply.

Somewhere in the rocks, he finds a discarded hermit crab shell and he promises to make it into a necklace for you. It warms your heart to know he cares enough to create something just for you and you lean into his shoulder, wrapping your arms around him in a hug. The two of you spend the rest of the day side by side, roaming the beach until the sun sets.

V

He’s curious – he’s never been to the beach before and smiles gently at the idea, leaving whatever task previously held his attention behind. You make sure to slather him in sunblock before you even leave the house, knowing how easily he burns. The markings on his skin wiggle at your touch, the same way they do whenever he particularly enjoys contact.

Soon enough you step onto the sand and watch his reaction. He wiggles his toes in the warm granules, eyes wide and wondrous as he stares at the ocean. He comments that it’s much bigger than he imagined and pictures simply don’t compare. You take his hand and lead him forward, giggling at his childlike awe.

It was already late in the day when you arrived and you quickly claim a firepit, arranging some choice driftwood as seats as he scavenges material to burn. He settles in between your legs and watches the sun set over the waves, humming his pleasure as you play with his hair. He’ll kiss the inside of your knees to show his appreciation.

He starts the fire as the last few rays of light vanish and chuckles as you pull a bag of marshmallows from your oversized beach bag. You show him your well-practiced technique of continuously rotating the sugary treat, but no matter how hard he tries he can’t seem to keep it from catching fire. Luckily, he likes the crunch of the charred sugar. Soon enough, he has his own method of lighting them and blowing out the flames before it’s too late.

You take turns feeding each other toasted marshmallows, but watching his lips close over the morsel is too much. He teases you mercilessly, moaning around the sweet flavor and deliberately licking the sensitive tips of your fingers until you can’t resist and lean in for a sugary kiss.

He points out his favorite constellations in the star-strewn sky and you pick a cluster and name it after his favorite poem. No matter how many times he tells you its real name, you refuse to call it anything else until he surrenders to your will. He covers your shoulders in a constellation of his own design, and soon enough you’re too busy gasping beneath the lanky poet to care about the stars.

Nero

You don’t warn him, instead pretending you’re taking him out to eat. He barely pays attention as you drive to the shoreline of Fortuna, only catching on once you take the last turn into the parking lot. His stomach rumbles and you smirk, handing him one of the sandwiches you brought for this exact reason. You wolf down your own serving almost as quickly as he devours his own and chuckle at the crumbs on his shirt. He blushes and looks down as you brush them away.

Once his hunger is satiated, you lead him to the surf shop to rent two pairs of snorkels and fins, grinning at the look of confused surrender on his face. As always, once he’s fed he’ll go along with whatever you have in mind.

You wade into the shallows after a quick change and dive in right beside him, paddling out to what looks like an interesting area. The water is so clear you can see the rocks below and you point out a school of fish to him. His gasp of enjoyment echoed up the snorkel and he took the lead, his clever eyes picking out every creature and pretty shell with ease.

His eyes light up when he spots a turtle and you can’t help but laugh. He takes your hand and drags you after it, following with a respectful amount of distance. It traces a meandering path for an hour before it finally notices its audience, darting away to hide faster than the pair of you can follow.

Another few hours pass and you return to the beach, returning the rentals just as the shop starts closing up. You lead Nero to a secluded section of sand and together, you build a hideaway from the driftwood. He digs a shallow pit to give you more room and you wiggle your way inside with a laugh.

You can barely see his blush as he joins you, forced to hold you extra close in the small space. It gives you the perfect chance to tease him, running your hands across his muscles until his flush reaches his pecs. Your bodies work together to displace even more sand, deepening your fort in a symphony of subdued moans.

[marcdjr00]

Total Drama Big Brother - Episode 1

@nomances, @realityfanatic, @jackieibara, @ravenspacemaker, @chaengscutie, @bigbrother-trash, @oviskobir, @ashleaevans, @thegabisback18, @bb-survivor-tar, @whats-bb21, @big-brother-who, @cirie-sandra-michaela, @skyhawkstragedy, @justiceforjuliechen, @bathroom-sand, @ratkingscottie, @kemiifakunle, @paymeincashnottears, @stdavinityslonglostdaughta, & @brentrobinson

As 22 contestants arrive at Camp Big Brother, for a chance to win $100,000 they are given no time to gather opinions on one another as they are immediately separated into teams by the host Chris McLean. Half are known as the Hilton Heads, an iconic moment during Scottie’s second eviction speech during BB20. Meanwhile, the remaining half are known as the Grandpa Lous, Kaitlyn’s deceased grandfather who takes the form of random birds looking down on her. Before they even have a chance to gather their thoughts on their fellow teammates, Chris instructs them to get into their swimsuits and meet at the top of the highest cliff to begin the first challenge.

There are gasps as the challenge is explained to the contestants. This is NOT the summer they signed up for. However, Chris explains to them how the contracts they signed are legally binding and forcing them to compete in this competition. Tensions run high as the competition really begins.

For the first section of the challenge, tensions run high as some of the campers refuse to jump. Specifically @brentrobinson, @justiceforjuliechen, & @kemiifakunle, despite the threats of being thrown off the cliff by force allowing the Grandpa Lous to earn the wagons for part 2 of the competition.

Fights break out amongst the members of the Hilton Heads...

@kemiifakunle, @brentrobinson, & @justiceforjuliechen all must defend themselves for their irrational reasons to not to jump 1,000 feet into shark-infested waters, with even @brentrobinson & @kemiifakunle forming a bitter rivalry amongst themselves due to indifference in ideals.

But unlike her fellow team liabilities, @kemiifakunle manages to create some positive bonds with two of her fellow teammates @thegabisback18 & @ratkingscottie to potentially earn herself safety in case her team loses.

However, it is not necessary, because even though they had a much more difficult time dragging their crates across the beach, it is their ingenuity that earns them immunity for the challenge, sending the Grandpa Lous to the elimination ceremony.

Tensions once again run high but this time for the Granpa Lous for many of the contestants, but it appears @bathroom-sand & @stdavinityslonglostdaughta are the ones with the most beef on the team.

Back at their cabin, while the rest of the team celebrates their mind-boggling victory, @thegabisback18 & @jackieibara both have major meltdowns realizing the crazy and messed up torture they may have to endure in order to win the $100,000.

That doesn’t seem to stop them from forming the first alliance in the game consisting of 6 of the 11 members on their team. @bigbrother-trash has no problem playing a strong social game making sure to form an alliance with 2 more members of the Hilton Heads.

While the Hilton Heads celebrate, the Grandpa Lous have a harder time adjusting to camp as it’s still only day 1 and they already have to vote someone off by the end of the night. @bb-survivor-tar and @paymeincashnottears both get into a fight, blaming each other for their loss although, they both give up quickly recognizing if the others see them fighting it could decrease their chances of winning.

Meanwhile, @realityfanatic & @ashleaevans both have major meltdowns because they both feel as if they are at risk of being sent home. A choice that could cost them if they don’t decide to make any connections within the competition. But others may appear to target other members on the team.

@big-brother-who (just realizing that the second b is capitalized and it will bother me forever but oh well) targets me because she recognizes how much of a threat I am to her game.

@bb-survivor-tar targets @bathroom-sand because she hasn’t made it into any of bathroom-sand’s bbsims and they’re bitter so the only way they know how to get payback is to get her out of the game.

@paymeincashnottears targets @ashleaevans because after ashleaevans breakdown earlier, she believes that he may be a liability to the future of the Grandpa Lous and too emotional to provide the team any help.

@stdavinityslonglostdaughta targets @cirie-sandra-michaela because she hasn’t seen him do much in the competition so far and doesn’t believe Total Drama Big Brother is a great place to play an under the radar game.

and lastly, @cirie-sandra-michaela targets @paymeincashnottears because after her fight with @bb-survivor-tar, cirie-sandra-michaela believes that she may be too easy to place the blame on others rather than actually think of the game...

As the campfire ceremony begins the Grandpa Lous sit in awkward tension as they wait for the ceremony begins, Chris McLean wastes no time after his mini-speech before he quickly passes out the first 7 marshmallows.

@ashleaevans, @big-brother-who, @cirie-sandra-michaela,& @paymeincashnottears are the last 4. Only 3 can receive marshmallows. Who will be voted off and lose their chance at $100,000?

@big-brother-who & @paymeincashnottears sigh in relief as they have earned safety for this episode. But @ashleaevans & @cirie-sandra-michaela are both at risk of being sent packing on the Boat of Losers with no chance to return to the competition...

@cirie-sandra-michaela catches the tenth and final marshmallow and almost jumps up in excitement as he will not be going home this challenge but before he can get too excited Chris McLean introduces a new twist to the competition. Before the camper voted off boards the Boat of Losers, they will all see who voted for who during the private voting system they thought would be the safest thing about this competition.

@ashleaevans leaves in a weird but too familiar mix of tears and anger as he walks down the dock alone. The other campers too afraid to follow after that insane plot twist to the game as they all watch ashleaevans float away on the cheap boat production purchased to transport the campers to wherever they go after elimination....Until next time on...TOTAL! DRAMA! BIG BROTHER!

[codevassie]

CV: An extension of my Camp Half-Blood AU from a couple weeks ago for @monthlyklance because this AU has taken over my life. I'm so excited that I got this done today and managed to get a bunch of schoolwork done too. I feel powerful! Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Also, this takes place after Sea of Monsters.

It was toward the end of summer and things at camp were already starting to wind down. Many campers had already left, while the rest were packing and saying their goodbyes. A lot of campers were making last-minute decisions, contemplating if they even wanted to go home, or if it was a good idea.

Keith didn’t have that luxury. He didn’t have any family to go home to. For the first time out of all his summers he’d been at camp, though, a family to go home to wasn’t what was on his mind. It was the other kids who were leaving. It was all the faces that he wouldn’t see for the year, and the ones he might not see again. Some kids would be going to college, too old to return. Some wouldn’t make it back. Leaving camp was always a risk for demigods.

Besides, Keith was a bit done thinking about family for the time being. There were plenty of summers where he would look up at Half-Blood Hill and see the world beyond, imagine a rundown apartment in Texas or a weather-beaten shack in the desert. He would think about his dad and wish with all his being he were still alive.

Then, he would think of his mom. He would imagine the feeling of having a family again when he was claimed. He’d have brothers and sisters. Maybe a cabin where he could feel like he belonged. Ever since he was claimed, though, he’d decide not to dwell on the family thing all that much. He got some brothers and sisters, and that was great. He didn’t get a cabin, but that didn’t bother him too much.

For some reason, though, finally being claimed just didn’t make Keith as happy as he’d thought.

Nemesis still hadn’t wanted him for eight years. And that still ate at him.

So, Keith didn’t think about it a lot. Instead, he watched as campers said their goodbyes, as the Hermes cabin became more of a mess than usual, as kids tried to find their things and pack them away. Most year-rounders stayed out of the cabins, and Keith, once awaking to the commotion, decided to do the same. Still in his pajamas, he got through it all to the door, then walked to the pavilion.

The pavilion was a mess too. Campers ate their last camp meals of the year, crowding the Hermes table to the rim. How was it possible that so many kids were here when the cabin itself was so packed?

Keith decided that he would sit at that table over his dead body, so he grabbed a granola bar from one of the dryads and left the mess hall, deciding to wander camp instead. It was a cloudy day, and it would most likely rain. The border, however, would keep it out now that it was healthy and fixed. Looking down at his necklace, Keith thumbed at the tiny bead with a golden fleece.

He continued on his way, chewing his granola and chuckling at kids who ran from cabin to cabin, armory to arts and crafts, wherever they may have left something. For a second, he noticed Allura bolt out of the Athena cabin lugging a whip and a broadsword. A pang went through Keith’s chest as he realized she would be leaving. He wouldn’t see her for almost a year.

It was funny. Keith was horrible with making friends, but two years ago, when she had first arrived in tow of Coran, he’d been put in charge of showing her around. Since then, they’d team up often in camp activities when Shiro, or, more recently, Romelle, weren’t available.

“Allura!” he called, and she turned around suddenly, hair poofing up in its disarray. She looked tense and hurried, but she relaxed once she saw who it was that was calling her.

“Keith,” she greeted. “How are you?”

“Alright,” he nodded. “Are you heading home soon?”

“Oh, not until the day after tomorrow, actually,” she said.

“Nice,” Keith replied. “Then I don’t have to say goodbye just yet.”

“No, no,” Allura said, shaking her head. “Though perhaps for now. I am in a hurry.”

“Oh,” Keith said, then felt guilty. She was obviously in a rush. “Sorry about that.”

“Not at all,” she said, tossing her whip over her shoulder. “I’ll definitely see you before I leave, though, okay?”

“Yeah,” Keith nodded, then watched as she waved and went on her way. Keith turned and continued on his own, wandering toward the dock now.

Once he got there, he took off his shoes and day-old socks and dangled his feet into the water. It felt nice, on this warm day. The temperature was regulated again because of the fleece. Keith had always been a little hot-blooded though.

“Hey, dude!” a sudden voice made him jump. Whipping around, Keith knew it couldn’t have been anyone else.

“Gods damn it, Lance!” he exclaimed, swatting at the other boy’s leg where he stood next to him on the dock. For a brief second, he contemplated knocking Lance into the water. Lance sat down, however, and ruined his chances.

“Did you just say ‘gods damn it’?” Lance asked, taking off his flip-flops so he could put his feet in the water too. “Lame.”

“You’re right. There’s only one god in charge of damning you to hell. I’m appealing to all the wrong people.”

At this, Lance kicked water at him, pouting severely. “That’s so mean!”

“You’re lucky the Big Three made that pact. I could be appealing to a Hades kid right now,” Keith teased, kicking water back, and Lance, much to his delight, laughed.

“I can’t believe Hades is the only one right now without a kid here,” he said, shaking his head. Keith shrugged.

“I guess that thing with the fleece was pretty wild,” he said, and they left it at that. With the looming threat of war now on the horizon, it wasn’t a topic that a lot of people liked to dwell on at camp.

Keith looked out toward where the sky met the sea, perhaps another reminder of Zeus’ and Poseidon's domains. He sighed, looking away and to the trees along one of the beaches instead. He imagined their branches bare in a few months, camp all but deserted. He thought of lonely campfires among the hand full of other campers who would stay, capture the flag without the challenge, the dining pavilion without Lance's laugh-

Keith sucked in a breath and coughed. Lance looked over at him, concerned, but Keith sat up and pretended like it hadn't happened. Or that he hadn't been thinking what he'd been thinking.

“So,” he spoke up, trying to redirect. “Are you all packed?”

“Me?” Lance asked, like he found the notion humorous. Keith rolled his eyes. How could he have thought any different? “Nah. I'm staying a little longer.”

“Longer?” Keith asked, sitting up straight. “How much longer?”

Lance toed the water, making swirls and patterns and humming in contemplation. Keith noticed his own breath stop, held in his lungs in anticipation.

A part of him wanted Lance to stay. He hated saying goodbye to his friends at the end of summer, and he was going to miss Lance so much more than he'd ever admit to anyone. Because… they might have bickered, and maybe they didn't “hang out”, but they were friends, right?

...right?

Then, there was the part of him that feared if Lance stayed. Because Lance had a family of his own to go back to. He could pull off a normal life. Keith would never want him to stick back when Lance could have that. Or experience the lonely months of camp, training, trying to learn things from SAT practice books if you planned on going to college after this all. Squinting and brain hurting as you tried to learn the concepts by yourself.

They had study groups during the school year at camp, and Keith wasn't completely alone. He had Shiro. But he couldn't even imagine it all with Lance.

“Just a few days,” Lance said, shaking Keith out of his thoughts. Keith looked back. “I got permission to stay because my sister is coming to visit.”

“Really? You mean Veronica?” Keith asked, and Lance nodded, looking excited.

“She's always off with the hunters, never in the same place for long or keeping track of time. I mean, they're immortal,” Lance said. “It'll be good to see her.”

“Definitely,” Keith agreed. He felt happy for Lance and, looking back at the horizon, he forgot about all the other stuff. For a moment, he forgot about the gods and the war and just focused on the beauty of it all.

“Which brings me to my question,” Lance said, and Keith looked back.

“A question?” Keith asked. Lance, who also looked at the horizon, nodded his head, looking determined. It was cute.

Damn it. Stop that, Keith.

“She's actually coming for our birthday,” he said, and Keith blinked. “I've asked a couple other people to stay for a few days, which won't be a problem because the cleaning harpies won't start chowing down campers for another week-”

“That's a myth,” Keith interrupted, ignoring the irony of the statement, and Lance ignoring him.

“Because I'm having a little get together for it. It's not much. I really just wanted to see everyone before we part for the year and all, but Pidge said they would break into the kitchen and Hunk is gonna make a cake. I'm thinking of using the Big House's old-ass computer to print out a picture of a pegasus and we can pin the tail with bow and arrow or something,” Lance shrugged, swinging his legs more in the water.

“That sounds fun,” Keith commented, imagining it. He had seen Lance in archery before and he was really good. He'd definitely win that contest.

“Yeah, it does,” Lance said, looking determinedly down at his feet. “And I was wondering if you would want to come.”

And, here’s the thing. Keith knew he heard it. He heard every word. He heard them all in the correct order. He knew what Lance was asking.

But it didn’t make sense.

“What?” he asked, head turning to watch Lance full-on. Lance scratched the back of his neck, looking down at the water.

“You don’t have to,” he said.

Keith’s eyes widened. “No! No, yeah! I’d like to come,” he said, and he was almost out of breath despite the complete lack of effort a couple of words cost him. But the situation was still a little unreal to him, and Keith had no idea what he was agreeing to. He’d never been invited to anything.

Much less by Lance.

They had been at camp for almost entirely the same amount of time. Because of that, Keith felt like he knew Lance better than most. But better than most still didn’t mean jack shit coming from Keith. The closest people to him were Shiro, Allura, and maybe Pidge. He’d gotten to know Matt a bit more lately because of Shiro too.

But it was proximity that Keith “knew” most people at camp. He knew that girl’s name because she’d been here for years. He knew that guy had two younger brothers at home because it was all he talked about at dinners. He knew Lance because that was just the way it was.

Other than the fact that they’d been scurrying around camp since the same summer, the same amount of beads on their necklaces, but they shared a cabin, and participated in many of the same activities because of it. They were matched up in sparring a lot because of their similar age and, of course, there had been that whole ‘rivalry’ thing for a while back there.

And now. Now, Keith could never keep his eyes of Lance. He wasn’t sure when it had begun, but, some time in the past few years, Keith had started to notice just how good Lance was at archery, how much he enjoyed sparring against him or teaming up with him during capture the flag. He noticed when his hair got all windswept after pegasus riding, or how perfectly his eyes reflected off the water during canoe racing.

Keith knew Lance. Maybe a lot more than other people at camp. But that didn’t mean a thing when it came to Lance knowing him.

Keith wondered again if they were friends. Probably not, but… going to Lance’s birthday… that could make them friends, right?

“I don’t think I have anything to give you,” Keith realized, then glared down at his hand on the dock. Maybe he could find something at the camp store. Deodorant? No. Maybe he could make something at the arts and crafts building. Keith was terrible at that stuff though…

But Lance was shaking his head. “Don’t get me anything. Just come and have a good time. Like I said, it’s more to get with friends that celebrate my birthday.”

“Okay…” Keith reluctantly agreed, still not sure of the proper etiquette for something like this. He’d have to ask Shiro. “So, when is it?”

“Tomorrow around 2 at the amphitheatre,” Lance said, lifting his feet out of the water and putting his flip flops back on. Keith looked up, suddenly afraid he had said something wrong. “I got to go,” Lance explained, getting to his feet. “Just because I don’t need to pack, doesn’t mean I shouldn’t clean. I’m not giving my sister any ammo for teasing. She already has enough.”

“Oh,” Keith said, nodding as he averted his gaze again. He felt silly, thinking that. “Have fun.”

Lance laughed at that. “I’ll certainly try,” he said. “I guess I’ll see you. Probably before the party since we share a cabin, plus, the dining pavilion isn’t going to have a lot of people tonight and-” Lance cut himself off. “Erm, yeah. So, see yah.”

Then, he scrambled off, Keith staring incredulously after. He shook his head and chuckled a bit.

“Alright,” he said, moreso speaking to himself. “See you then.”

-/-

It was 2 o’clock. Keith had gotten a pack of candy from the Stoll brothers’ illegal trade in the Hermes cabin, which he had no idea if Lance would even like or not, but oh well. Now he was in the amphitheatre where a handful of others had already gathered. Weird, because Keith was literally right on time.

It looked like a lot of them had arrived earlier to help set up though. Keith felt bad that he hadn’t thought of doing that, but then remembered his complete lack of people skills and decided there probably wouldn’t have been much he could do anyway.

“Keith! Hello!” a familiar voice greeted, and Keith turned to see Allura walking his way. Ah, so that was why she was waiting to go home.

“Hey, Allura,” he said, waving with the hand where he clutched the bag of candy. When he realized, he lowered it, face turning just a bit pink. Allura had that twinkle in her eye now. Great.

“You’ve come for Lance’s birthday, I see,” she remarked, having mercy on the lame gift he had brought, and Keith nodded. She smiled. “Alright, well, would you mind coming to help with some of the blankets?”

“Blankets?” he asked, now taking a better look around. Sure enough, there was a red wagon full of blankets off to the side. “Why blankets?”

“We decided sitting on the logs by an unlit fire was boring, so we brought blankets to lay out on the steps. It’s a lot more comfortable, I think,” she said, walking toward the wagon. Keith followed, nodding along to the logic, then helped set them out.

As they were doing that, he looked around to see who else had arrived. Pidge and Hunk, true to Lance’s word, had handled food. There were chips and sodas, apparently from the kitchen and not the Stoll brothers, as Pidge was a dryad and knew the ins and outs of the Big House’s kitchen. Then, there was a modest, but delicious-looking cake, courtesy of Hunk. The two were currently over there setting the goods out on a stone table, identical to those in the pavilion, that had somehow magically appeared.

Matt and Shiro, not too far away from where Allura and him were putting out the blankets, were setting up some sort of sound system, which, to be honest, looked ancient. Keith was no expert on technology, not having left the camp, which was overall devoid of most tech, since he was six, but he could tell the old radio was beyond any of their times. He could also tell by the look on Matt’s face. How a dryad, who probably hadn’t left camp for much longer than Keith had, knew anything about technology himself, though, was beyond Keith.

Then, there were the birthday twins themselves. Lance and Veronica were making a target with a pegasus brandishing its tail-less butt at them, attaching tails to an array of arrows for the game. They laughed together, Veronica hitting her brother in the arm for some stupid joke or another. The sight made Keith smile.

He remembered Veronica. It was hard not to, really, when she had been there for so long herself before joining the hunters of Artemis. The two McClain twins had arrived to camp at the same time, or so Keith was told, and had both been claimed on their first birthday at camp by Hermes. Keith remembered their claiming, and he remembered how inseparable the two had been for a while. Then, two years ago, Veronica had left.

Now, despite the short time she had been away, her immortality had already affected their difference in appearance so much. While they used to look almost identical, now Veronica, stopped just at the cusp of puberty, still looked like a kid, like Lance’s younger sister, instead of his twin. Lance, in comparison, looked like a teenager, jaw becoming more defined and shoulders broader. It was slightly jarring to see, the blatant change in the years like this. It made him sad, in a way, to see how far apart the twins had come.

But that feeling couldn’t stay for long when he noticed how happy the two looked to be together again, and how natural they fell back into their inseparable sibling dynamic. Keith watched as Lance made a quip, causing Veronica’s face to go red as she sputtered. She dished out what she got, though, and, soon, Lance’s face was changing the same. Keith laughed to himself, then focused on straightening the next blanket.

-/-

It was a little odd, hanging out with other campers. Realizing this, Keith found it odd that he would think it odd. But he’d never done something like this before. Whenever he talked with other campers, it was at dinner, or at training or activities. Now, Keith realized how truly lame he was for never actually hanging out in all the years he’d attended camp.

But it was nice too. They all lounged about on the blankets, once they were set out. Hunk played on a DS he had smuggled into camp, Pidge squished in beside him and watching as he mashed buttons and swayed with the motion of his character on the screen. Pidge kept shouting advice and swears. It was funny to watch.

Next to them, Lance was going back and forth from watching the game and talking to his sister, sitting criss-cross beside him, and Romelle and Allura, laying on their bellies and giggling beside each other. Romelle, Keith noticed, practically had sparkles in her eyes as she watched Allura speak.

Then, there was him, Matt, and Shiro off to the side. Matt, looking a bit irked, was threatening to strangle the radio with plants he conjured, while Shiro, sitting back, leaning on his hands planted on the blanket behind him, was calmly talking him out of it. He, too, seemed to have a bit of sparklage going on. Keith, sitting awkwardly on his folded legs, simply watched them, pretending to be apart of their conversation.

Distracted with watching Shiro and Matt talk with one another, Matt making a couple saplings from the ground dance dangerously close to the radio system and Shiro raising an unamused (or trying to be unamused, at least) eyebrow at him, Keith didn’t notice someone approach until they had sat down beside him.

For a moment, Keith’s heart leaped into his throat, imagining Lance had come over for some reason or another. Keith would give him the candy, which he still held in his hand and couldn’t stop fidgeting with, and wish him happy birthday. Then, he noticed it was not, in fact, Lance.

It was, surprisingly, Romelle.

“Oh,” Keith said with a certain amount of surprise, but no disappointment. Sure, he had wished it was Lance, but he liked Romelle. She was nice. What he couldn’t figure out was: what was she doing with Keith when Allura was over there? “Hey,” he greeted.

“Is it alright if I sit over here for a while?” she asked, looking a lot… different, than he’d seen her just minutes before. She still smiled, and he could tell she was trying to look cheerful, but her shoulders were down and the sparkle had left her eyes.

“Yeah, of course,” he said, and she sent him a grateful smile.

“So, how are you?” Romelle asked, flattening her camp tee, and getting more comfortable on the blanket.

Keith shrugged. “Alright. You?”

“Oh, you know,” she shrugged, but it was obvious she didn’t want to talk about it. Keith could understand. So, instead, they talked about nothing in general, finding idle topics and elaborating their butts off about them. It was an uninteresting conversation, but, for once, Keith didn’t mind talking about the stupid things. As they carried on, he could tell it helped Romelle get her mind off whatever was bothering her.

However, stupid topics couldn’t ever hold Keith’s attention for long. As they were talking, he didn’t notice it, but he had started to look across their group, right at Lance.

“So, Lance,” Romelle commented, and Keith jumped. When he looked back over, she looked amused. “Did you get those for him?” she asked, nodding toward the pack of candy. For a moment, she seemed all-knowing - like Allura - but she didn’t look teasing. She looked curious. “You should go over and give it to him.”

Keith shook his head. “He’s busy.”

“Pssh,” Romelle rolled her eyes. “Of course he is. He’s surrounded by his friends.”

“Yeah, which means I’d be interrupting,” Keith said, but Romelle was already standing up. His eyes widened. “Romelle, what are you doing?” he asked, dread filling his voice, but she was already stepping away from him.

“Not all of us need to luck out today,” she said, then she was gone. Keith watched as she approached Lance and sat down with that group again. He also noticed that, the more she had drawn closer, the more she had avoided Allura’s eye.

Oh.

Gods, poor Romelle.

Not all of us need to luck out today.

But then, Keith started to panic for his own sake. As he looked back to what Romelle was doing, he noticed Lance standing up.

Shit shit shit shit shit.

So, when Lance walked over and sat down next to him, Keith panicked further and pretended he didn’t notice he was there. Smart.

“Hey,” Lance said after a few seconds. Keith jumped because of nerves, but it probably helped with his ridiculous pretending.

Keith looked over nervously. “Hey.” Then he looked away. He saw Romelle watching and narrowed his eyes. She turned to talk to Hunk and Pidge, looking delighted with the game they were playing.

“Sorry I haven’t been over yet,” Lance said. “I may have gotten a little excited to see my sister.”

“That’s no problem,” Keith said, shaking his head. “You can go back over. You didn’t have come over here just for me.”

“Nah, dude. I invited you for a reason,” Lance laughed, like something about that was obvious. None of it was. “So let’s talk. I hope you haven’t been too bored.”

Keith shook his head. “I’ve been talking to Matt and Shiro. And Romelle.” Then, remembering, he looked down at the candy in his hand. “By the way,” he said. Suddenly, it was quite difficult to get the words out. “These. Are. For you?”

He lifted the candy. Lance’s eyes lit up and Keith could have sworn he heard him gasp. “Keith, I told you not to get me anything.”

Keith shrugged. “It’s not much.” It was just a pack of candy. Last birthday Shiro had given him some money that he hadn’t seen much point spending until now. This was totally worth it, in Keith’s eyes. He handed it over. “I hope you like sour things.”

“I love sour candy,” Lance gushed, the plastic crinkling in his hand, and, at this, Keith finally looked up again. He smiled a bit, pleased.

“Me too,” he agreed.

“Wanna share?” Lance asked, ripping open the candy. Keith’s eyes went wide.

“I got them for you,” he said, falling into panic again. This wasn’t norm, was it? Sharing your birthday present?

“Yeah, and I wanna share them,” Lance declared, tone leaving no room for argument. Keith shifted awkwardly, but stayed silent. Lance picked a gummy out, popped it in his own mouth, then offered the bag for Keith to take one. Tentatively, Keith did.

Then, because when Keith did open his mouth, he said something stupid.

“Is it weird sharing a birthday with someone who doesn’t age?”

Lance stopped, eyes widening, and Keith felt that familiar panic well up, before Lance smiled.

“I used to think so, yeah,” Lance answered truthfully. “Not so much anymore. I think it still means something to us even if it’s not the passage of time. It’s a celebration of the both of us, and it’s something we still share.”

“That. Makes sense,” Keith said, nodding. He sucks on the gummy worm a bit. Lance reaches for another worm.

“What are you even doing to that poor thing?” Lance asked, pointing at the now half-sour worm in Keith’s hand. Then, somehow, naturally, like they were regular friends talking about regular things, they fell into an innocent squabble about the barbarous treatment he was putting his gummy worm through, and, in Keith’s opinion, the equally horrible murder of Lance’s worms as he bit through half of their body. That led into a conversation about how worms regenerate their bodies, depending on how they are severed.

Somehow, Keith lost track of time, and all sense of panic that he’d had before, talking with Lance. It wasn’t until Veronica sat down next to them, waggling her eyebrows at Lance for some reason, and started to talk to Keith that Keith realized he had forgotten just where they were.

It was somewhat awkward, but it wasn’t as though he didn’t know Veronica, so, when she asked him questions, he didn’t see any reason to feel too awkward about answering. Then, as this carried on, more and more people from their group seemed to gravitate toward them, chiming in about stories told or their own experiences. Romelle and Hunk joined and bounced jokes off each other seemlessly. Pidge dragged their brother away from the radio, and Shiro and Allura scooted over too. Soon, they were playing truth or dare, which quickly changed to duck duck goose, somehow, and everyone was laughing as Lance chased his quick sister around the circle.

And Keith found that he was having fun. More fun than he had ever had before, honestly. And, somehow, even when everyone switched up around the circle because of the game, he found himself next to Lance again as he and his sister were presented with a cake and a spattering of lit candles.

After the cake was done, the sun was setting and Veronica challenged Lance to their pin the tail on the pegasus game. Keith watched as everyone migrated away from the blankets. However, something held him back. He sat, an easy smile on his face as he watched Lance line up his first shot.

“Did Lance like his present?” Romelle asked as she sat down next to him, and Keith nodded yes without breaking his gaze.

“Thanks for that,” Keith said, and, funny enough, he found that he meant it. As awkward as it had been that she’d gone and gotten Lance for him, it had turned out great.

“No problem,” Romelle answered, and she sounded cheery, despite her earlier mood. He looked over at her.

“You doing okay?”

Romelle, still looking down at the others, shrugged. “I’ll live.”

“I’m sorry for whatever happened,” he offered, then turned his own gaze back. Lance, tremendous archer he was, made a bulls-eye. Veronica was next. Being a hunter of Artemis, it was going to be a close match.

“Did you know Allura and Lotor are dating?” Romelle said suddenly, and it was so shocking that Keith had to turn back.

“What? Seriously?”

But Romelle just nodded calmly. “Yep.”

“Wow,” was all Keith could say, and turned away again. Then, and he wasn’t sure why, Keith said, “I’m sure that sucks for Lance to hear too.”

This, however, seemed to shock Romelle. “Lance?”

“Yeah. You guys can find solidarity in each other for that at least.”

“I…don’t think Lance likes Allura,” Romelle said carefully, sounding slightly confused. Keith just shook his head.

“He’s flirted with her for two years,” Keith said, and he’s not sure why he’s noticed that. “He definitely likes her.”

“I don’t know, Keith. That’s not the vibe I’ve gotten off him,” Romelle replied, sounding doubtful.

Keith shrugged. “Well, whatever the case,” he said.

For a few minutes, they sat in silence, watching the games below. Veronica had gotten a bulls-eye as well, and the two siblings had bickered for a while over who had the better shot. Now, though, Allura was up.

“You don’t go home for the year, right?” Romelle asked, and Keith shook his head.

“Nope,” he replied. “Nowhere to go.”

“Me neither,” she replied, and, somehow, Keith found solidarity in that. Then, she started to get up, moving to join the others down by the target. For a moment, though, she paused and turned back. “I think we’re going to become great friends.”

She smiled, and Keith smiled back. A true and real smile.

“I’d like that.”

Then, she hopped down the steps until she came to the ampitheatre floor, hurrying up to Allura and making some kind of joke to the girl. Allura laughed and Romelle’s eyes glowed. The sparkle didn’t come back and Romelle still hurt, but she seemed determined not to lose the friend she had in Allura and Keith felt proud of her for that.

Keith didn’t move from his spot on the stairs of the ampitheatre, criss-cross on a blanket and gazing down at his friends, but he didn’t feel lonely for it. Even if many of them would be leaving tomorrow, Keith didn’t feel like it was goodbye just yet.

In fact, the end of this summer felt more of a beginning than anything.

[paepsi]

EXO as dumb shit I’ve done, EXPLAINED:

Suho: 

See this picture here? This is me before the moving team. I was so fucking proud of myself for strapping the base of the chair to my roof (it wouldn’t fit through the trunk of me smol hatchback). I thought it was funny that it kinda looked like a kip-pah and asked my friend to take a pic for me here (see my lil peace sign next to my face? im v happy of my jew car). Little did I know that after driving to my new apartment with the whole moving team from IKEA unloading shit from the truck, I would be stuck in the fucking car. I didn't have a knife or scissors to cut the strings and I didn't want to make my dumb assery to be noticed; so instead of asking for help... I climbed out the front window and almost fell flat on my ass. When I stood up and turned around, the whole moving team was just standing there looking at me. The assholes knew I was stuck and let me suffer.

Kris & Kai:

so these moments both happened in the same night. I went to a house warming party for my friend and I didn't know what to bring as a gift, so I just bought two big bags of Hawaiian bread. Now throughout the night, the more I drink, the more impulsive I get. 

I started putting the bread on people's shoulders, slowly piling them up until they noticed. Everyone was pretty wasted so there was no surprise when I had a stack of 4 1/2 buns (I ate half) on my friends shoulder. Anyways- fast forward into the night, I'm craving sweets, so I walk into my friends kitchen and find a jar of cookies. At the time I thought it was a brilliant idea to just put the Hawaiian bread in there so the kitchen looked full; a fair exchange, if you will. At least that's what I thought... I found pictures from the party and it turns out I just ended up putting in a half eaten bun sjzjsj

Fast forward into the morning of the next day, I’m hungover and I wake up wearing mismatching socks (one is mine, the other I have no idea). 

I needed to get home because I had work later that day, so I hop into my car and start driving home. The whole time there was this annoying beeping sound that I couldn’t figure out where it was coming from. I had such a bad headache that I pulled over to see what the fuck was wrong. I got out of my car, checked the wheels, checked the under the hood, then hopped back inside. I was so frustrated that I banged my head on the steering wheel and just rested my eyes for a sec. When I opened them to look straight ahead at my dashboard, the brake light was glowing bright red. I cried.

Chanyeol: 

One summer evening, I was hanging with my sister and her friends around a campfire. We were roasting marshmallows, drinking, having a good time etc. Eventually later into the night we started getting bored and one of my sister’s friends suggested playing hot potato with the coals from the fire. We’re all game like FUCK YEAH LETS DO THIS. Then we start tossing it around and realize that it’s way too fucking hot, so instead of tossing it’s just everyone spiking the coal to the next person. FYI, I have terrible hand eye coordination and I wasn’t wearing my glasses that night. Every single time the coal was spiked my way it would miss my hand and fly straight into my hair. The next day I woke up, looked in the mirror, skipped breakfast and headed straight to the salon. still looked cute or w/e so I ain’t mad

Kyungsoo: 

Ahhhh, this one is actually pretty personal and happened not too long ago! My mom finally left this dirt bag she’d been married to for the past 16 years. When I say dirt bag, I mean a manipulative, abusive piece of shit. My mom was so tired during her session with the mediator for when they were deciding who was getting what; she took 30-45 minutes to talk alone with them and he took 3 fucking hours putting on this sick sob story. The mediator was so done with him too that they just let him do whatever he wanted. That meant he had the “right” to pick and choose what belonged to him in our apartment. The fucker took EVERYTHING. He took the furniture, the bedroom sets, all the electronics, the spices- HE DOESN’T EVEN COOK. However, a week before then, I bought a huge bottle of vanilla. I needed it to make edible cookie dough, which I was doing everyday out of stress. The day before he finally moved out, I came home from work to see everything wrapped/packed up. I started to get worked up and went to the kitchen to make my cookie dough. When I opened the cabinet to get my vanilla and saw it completely empty, I lost it. I literally screamed and started tearing up all the boxes, finding more shit that belonged to me and stopped when I finally found my vanilla. I went back to the kitchen, happily made my cookie dough and kicked back on "his” couch with my dirty shoes on. Later that night, the asshole came home and screamed at me. I shut him up tho when I told him I’d suffocate him with a pillow in his sleep if he dared to touch me or any of my things ever again. He didn’t stay in the apartment that night lol

Baekhyun:

I think this one might be my favorite story. It all started when a package from my mom in the mail never showed up even though the UPS tracking said it had already arrived on my doorstep. I assumed in meant the package was stolen and got really bummed about it since it had some essential items in there. My roommates felt bad and decided to cheer me up by throwing a house party (woohoo! cue the alcohol!). It started at like 3pm and went on all the way until 4 am the next day. Somewhere within that time frame while it was still light outside, slightly tipsy, I found a ladder on the side of the house and had a strong urge to follow it up to the top; and who am I to deny every desire that comes across my pea sized brain. I was half-way up to the roof when one of my roommates spotted me (let’s call him Big Ned; there were two guys named Ned in our house so we just called them Big Ned and Little Ned; Big Ned is like 6′3″ and Little Ned is like 5′4″). Big Ned started yelling at me to get down and I told him I couldn’t because it was my destiny to reach the top. He decided that there was no use arguing with me and ended up following me to the roof (even though he’s afraid of heights; bless his BFG heart). He’s kinda hard to miss, so when he started making his way up to the roof with me, it grabbed a lot of attention. Some joined us. Meanwhile, I decided to walk around and look into my neighbors yards. I saw a mess of papers in one of the alleys between our houses and joked “lmao that’d be funny if that was my package”. We laughed for a bit then looked a little closer until we realized oh fuck that’s my package. My body moved on it’s own and just kinda scrambled across the roof trying to figure out the fastest and least painful way to get off the roof. Thank the stars for Big Ben holding me back by the collar of my shirt and preventing me from jumping down onto the neighbors fence. Little Ben ended up running over and jumping the fence to get it for me. We still don’t know how it got there.

Tao:

In middle school, I had to go on this field trip to some ranch out in the countryside of Texas. I remember we were all huddled into a barn with a big stage in the back. The teachers grabbed a mic and got on stage to talk about who knows what. Idk I wasn’t paying attention, talking to my friend, in my own world. When the mics go off, everyone starts chattering. At that moment in time, I was extremely preoccupied with my shoelaces when I got a tap on my shoulder from my homeroom teacher. I think she was mad at me for not listening and told me to head up to the stage along with a few other students making their way over. Being in front of others makes me nervous, but when the teachers put a bib around my neck before I got on stage, I was too confused to think of anything else. When another teacher started handing out baby bottles filled with Gatorade to each student on stage, I had to stop them to ask what was going on. And what do ya know, I’m in a baby bottle drinking contest. Before I had time to ask any more questions, they were already counting down to start. Now listen, I’m not the type of person to back down from a challenge so ofc you know I’m gonna suck the soul out of this bich. The reason I can say this confidently is because up until I was 11 years old, I always drank out of baby bottles when I got home from school. I just really liked the feeling?? For me, nothing beat chilling on the couch, watching Teen Titans and drinking fresh cold orange juice from a baby bottle on a hot summer day. Idk but I guess it came in handy since I finished a 24oz bottle under 35 seconds. The rest of the kids weren’t even close to half way through. There’s a picture of me at the back of my school year book holding up the baby bottle like a trophy.

Sehun:

Remember my sisters friends from the campfire? Well I spent a good long summer hanging with her friend group and ended up getting kinda close to this one of the guys (let’s call him Jake). I have a really broad range of music taste and I guess he digged that so we talked a lot about music together. By the end of the summer, Jake threw a party at his house and invited me over. Ngl I wanted some dick so ofc I’m gonna go all out and break out my hot leather Madonna outfit. I head out with my sis and the house is packed by the time we get there. The whole time we’re pretty much just hanging out, drinking and dancing the night away. Some time passed 1 am (I think), I’m sorta outside making out with Jake on the side of his house. It’s getting really hot and heavy. When we finally broke apart for air, he told me he though he was in love with me. I’m screaming internally, panicking and I don’t know what to do. I could tell from way before that he really liked me, but I didn’t think it was to that extent. It doesn’t help exactly that I don’t feel the same way for him. Don’t get me wrong! He was really hot and sweet, but I just couldn’t see myself with him. So what did I tell him? Nothing. My dumb ass was in such a panic that all I could think of was that I needed to run. I did. I ran back into the house, out the front porch, spotted his skateboard and took off. I didn’t really know where I was or where I was going but somehow I ended up at the train station and eventually found my way back home.

Xiumin:

On my 21st birthday, my roommates took me out to a really nice, 5 star restaurant in the city we lived. They're buying me all the drinks I want cause heck I'm finally legal! Now, I think y'all can see a pattern of what happens when I drink. So when Big Ned got a glass of scotch and I had just finished off my last sip of wine, I wanted some too. I asked him to share, using "it's my birthday" to get my way. Ever the gentleman, Big Ben pours half his glass into my wine glass and keeps his raised for a cheers. The whole group joins in and with a shout of Mozeltov, I slam the wine glass down on the table and toss it back. It wasn't until I finished the last drop and tried to set my glass back on the table that I realized I snapped the stem in half. No one spoke, except for Little Ned, softly, "did you... did that really just happen?" Yeah. Yeah it did. Thankfully the restaurant agreed to keep the broken glass off the bill as long as I left the restaurant immediately.

Chen:

On a Saturday night, I met up with a good friend of mine that I hadn’t seen in months. We bought some snacks and drinks then drove to a marina near my apartment (new place in California). The whole night we spent catching up and throwing rocks in the water. I was still a little tipsy when it was time to go home and my friend ended up driving me back. On the way back, I opened a bag and snacked on some pizza flavored goldfish. I was about a fourth of the way through the bag when I decided I didn’t like it anymore and started tossing them out the window. We pull up to a stop light and my friend is trying to make me stop by rolling up the window, but I stick my leg out before he could close it. Next he tries to compromise and said if I wasn’t going to eat the goldfish, I should just put the bag down and remove my leg from the window. My tipsy ass told him no, I was handing out free food. I turned to look at the car next to me, asked (yelled) if they wanted any goldfish and held out the bag to them. I guess the dude thought it was funny and was just like “yeah sure why not, lifes too short to not eat goldfish from a stranger at a stoplight” alksdjflskdj 

Lay:

When I was about 6 years old, I lived out in the suburbs of Fulshear, Texas. The community is really tiny and everyone knew each other. One time, I was playing hide and seek with my siblings, and decided to hide under my moms bed. While I was waiting for my brother to come find me, I fell asleep. A couple hours later I wake up and it’s dark out. The house is empty. I’m calling out to see if anyone is home, checking all the rooms. I thought maybe everyone decided to tag me “it” since I passed out. After a while of not finding anyone, the phone rings and I pick up. It’s my mom sounding out of breath calling to see if anyone found me and took me back to my house. Turns out I had actually been knocked out for 6 hours. Not being able to find me during hide and seek for 2 hrs, my siblings went to get my mom who also started looking for me. After another hour and no luck, she called our neighbors across the street to see if I went over to play with their kids. Ofc they said no and said they would call some other people in the neighborhood to find out if they'd seen me. A few hours later, the whole neighborhood was out looking for me. Meanwhile I'm at home chilling on the couch watching Teletubbies and eating goldfish (the original babey).

Luhan:

My dad took me and my siblings to the beach almost every summer in elementary school. We would always stay at this Holiday Inn right across the street from the sands. At night, we would go “hunting” for crabs with a flashlight and a fishnet. But on some nights when my dad was too tired to go out, my siblings and I would hang in the kids room at the hotel. We were fooling around and just being kids. Then we found a big case filled with tubes of paint. I was excited to do some finger painting but before I could reach for a tube, my brother stopped me to say he had an idea. He dared us lay down our sheets of paper and paint them by jumping on the tubes. Being the youngest of four, I thought this was a brilliant idea and immediately got to work. Set my paper down and lined up the colors I wanted to use. I jumped.... Only a spec of paint made it onto the paper... The rest beautifully decorated the off-white walls of the kids room. We all just froze because oh my stars we’re gonna be in so much trouble. Turning to each other, we made a very strong pinky promise to not tell a soul what happened. The next day when we returned to the kids room, the case was gone, faded splotches of green and purple remained on the walls, and a big paper taped above reading “NO PAINTING ALLOWED”.

Fun fact: my eldest sister used to write about my adventures for her creative essay homework’s in middle school.

[lexrius]

The Dragon’s Mate Part 2

AN: Part two is here! One more part after this which will take place during the last book. I hope you all enjoyed! Viper belongs to me. Rey Winchester belongs to @drew-winchester everyone else is owned by JKR!

I went over to the Burrow to visit Molly and them before Charlie and I's wedding. Arthur and Molly suggested it being held at the Burrow, for which we agreed.

Charlie had to finish some stuff in Romania so it was just me. I made my way to the garden seeing Mrs. Weasley planting some flowers.

"Honeysuckles? Great touch Molly." I smiled as she jumped slightly. She turned and smiled brightly,"Viper dear! What a lovely surprise!" She hugged me and kissed my cheeks.

I looked up and spotted someone in the kitchen with Ginny.

She was a very beautiful woman with long bleach blonde hair and crystal blue eyes.

"Looks like I'm not the only guest here." I smiled. But the look on Mrs. Weasley's face made my smile disappear.

"Mrs. Weasley?"

The woman walked out and looked at me with a smile,"'Ello. My name is Fleur Delacour. It is a pleasure to meet you!" I shook her hand and walked into the house after Mrs. Weasley invited me in.

"Viper Akela. You sound familiar; have we met?" I asked her.

"We have not. I was one of the Triwizard Tournament contestants." She explained.

"Really?" My thoughts went to Mr. Diggory,"I'm sorry for what you went through."

"Thank you, but I'm more interested in your adventure's. Bill 'as told me so much about his times at 'ogwarts." She handed me some tea and sat down at the couch with me.

"You know Bill?" I looked at her surprised.

"Oui! Well; he is the whole reason I am here." She blushed lightly.

"Well if it isn't the curse breaker herself." I turned and saw Bill standing in the doorway. I put down my tea and rushed up to him and hugged him.

"How have you been?! I haven't seen you in years!"

"I've been good. I see you've met my Fiance." With my mouth gaped open; I looked between him and Fleur.

"When?"

"A couple of months ago."

I laughed and hugged him,"Congratulations to the both of you!"

"Heh well from what I hear; congratulations should be thrown to you as well." He smiled down at me. I hadn't noticed at first but he had gotten so much more taller.

"Yeah. He surprised me during Christmas." I blushed as I played with the ring.

"I know. He told me about his plan to do it. I'm glad he finally asked." He chuckled lightly,"Well I have to get back to Gringotts. I'll see you lovely ladies later." He gave Fleur a kiss and hugged me.

----

(One Week Later)

I watched as the boys set up the wedding Altars as all the women got ready in the Burrow.

"Hold still Viper." Mrs. Weasley was fixing my wedding dress. I smiled lightly as she then focused on my hair.

"Oh Molly leave the poor girl alone." My mother nagged.

"Now now Aileen. This is her wedding. I'm just making sure it's perfect." Mrs. Weasley stepped away and observed her work. Tears formed in my eyes as I glanced at myself in the mirror. Everything was perfect.

I looked in the mirror to see both Tonks, Tulip, Liz and Rowan smiling brightly.

"Alright everyone! Ceremony is about to start; let's get the bride up and ready to go down the aisle." I smiled brightly as my older brother Liam leaned against the doorway. Mom and Mrs. Weasley left in a hurry to go see Charlie before the ceremony starts.

Tonks and the others got out as well.

Jacob looked at me with a big smile on his face,"My little sister...all grown up." He gave me my bouquet,"Let's get you married. Dad's waiting outside the room."

---

I watched from the door as my dad walked me closer towards my future.

My heart started racing as I got closer to the altar.

He placed his hand on mine trying to calm me,"I know it may feel scary, but believe me." My dad paused and smiled towards the altar,"There is no other feeling than seeing your other half across the isle. Seeing each other as husband and wife."

I looked up and saw Charlie watching me. I saw him smile such a heartwarming smile as his breath hitch.

We made it to the altar and my father turned to me and gave me a hug,"Remember my dear; you will always have someone by your side that loves you. 'The strength of the pack is the wolf, and the strength of the wolf is the pack.'" I laughed at my father as he quoted from our family's moto.

"I know dad."

"And know that you are an Akela." He choked up a bit as I pulled away,"You will always be my daughter."

He then cleared his throat and looked at Charlie who came by my side,"Take care of my daughter. Her recklessness is your problem now."

The entire crowd laughed at this as Charlie brought me in front of the Pastor.

"We are gathered here, not to witness the beginning of what will be, but rather what already is! We do not create this marriage, because marriage is created in the hearts of two loving people. We can and do, however, gather to celebrate with Charles Weasley and Viper Akela the wondrous and joyful occurrence that has already taken place in their lives, and the commitment they make today." The pastor began.

"You look absolutely gorgeous love." Charlie whispered to me as the Pastor went on. My heart skipped as his hand squeezed my hand.

"Charlie and Viper, today you choose each other before your family and friends, to begin your life together. For all the tomorrows that follow, you will choose each other over and again, in the privacy of your hearts. Let your love and friendship guide you, as you learn and grow together. Experience the wonders of the world, even as patience and wisdom calm the restless nature. Through your new partnership, may you triumph over the challenges in your path. Through the comfort of loving arms, may you always find a safe place to call home." He then turned to us with a warm smile,"And now for the vows. Charlie?"

Charlie turned towards me and held my hands in his. His light brown eyes met my blue-grey ones.

"Viper; I pledge to you endless strength that you can count on when you are weak. I'll be your music when you can't hear, your sunshine when you can't see, or your perfume when you can't smell. You'll never need to look further than me. I'll be your days and nights when you need them filled, your spark of life in the darkness, your hope when you're down and out." He paused then chuckled,"And I promise to come home in one piece after a day working at the sanctuary to take out the trash."

I laughed as he said that.

"I love you more than anything Viper. I promise to be by your side through thick and thin. I'll even walk through fire with you."

"Don't you do that on your own daily?" I asked him while laughing.

"Yes. I do." He pulled me closer as he finished his vows,"Viper Akela. I take you as my wife to love and cherish you with every amount of my mind, soul and body."

The Pastor nodded and looked at me,"Viper?"

I smiled as tears threatened to travel down my face,"I promise you, that I will be your wife from this day forward, to be faithful and honest in every way, to honor the faith and trust you place in me, to love and respect you in your successes and in your failures, to make you laugh and to be there when you cry, to care for you in sickness and in health, to softly kiss you when you are hurting, and to be your companion and your friend, on this journey that we make together. I promise to always be there for you, to shelter and hold your love as the most precious gift in my life. I will be truthful and honor you, as I embrace you as the most important part of my life. I will care for you always and stand by you in times of sorrow and joy, forever nurturing the love I feel for you."

He smiled at me with glossy eyes.

'Looks like I'm not the only one about to cry.' I thought.

"Now for the exchangment of rings."

I smiled as my nephew handed us the rings. Charlie took my hand in his and placed the ring on my ring finger,"I have for you a golden ring. The most precious metal symbolizes that your love is the most precious element in my life. The ring has no beginning and no ending, which symbolizes that the love between us will never cease. I place it on your finger as a visible sign of the vows which have made us husband and wife." I noticed some tears fall as he spoke with a shaky voice.

I then placed his ring on his finger and spoke my words,"I give you this ring as a symbol of my love for you. Let it be a reminder that I am always by your side and that I will always be a faithful partner to you. For you are my one true love, my soul mate...my happy ending to this story we call life."

"And now, by the power vested in me by the Lord above and the wonderful country-side of Devon, England, I hereby pronounce you husband and wife. Charles Weasley, You may kiss your bride." The Pastor finished with a smile and a few sheded tears.

Charlie lifted my chin and kissed me deeply.

"I love you Vi." He whispered as he pulled away.

"I love you too; Charlie." I whispered back.

----

We danced the night away as our guest, friends and family both clapped and danced along. This night was a wondrous night.

I laughed and spoke with Professor McGonnagal, Flitwick and Sprout who all showed up.

I even spoke with some old Colleagues of mine like Bobsy Burgundey and Mr. Winchester who I worked with as an Auror.

I even met some of Charlie's colleagues from Romania.

It broke my heart that I would be leaving him alone in Romania as I had to travel to Scotland to teach at Hogwarts.

"It'll be fine my love. I'll send you letters every day if I have to." He whispered as we slowed danced.

"Please don't ware down Athena like that. Poor girl doesn't need to fly like that." I smiled.

"Alright then. Once a week?" He asked.

"Much better." I kissed him slowly as I wanted us to stay like this forever.

---

For once it seemed like a normal year; besides all the extra protection this year. I joked with Snape about him finally landing the Defense Against the Dark Arts position; to which he glared at me and had begun avoiding me.

I even witnessed Tonk's new Patronus after finding Harry just slugging off the train.

"Sorry Professor." Was all he said as we walked him back to Hogwarts.

I continued to teach the upper level students while Hagrid taught the younger students.

I noticed all the returning faces of sixth years pop down towards my classroom.

"Alright. Alright! Settle down and so I can teach you lot about your first creature you'll be learning this year." I turned the chalk board over and showed them the diagram I sketched this morning.

"The Augurey. Also known as the Irish Phoenix. If you turn to page 265 of Fantastic Beast and where to find them you will learn that it was long believed that the mournful cry of the Augurey foretold death, and wizards would go to great lengths to avoid Augurey nests." I continued my lessons throughout the day.

After classes and dinner I would help Bill and any other guards to do rounds over the school to watch for any threats that may occur.

"Looks like we have the same shift tonight." I jumped as Rowan appeared behind me.

"Jeeze Rowan! You gave me a heart attack!" Rowan laughed and walked beside me as I made my way on too the seventh floor.

"We never really got to talk last year. How have you been?" I asked her.

"I've been good! I started teaching two years ago. I was so nervous when I started but I absolutely love it now!"

I smiled as Rowan began to explain how she teaches,"Rowan; it sounds like you added more activities to History of Magic, but I can guarantee that kids are still bored as hell in that class. Especially now that they can't do what we did with Binns!" I laughed as I handed her a chocolate frog from my last Hogsmeade visit.

"Oh I let them have fun, but only if their work is done. They have to show it too!"

"Smart." We laughed as we came across the seventh floor. I stopped as I saw a particular frog on the ground.

"Isn't that Longbottom's toad?" Rowan looked at it with curiosity.

"Yes. I better get it back to him when our rounds are over." I picked the toad up and continued walking with Rowan.

"So how is it teaching as a Weasley now?"

I smiled and looked at my wedding ring,"I think it excites Ginny more than anything. And she doesn't even take my class!"

I stopped as I heard something from behind us. I handed the toad to Rowan and pulled my wand out.

"Lumos!" The light flashed down the hallway as I scanned the area. I rushed towards the room of requirements and looked around.

"Probably nothing Viper." Rowan tried to calm me down. I sighed and accidentally pointed my wand at a portrait.

"Put that bloody light away!" The old headmaster portrait. It was completely vandalized!

"What the bloody hell happened?!" I noticed it was drawn in red marker. “Rey was here.” Was scribbled on it.

"Rowan."

"Pfft! Yeah!?" Rowan held back her laughter as she saw the vandalism. I smiled and nearly laughed myself,"Remind me that I have to take away fifty points from Griffindor from Rey Winchester....But I will say....he deserved that!" With that both Rowan and I cleaned off the portrait and walked back down laughing.

We ran into Snape as we walked back down,"Shall I remind you that you are no longer students! Please take this seriously." He told us.

"We have been Severus! Please note that someone might be on the seventh floor. We didn't see anyone, but we heard noises." I informed him. He nodded and rushed upstairs.

"I better head back to my room. I'll take care of Trevor until tomorrow."

I waved Rowan goodnight as I made my way towards my room. There I saw Athena on my window with a letter.

'Charlie...'

---

"I hope you all finished those Augurey essays I gave you yesterday." I collected everyone's papers.

"Tomorrow I got permission to take you to the forbidden forest to study Unicorns. Now before school started I had your parents or guardians sign a form that will allow you to travel to the forbidden forest. If you did not turn them in or you do not have permission to go; then you will stay here and learn from the books. Are we clear?" I looked around the room; looking for any who would argue with me.

"Okay. Class dismissed." I started putting my notebooks away and saw Trevor croaking on my desk,"Oh right."

"Miss Winchester. Could you stay behind for a bit?"

Rey stopped and walked towards the stalls. I handed her Trevor with a smile,"Please see to it that Neville gets his toad back."

"He's been looking all over for him! Where was he this time?" She laughed as she held on to the toad tightly,"Seventh floor. Alongside a vandalized portrait of Headmaster Black. Care to explain Rey?" I crossed my arms as I watched her grow quiet as her face turned red.

"You're lucky I found it and not Snape. I will have to dock fifty points from Gryffindor, but I will not give you detention. That blabbering portrait insulted me a few times too." I smiled at her and walked with her back to the castle,"Truth be told he deserved it, but don't let me catch you doing it again. And please stay away from the seventh floor at night."Thank you Professor.” She sighed and thanked me before running up towards the castle,”She then stopped like she forgot something.

“Erm Professor? Did you say the Seventh floor last night? I only went up there during the day. Neville was with me the entire day and even saw me write and doodle on the portrait. Whoever was up there might have been doing something else.” She then started going back up the stairs in a hurry.

My heart stopped when she said that,’Then who else was sneaking around?’ I thought.

"Professor Weasley! I was hoping I would catch you out here!" An old tired voice interrupted my thoughts. I turned to see Professor Slughorn rushing up to me out of breathe.

"Professor Slughorn; what can I help you with?"

"Well I heard you were taking your sixth years to study unicorns. And I was wondering if you can get me some unicorn hair for my potions class."

"Professor; you can just buy them at an apothecary shop. But I will not be risking the lives of my students to get you ingredients."

Slughorn looked disappointed,"However; if I find any strands of hair on the ground then I'll hand them over."

Slughorn then smiled and laughed,"Thank you Professor Weasley! How would you like to join my Christmas party!?"

I looked at him shocked,"Oh. Um. Of course. Thank you for the invite."

I watched as he walked away all giddy.

---

I laughed with Professor Sprout as I drank the firewhiskey that was offered. I smiled and looked around the party.  

"Professor Weasley! Good to see you made it!" Slughorn smiled brightly.

"Professor Slughorn! Thank you for the invite." He smiled and shook my hand.

"I must know. Are you William Akela's daughter?"

"I am. Did you know him Professor?" I was intrigued now.

"Yes. Both your father and mother were one of my best students. You're mother, Aileen, became a prosperous potion master while your father became an exceptional auror. I see their greatness runs in the family." He smiled at me.

I wanted to say something, but the door burst open as Filch came in while dragging Draco Malfoy behind him.

Snape pulled him out.

Something was off.

Something felt wrong.

I watched as Harry rushed off after them.

"My word; such troublesome students." Slughorn watched the door with worry.

"Yeah. They remind me of me when I was their age! Always sneaking around and causing mischief." I laughed.

"I heard from the other professors that you were big on that."

I smiled remembering all the nights I snuck out of Hogwarts with Charlie.

"Yes well; we all have been that young before. I remember me being that young and mischievous before maturing!"

"No. The great potion master was a trouble maker?! I would have never thought." I said with sarcasm. I knew this guy wouldn't break the rules for one bit.

----

I sighed as I packed for Christmas break as this year had lasted forever.

Most of the students and staff have already left. Only a few teachers stayed alongside some students.

I exited my room and continued down the stairs to see off the teachers that were staying. However; to my luck it was only Snape in the teacher's quarters.

"Akela." He said not even looking up from the daily prophet.

"Snape." I spit back at him with a glare.

"I heard a couple of Slytherins talking about seeing a wolf near the forest. You don't happen to know anything about this; do you Akela?" His eyes shifted towards me and my luggage,"It would be a shame if said wolf was caught."

"Are you threatening me Snape? You have no leverage against me. I'm registered and can do as I please with my animegus form. Have a Merry Christmas Severus" With that I apparated out to mine and Charlie's home.

I smiled as Charlie rushed outside and embraced me.

"Finally I get to hold you in my arms again." He chuckled. I smiled and kissed him,"I haven't been gone that long love." We made our way inside and talked about the year.

It was about midnight when picked me up and set me on the bed.

"Those months without you felt like forever; now how about we start this Christmas Vacation off right?" With that he climbed over me and kissed me deeply.

----

It's been a couple of months since then. After getting back from Christmas it was the same as usual.

Classes.

Patrol.

Letters from Charlie, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and of course my parents.

Keeping an eye on the trouble makers.

And looking for that suspicious person on the seventh floor.

Tonight felt off though.

I was patrolling with Bill tonight.

We were talking about random things and laughing until we heard spells being fired.

"Some students must be getting into a fight again." I said as I pulled out my wand and walked towards a doorway.

"Stupify!" I felt myself get launched backwards into a pillar.

"Viper!" Bill began to rush for me but he then stopped and started to duel someone as others stepped passed us. I looked up and saw Fenrir Greyback disarm Bill. I tried to stand, but my leg nearly gave out. I watched in horror as Fenrir physically attacked Bill. Ripping into his face and arms as he tried to defend himself.

I growled in anger and transformed into my animegus form. I charged towards Fenrir and ripped into his shoulder; pushing him off of Bill. Fenrir took his semi clawed hands and dug his claws into my back and shoved me into the ground. I used my back paws to claw open his hip.

This caused him to jump back in pain.

I felt blood drip down from my back as I rushed back towards him. He turned sharply and swiped at my face. Claw marks now scared my face as he kicked me back to the ground. He walked towards me and grabbed my leg and broke it. I barred my fangs and lunged towards his throat.

He grabbed my muzzle and pinned me to the ground. I felt a piercing pain as his fangs ripped into my throat. He then ripped open my throat and chucked me towards Bill's now limp body.

I lost consciousness as I saw him rush off into the night.

---

(Charlie's POV)

I received  word from Tonks that Hogwarts was in danger. I rushed over to help protect the castle, but got the message too late. I saw many wounded in the Great hall.

I spotted my mum leaning over someone as she cried softly.

"Mum?!" I called out to her she turned in shock.

"Charlie? What are you doing here?!" I rushed over and hugged her,"I just got word from Tonks that Hogwarts was in danger. What happened?" I looked down and saw Bill wounded.

"Fenrir got to them." Lupin and Tonks walked next to me.

"Does that mean-"

"He's not a werewolf. But he will have some little traits of a werewolf."

I smiled with relief; then it clicked,"Wait you said them. Who else got hurt?!" Tonks and Lupin looked away as my mum and Fleur looked over to the bed next to Bill's.

I don't know how I didn't notice her, but there I saw my wife covered in bandages as Madam Pomfry waved her wand over Viper's body.

I walked over and observed the damage.

A small gash ran underneath her right eye all the way to her cheekbone.

Another went over her lips.

One was nearly crossed on her forehead.

A small one on her chin.

But the one I looked at with horror was the large gash over her neck that probably nearly took her life.

"She protected Bill." Tonks said quietly,"I saw Fenrir run off with some nasty wounds. It was Ginny and I that found them."

I had no words as a grasped the hand of my beloved. Tears formed as I remembered our vows.

'I wasn't by her side.' I thought as I rested my lips against her hand.

I sat there and prayed.

Prayed that she would wake up.

Pray that this was all a nightmare.

----

(Back to Viper's POV)

I heard people talking around me. A rough calloused hand gripping mine. I tried to open my eyes, but was met by intense pain.

I winced and felt everyone stop talking.

"Is she awake?" I recognized Rowan's voice.

"Viper?" I heard Charlie's voice right next to me as the hand holding mine tightened. I forced one of my eyes open and smiled as I saw my friends watching me with hope.

I tried to talk but my throat began to burn.

"Try not to move so much love; you really got hurt." Charlie softly spoke. I looked passed him and saw Bill in the bed. I looked at Charlie and pointed at Bill.

"He's doing better."

"But he'll want his steaks rare." Lupin chuckled.

I then heard feet shuffle as Mrs. Weasley came rushing into the Hospital wing.

"I heard she was awake! Oh heavens; Viper!" She leaned over my bed and gave me  gentle hug,"We are in your debt. You saved Bill's life."

I smiled tiredly as she then squeezed my hand,"I'm glad you're okay dear." Tears now streamed down her face as she cried next to me.

----

I was sent home with Charlie after spending the rest of the school year in the Hospital Wing. I stood in the shower as I thought of that night.

My heart swelled as so many of my students came to visit.

But when I heard about Dumbledore; I didn't know what to feel.

I sighed as I heard scratches coming from the door,"Hang on Artair." I gripped the bar that was now on our wall due to me still healing. Fenrir nearly crippled me that night.

'Heh. Who am I kidding? He screwed up my knee really bad.' I went to grab a towel and stopped.

I now stared at myself in the mirror.

I observed the torn body that I had to call my own. I traced all of the wounds on my face with my finger.

I've gotten a couple with being an auror, but if what Lupin said was true; these scars were cursed.

I would have them for he rest of my life.

I wrapped my body with the towel I grabbed before taking a shower. I felt so insecure about how I looked now.

What will people think when they see me?

What does my family think?

What does Charlie think?

These questions ran through my head as my chest tightened.

Great.

I triggered a panic attack. I then jumped when Artair started barking and pawing at the door.

"What's wrong Artair? Viper you okay?" I heard Charlie from behind the door.

"I'm fine just...just taking this all in." I heard the door open and spotted Charlie peep in. I couldn't hide the tears nor the pain from him. I heard the door close and his arms wrap around me. He kissed my bare shoulder as I cried into his shirt.

He said nothing but sweet words as he rubbed circles on my back; careful to not hit the wounds.

He helped me get dressed and helped me to the small library he set up,"I'll bring you some tea." He kissed my head and walked out. Artair, my Irish Wolfhound, trotted up and laid his head on my lap.

I smiled as I remembered when I got him.

(Flashback to Christmas 1990)

I was in the stables taking care of our Granians when my mother walked in,"Are you going to be cooped up in here all day? It is snowing outside." She chuckled,"Your brothers and father are waiting for you to open presents." She said while walking out.

"I'm coming!" I put the brush down and made my way towards the house. I smiled when I saw my family laughing. Ever since we rescued Jacob my family has never been closer. His disappearance caused our family to be distant. My parents grew more strict and overprotective. My younger brother just grew distant.

But now everyone was laughing and enjoying each other's company.

"Okay Viper; your turn to open presents." My dad handed me my presents. I smiled as I saw all of the presents my friends got me.

I saw one move which caused me to jump. I opened it and saw a small puppy inside.

"Because you miss Duke; we got you Artair. He's yours, but you have to take care of him!" My father scolded me,"Of cour- wait what about when I'm at school?!"

"Well it is your last year at Hogwarts; we'll take care of him while you finish with your studies. You also have one more gift from your grandfather. But that can wait until your older."

I smiled as I held the puppy,"Thank you!"

----

(Back to the Present)

I put down my book and glanced into the hallway as I herd small laughter and feet shuffling. Artair trotted down the hallway to see what was going on himself as I got my cane and wand.

I walked to the living room and spotted Charlie talking with Simmons; his boss. I took another look around and saw his two kids Danny and Arlo playing with Artair.

"Didn't know you were much of a dog person Charlie! At least he'll keep the kids busy."

"He's not exactly mine. He's my wife's dog and I like dogs! They're fun to have around." Simmons laughed and patted Charlie on his head.

"Funny because ever since Artair met you he has not left your side one bit. The dog even cuddles you." I laughed causing both men to jump slightly.

"Well I'll be; I do get to finally meet you!" Simmons held out his hand to me,"The name's Simmons Moreau. Charlie told me that you work at Hogwarts?"

“I see. Well me boys and I should be heading back now. Take care you too.” 

We watched as Simmons and his two little ones walked off.

[thehikingviking]

Cerro El Pital y El Picacho, The High Points of El Salvador and San Salvador

It took me 16 years, but I finally decided to return to my mother’s home country of El Salvador. The main purpose behind the trip was to introduce my new born son to my grandpa, but it wouldn’t be right to not hike several mountains while down there. I convinced Zach to fly down with my family, and he would be my hiking partner for most of the trip. He also joined on our previous trip to Guatemala, and had climbed a couple of volcanoes with me down there as well. I used Nahuat Tours as my guide service; they would arrange transport and the local guides when needed. There were some last minute complications due to the national election, which caused us to change our itinerary at the last minute, and while this would add some extra driving, the key objectives on my trip were still attainable. We planned to first climb Cerro El Pital in the morning, followed by El Picacho in the afternoon. Both were short hikes, so the challenge would be the long drive and dealing with the many unknowns of this developing country.

We were picked up at Cadedeu Residence at Lago de Coatepeque before sunrise. We first drove through San Salavdor and then up towards La Palma. We followed a steep but paved road up to Rio Chiquito.

Our driver Eric parked at a dirt lot along Calle El Pital. We could have driven further, but we were here to hike and were already less than 2 miles from the summit. From here Gerardo would show us the way to the summit. Shortly after starting out, I noticed a snake that was run over by a vehicle, reminding me that it's probably best to stay on the cleared path. Shortly after we reached the park boundaries where Gerardo paid our entrance fees.

I was told to pack warm gear, as this is the coldest place in the country, but I found myself sweating profusely.

At the top of the road, Gerardo started taking us towards the lower southeast summit. I immediately objected, stating that the northwestern summit was higher. He agreed, but for some reason was hesitant to go further. He stated that he wasn’t sure how to get there, and said he would go ask someone. My stress levels skyrocketed, as failing on this easy peak was my worst nightmare. Gerardo came back confirming that there was a way to the summit, but that we shouldn’t follow the road. I learned later that Gerardo had been attacked by a dog along this same road on a previous trip. We instead dropped down to a grassy field at the saddle between the main peak and the false summit.

We followed a foot path that passed next to some buildings. Many homes were in the process of being built, and I expect this area to look much different in a few years. We popped out back onto the original road, and with the threat of the barking dog behind us, we continued upwards. The views opened up as we climbed higher, and it appeared that we were the only ones visiting the summit that day. We followed the main road all the way to the summit structure, where there were several guard dogs barking at us ravenously.

They were locked within the gate, so I paid them no heed. I found the benchmark embedded in a small concrete pedestal just to the left of the building.

To the east was Honduras.

To the south-southeast was Chinchontepec, also known as San Vincente Volcano.

To the south-southwest were El Picacho and El Boquerón, also known as San Salvador Volcano.

I had expected to find armed guards at the summit, but we were the only ones around. I guessed that all police were being mobilized elsewhere in preparation for the elections the following day. 

As this was also the border of Honduras, I took the liberty to walk into the aforementioned country. I did a small loop through the forest, checking another country off my list.

We hung out at the summit for a while, enjoying the peaceful and temperate setting.

We started back down the road once we were satisfied. The cacophony of barking started up again as we passed by the building, but soon we were beyond the nuisance.

We stopped along the way to visit a second benchmark that also marked the border between El Salvador and Honduras. This was in the middle of some crops so we gingerly walked around it.

Once back at the saddle, I could finally relax and enjoy the great views.

We considered exploring a potential bonus rock, but at the end decided against it. We couldn’t see any worthy rock outcropping from our vantage point, and I didn’t see anything on my satellite view. Instead we had brunch at one of the restaurants consisting of pupusas and coffee. We found Eric waiting for us at the top of the road when we finished, and we began our drive back down to La Palma where we stopped to buy some souvenirs.

After another long drive we arrived at the trailhead for El Picacho. There was no information of this hike online, so I wasn't sure what to expect. Here we met our local guide Chico at a roadside pupuseria at the saddle between El Picacho and El Boquerón. We started up a local trail through a coffee plantation.

-El Picacho

We hiked at an aggressive pace. Chico took the lead with his machete in hand. He would stop from time to time to tell me the local folklore, which really interested me. La Siguanaba was apparently seen in this area. This shapeshifter is viewed as an attractive woman who is often seen bathing in the river. She invites enticed men to come bathe with her, but as soon as they come close enough, she turns her head and reveals her terrifying face, which is sometimes depicted as a horse or a skull. The terrifying sight makes the men go crazy. This story is most likely used to deter unfaithful men from drinking and chasing other women. Often accompanying La Siguanaba is El Cipitio, her baby with a round belly and big sombrero. He doesn’t do much aside from throw flowers at women’s feet, but he seems to creep out many Salvadoran woman, including my mother. Chico then told me about El Gritón de la Medianoche, which translates to the yell of the middle of the night. This creature is apparently a very tall man with a mouth like a trumpet who screams incredibly loud. When he is far away, his scream seems to be coming from nearby. I found this fascinating as this is somewhat similar to North American bigfoot mythology; a tall humanoid screaming though the forest in the night.

Chico stopped to show us some coffee beans growing alongside the trail.

Gerardo explained how the beans can be prepared. Some European countries prefer the beans with the husk, while American coffee companies prefer the beans without. The beans are typically left in the sun to dry for a few weeks before they are exported. Gerardo then instructed us to suck on the bean, and we tasted the natural honey flavor from within the husk.

I’m not much of a coffee drinker so most of the dialogue went in one ear and out the other, but I think the average cafephile would find it quite interesting.

I took note of a pointy peak along the coast, which I believe was El Peñon de Comasagua.

We reached a trail junction along the ridge where we also found an abandoned battery. Apparently these fortifications were not utilized much during the civil war as the Guerrillas never really contested this territory.

We stopped at a clearing where we had great views of San Salvador below.

-Chinchontepec y Lago de Ilopango

I found a rope swing here, and it felt appropriate to risk my life on it.

Chico then climbed a tree and cut off a plant with his machete. I still don’t know why.

We continued along the trail, walking past a tree stand. I don’t think this was used for hunting animals.

As we followed the trail underneath the eastern side of the peak, we heard a high pitched sound somewhere up ahead. I at first thought it was a bird, but as I listened more closely, it was someone squawking, “Ay loco, ay loco.” Chico immediately stopped and motioned us to be silent. He went off ahead by himself, machete in hand. I was very concerned for the few seconds he was gone. Upon his return he stated, “No te preocupes, solo es un bolito,” or “Don’t worry, it’s only a little drunk.” We continued forward, and just off the trail below us in a thicket was the bolito, yapping to himself. They say that the homemade moonshine brewed here makes people hallucinate and gives many young people sepsis. Or perhaps he simply saw La Siguanaba.

The trail eventually led to a road, which we followed a short distance to the radio structure at the top.

Again my stress skyrocketed. There was a watchperson, several guard dogs and a fence surrounding the radio facility. No trespassing signs were posted along the gate. We asked the watchperson if we could continue to the top, but he denied us, stating that there were security cameras throughout the summit complex.

I was disappointed to say the least, so I went to the highest legally accessible point and snapped a photo.

I stood there for a while, but there was no way around it. In my mind, I tried to justify the failure as a valiant effort nonetheless. My mind raced as I walked back down the road. I wondered if I could somehow still reach the summit while staying outside of the enclosure. I asked Chico if I was allowed to try from another angle, and he hesitantly agreed suggesting that it would be fine so long as I didn't cross the fence. Before he could change his mind, I began bushwhacking up the steep and loose east facing jungle slopes towards where I expected the summit to be. Snakes and guerrillas filled the back of my mind, while in reality all I had to contend with was thick brush and garbage. It seems that some of the tower workers simply throw their trash over the fence. I pulled on small trees and avoided stepping on the empty liquor bottles. At the end I was swimming through a grassy bush, and I eventually popped out at the fence, which was also the bulldozed high point.

With my heart racing, I snapped a few photos. I should have been more patient, but the dogs from inside the complex were on to me. They had started barking, so as not to arouse further suspicion, I returned to the thicket.

I snapped one last photo of Chinchontepec, Lago de Ilopango and San Salvador before descending.

What a relief! I carefully descended the steep slope, but not carefully enough. I dislodged a big boulder from underneath the dirt, and this accelerated quickly towards where the others were waiting for me. I yelled rock, but Guillermo stood there like a deer in the headlights. Luckily, this boulder flew right past him and no one was hurt. The boulder continued to thrash down the steep volcano, and it's probably still falling today. The other's looked at me as if I was some sort of lunatic, and maybe they are right.

Our descent went quickly and soon we were back down at the saddle looking up at El Picacho.

I had wanted to climb El Boquerón as well, which is the crater of the greater San Salvador Volcano, however there were some challenges. While it is possible to hike to the highest point along the crater, it's currently not the safest thing to do. Gerardo expects that in a few more years, the national park service will clean up the area, making it safer for hikers.

-Berries

Once at the bottom, we ordered some yuca and chatted with the locals.

Zach got his yuca with chicharón and I got mine with Pepescas. Zach made the smarter decision, as I got pretty sick afterwards, so for all future hikers, get the pork!