#several drivers look a little longingly at each other

[interlagosed]

The idea of a driver’s strike crack fic is becoming mighty compelling

[baldwinboy5ive]

I call this Cobra Drive. AU where a sad boy meets another sad boy in his building elevator and they just stare longingly at each other for extended periods of time. (Daniel LaRusso, who made the crane kick famous, gets to add to his repertoire of bird karate moves by stomping Mike Barnes to death in the same elevator like a secretary bird.)

I also wrote some crap for this AU, even though I am not much of a fanfic writer. However, it’s not that bad. It’s just regular bad. 

“If I drive for you, you get your money. You tell me where we start, where we’re going, where we’re going afterward. I give you a five minute window when we get there. Anything happens in that five minutes and I’m yours. No matter what. Anything happens a minute either side of that and you’re on your own. I don’t sit in while you’re running it down, I don’t carry a gun, I don’t do karate - not anymore. I drive. Do you understand?” 

The well-rehearsed speech was delivered in an accent that was undeniably East Coast, but from a man who knew well the 100,000 streets of Los Angeles. Daniel ended it every single time with a secret tribute to his beloved mentor, whose life lessons were always punctuated with “Understand?” 

And Daniel did. He always understood what Mr. Miyagi had told him, and replied “Yeah, I understand,” even if some of his lessons had taken awhile to really make their impact on him. 

-----

Daniel moved frequently. It was routine now for him. Funny how things changed. He often remembered how monumental that first cross-country move had been, how the course of his entire life had shifted that summer of 1984. Now, his moves were quick, efficient, and all within LA. 

On his second day in his newest building, Daniel returned to his apartment by elevator. Another building resident stepped in with him, hauling a basket of laundry from the basement. 

He was familiar. Daniel kept his eyes trained at his feet while he felt the familiar man’s gaze on him for a moment. He allowed himself one quick glance, but didn’t manage to time it as well as he’d wanted. The golden-haired man who now shared a building with him was still staring back at him. 

His eyes were beautiful and sad. 

It was Johnny Lawrence. 

-----

“You just move back to LA or something?” was the question Johnny finally settled on after he and Daniel hauled his groceries into his second story apartment. There was too much he wanted to ask. It had been 34 years. Something in those 34 years had hardened the look in Daniel’s eyes.

“No, I’ve been here for awhile.” 

“So just new here?” 

Daniel nodded. 

“What are you up to now, LaRusso?” 

“I drive.” 

“Like, those internet car things?” Johnny asked, a touch of confusion on his face. 

“No, for the movies.” 

“You mean all the car chases and stuff?” 

“Yeah.” 

Johnny let out a soft laugh. “Isn’t that dangerous?” 

Daniel fully met Johnny’s eyes, and stared challengingly, the words “Oh, now you care about my safety and well-being?” hanging between the two of them unspoken. Daniel’s lips quirked into a slight grin. So did Johnny’s. Then Daniel knew. Johnny remembered it all. 

The intensity of Johnny’s bright blue eyes and the pain they carried eventually became too much for Daniel, who was the first to drop his gaze. He broke the silence by saying placatingly, “It’s only part time. Mostly I work at a garage.” 

“Where?” 

“Reseda Boulevard.” 

After a few more beats of silence, Daniel nodded his head towards the teen boy sitting at the kitchen table doing his homework, as if only just noticing him even though he’d rode up in the elevator with them. “He yours?” 

“They sometimes just come with the apartment. Old place here is infested. Overrun with roaches, children, teens. You might want to check under your kitchen counters and shit if you haven’t already, LaRusso.” 

The boy snorted, not offended in the least. “I’m Miguel,” he said. 

A door in the apartment slammed open, and another teen boy wandered into the kitchen. “Who’s this?” he asked, pointing at Daniel.

“This is LaRu- Daniel. Daniel, this is Robby.”

Daniel stared at the two teenagers. Neither of them resembled Johnny. Perhaps Johnny hadn’t been kidding about them surfacing from under the kitchen counters. 

-----

At the garage, a sly smile spread on the face of the man who’d given Daniel all of his jobs. “Oh, you and the kid know each other,” he said, gesturing rapidly between Daniel and Johnny while leaning over the open hood of a car he’d been working on. 

“Don’t,” Daniel warned. He stalked off, but not without grinning at his employer. 

“Uh…” Johnny began. A “He kicked me in the face when we were teenagers, but I did sort of deserve it a little, and it’s actually at least a 126 minute-long story” died on his lips. 

“We’re neighbors,” Johnny said. 

“Ahh,” said Daniel’s employer, as if that was all there was to know. 

Johnny explained in more detail what was going on with his Firebird, and was told that the repairs would take a few days. 

“Miguel, call us one of those car things from your iComputer.” 

“It’s an iPho-” 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” cut in Daniel’s employer. “You and the kid are neighbors! He’d be happy to give you a ride.” 

Johnny met Daniel’s eyes from across the garage. He did indeed look happy.

---

“Hey, I know you. Come on, we met last year! Well - met again. It’s me. Snake. You drove me and Dennis back from Palm Springs. Hey, I got this sweet job planned out --” 

Fury blazed in Daniel’s eyes. Someone both recognizing him and talking to him about his jobs was more than enough to make Daniel disappear for a few months, but this wasn’t just any someone. This was one of Terry Silver’s men. Over the years, Daniel had done everything he could to be free of Terry and his mob. But every time Daniel thought he was safe, eventually, Terry would always come back. And there would always be a job. 

Terry’s man - and therefore Terry himself - reappearing in his life would have been bad enough before, but now? Now he had Johnny. He couldn’t just pick up and leave. He realized with anger burning up in his chest that he didn’t want to pick up and leave. 

Daniel cut Snake off with a low whisper. “How about this? Shut your mouth. Or I’ll kick your teeth down your throat, and shut it for you.” 

All Daniel had wanted was to finish his dinner and coffee in peace, until it was time to drive Johnny to the bar for his night shift. Daniel stared at Snake, never taking his eyes off of him until Snake quietly retreated from the diner. Only then did Daniel feel comfortable returning to his food.

-----

Daniel’s face took on a detached and aloof manner when he addressed the man Terry had sent. 

“When you get your money, his debt’s paid. He’s out for good. And you never go near his family again. Do you understand?” 

-----

Daniel did everything in his power to keep his voice even. Confident. Balanced. But that voice on the other end of the phone would always terrify him. Some things never changed. 

“I’m going to give you a time and a place and you’re going to come and get your money. Do you understand?” 

Terry barked out a laugh. “What do you get out of it, Danny boy?” 

“Just that: out of it.” 

Daniel hung up. For once he had the satisfaction of dictating terms with Terry Silver. 

-----

“They came to my apartment. How did they know where I live?” 

“I told you, I was going to call Kreese, I just wanted him to know that… that it wasn’t about the money… that you’re not interested in the money… that you just did it for him.” 

Daniel exploded at the man who had been his longtime employer. So this was how Kreese and Silver and known it was him. “Why?! You told them about Johnny! Why did you tell them about Johnny?!” 

“Calm down, kid. Just calm down.” 

“I should fucking kill you - you told them about Johnny! That’s how they figured it out, you know - that it was me. You told them about Johnny and then they knew it was me.” 

“I just wanted him to know… that as soon as you returned the money, that was the end of it, that’s all! I didn’t know. I didn’t know. How was I supposed to know?! How was I supposed to know… that everything led to Silver!” 

Daniel’s voice was breaking as he screamed at the old man. Daniel’s eyes were wild and he was breathing hard. Breathe in, breathe out, echoed the voice of his dear sensei in his head. Soon, his racing heart slowed just enough for him to calmly tell his employer, “They came for me, and now they’re going to come for you, too. You have to get out of here. Do you understand?” 

-----

John Kreese pleaded with his lifelong friend. “Anybody finds out you stole from the family, we’re both dead. The money always flows up, Twig. You know that!” 

Terry Silver fell uncharacteristically quiet amidst their shouting match. He looked at Kreese ruefully. “That’s why this driver’s gotta go, Johnny. That’s why he’s gotta go. He’s gonna tie me to this robbery.” 

It was too bad. Terry had always been fond of Daniel. 

-----

Daniel hoped he would never again have to fear for Johnny’s and his kids’ lives. He flicked his eyes up to the rearview mirror. Miguel and Robby were fast asleep in the backseat - and safe. Alive. 

Daniel did, however, find comfort in knowing that he didn’t have to pretend anymore, didn’t have to keep his karate hidden and tucked away. If Johnny ever needed it again, Daniel would use it. He’d help Johnny remember his. He thought fondly of the way Mr. Miyagi had once insisted that only Daniel’s root karate came from Mr. Miyagi, and had urged him to make his karate his own. 

If Daniel could do it, so could Johnny. Johnny’s Cobra Kai would be better - different, new. A product of the goodness Daniel was confident Johnny had inside of him. Johnny would use that goodness to teach Robby and Miguel. And Daniel vowed to be there with them. 

If anyone ever again tried to hurt any of them, the four of them would be ready. 

Another Mr. Miyagi lesson surfaced in Daniel’s memories as he continued driving. Back in 1994, Mr. Miyagi had returned to Daniel in LA after a long stay in Boston, and over the course of several days, had told him all about Julie Pierce, and the lessons he taught her. The final lesson had been: “Fighting not good, but if must fight - win.” 

That was what Daniel had done. 

Daniel smiled at the beautiful man in the passenger seat next to him, whose sadness never left his eyes, but who, despite this, could now smile back warmly at him. Daniel checked the rearview mirror once more, never taking his attention from the road ahead of them. Miguel and Robby were both still asleep. 

Daniel turned his gaze back to the road for a moment, feeling the hum of the car around him and those he loved. 

“I’m yours. No matter what. Do you understand?” 

-----

OH SHIT i forgot to mention, the idea for the cobra on the back of the jacket AND for including Robby both come from @idontknowkaratebutiknowcrazy !!!! Thank you for your moral support and help on these concepts! I always knew I wanted Daniel to be the Driver, so it didn’t even OCCUR to me to have the cobra on his jacket, until @idontknowkaratebutiknowcrazy said it, and then she said he can give it to Johnny later (even though it won’t fit him haha!). Just a note - I changed up the cobra design from the Cobra Kai logo though because the original logo looked kinda goofy as a silhouette. 

[deathnotesecretexchange]

Title: Gift Exchange

From: @anakien

To: @user-null

Prompt: Mello & Near gift exchange without the other knowing

Word Count: ~3,800 words

A/N: Hi! I hope you enjoy this! :)

Mello will never admit it, but he's always liked Christmas.

He has fuzzy memories from being a kid, long before he was ever brought to Wammy's. On Christmas Eve, he attended church services with his mother. He remembers kneeling with her in the pews, clutching her rosary, and listening to her sing.

He can't picture her face anymore, but he remembers her there.

Christmas at Wammy's is different. Wammy's is always lighter, somehow. The place is decorated, all lights and trees and little ugly snowflake decorations up on the walls. Roger takes a carload to the nearest church for the Christmas Eve service, though Mello no longer goes. The chefs bake more, laying out plates of cookies and other spiced holiday desserts. And though all of the kids are too intelligent to truly believe in Santa, Watari's and L's Santa traps are kind of fun (though, as always, it's only a test for the successor path).

But Mello's favorite part of Christmas might be the gift exchange they do every year. Some of the older kids started it several years ago, X, Y, and Z, but every year the tradition continues.

This year, Linda begged and begged until the others let her organize the exchange. They pile into one of the empty classrooms after dinner, the others buzzing with excitement. Even Matt looks relatively excited, his GameBoy ever-present but sitting paused in his lap.

Even that little twit Near is around, sitting quietly in the corner. He meets Near's gaze and holds it for a moment. Near doesn't look happy really, but there's still something akin to excitement in his gaze.

Mello doesn't let that curb his good mood, his own excitement still bubbling in his belly. He turns away, back to Matt, and shoves him to go put their names in the hat.

Linda yells at everyone to settle down, hands on her hips. She trots around the room, waving the hat under everyone's nose.

Matt draws his slip first, and then Mello grabs his, under Linda's watchful eyes.

He leans back and peers at it. Linda, the slip reads. He snorts. Easy. All he has to do is get her art supplies.

He watches her flounce off to the next person, and Matt groans as soon as she's out of earshot.

"Damn. I wanted her," he says. He pushes his goggles up to the top of his head and sighs.

Mello smirks. He is no stranger to Matt's not-so-secret crush. He briefly flashes Matt his little slip of paper, and Matt's eyes grow wide.

"Switch with me."

Mello cackles. "No way. She's easy to buy for."

"Mello," Matt says pleadingly. He's practically begging, and Mello relishes in this newfound control. "Come on, man. Let's switch."

"What'll you give me?"

"A month's supply of chocolate."

"You were going to give me that anyway. That's my Christmas gift."

"Two months!"

"Six. And next time Roger gets on my ass, you cover for me."

Matt sighs and looks longingly over in Linda's direction. "Three months, but I'll do the Roger thing."

"Deal." Mello sticks out his hand, Matt shakes it, and they exchange slips.

Only that's when Mello realizes he never found out who exactly Matt had. He unfolds Matt's slip to see Near written in tiny letters.

"Hell no," he says immediately, trying to shove the slip back into Matt's hands.

Matt gives him wide eyes. "Come on, we shook on it."

Mello grits his teeth. He turns around, scouting for Near. Nowhere in sight; he must've left as soon as he got his paper.

"I hate that little sheep," he sneers.

Matt looks genuinely, legitimately disappointed, and Mello's resolve starts to falter.

"I'm a good fucking friend," Mello grumbles finally.

Matt's face lights up, and he slaps Mello on the shoulder, grinning.

They leave the room, and Mello fights the irritation that lingers.

------

One week before Christmas, Roger rounds up all the kids who want to physically buy their gifts to head to the closest department store.

He and Matt climb into one of the vans, followed in by Sura and Hermine. Both girls chatter away in the front row, smiling at Matt but ignoring Mello.

Mello scowls and looks out the other window. He can practically feel Matt's silent gloating, though he stays quiet as he pulls out his GameBoy.

"Got room for two more?" A new voice says. Mello turns, and Linda grins at them. Near stands next to her, looking as impassive as ever.

Matt lights up and immediately scrambles out of the back seat, making room for Linda.

"Come here," Sura says to Linda, beckoning her over. Linda gives Matt an apologetic smile and scoots into the middle row next to Hermine.

Near stands expectantly, looking up at Matt.

"We got room," Matt says to Near. Matt looks disappointed, but Near obviously doesn't care. Mello averts his eyes as both turn towards him, angling his body as close to the side as possible.

Mello stiffens as Near climbs in next to him. He remains still, holding his breath, even as Near straps in and ignores him. Matt climbs in next, sending Mello a silent expression that's a mix of amused and apologetic.

Near suddenly leans even more into Mello's space, digging into his pants pocket, and Mello chokes for a moment. Out Near pulls a small wooden toy and then moves back into his own space. He murmurs a small apology, obviously waiting on Mello to yell at him.

Instead, Mello could only focus on how warm he was, and on how soft his hair was against his cheek.

"Watch it," Mello mutters, but without any venom. It's also a beat too late, and Matt is staring at him with an eyebrow raised. He snorts on the other side of the van, trying belatedly to turn it into a cough. Mello glares over Near's head, feeling his cheeks heat in embarrassment.

Their staring match is interrupted as Roger climbs in the driver's seat, craning around to count them. He sighs, visibly exhausted, at seeing Near next to Mello.

"Mello, am I going to have to separate you two?"

One of the girls giggles, and Mello's cheeks flush even more.

"You don't have to worry about me," he says irritably. "Tell the sheep to stick to his seat."

"I'll be okay," Near says, not even looking up at Roger.

Roger sighs again, but turns around, cranks the engine, and they're on their way.

The girls chat amiably. Matt sticks to his GameBoy, occasionally leaning over to say something to Linda, and Near fiddles with his toy. Mello gets bored of ignoring everyone after about ten minutes and turns to watch Near.

He's playing with one of those wooden block puzzles, where the goal is to get one brightly red piece to slide neatly out of the entrance. He watches Near fiddle with it for longer than expected, until Near finally clears an open line and frees the piece.

Near huffs a little, pleased. Suddenly, he turns to Mello and holds the puzzle up. "Want to try?"

Mello cocks his head and reaches out to snag the toy. "I'm only doing this because I'm bored," he says, "not because I think your stupid toy is cool or anything."

Near jerks the puzzle back, but before Mello can say something angrily, he mixes up the pieces on the block, setting it up for Mello to have a fresh start. He holds it back towards Mello, who grabs it silently.

"It's more fun when it's a challenge," Near says simply.

Mello doesn't know what to say, so instead he turns his attention back down to the block and begins. Near stays quiet, simply watching.

It's kind of fun. Mello will never actually admit it, but it scratches the itch for challenge in his mind.

And damn, Near mixed the pieces up well.

He finishes the puzzle, sliding out the little red piece, just as the van pulls into the store parking lot. Grinning, he looks sideways at Near and holds up the piece.

"Got it," he says, radiating satisfaction.

The corners of Near's mouth tilt up, and he gently takes the piece and toy back from Mello. "On the ride back, you can attempt to complete it faster than me."

Mello snorts. His chest feels warm. "Yeah, right. I definitely beat that faster than you!"

Near's eyes are bright. "Perhaps with a little more practice."

Mello opens his mouth to shoot back another comment, but Near doesn't wait to hear it, already slipping out of the backseat and heading towards the store without looking back.

Mello sits for a moment, an odd feeling in his chest that only occurred when Near smiled at him. He brushes it off and climbs out after him. Matt, waiting just outside the van door, steadies his arm as he trips out.

"Well," Matt says, amused, "that was new."

"What?"

"Oh, you know. Just you sitting next to Near and not trying to kill him for once."

Mello scoffs. "Shut up."

"It's a Christmas miracle!"

Mello shoves him.

———

The store is ridiculously crowded. There's still another week left until Christmas, but people are already out in swarm.

He and Matt split up at the sight of the crowd of people. Mello heads straight back for the toy section, pushing and shoving his way through. Luckily, the puzzles aren't really picked over, and he picks out a 1,000 piece puzzle with some picturesque mountain landscape on it.

Well, that was easy.

Roger gave them an hour to shop. It's barely been fifteen minutes. Groaning, he trudges off in the direction of the craft aisle, in search of Matt.

Said friend is found squatting on the floor, looking between two identical green paints.

"I'm done," Mello says. "Come on."

Matt waves him off. "Go check out." He holds the tubes up towards the light. "I have to pick the best shade."

Mello rolls his eyes. "Those are literally the same color."

Matt shushes him and squints even more at the paint.

Mello huffs and turns to head out. As he leaves, the white paint catches his eye. Near's voice echoes in his head, "It's more fun when it's a challenge." He grabs a tube and heads to check out.

———

For the ride home, Near gets into the other van. Mello doesn't know why this actually bothers him.

———

Only a couple of days before Christmas, Mello actually gets started on Near's gift. It's painstaking - painting each piece white, front and back.

Matt ribs him a little about it and snags a picture of him sprawled out on his stomach on the floor, legs kicked up in the air and tongue peeking out. Mello threatens to break his camera, but Matt laughs and hides it away. Pretty soon, it's all forgotten as he has to get back to painting.

When he's finally finished, it looks pretty damn great, if he says so himself. He's never been one for puzzles, so he doesn't bother to put it together by himself. He somehow cons Matt into doing it with him, and when it's finished, both of them stare at it.

"I think Near'll like it," Matt says, stretching out the crick in his neck, "but you could never pay me to do that again."

"It needs something else," Mello says, squinting down at it.

Matt shrugs. "I think the white looks good."

Mello doesn't disagree, but it sticks in the back of his mind until he sees Linda the next day. She's an artist; she'll be a better judge of style than Matt, who wears that same ugly vest and goggles everyday.

He waves her over. "Come look at this for me."

She looks confused, but follows him back to his and Matt's room. He points out the puzzle.

"Oh! That looks good. For Near, right?"

"It needs something else," he says bluntly, "but I don't know what."

She hums. "What about his name? Or initial?"

Mello considers it. "Can we make it small? The white - he says he likes a challenge."

She looks at him, amused. "Oh, so you've talked to him some more?"

"Shut up. Can you sketch an N or not?"

She grins and grabs a pencil off of Matt's desk. In the top left corner, she draws the N, stylized in the same font that L does his.

"What about this? You can paint it," she says, leaning back on her feet when she's done. "I have black paint you can borrow to fill it in."

"Thanks." It was exactly what he had in mind. She drops the paint off and he spends the evening doing delicate, small strokes so each line is straight.

He leaves it out to dry. Even Matt grudgingly admits it looks better than before.

There's still a couple more days until Christmas, but Mello can't help but be excited, even though the gift is for Near of all people. He thinks about the weird way he felt the other day when Near smiled at him. It probably is just excitement for the idea, no big deal.

———

The gift exchange takes place on Christmas evening, after dinner. Mello's been antsy all day, but he only started to get a little nervous once the meal was over. He's pretty sure Near will like the puzzle. After all, it's practically custom-built for the little twit. Still, his stomach twists uncomfortably as he watches Near from across the dining hall.

As if knowing Mello's thinking about him, Near looks up and catches his gaze. Mello immediately looks down at his food. He forces himself to look away for the rest of dinner, though he can still feel Near's eyes on him every now and then.

Everyone meets back up in the living area fifteen minutes after dinner. It's enough time to go back and grab the gift. He'd wrapped it the day before, so all he has to do is pick it up and head back with Matt. Matt has Linda's gift tucked under one of his arms, and his GameBoy under the other.

There's already a crowd of people waiting and chatting loudly. Matt and Mello sit with some of the other guys. Mello keeps one eye on the door, waiting for Near to walk in. As more and more people file in, Near still doesn't show. He shifts, antsy.

"Dude, relax," Matt says. "He'll show."

"I'll be pissed if I put in all this work for nothing," Mello grumbles.

Matt rolls his eyes. "Sure. That'll be why you're upset."

Before Mello can spit something back, Near walks in, just as composed as ever. He holds a small brown box in his hands, a deck of cards resting on top.

Matt nudges him. "What did I say?"

"Shut up."

"Everyone, quiet!" Linda stands up, cupping her hands over her mouth. "Is anyone not here? I think everyone's here. We're about to get started! I'll read off the names. If you have that person, bring them their gift. Easy?"

The room buzzes, and she flaps a hand to get everyone to be quiet.

"Okay, first off... Ronan?"

There's not a whole lot of students, but the exchanges still seem to drag. Mello occasionally throws peeks towards Near, who doesn't even look like he's paying attention. Instead, he's building a tower with his cards.

Linda calls her own name at some point and looks ridiculously excited over her new paints. Matt practically glows all the way back to his seat, which only grows more intense as he opens Hermine's gift for him - some brand new game for his console.

"Near!"

Near looks up expectantly when his name is called. Mello slowly gets to his feet at Matt's prodding, feeling the eyes of every other kid in the room. He hears some of them whisper as he walks by - after all, his and Near's rivalry has always been the subject of much gossip.

"How did Mello get him-"

"Poor Near, I bet-"

Mello ignores them and comes to a stop in front of Near. He holds out the gift. "Here," he says, gruffly. "Merry Christmas."

Near looks up at him, wide-eyed for only a moment before he composes his expression into something more neutral. He takes the box and scoots away from his cards.

Mello cringes inwardly, looking down at his sloppy wrapping. Near doesn't seem to care, though. He just calmly unwraps the puzzle box, displaying the mountain landscape.

"Thank you, Mello," he says.

Mello swallows and gestures lamely. "Open it. It's uh, not the mountains."

Near tilts his head at that, but he does as Mello says and opens the box. The pieces are all mixed inside, but Near holds up one of the ones with the black initial on it.

Mello is well aware that everyone's eyes are still on him. He sweats a little. "It's an all-white puzzle. Except for your initial. I, uh, painted everything on it." He clears his throat. "You said it's more fun with a challenge."

Near's face is devoid of all emotion, but his eyes are bright. "Thank you."

That's as much recognition as he's going to get, so he nods and turns back around. As soon as his back is turned, he hears the telltale sound of all the pieces hitting the floor. When he gets back to his seat, Near is already hard at work on his puzzle.

Matt looks at him, smug. "Better than a baby puzzle, huh?"

"Shut up."

Near looks up and meets Mello's gaze. He smiles, softly. Mello lets one side of his mouth tilt up.

Linda calls the rest of the names. Mello waits impatiently for his own name to be called.

"And last but not least, Mello!"

Much to his surprise, Near is the one who stands up and walks over to him. Mello takes the box Near hands him and tears it open, no regard for the neat wrapping. Inside is a stack of chocolate bars, twelve in total. He lifts one up and flips it over to see that dark chocolate content is 82.5%.

"This is my favorite chocolate," he says, a little shocked. "How the hell did you know that? I never can find it in stores. L special orders it for me for my birthday."

Near looks satisfied and doesn't answer his question. "It would be a year's supply for anyone but you," he says dryly.

Mello smirks. Near walks back to his spot, and Mello immediately tears into the first bar. The room titters.

Linda stands back up. "I think we're done! Thanks for participating, everybody. See you next Christmas!"

The room gets loud again as people start to trickle out. One of the other guys leans over to poke at Mello, smirking and taunting him about how he and Near got each other's names.

"What, you think I planned that?" Mello scoffs. "Yeah, right."

Matt jabs at him with his foot, already plugging his new game into his GameBoy. Linda comes by to speak to Matt, and Mello ducks away because he really doesn't want to see Matt's sappy expressions. Instead, he drifts closer to Near, until he squats down beside him. Near doesn't look up from the puzzle.

"Did you know I had you?"

"No," Near says. "Nor did I suspect you knew I had you." He tries to snap a piece into place, but it doesn't fit. He grimaces slightly.

Mello preens.

"It took me four hours to put it together," Mello says. He conveniently leaves out the fact that Matt was helping him. "Beat me. I dare you."

"You don't want me to take my time, enjoy my present?" Near's voice is too innocent for Mello to believe him.

"Smartass. Sounds like something someone would say when they know they can't beat my time."

The corners of Near's mouth tilt up into a smile, though he still doesn't look up. "Merry Christmas, Mello."

Mello snaps off another piece of his chocolate. Damn, that's the good shit. "Near." With that, he turns and leaves him to it.

———

The next morning, Mello walks through the living area on the way to the dining hall. In the corner, in Near's spot, the puzzle lays finished. A piece of paper rests on top, and he bends down to pick it up.

Six hours. - N

Mello can't help it. He laughs. "Merry Christmas, Near. Guess I'm still better than you, after all."

———

A/N: I slightly changed up Near’s classic all-white puzzle for this fic. In the show, you see Near working on it in the episode where Roger tells them that L died. But it actually has an L on it, not an N! But I thought it would be cute to have Mello spend so much time working on it for him out of spite (though, it’s not spite, it’s more of a crush, even if he’s not aware of it yet). Either way, I hope you enjoyed this! :)

[o-foramuse-of-fire]

Happy New Year! Here is my Secret Santa gift for @ubilupus! I hope you enjoy!

Summary: Alice Brandon has a massive crush on law student Jasper Whitlock. The only problem? She’s never actually spoken to him out loud. AH/AU

Title: Apricity

Words: 3,450

Rating: G/K+

Read on: AO3 or FFN

The snow fell in feather-light flakes in the crisp winter air. Alice chewed her lip as she gazed at the historic building across the street, almost mystical in the snowfall. She walked back and forth by the bus stop, hesitating to cross the street. A dark blue bus pulled up to the stop, its sign flashing yellow. Several students descended and the driver waited to see if Alice would board. She shook her head, shaking flakes out of her pixie-cut. The driver shrugged, closed the door, and drove off.

“What are you doing?”

Alice jumped at the voice. Sharp yet sweet, like a slice of key lime pie, with just a hint of caramel smoothness. She turned and plastered a huge smile on her face.

“Oh, hey, Rosalie!”

Rosalie Hale was one of Alice’s closest friends. The two had met freshman year signing up to assist with one of the many student theatre groups on campus. Rosalie, a Business major, wanted to get involved in marketing and Alice, who was studying Art and Design, was interested in assisting with designing posters or helping to paint sets.

“Don’t ‘hey, Rosalie,” me,” Rosalie retorted. “This is the third time this week I’ve caught you loitering out by the Law Quad.”

“Is it?”

“C’mon, Alice, something’s going on with you. And don’t just say you’re trying to plan out where to take grad photos because I know it’s something more than that.”

Alice quickly shut her mouth. That had been the excuse she was about to give. Everyone knew the Law Quad was in high demand for graduating seniors. In a few months, once the majority of winter was behind them and the temperature rose above freezing, Alice knew there’d be people crowding for the perfect cap and gown shot.

But that wasn’t the reason she’d spent more hours than she could count recently, wrapped up in her warmest--yet still fashionable--winter clothes and staring longingly at the gray stone arches. Alice heaved a sigh, her breath forming a tiny cloud in the wintry air.

“Okay. Fine. C’mon.”

Alice adjusted the strap of her cross-body bag and swung her scarf over her shoulder before leading Rosalie across the street. The two of them wandered into the Law Quad, looking more like Hogwarts at Christmas than it had any right to. Snow dusted the tops of the stone towers and turrets and coated the rooftops. Icicles hung from the mature trees like crystals. Students meandered through the Quad, ducking in and out of the grand arches, crossing pathways lined by Victorian-style street lamps. When they reached the door to the Law Library, Alice hesitated.

“Just don’t get me kicked out, okay?” The Law Library was notorious for having a strict no-talking policy.

“I won’t make a peep,” Rosalie said, her ruby lips curling into an intrigued grin.

They walked into the Reading Room, and no matter how many times Alice stepped foot inside there, she was always struck by its grandiose beauty and ambiance. The room was large and open, with a 10 story ceiling surrounded by beautiful stained glass windows bearing the seals of great universities around the world. The ceiling itself was intricately designed with squares of floral-like designs sculpted in gold. The Reading Room was illuminated with soft light from elegant two-tiered chandeliers, stylized to look like candles. Wooden shelves filled with legal books lined the long hall, interspersed with elaborate doorways and stonework. With finals fast approaching, students from all across campus crowded the oversized tables with curved reading lights, their books and notes stacked high. Anxious, academic energy crackled in the air. Alice walked down the aisle, Rosalie trailing at her side, until she came upon the third table from the back on the left. There, like he had been every day this week, sat a god.

A golden-haired young man with storm cloud eyes. Sculpted cheekbones and lips that Alice just knew were soft and kissable. A few strands of curly blond hair fell in front of his face as he pored over a thick tome, and the man pushed them out of his way with a flick of his long fingers. He was dressed in a knitted black sweater that complemented his tanned skin and accentuated his lean figure. His long legs were stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles.

Alice delicately pulled out the chair across from him, and slid into it as silently as she could manage. As she sat down, the man looked up from his book. His face lit up, eyes sparkling and lips stretching into a heart-stopping smile. Alice’s heart fluttered, and she returned his smile with an uncharacteristically shy grin. She opened up her bag and pulled out the textbook she kept in there for this exact purpose. She flipped through the pages until she came across the midnight blue bookmark denoting the last chapter she’d attempted to slog through. But before she could even attempt to read the first sentence, a crumpled piece of paper landed in front of her. Alice opened the note with excited fingers, her eyes eager for the words scrawled inside.

Art history again?

Alice’s mouth twitched. She scribbled a response on the paper, folded it up neatly, and passed it back across the table.

Yeah. My last final. I’ve been really slacking on the reading.

Maybe you know more than you think. You’ve been reading that book every time you’ve been in here.

Alice bit her lip. Had she done that? She’d meant to rotate her books, her excuses to be in his presence.

I keep getting distracted by the architecture. It’s just so beautiful in here.

It is. But if it keeps pulling your focus away from your studying, maybe you should try one of the less decorated spots on campus. Like Starbucks.

He shot her a smirk as he watched her read his words.

Never. I like the view here too much.

Me too.

Rosalie surreptitiously watched the exchange from a table across the aisle, quirking an eyebrow when Alice flushed scarlet and covered her mouth to hold in a giggle. She narrowed her eyes further as the note passing spanned a whole page. Then a second. Then a third. She didn’t think either of the two had touched their books in a while. Pursing her lips, Rosalie rose to her feet and sauntered back over to Alice’s table. Alice didn’t even notice her approach, she was too engrossed in whatever she was writing. Rosalie tapped her on the shoulder and crossed her arms. Alice gave her a sheepish grin, hurriedly wrote one final message, and passed the note to the blond-haired guy. He glanced it over, and the good-natured smile seemingly glued to his face fell ever so slightly. He gave Alice a wave as she stood, returned her book to her bag, and hoisted it over her shoulder. Alice returned his wave with her own, then tripped over her feet as Rosalie grabbed her by the elbow and dragged her to the exit.

As soon as they were back outside, Rosalie spun on Alice.

“Okay, spill. Who was that guy?”

Alice’s voice took on a dreamy tone. “Jasper Whitlock, first year law student. He’s originally from Texas and he went to Rice, majored in Political Science and History. He’s got a younger brother who’s studying Engineering at Rice now, and a little sister who’s in her senior year of high school. He likes horseback riding, Mexican food, and horror movies.”

“Wow, Alice, did you stalk the guy?”

A rosy blush colored Alice’s cheeks. “No. We passed notes. And then I Facebook stalked him.”

Rosalie snorted. “You’re crushing on him hard.”

“Except I haven’t said a word to him!” Alice cried, dragging her hands over her face. “I came to the Law Library to sketch last week--you know how I feel about Gothic architecture--and he was just there! Sitting at that table all gorgeous and studious. I don’t know how I worked up the nerve to pass him that first note, I swear my hands were shaking the whole time. But I’ve never actually spoken with him, like, words out loud, you know?”

“And he’s never tried to follow you out of the library to actually speak with you?”

“Nope.”

“Hm. He loses a few points for that. But maybe he’s just shy.”

“How could anyone that looks like that be shy? He probably just doesn’t like me.”

“Oh, he likes you, Alice. Trust me.”

“You don’t know that.” Alice whined.

“Did you not see the look he gave you? Like you were the sun and he was a mere flower. He bloomed in your presence. And practically wilted when you left.”

“I don’t know, Rose...”

Rosalie spun on her heels to stop and face Alice. She reached down to place her perfectly manicured hands atop Alice’s shoulders.

“Alright. Here’s what we’re gonna do. Tomorrow, we’re gonna dress you up and make you look so goddamn gorgeous, that he’ll follow you outta there like a little lovesick puppy.”

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

Early the next morning--earlier than Alice would’ve liked--Rosalie was in her apartment, clucking her tongue as she parsed through Alice’s wardrobe. Alice sat on the edge of her bed, rubbing sleep out of her eyes. Rosalie had roped their friend Bella into the scheme, and the brunette was sitting next to Alice, almost as tired as she was, her head falling onto Alice’s shoulder every now and then.

“You owe me Starbucks for this,” Bella mumbled.

“Yeah, Rose,” Alice agreed. “Jasper doesn’t usually make it into the Law Library until after 11.”

“Which means we only have four hours to get you looking jaw-droppingly sexy,” answered Rosalie. She picked out a black dress that was way too short given the current temperatures, shook her head, and returned it to the closet.

“At least she’s keeping in mind the weather,” Bella muttered under her breath.

Bella was the most practical out of the three girls. She and Alice had met in their first year English class and had become fast friends. It had taken some time for Bella and Rosalie to warm up to each other--Bella had a knee-jerk response to anyone involved in a sorority. But after Rosalie had chewed out a sleaze-ball who’d attempted to run his hand up Bella’s skirt while the three were out dancing one night, the two had forged a tight bond.

“Okay, how about this,” said Rosalie as she held up two hangers. In one hand was a black pencil skirt. In the other was a silk purple blouse with a deep V-neck. It was long-sleeved with bunching at the wrist. “Some tights, your black pumps and--”

“I’ll look like a librarian,”

“A sexy librarian,” Rosalie corrected, but she returned the items to the closet.

“We’re trying to get this Jasper’s attention, right?” asked Bella.

Alice nodded.

“Well then, what do we know about him? What does he like?”

“Ooh, good idea Bella. Alice, has Jasper ever looked at you more than usual or in a different way? And what were you wearing when he did?”

“Um, not that I can remember...”

“Does he have a favorite color?” Bella offered.

Alice straightened, like a jolt of electricity had run through her body. Her eyes sparkled and she grinned with exuberance. She hopped off the bed and rushed over to her closet, pushing aside dresses and sweaters with ferocity until she found what she was looking for. She pulled the emerald green sweater dress out of the closet and held it out in front of her proudly. Though unassuming on the hanger, it clung to her body like a second skin. It had a scooped neckline, which artfully showed off her delicate collarbones, and an intricate knitted design.

“Green,” she said with a joyful smile.

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

“Girls, I don’t know if I can do this,” said Alice, clutching the front of her black peacoat with white knuckles.

“Alice, you look beautiful,” Rosalie assured her.

“Yeah, it’s going to be fine! You’ve got this!” Bella encouraged.

Once the emerald dress had been decided upon, Alice had spent the next few hours under Rosalie’s direct care. She’d picked out a pair of black leggings, as well as a pair of black booties, plus the black peacoat with silver buttons to complete the look. Bella had chosen the knitted white beret style hat that hung loosely off the back of Alice’s head, displaying her dark hair with contrast. Alice’s hair normally stuck out in all directions, but Rosalie had coaxed the energetic strands into becoming tendrils. Rosalie was an artist with makeup, and had accentuated Alice’s features without overpowering her. Black eyeliner and mascara heightened Alice’s doe-like eyes, and the silver eyeshadow shimmered with every blink. Alice’s cheekbones were highlighted and dusted with a soft pink blush. Alice had always thought her lips were small--just like the rest of her--but Rosalie had worked her magic and now the lips, painted cherry-red, appeared pouty and full. Bella had talked Alice through exactly what she was going to say to Jasper, filling her up with self-confidence. She gave advice to Alice on how to win over Jasper with her words, not just her looks.

Now, the three of them were standing in front of the entrance to the Law Library. Alice’s knees knocked together. Rosalie and Bella were on either side of her, practically pushing her in.

“You know, I think I might be coming down with something, I’ve been standing in the cold too long, maybe I should go home and we could try this another day--”

“Uh-uh, no way!” Rosalie stopped Alice from running away and turned her right back towards the Law Library. “We did not give up valuable finals studying time for you to back out now. You are going to go in there, and you are not coming back out until you have a date!”

Rosalie shoved Alice forward, causing the shorter girl to almost trip. Alice recovered and gathered herself with a determined puff of air. She brushed a stray curl out of her eyes, rolled her shoulders back, and strode into the Law Library with as much confidence as she could muster.

As expected, Jasper was there, seated at his usual spot. He was surrounded by piles of books, and hunched over a thick notebook. He looked very focused and very hot. Alice closed her eyes, thought back on everything Rosalie and Bella had said to her that morning, and began to walk towards Jasper’s table.

He heard her approach--the clicks of her black boots echoed in the silent hall--and glanced up from his notebook. At first, he gave her his usual genteel grin, but then Alice watched his eyes widen and his lips part as he took in her appearance. Alice slowly undid the buttons of her coat, feigning nonchalance as best she could. She shrugged the coat off her shoulders, and Jasper gasped. The big reveal, Rosalie had called it.

Alice slowly sunk into the chair, smoothing her dress as she sat down. Gracefully, she extracted the small notebook and ballpoint pen she’d hidden in her coat pocket. Her heart was beating a mile a minute but she forced herself to appear calm as she placed the notebook on the table, flipped open the metallic golden cover, and began to write out the words she, Rosalie, and Bella had planned.

I’ve really enjoyed our chats over the last week, but I’d much prefer to actually speak in person. I like you a lot, Jasper, and I want to get to know you better. Grab a coffee with me?

With a final flourish of her pen, Alice tore out the sheet of paper, folded it, and tossed it over to Jasper, who hadn’t taken his eyes off of her since she sat down. The note landed in the center of his notebook.

Jasper blinked dumbly at the sound of the paper hitting his book. He glanced away from Alice and nimbly unfolded the note. He smiled as he began to read it, and Alice’s heart skipped a beat. But then an odd expression came over his face. His smile fell. His jaw dropped. His eyes became pitying, disbelieving.

Alice felt her heart sink into her stomach.

He didn’t like her.

Feeling tears well up in her eyes, Alice haphazardly threw on her coat and hastily stuffed her notebook and pen back into her pockets. Biting her lip, she ran out of the Law Library as fast as she could.

She burst out into the Quad, her face stinging in the cold. Rosalie and Bella were waiting by the door for her, but she ran past them, ignoring their perplexed faces and questioning calls. She couldn’t talk to them right now. She wanted to run back home and hide under her comforter, forgetting every foolish action she’d taken today.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” she muttered under her breath.

“Hey, Alice, wait!”

Alice turned as a charmingly accented voice with just a hint a twang called her name. Jasper was running after her, his unbuttoned coat flying open in the wind. Alice tried to hide her gape as she took in Jasper. She knew he was tall, but she hadn’t realized he was quite this tall. He towered over her by over a foot at least. Alice sniffed and wiped away the few tears that had fallen.

“It’s okay, Jasper, you don’t have to humor me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I saw how you looked at me in there. It’s clear you don’t like me the way that I like you. And that’s fine! I’m fine! I--”

“Alice, what?”

“--really, you don’t need to let me down easy or anything, I got it, and--”

“Alice.” Jasper’s tone became more pleading. “I was just a little taken aback, is all. You surprised me.”

Alice’s breath caught. “I...surprised you?”

The edges of Jasper’s lips turned up. “Yeah. I’ve been working up the nerve to ask you out all week and you beat me to it.”

Alice’s mouth fell open. Her brain was a mess of white noise as she attempted to process his words

“You...you like me?”

It was Jasper’s turn to blush.

“But you never...I mean...all this time...and the way you are I...” Alice stammered.

“My apologies for not speaking up sooner. But I’ve never,” Jasper hesitated, “I’ve never felt like this before. The words we shared on those scraps of paper weren’t much, but they meant everything to me. I’ve actually been coming to the Law Library every day, hoping you’d return,” he added with a bashful grin.

Alice gave a little start. He’d been doing that, too?

“I’m not good at expressing my feelings,” Jasper continued, running his fingers through his long blond locks, “but I felt a connection with you right away. I just didn’t know how to deal with it, cause it’s been so long since I’ve felt anything close to that. I’ve had some pretty messed up relationships in the past,” he said with a sheepish shrug of his shoulders.

“I don’t understand,” said Alice. “If you felt like this, why didn’t you say anything? Why did I have to do all this,” she motioned to her outfit, “to get you to come outside with me?”

“I came outside cause I could tell I’d upset you. And that ain’t right. I only ever want to see you smile.”

Alice flushed. Jasper took a slow step closer to her. Alice was struck again by his imposing stature. He had to duck and push snowy branches out of his way to get to where Alice was standing. And yet, with the way he was gazing at her, Alice didn’t feel small at all. In fact, she felt terribly emboldened by his adoring look.

“So it’s not cause I look amazingly sexy?” Alice teased.

Jasper chuckled. “You look beautiful today, really you do. But I think you look beautiful every day.”

Alice giggled, and her cheeks turned pink with new warmth. “So about that coffee,” she said, a hint of coyness slipping into her tone.

Jasper smiled sweetly. “I’d like that, ma’am.”

He took her hand, and Alice was surprised to find how well hers fit in his. Like they were made for each other, despite the height difference. Warmth raced through her body as he interlaced their fingers and gently ran his thumb over her skin. Alice hummed contentedly, and nestled into Jasper’s side. Another perfect fit.

[mynn-at-night]

Sweet Elite: RaquelxScholar - A day at the funfair

I thought I would write a little something for Raquel’s birthday. It’s very cute and wholesome so definitely out of my comfort zone, haha. It’s also my first time writing in English so sorry if there are any mistakes! ~

---

“And… take that!” Raquel shouts as she finally hits the last balloon.

The small group of Arlington students around her erupt into applause while she claims her prize: a huge bunny plushie.

“Aww, it’s adorable,” Scholar giggles as Claire pats the bunny’s pink ears.

Axel gives the winner a clap on the back.

“Way to go! I can’t believe you managed to shoot three at once.”

“Oh, c’mon. You should know by now my aim is the best.”

“Still, I didn’t expect you to be so determined for a plushie. Not really your style.”

Axel lifts a brow, clearly amused. Raquel shrugs, averting her eyes a little.

“Winning is winning. I can always give this to someone later.”

“Ohhh, I see. By chance, doesn’t this someone happen to be S-”

Raquel shuts him up with a hand on his mouth.

“Dude, no idea what you’re talking about. Now, who wants to go ride the bumper cars?!”

Claire gives her an apologetic smile.

“Ah, I’m sorry but I have to go, the hospital just called.”

“Aw, really? But the fun just began! You really have to leave right now?” Scholar asks.

“Yes... But I really enjoyed spending time with you guys today! I hope we do it again sometime.”

“Sure will.”

She walks away as her friends wave her goodbye. Axel then takes a quick look around him and sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“Actually, I’m off too. I don’t think the sunglasses are working that well as a disguise, people keep staring. Pretty sure my location is being spread all over Tweeter right now.”

“Shit. Well, try not to get trampled on your way back!”

Raquel fist-bumps him and he heads back, disappearing into the crowd.

“Well then, I guess that leaves just the two of us.”

Scholar turns to Raquel and smiles.

“It’s a shame the others had to go, though.”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure my stellar company will make up for their loss,” Raquel winks.

Scholar laughs at that, and Raquel’s heart flutters lightly as her eyes linger on her face a little longer than she should. Oh, no. Here it comes again. What right does Scholar have to be so darn cute, anyway? Raquel shakes her head, chasing the familiar feeling away.

“Now, since you’re the only one left, it means you’re obligated to ride a bumper car with me,” she says while wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

“I don’t know, Raquel… I fell out of one when I was a child and I got really scared.”

“C’mon, I’ll drive! You’re safe with me. I’ll make sure you don’t get ejected, I promise.”

“Alright, I trust you. But if I end up with bruises, you have to buy me cotton candy.”

“Deal.”

 A few minutes later, the two girls take place inside a car with bright flames painted on the sides, the bunny tucked between their legs.

“Of course you had to pick the most conspicuous one,” Scholar teases.

“Those people need to know who they’re up against! Buckle up baby, you’re in for a wild ride.”

Raquel wiggles her eyebrows and Scholar bursts out laughing.

“Wouldn’t expect any less from you, of course.”

The starting signal rings out and all the cars rush forward, chasing one another. Raquel is unsurprisingly good at dodging the ones coming toward them, taking sharp turns around the track.

“You ready?”

“Sure.”

She glances at Scholar, who’s clenching the seat, clearly afraid of getting thrusted out. Raquel slides her left hand behind her back, hugging her waist protectively.

“Don’t worry. I’m here.”

Scholar smiles shyly, looking more reassured than before. Raquel takes that as a cue to let the action begin. They both shout as their car collides with another one with full force, lifting them off their seat. Raquel keeps a firm grip on Scholar’s waist to make sure she stays put. Soon enough, they’re crying with laughter as the other drivers try to escape them, but Raquel, being competitive as always, makes sure she has bumped into every single car by the end of the ride, and shows no mercy. Driving with only one hand doesn’t stop her. If anything, it only adds more to the challenge.

As the car comes to a stop, Scholar is still wiping her tears, trying to regain her composure.

“Okay, I have to admit. I never thought bumper cars could be so fun.”

“I told you! You can never go wrong with me.”

“Thanks for keeping me safe.”

Scholar grins at her and leans a bit more into her embrace, taking advantage of the fact that her arm was still around her waist. Raquel grins back.

“You know that’s what I’m here for.”

A blush appears on Scholar’s face as they look longingly into each other’s eyes. Unfortunately, the moment is broken by the owner of the ride telling them they have to get out if they’re not paying for another round.

They reluctantly move away from each other and step out of the car. As they walk together amid the other attractions, Raquel is desperately tempted to hold Scholar’s hand, but decides against it. What if she makes things awkward? She doesn’t want to rush her into anything. They have been getting closer lately, but she’ll wait for Scholar to make the first step. She is happy just spending time with her for now. Her simple presence is more than enough.

“So, what should we do now? That roller coaster looks wild,” Scholar says with enthusiasm in her voice.

After doing several other rides, including the roller coaster and the house of mirrors, they’re snacking on chocolate waffles when they notice the sun is already setting.

“I don’t feel like going back yet,” Scholar says.

“We still have a bit of time before curfew.”

Scholar smiles mischievously.

“Then we’re definitely going on the Ferris wheel.”

“Seriously, with the sunset and everything? How much cheesier can it get?”

“Pleaseee, Raquel. For me?”

“Now that’s not fair play. I can’t say no to those puppy eyes of yours.”

“It’s not my fault you find me irresistible, is it?”

“Yeah, right. Fine, let’s go, but if I get bored to death, that’s on you.”

“Sure thing! Worst case scenario, I know how to do CPR, so you’re good.”

As Scholar grabs her by the hand to lead her excitedly to the big wheel, Raquel knows she’s not going to be able to hold herself back for much longer. The way her heart tightens every time her smile is directed right at her, or the way she gets stupid butterflies in her stomach when their faces get too close. Their usual joke flirting isn’t as careless as it used to be. Now there’s always this long, silent eye contact that follows every cheesy line she pulls out just to tease her and hear her laugh. God, in those moments, all she would like to do is grab her face and kiss her delicately on the lips. Maybe she will, next time an opportunity presents itself. Maybe the Ferris wheel wasn’t such a silly idea, after all.

[mayascherub]

THE DINNER

WARNINGS: mostly angsty, but a littleeee 18+ :)

thanks too: @openheart12 @junggoku @sekizincimektup

*btw sry if there are any grammar mistakes etc. englsih is not my first language!*

-----

Ethan had planned his day thoroughly, knowing the time he got off the job, planning to go to Whole Foods, already had made a shopping list, so he didn't have to spend too much time in the public. Of course dreading the fact, that he always ran into several of his colleagues and interns. 

He enjoyed planning, and enjoyed that Naveen had suggested that they ate dinner together once a week. It felt nice, catching up on their personal lives, instead of discussing cases like they always did. Today it was Ethan’s turn to cook.

7:01 pm. 

Exactly 59 minutes before i have to leave Ethan thought, looking up from his silver watch as he was strolling down the halls of Edenbrook. He passed many doctors, brilliant doctors who all admired him. All doctors wanting to stand out, be the first to diagnose a patient, fill the chart with the most correct information - all for nothing.

Ethan already knew which doctor’s work he was most indulged in. Hers. Dr. Valentine. Casey.  

She had wrecked his life, whirled his heart like an uncontrollable tornado - in an insufferable addicting way. Ethan have had girlfriends in the past, but no one like Casey. No one made him feel the way he felt, when he saw Casey’s eyes sparkle with joy at him. 

The warmth from her body he was addicted to feel, when she showed him a patient’s chart. Having to clench his jaw, not to embrace her. To feel her.  

“Why do you have that smirk plastered on?” Casey playfully said, when Ethan passed by her in the hall.

“I-” He looked at her, almost scared that she had read his mind. “I just-”

“Did you yell at an intern? I know it makes you happy to crash dreams” she took a step towards him, crossing her arms and smiling mischievously.

“Very funny, Rookie” he said, trying not to stare at her “I am having dinner with Navee-” he stopped himself, as he noticed the other doctors around them. “..with Dr. Banerji. In less than an hour”

“Oooh. That sounds nice” she took a strand of hair behind her ear. “I guess he will be the one cooking?” 

“No, today is my day.. so far he is the only one who have cooked, so i-” he stopped himself as he noticed Casey giggling. “What is so funny, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“It’s just.. you cooking?” she bursted out laughing “I mean.. no offense”

“It is kinda hard not to.. you are insulting my cooking skills immensely” a small smirk creeped on his lips. “I guess.. i never considered it” 

“Well it’s your lucky day, Dr. Ramsey” she put her hands behind her back “i am very good at cooking, and i’ll get off in and hour as well” Ethan considered her words.

“Meet me in the parking lot at 8:15 sharp” he continued his walk, looking back to see a huge grin on her face.

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

Casey had to stay in the car while Ethan went shopping, since they surely would run into fellow Edenbrook doctors. And they would start all sorts of rumours. 

Ethan usually wouldn’t care, but he knew Casey did. 

She didn't deserve to be so hard-working, only for people to think she slept with her boss to earn her place on the diagnostics team. 

The drive was surprisingly awkward. Just an hour ago they communicated like school girls, now it just felt too real. 

She was going to his apartment for the first time in more than 2 months. When he left Boston and went to the Amazon he promised himself to let her go.

To let go of his feelings for her, and never set a foot into her apartment, or let her into his again. But here they are. In front of his place, ready to ruin his promises to himself. 

Ethan pulled his key out, only to notice that his door was already open. “What..”

“Has there been a robbery?” Casey said, looking worried at Ethan. Only for the song “Afterglow” being played from his living room, inside.“Taylor Swift? What is happeni-”

“Naveen” Ethan shook his head, but clearly delighted by his mentor. “He has a spare key” Casey looked stunned at him.

“Well i know that! But.. NAVEEN IS A TAYLOR SWIFT STAN?” Ethan chuckled at her comment.

“I am.. so mind blown right now.. an old doctor.. listens to- oh god. I am so happy i decided to come tonight” 

Ethan opened the door, and quickly put the bags of groceries in the kitchen, where he met Naveen, sitting on a barstool at the kitchen island. Humming silently to the lyrics of the song.

“Good to see you, son. I am.. er.. very excited for dinner” Naveen said plaufully, clearly making a joke about Ethan’s cooking abilities. Am i really that bad? Ethan thought, but before he could answer, Casey walked up behind him.

“And now you should be even more. I was assigned to help Ethan” She patted Ethan friendly on his shoulder, letting a huge grin out. Naveen looked surprised at her arrival, yet happy to see her.

“What a lovely surprise, Casey!” Naveen took a long pleasant stare at her, and then at Ethan. 

“What is it?” Ethan said, knowing Naveen had his mind on something. 

“Well i am just surprised the two of you are dating without telling me first” Naveen scooped down from the stool, and went to the livingroom to turn off the Taylor Swift music and returned to them, finding them glaring at him uncomfortably. Casey had retreated her hand from Ethan’s shoulder, standing frozen. 

“Ah kids, that was simply a joke” he laughed loudly, holding a hand on his stomach. 

“You should see your faces!” He started unpacking the grocery bags.

“I- Naveen?” Ethan turned around to Naveen, a bright red color spreading on his cheeks. 

“Ahem. Well, should we all cook together?” he said, looking shyly at Casey, who clearly still were stunned by Naveen’s comment. 

“Yes. Yes I uh- yes. Dr. Ra- Eth- uh.. yes” Casey stumbled on her sentence, although it filled Ethan’s stomach with butterflies, pleased with her equal feelings for him. They both felt like little school children, getting caught by their teacher. 

They all started cutting out veggies and meat, as Naveen and Casey tried to learn Ethan how to roast chicken properly - ending in Casey taking over, leaving the men to set up the table. 

“You know” Naveen said in a low voice to Ethan, so Casey couldn't hear him “It wasn’t all a joke”

Ethan almost tripped, as he was holding three plates. He quickly balanced himself again, his face turning red again. 

“It would be.. inappropriate. And unprofessional” 

“So you’ve thought about it, boy?” Naveen smiled brightly, tilting his head to one side.

“I- no i- it was simply a fact, Naveen. You-” Naveen shook his head while maintaining the smile.

“I’ve never met a person who makes you speechless” he said as he returned to check on Casey. 

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

After dinner Naveen left, giving Ethan an obvious wink as he was hugging Casey. 

“You kids take care” he said, closing the front door behind him. Leaving Casey and Ethan alone together in Ethan’s apartment.

They looked at each other, as they both knew they shared a longingly feeling for them to connect again. Them both knowing they couldn’t, their eyes turning somber in sync.

Ethan cleared his throat. 

“Are your friends waiting for you?” 

“Yeah, i should probably..” 

“Of course” Ethan took her jacket of the hanger, handing it too her, only stopping in mid-air. “Wait you can’t go.. you can’t go home alone.. it's dangerous. And i can’t drive you, i had too many glasses of wine, and-”

“Uber? I can just call an Uber” 

“No. You can’t trust them” he said, trying to look sincere.’You can’t trust them?’ What are you, a conspiracy theorist? He thought, annoyed by his own comment. “You can borrow my car.. or” he leaned against the wall, looking at her with great insecurity. “You can.. stay here for the night”

It felt like the whole world gone silent - two adults clearly having feelings for eachother, both trying to restrict themselves - and then she broke the silence. 

“I would love to” Casey said, eyes smiling as she looked up at him. “And anyways, i would definitely dent your car. I am a terrible driver”

“Oh, i know” he said, smirking as she walked by him from the foyer to the living room. 

She stopped, and turned around to face him.

“So do you have any extra blankets or something?” Ethan almost didn’t hear her words, still being in a trance after her decision. “Ethan? Hellooo?”

“Oh, yeah of course.. but” he scratched the back of his head. “I’ll sleep on the couch, you can take my bed” 

Casey protested, but Ethan convinced her that he usually would fall asleep on the couch with a book - so he was used to it. He showed her the bedroom, both of them pretending that she never had seen it before. She gestured to his closet.

“Do you have any pj’s or old t-shirts or something i can borrow?”

“Yeah” he opened a drawer, and gave her a green t-shirt that said “World's finest doctor” written in pink.

Casey bursted out laughing. 

“Well, well, well Dr. Ramsey” she took the shirt and held it up to him. “Why have i never seen you wearing this?” 

Ethan smiled, enjoyed how much she enjoyed this moment. “It was a gift from Ines.. dont.. mention this to anyone.” 

Casey hugged the fabric, and went into the bathroom to change. She came out, the t-shirt reaching just her upper thigh, exposing a very little amount of her bottom. But for Ethan, it was just enough. He quickly looked away, and crossed his legs to hide his body’s response to her outfit. 

“Very well.. i’ll go to bed now” he said, trying really hard to think about anything else but his desire to share the bed with her.

“Okay, goodnight” she said, well-knowing of the look in his eyes. 

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

And there he was. Laying on the uncomfortable couch, both regretting his choices for letting her stay - and dreading the fact that he didn’t go further. 

That night he didn’t sleep. His mind was full. And to his own annoyance, jealous of his shirt for being so close with her. Absorbing her smell.

Of course he was planning to wash it the next day. Of course! But could he really get himself to do it? 

He knew that they had crossed a boundary. But now.. They could never go back. We will make it work. And he knew they would. Because his eagerness for her presence would only grow stronger.  

[miraculousmumma]

Dream A Little Dream

It was perhaps the weirdest dream Marinette had ever had.

The effects of Oblivio’s actions were still plaguing her late into the night, and now she lay on her back, staring up at her skylight as her mind played tricks on her.

She had dreamt they were trapped inside the Montparnasse Tower again, only their transformations fell.  She dreamt Chat Noir was Adrien, and vice versa, and he knew she was Marinette…kind of.  Neither of them really knew one another, or themselves.  They didn’t remember anything.

But it had felt so real, and she had been so confident in front of Adrien, he had been so adoring, and they had been so certain they were a couple.

It was the best dream she had had in a long time.

‘Oh my God.’  Adrien whispered into the darkness of his room.

‘Don’t.’  Plagg grumbled warningly from his spot on the pillow beside Adrien.  ‘Whatever it is it can wait until after breakfast.’

‘But…’

‘No buts!’

‘Ladybug is Marinette.’

Plagg’s eyes were wide by the time he sat bolt upright.  ‘What do you mean?’  He laughed nervously, fearing if Tikki found out, and she would, that she would blame him.  ‘Pigtails from your class?  No way she can be Ladybug.’

‘She is Ladybug, Plagg!  I just remembered everything that happened today at the tower!’  Adrien turned on his pillow to face his kwami so rapidly he bounced Plagg a couple of inches.

‘That’s nonsense.’  Plagg waved his hand dismissively.  ‘Why is it you can remember and I can’t?  I’m practically a god you know?’

‘I don’t care what you say, I know what happened.’  Adrien rolled onto his back again with a sigh.  ‘She kissed me.  Twice!  Her lips are so soft.’

‘You’re imagining it.’

‘Listen, I know I forgot first off but I’ll never forget again.  She’s amazing.’

‘Shut up and go to sleep.’  Plagg burrowed down in the pillow again, his back to his chosen.  ‘In the morning you’ll realise it was just a dream and get on with your life.’

Adrien shook his head, a soft smile on his lips.  ‘It wasn’t just a dream, and my life will be complete when I confess my feelings to Marinette.’

Plagg rolled his eyes.  ‘I swear if you get together you’ll be the girl in the relationship.’

‘As long as there is a relationship I don’t care.’

Adrien arrived at school early in the hope Marinette might have had the same realisation.  He sat on the wall beside the steps facing the road but very definitely staring longingly towards the patisserie.  He was so focused it was only when Nino waved a hand in front of his face that he realised he had blotted almost everything else out.

‘Yo, Earth to Adrien, can you hear me, buddy?’

Adrien blinked heavily before bringing his head around to face his best friend, saying only;  ‘Oh, hey, Nino.’; before turning back to his target.

‘What’s got into you today?’  Nino asked as he leant on the wall beside him.  ‘You’re totally out of it.’

‘I just…I had a weird night.’  Adrien replied far too nonchalantly.

‘Your dad again?’

‘No, actually it was a dream.’

‘Must have been some dream to have this affect.’  Nino laughed, making Adrien’s head shoot back around.

‘It was some dream, one hell of a dream!  It’s no laughing matter.’

Nino cleared his throat as he forced himself to sober for Adrien’s sake.  ‘So what happened?  You look like you’re waiting for something.’

‘Not something; someone.’  He specified, jumping down off the wall as the first bell rang.  ‘Can I ask you something?’

‘Sure, dude.’  Nino shrugged as Adrien shouldered his bag.

‘How did you get Alya to agree to date you?  I mean, what did you say?’

‘Whoa, wait,’  Nino stopped him inside the doors, ‘you want to ask someone out?  You like someone?’

Adrien took him by the shoulders and gave him a very serious look.  ‘Nino, I’m in love with Marinette.’

‘Is that all?’  Nino brushed off Adrien’s hands and put an arm around his shoulders before leading him towards the stairs.  ‘Dude, you’ve been in love with her for a long time, you were just too stupid to realise it.’

Marinette overslept thanks to the difficulty she had trying to get back to sleep.  Her dream plagued her, as though taunting what could have been, and she still felt shaken as she ran into the school still tying up her hair.  She had heard the first bell as she left the patisserie, and the second chimed as she hurried up the stairs.

Of course she was late, she was always late, but today she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was different.  Perhaps it was just from her sleep pattern being messed up, but that somehow just didn’t feel right.

‘Dude, you have got to calm down.’  Nino nudged Adrien, whose leg was bouncing nervously.

‘How can I?’  Adrien gave him a desperate look.  ‘She’s going to be here…soon.  Why is she late?

‘She’s always late.’  Nino laughed.  ‘It’s not like you can do anything about it now.’  Adrien gave Nino a look that made his eyes go wide.  ‘You are not going to do anything about it now!’

‘I have to!’  Adrien whined.  ‘I love her and…’

Just then Marinette stumbled into the classroom, literally fell through the door, barely keeping her feet below her as she gave an impromptu squeal.  She straightened just as rapidly, letting out a sigh of relief that she had still beat Miss Bustier to the classroom.

‘Stay!’  Nino hissed, having grabbed hold of Adrien’s shirt when he tried to stand and forced him to remain seated.

‘But…’

‘No buts!  Wait for recess or something!’

As she passed him, Marinette flashed Adrien a small smile, her cheeks flushed pink before quickly looking away and sliding into her seat.  Her sigh of relief was like music to Adrien’s ears, knowing she was so close.  He was sure he could wait just a little longer.

Adrien couldn’t wait any longer.

Marinette had succeeded in getting kept in during recess to clear up after dropping a beaker of saline at the end of science class.  They didn’t have the next lesson together so he would have to wait until lunch.  He didn’t like that.  He was asked several times to stop daydreaming and doodling on his tablet, fazing out so much the teacher assumed he may be coming down with something.  He wasn’t wrong, but it wasn’t a physical illness he was suffering with.

By the time lunch rolled around he had run so many scenarios through his head that it was swimming with ideas of how to approach it, how to tell her, what to tell her, certain that if she knew she would have said something…would she?  He shook the doubts from his head.  He knew there was some boy she liked but he hoped as they knew each other both in and out of costume that he could convince her to at least give him a shot.  It needed to be done in private.  They didn’t need an audience or anyone eavesdropping, not on this, and his favourite idea involved taking her to lunch where they could talk between themselves.

He knew she would be heading to the canteen on the top floor so waited outside the door, having checked she wasn’t already there.  When she rounded the corner with Alya a soft sigh escaped his lips.  He pushed himself away from the wall so quickly that when he stepped into her path she screamed and jumped behind Alya.

‘Hey, Adrien.’  Alya gave him a knowing smile.

‘Hey…Marinette.’  He completely ignored Alya and her teasing eyes, willing Marinette to come out from behind her friend.

‘Ad-Adrien!’  She stammered, hands on Alya’s shoulders as she peered around her.

‘Yep.  Do you maybe want to have lunch with me?’

‘Me?’  She squeaked, her beautiful bluebell eyes going wide.

‘Yeah, will you?  Please?’  He held his hand out to her, inviting her to take it.

‘She’d love to.’  Alya stepped aside and swept Marinette forward in one smooth movement, allowing Adrien to carefully take her hand, hoping not to spook her further.

‘I would?’  Marinette spun her gaze on Alya in alarm

‘You would.’  Alya gave her a gentle shove.  ‘I’ll see you both back in class.’

‘See you later.’  Adrien said, not taking his eyes off Marinette as her cheeks continued to flame.

Marinette stared after Alya, panic and excitement vying for precedence as she wondered if she should worry that she couldn’t feel her legs.

‘So, is there anywhere you’d like to go?’  Adrien asked, his eyes darting over her features while he wondered how such a simple mask had blinded him to her for so long.  ‘My driver can take us somewhere, or we could grab something to take with us and walk by the river?

‘Oh, I don’t kind,’ Marinette stammered, her eyes snapping back to his, ‘I mean gorgeous, I mean mind!’  She covered for herself quickly.

‘Then let’s get something to go.’  He encouraged her down the stairs.

Adrien’s heart was beating so hard he was sure Marinette could feel it.  Here she was, his lady, the love of his life, holding his hand…which was when he realised, if she knew he was Chat Noir she would have pulled away by now, would have poked his nose for being too familiar while forcing him back and away.  But not Marinette, Marinette who was awkward to the point of embarrassment, Marinette who could be indecisive at times but always came through.  And as he remembered calling her their every day Ladybug he couldn’t help but smile a little wider.

Adrien carried a small bag containing their food and led her down by the Seine, stopping at an empty bench and dusting it off before offering Marinette a seat.  She took it with a small murmur of thanks before he sat beside her.  Honestly, she was confused.  Adrien hadn’t explained if he wanted something in particular, just that he wanted to have lunch with her.  It was weird enough she was still having flashbacks to her dream of him as Chat Noir.  In fact she had pinched herself twice to try and ensure she wasn’t still dreaming.

‘So, yesterday was kind of crazy, right?’  Adrien said with a small laugh.

‘Yeah.’  She agreed.  ‘It was.’

‘It must have been something because last night I had this dream…’

‘The what now?’  Marinette interrupted, not quite believing what she was hearing.  It had to be a coincidence…

‘A dream.  Everything that happened yesterday, it came back to me,’ he studied her face carefully as he spoke, gently taking her hand in his, ‘Bugaboo.’

Marinette laughed nervously.  ‘Uh…what?’

‘You can’t deny it’s you.’  He shook his head, still smiling softly at her.  ‘I know you, I know both of you.’

Marinette cleared her throat as her brain whirred, trying to come up with a reply, but simply settling for; ‘I think you’ve got the wrong girl.’

‘Even ignoring you’re the same height and build, you wear your hair the same, your voice, your freckles, your bluebell eyes I’d happily stare into for the rest of my life…’

‘You’d what now?’  Marinette spat hurriedly as she processed what he had said.

‘I always said I’d love you outside the mask.’

Marinette snatched her hands back and jumped to her feet, turning to face him and walking back a few steps.  ‘You’re not serious?  You think I’m Ladybug?  Me?’  She pressed her hands to her chest.  ‘I’m sorry, Adrien, but you’ve got it all wrong.  Got me all wrong.  I can’t be Ladybug.  I’m clumsy, I’m flakey, I can’t make important decisions, I am…’

‘Brave, selfless,’ Adrien cut her off as he got to his feet and slowly approached her, ‘you stand up for what’s right no matter what the consequences, you stand by people even when they don’t stand by you, you’re creative, bold, kind of intimidating sometimes, but still so sweet and…’

‘I’m a mess!’  She sputtered.

‘An adorable mess!’  He took her by the shoulders.  ‘You just have to accept it.  You’re Ladybug, I’m Chat Noir.  Can you think of a better partner for you than me?’

Marinette swallowed hard enough for Adrien to see and even though he knew she was going to deny it yet again he was still surprised by the torrent of words that fell through her lips.  ‘I’m not Ladybug!  I’m not your partner in anything because I don’t even love you, I mean like you, I mean I love you, I mean what the hell do you mean you’re Chat Noir!?’

‘Surprise, my lady.’  He shrugged apologetically.

He felt her tense under his hands.  ‘I’m not your lady!’

‘You are.’  He smiled encouragingly at her.

‘I’m not.’  She argued.

‘You absolutely are.’

‘I’m not!’  She squealed.

‘You are!’

The voice this time wasn’t Adrien’s, but one very irritated kwami.  Plagg floated up into Marinette’s face and waved his paw at her.

‘You’re Ladybug!  He’s Chat Noir!  He’s in love with you!  I’m pretty sure you’re in love with him!  Get out of denial and just kiss already!’

‘Plagg!’  Tikki was suddenly pushing Plagg through the air and out of her chosen’s face.  ‘You can’t just go revealing yourself like that!’

‘Why not?  The boy knows, the girl knows, now we can all get on with our lives!’

‘I knew it!’  Adrien yelled in triumph.  ‘Say it, Bugaboo, come on, say it, just for me.’  He bounced from foot to foot excitedly.  ‘Tell me it’s you, go on, you know you want to!’

She groaned as she rolled her eyes.  ‘Adrien?’

‘What?’  He asked hopefully.

‘Your Chat is showing.’

Buy me a ko-fi?

[drtanstravels]

It’s been a while since I’ve checked in because we’ve had a relatively quiet two months, until now that is. We had been anticipating our first venture back to mainland USA since we left New York three years ago for quite a while, but for slightly different reasons than the usual excitement that comes with a big trip; the bulk of our stay was going to be in the state of Wyoming for another one of Anna’s conferences, this time the Midwest Ocular Angiography Conference being held in the small town of Jackson. We were going to be in a white, working class state that voted overwhelmingly for Donald Trump and one where a licence isn’t required to carry a concealed weapon so we figured the two of us together might draw a bit of attention. Then there was the fact that Wyoming is the least populous state in the United States so when we were looking for information about where we’d be staying, among the endless memes such as these, we also found a lot of people, mostly ironically, even calling into question the state’s existence:

Our plan was to fly out on the night of Friday, July 5, taking a 15-hour direct flight to Los Angeles, California, but due to the time difference, landing around the same time we left. We would then stay a night in LA, fly out to Jackson, Wyoming where we would spend the following four nights before spending a similar amount of time traveling around both the Great Teton and Yellowstone National Parks. Let’s get this show on the road!

I think someone wanted to come with us

Friday, July 5, 2019 I had a lot of loose ends to tie up during the day, then Anna returned from work and we began to pack. This was no easy task as the temperature in Wyoming is a little scattered. With the exception of a couple of colder outliers that were in the mid-teens, most days were going to be between 27°C (80.6°F) and 31°C (87.8°F), however, the nights would be quite cool, every evening in single digits, sometimes dropping to 0°C (32°F). This meant we would have to pack for both summer and winter, especially due to the fact that Anna had also planned to spend two nights “glamping” in a tent. Anyway, we went through our boxes of winter clothes, got everything packed, dropped the dog off at Brownie Buddies, and made our way to the airport.

There’s been a recent trend of disasters occurring around the same time we are in, or not long after we leave, a country:

We were in Honolulu, Hawaii (I realise it’s not a county in itself, but part of the US) for an ophthalmology conference from April 29 – May 2, 2018. The Kilauea volcano erupted the day we left, followed by several earthquakes including one at a magnitude of 6.9, as well as multiple lava flows. 700 houses were destroyed.

We then stayed in Tokyo, Japan from May 2 – May 7 on the way back from the Hawaiian conference. Two months later Western Japan suffered its worst natural disaster since the 2011 earthquake and the worst weather-related disaster in 36 years with flooding and landslides killing around 200 people and two million more evacuated after July 5. Another two months after the typhoon, an earthquake with a magnitude of 6.7 occured in Hokkaido, killing at least 39.

We visited Chiang Mai, Thailand for another conference from June 27, 2018, I returned on June 30 and Anna on July 2. In what was only a relatively small story when it broke, 12 teenage soccer players and their coach became trapped in a cave in neighbouring Chiang Rai on June 23, not being rescued until 18 days later, one volunteer rescuer suffocating in the process.

We were in Hangzhou, China from September 12 – 15, 2018, with Anna arriving on the 13th from Hong Kong. The day I landed in Hangzhou, Hong Kong, also technically a “special administrative region of China”, was hit by Typhoon Mangkhut, leaving 400 seeking medical care and 1,500 taking refuge in temporary shelters.

Later in the month we had a holiday in Turkey from September 24 – 29 and they didn’t escape lightly, either. Not only was there a hurricane warning for Turkey on the day we left to return to Singapore, but Saudi journalist Jamal Khashoggi was murdered in the Saudi consulate in Istanbul by his own government just two days later as well.

This year we spent February 1 – 5 in Sri Lanka, a mere two months before a series of bombings in churches and hotels in Colombo killed 257 people.

So, what does all of this have to do with our trip to Wyoming? Well, we had a one-day layover in Los Angeles and a 6.4 magnitude earthquake hit about 240 km (150 miles) north of LA just before we departed from Singapore, that’s all.

We caught our flight, landed, and it is alway amusing people-watching at Los Angeles International Airport, including the middle-aged woman we encountered resembling Lolo Ferrari who wouldn’t be able to sleep on her back for fear of being crushed under the weight of her own ridiculous breast implants. Once through immigration we caught a shuttle from our terminal to our hotel at the airport and an extremely strong female driver who appeared to have just returned from the manicurist picked up our exceptionally heavy suitcases like they were nothing and loaded them onto the shuttle. When we got to the hotel we grabbed our bags and I asked her how she managed to do that and keep a full set. She just gave me a cheeky smile, winked, and drove off. We checked into the hotel before making our way downstairs to a bar where we pulled up a seat for a few drinks, but the staff all seemed a little freaked out, talking about the earthquake. It seemed a little fresh in them all until I looked up at a screen showing CNN and the numbers didn’t quite add up. It turned out that another 7.1 magnitude quake with several aftershocks hit about an hour before we landed at LAX. They weren’t dwelling on the previous day’s occurrence, this stronger quake that everyone was nervous about had only just occurred. The staff just wanted to get out of there and check that their homes were still intact, plus we were pretty tired so we just had a couple of drinks and went back up to our room.

Saturday, July 6, 2019 You never get a great sleep when you make a flight as long as the one we had, constantly waking up during the night, struggling to get back to sleep, then waking up early again. This left us a fair bit of time to kill in LA before we had to fly out later that night so we decided to catch a cab to a nearby shopping mall, but first we grabbed some breakfast in the hotel cafe. One thing we were aware of, but to the degree of which we had completely forgotten, was the portion sizes in the US. Case in point, we got a breakfast burrito each and probably wouldn’t need anything else until dinner! Time to walk this one off in Westfield Culver City.

Add “NBA record most missed shots in NBA history” to that list

This mall had a ton of sporting goods stores selling NBA jerseys, caps, and other stuff, predominately Lakers gear. I’ve mentioned before that I loathe, hate, and despise the Lakers, think Kobe Bryant (left) is the most overrated player to ever lace them up, and believe that LeBron James’ spoilt, overprivileged attitude is ruining the league. This offseason the Lakers traded for Anthony Davis of the New Orleans Pelicans, a deal that could ruin the franchise for years to come if it doesn’t work out and left them wanting to sign another star player Their eyes were set firmly on free agent Kawhi Leonard, whom had just led the Toronto Raptors to the NBA championship. Instead, Leonard announced that very morning that he intended to sign with the Lakers’ crosstown rival L.A. Clippers, a team that also managed to trade for Oklahoma City Thunder star Paul George, and Lakers fans were PISSED! There was a guy who ran one of the stores, an overweight dude in a Kobe Bryant throwback jersey and all other Lakers attire who was close to tears. “If only we still had Kobe, man,” he said longingly of a player that retired three years ago. “He’d be 41, but we’d still have a chance, with Kobe you always had a chance.” He’s talking about a guy who couldn’t stay healthy toward the end of his career, playing a grand total of  107 of a possible 244 games over his final three seasons, the Lakers’ three worst regular seasons in franchise history for that matter, all while pulling in a cool US$78,953,000 in salary over that time. Yeah, he’d get it done today.

We spent the bulk of the afternoon wandering around Westfield, finding quirky objects such as Twix chocolate bar packets that claimed to contain four of only the left-side bars. We are attending Anna’s cousin’s wedding in Vancouver, Canada in September so I managed to pick up a three-piece Calvin Klein suit plus a shirt from JC Penney for a grand total of only US$355.88 (AU$506.49) plus tax, well under half-price and it actually fits. This isn’t boasting, but the price will make a bit of sense when I use it as a comparison later in this post. Anyway, take a look at some photos from our less than one day in Los Angeles:

The TV while we were in the bar on Friday night

Breakfast is served

These things were enormous

For those who believe the right Twix bar is unlucky and need twice as many in total

And vice versa

Anna had a weird craving for In-N-Out Burger, but we didn’t have time and before long we were back in the airport, ready to take a short flight from LA to Jackson, Wyoming. There is only one flight per day to Jackson and I was beginning to think there may be some truth to the conspiracy that Wyoming may not even exist when we boarded the plane and there were a grand total of 12 passengers onboard. Anyway, a bit of background information on our alleged destination:

Jackson is a small city in the Jackson Hole valley of Teton County, Wyoming, United States. The population was 9,577 at the 2010 census, up from 8,647 in 2000. It is the county seat of Teton County and is its largest town.

The town gained significant fame when a livestream of the town square went viral on YouTube in 2016, leading to much fascination with the town’s elk antler arch, its law enforcement, and its prevalence of red trucks.

As of the census of 2010, there were 9,577 people, 3,964 households, and 1,858 families residing in the town. The racial makeup of the town was 79.8% White, 0.4% African American, 0.8% Native American, 1.4% Asian, 0.1% Pacific Islander, 15.2% from other races, and 2.3% from two or more races. Hispanic or Latino of any race were 27.2% of the population.

Upon finding out those demographics, I immediately set myself the goal of getting a photo with one of those nine or 10 Pacific Islanders if Wyoming did indeed exist, especially if they drive a red truck. Failing that, a guy in a MAGA hat shouldn’t be too much of a stretch. I can honestly vouch for the existence of Wyoming as we landed in the Jackson Hole airport. No memories planted by the government, just real visions of a tiny airport decorated with discarded elk antlers. Anna had hired a car, but we wouldn’t be picking that up until the following day. Instead, we had a driver collecting us to take us to our motel about 10 minutes outside of town. When we arrived at the Flat Creek Inn at 8:30pm, sitting directly opposite the National Elk Refuge, the place had an appearance resembling kind of a much larger version of the motel where Earl and Randy lived in My Name Is Earl. In fact, if the motel were located in any major city in the US, it seemed almost inevitable that at least one hooker or backpacker would have been murdered there and stuffed into a wall cavity. Realistically though, it was a nice enough place and pretty much suited our needs. Our flight, the airport, and our home for the night:

Our packed flight

Flying over “Wyoming”

Anna out the front of the airport in Jackson Hole, Wyoming

Outside our room

The store where we’d be buying dinner

In our room

A little dingy, but it’ll be fine for the night

Anna sitting on the bed

Me trying to give the room a sexier vibe

After we had checked into our room it was time to try to find something to eat and that is where any semblance of normalcy ceased. This was truly an area where you couldn’t achieve anything without a car and, despite being only a 10-minute ride, a taxi into Jackson was US$40.00 (AU$57.00) each way so we were limited to the convenience store that was linked to our hotel, one that closed at midnight. Now, one thing that needs to be made clear here for anyone who hasn’t suffered from jet-lag before is that it is simply agony, especially when it is the result of an excruciatingly long flight from South-East Asia to North America. Traveling to the west coast of the US isn’t quite as bad as the east, but it’s still awful — You are unable to keep your eyes open at 4:00pm, it’s almost as if you suffer from narcolepsy and you have no problem falling asleep once you go to bed if you make it to what would be the time you would normally sleep back home, but then you find yourself wide awake a couple of hours later at 3:00am, unable to switch back off. The one upside of that late-afternoon and onward period where it’s tough to stay awake is that you are also a little delirious and anything can become absolutely hilarious. That is the position in which we found ourselves at this point. Anyway, we went down to the convenience store, but there wasn’t a lot of food options and no alcohol, however, there was a microwave and an electric coffee maker in our room so we bought two packets of instant noodles, a large frozen pizza, some jerky, and a small turkey pot pie, as well as some Tabasco sauce and two bottles of sparkling water. Dinner would soon be served. We took our instant foodstuffs back to the motel, I went to the bathroom while Anna heated some water in the coffee maker for our noodles and upon return was informed of some unpleasant news — Our room was devoid of all cutlery and crockery. Never mind, she came up with the brilliant idea of using two coffee stirrers for chopsticks. This method worked perfectly between her Kermit the Frog-like fingers, but wasn’t conducive to particularly successful eating in my massive mitts, although I eventually managed in the end, much to Anna’s amusement. But this was nothing, things were only getting started. It was time to prepare our second course, a large, frozen, pepperoni pizza. This one we did have the equipment for, or so we thought. Our pizza was vacuum-sealed so I had to tear the inner package open with my teeth. Once done I also discovered it was a little large for the microwave, but on the other hand the microwave had a button specifically for pizza. Our pizza spun and spun, smearing cheese and tomato paste all over the inside of the oven and then it occured to me; This was America and that button was for reheating cold pizza, not cooking a frozen one. This was not some dual convection oven, this was a basic microwave and if you’ve ever tried to cook an unbaked bread product in a microwave before, you’ll be more than aware that it essentially just steams it. Our microwave was getting cheesier and pastier as time went on so we had no choice but to remove the pizza and cut it in half, sans knife. Anna’s inner-MacGuyver kicked in and she thought cutting through our steamed pizza with the cardboard base upon which it had come would be the best approach. The only problem was that there were no plates to put the two halves on so Anna gnawed half of her portion of the floppy, steamed pizza from the cardboard, laughing to the point of crying at how ridiculous the situation was, while at the same time lamenting that her half wasn’t cooked properly and quitting halfway through. I started to eat my share of the pizza from the glass base of the microwave, but agreed that it needed further steaming. Nothing an extra minute of heating couldn’t fix, I even got the crust to rise a little. We gave up on the idea of even attempting to eat the pie so I cleaned the cheese and tomato paste from the inside of the microwave using makeup-removing wipes, followed by washing the microwave base in the bathroom sink, leaving an oily, red ring around the basin. What better way is there to follow a hilariously bad meal than with a hilariously bad film? RoboCop was on TV so it seemed that our night had just planned itself. Some of the offerings on hand that evening:

On the menu tonight

Easy for the daintier among us

Not so much for the larger of the species

We tried to make it fit

Pure ingenuity

Going…

Going…

Gone.

Nothing some medicated wipes couldn’t fix

My half turned out okay for a steamed pizza

Sunday, July 7, 2019 It was tough staying asleep again that night and we were awake early so we did a check of the room to make sure there were no lasting repercussions of the steamed pizza episode, checked out of the motel, and waited for our ride to take us into town to pick up our rental car, snapping a few pictures in the process. Anna had done a little research and found a cafe and bakery called Persephone so we drove down once we had our Toyota Carola and pulled up an outdoor seat for brunch. The cafe was run by hipsters so it would probably be one of the only places around to get a half-decent cup of coffee, plus we had learnt our lesson the previous day so we only ordered an appetiser each, instead of bloating ourselves on a enormous main meal when we don’t usually even eat breakfast.

Before long our brunch was finished, but it was too early to check into our new hotel so we decided to have a look around the shops. We had never been to this part of the US so I was expecting it to be a bit like Fargo, either the film or the series, but I was pleasantly surprised, however, one thing needs to be said — There is a ton of taxidermy around these parts! Go into almost any store and there is going to be anything from stuffed jackalope creations on a small table, to stuffed and mounted elk and bison heads on the wall, to full bearskin rugs with the head still attached. Add to that the wide variety of redneck t-shirts and and cowboy gear on offer, fossilised animals, and bear shit-shaped chocolates and we had an interesting afternoon ahead of us. Anna likes to find a ring for every place she visits and although there were mainly ones with ugly turquoise stones, she managed to find a unique, black gold ring in a jewellery store that has an ancient elk tooth that is actually a remnant of a tusk from when elk hadn’t fully evolved into the animal we have today. I picked up a Wyoming t-shirt with different regional animal turds on the back. Once done, before checking into our hotel, we went to a supermarket because we wanted to see what you would find in a small town US supermarket in a sparsely-populated state and we weren’t left disappointed; there was an entire bar of different flavoured fried chicken wings, you could get 80 fl.oz (2.36lt) jars of pickles, but I guess that’s because there isn’t a lot else to do in this town, especially in winter, but eat. We just bought a foam cooler for later in the trip, as well as some other supplies, but we were delayed on the way back to the car when a gust of wind came up and blew the lid off the cooler, hitting an older Mexican man in the head in the parking lot. He felt guilty for some reason and chased after it, returning the lid to us.

We then went back and checked into our home for the next three nights, the Four Seasons Resorts and Residence Jackson Hole. It was a really nice place, our room was massive, and there was food and drinks for Anna’s conference in one of the downstairs conference rooms, as well as outside by some fire pits, so we just spent the night snacking and drinking with old colleagues and some new friends. I didn’t get any pictures from the evening, but here’s the motel from the previous night, the vibe of some of the stores, and our new room:

Our motel from the previous night

The Elk Refuge across the road from the motel, sans elk

On the way into town

Hanging out with what was once a bison

This stuff was everywhere!

Anna was worried she wouldn’t see any bears on this trip so she wanted this taken

As soon as I saw this book my post had a title

One of the finer volumes ever published on the topic of wild faeces recognition

Seriously, almost all shops are like this inside

You could just settle for a fur

The perfect gift for your coprophiliac friends

Anna was a fan of this Dolly Parton picture

Fossils for sale

Some of the redneck attire available

Part of the wing bar inside the supermarket

More wings

I should’ve put something else with these pickles for perspective

Looking into a small portion of our bathroom at the Four Seasons

Part of the room

The view from the bed

Monday, July 8, 2019 Anna’s conference began early each morning and finished around 1:00pm, which wasn’t an issue for either of us because of the jet-lag and even if we did manage to nod off again after waking up in the wee hours, we’d be wide awake again about 7:00am, just in time for the conference. Anna would go about her business in the morning and we had a Nespresso machine in our room so I would drink coffee and watch the NBA Summer League until she returned, but today didn’t look like it was officially the third week of summer, it was one of those outliers I mentioned at the beginning of this post; cold outside, about 13°C (55.4°F), and pouring rain. When Anna returned the rain had stopped, but it was still cold. We went and had lunch in neighbouring Teton Village and then took the arial tram up the mountain into the Jackson Hole Mountain Resort:

The Jackson Hole Mountain Resort (JHMR) is a ski resort in the western United States, at Teton Village, Wyoming. In the Teton Range of the Rocky Mountains, it is located in Teton County, 12 miles (20 km) northwest of Jackson and due south of Grand Teton National Park. It is named after the historically significant Jackson Hole valley and is known for its steep terrain and a large continuous vertical drop of 4,139 ft (1,262 m).

Jackson Hole’s original aerial tram was closed to the public in the fall of 2006 and replaced with a new tram that opened in 2008. The tram’s vertical rise is 4,139 feet (1,262 m) to an elevation of 10,450 feet (3,185 m) above sea level.

That explains a whole lot, because the previous day we had both felt a bit out of breath at times, but we didn’t realise that we were at that elevation. Denver, Colorado is known as the “Mile High City” due to its elevation and I experienced a little bit of breathlessness when I was there, but nothing like this. However, it turns out that at 5280 feet (1609.3 meters) above sea level, Denver is barely half the elevation of the Mountain Resort and only about three quarters the average elevation of the entire Jackson Hole valley, something we definitely weren’t prepared for.

Once we were at the summit it became abundantly clear that I was glad we had come in summer. People were saying that it had been snowing as recently as a week prior and before we arrived the previous day there had been a storm of enormous hailstones out of a clear sky! There was still a bit of snow on the ground and a fair bit on the peaks so we went inside the cabin there to have a cup of awful coffee and then started to explore around the area. People around here are completely oblivious to the cold, as was proven to us time and time again on this journey, the first evidence of this was locals walking around near the snow in shorts and t-shirts! We were only out a short while when an announcement came over stating that everybody needed to get back on the tram or be stranded in the cabin for an unknown period of time, because there was a thunderstorm coming and if lightning struck the metal platform for the tram, everyone standing on it would be fried. Instead of packing onto the tram, we sat in the cabin, drank more shitty coffee, walked around and got a bit wet outside, and waited for the next opportunity to leave, embracing the lack of children in the cabin and the space in the tram, all the while the operator played classic rock on our descent and we spotted foxes and marmots on the mountain. Our day up until that point:

A little grim outside our hotel window that morning

A challange in the restaurant in our hotel. That’s almost a 1kg burger and a litre of beer

Heading into Teton Village

“Hey, let’s go up there!”

Beginning our ascent

A panoramic view of the summit

Anna was complaining that the wind was making her teeth hurt

These people are fearless

Coming over a bit bleak

Making the most of everyone else fleeing

It’s nicer up here alone

A fox running around

Now beginning our descent

Another fox in the snow

About halfway down

Most shops and restaurants in and around Jackson close at 10:00pm so we decided to take the opportunity to drive into town and get our outfits for the Western-themed dinner the following night. It was also essential that we remembered to refer to the clothing as our “outfits” and not “costumes,” because this is how a large portion of the local population actually dress every day, including some of those in attendance.

We found several stores selling what we needed and it soon became abundantly clear why cowboys used to rob banks and shoot people back in the day — It was so they could steal money to buy their clothes! The reason I mentioned the Calvin Klein suit that I had purchased in Los Angeles a couple of days earlier for US$355.00 was for a comparison. For my “outfit” for the dinner I figured I’d get a Western shirt, some boots maybe with a fringe running up the side, a hat, possibly some chaps, but those dreams were all shattered when I saw the prices. A shirt was at least US$100.00, most pushing US$200.00. It was impossible to get a pair of boots my sizes for much less than US$500.00. I even found the sweater The Dude wears in the film The Big Lobowski, marketed as such and it was US$239.00! For a zip-up woollen sweater! Fortunately, I was able to snag a shirt for US$59.00 on a post-fourth of July sale rack and when you see it you’ll realise why, plus a cheap hat for another US$39.00 (all plus tax, of course).

We looked around a few of the areas of town that we didn’t explore the previous day and soon it was time for dinner. We’re not used to this cooler weather, plus we both love cheese, so what better option could there possibly be than fondue? We found a place called Alpenhof Lodge that had fondue back in Teton village near our hotel, then settled into a bar claiming to be “World famous” called the Mangy Moose Steakhouse and Saloon for a few beers and some live country music, or “Farm Emo” as I like to call it, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last time we’d be listening to it on this journey. A pattern we would discover while in this part of the country was that bars close at 11:00pm no matter what day it is, but we still managed to have a good time that night before walking back to our place to try to get some much needed sleep. How the rest of the day looked:

In another arch made from discarded elk antlers. There are a few of these around

I see what they did there….

The main street of Jackson

I love ‘The Big Lobowski’, but I’m not paying that much

$567.00 is the sale price for a very small pair of boots

That’s the original!

All the cars here are enormous!

Someone’s excited for fondue

There was a ‘Galaga’ machine where we had dinner, too

Settling into the Mangy Moose

Our entertainment for the night

They inexplicably have an original 1950s Las Vegas showgirl costume framed on the wall near the toilets there…

…as well as what looks like the evolution of bear traps

Tuesday, July 9, 2019 It was our last full day in Jackson prior to moving on to the holiday leg of our stay and the weather was nice so we had to make the most of it before I made a complete fool of myself in front of a bunch of strangers that night. I did my usual routine — a coffee and NBA Summer League — before Anna returned home, we had a bite for lunch, and then she confirmed what she had been considering the previous day as a way to fill in today; we were going to go whitewater rafting on Snake River:

The Snake River is a major river of the greater Pacific Northwest region in the United States. At 1,078 miles (1,735 km) long, it is the largest tributary of the Columbia River, in turn the largest North American river that empties into the Pacific Ocean.

Formed by the confluence of three tiny streams on the southwest flank of Two Oceans Plateau in Yellowstone National Park, western Wyoming, the Snake starts out flowing west and south into Jackson Lake. Its first 50 miles (80 km) run through Jackson Hole, a wide valley between the Teton Range and the Gros Ventre Range. Below the tourist town of Jackson, the river turns west and flows through Snake River Canyon, cutting through the Snake River Range and into eastern Idaho.

When Anna gets her mind set on something her intent is always to do it properly, however, I didn’t have to worry about her inadvertently signing up to do the full length of the river, just a stretch of about eight miles (12.8km) through Snake River Canyon, an area known to have some of the best whitewater rafting in the US. There were several options regarding the size of rafts and the amounts of people thereon, but we wanted to keep it intimate so we opted for one with room for eight people plus our guide. Our journey down the river was going to consist of Anna and myself, as well as Adrian, one of Anna’s colleagues that works in Sydney, Australia, and Nicole, an ophthalmologist we had met at the conference that we got on well with from Chicago. The other four spots would be taken up by some randoms that wanted to join us, which ended up being a family of four from Oregon. We took a shuttle bus for about an hour to the point in the river where our journey would begin. For a few dollars extra you could rent a wetsuit, but it was a nice, warm day so everyone besides Adrian and Nicole decided they didn’t need one, a decision we would all regret in hindsight. We all put on some sunscreen, the combination with Adrian’s black wetsuit making him look a pale shade of blue, as if he had a vitamin-D deficiency or maybe it was just his first ever time in actual sunlight, but he would have the last laugh. Once we had donned our lifejackets we pushed the raft out into a calm part of the river, boarded, and Hunter, our guide who was also clearly a massive stoner that had his own radio show with his friend, gave us our instructions as we floated downstream, informing us on how to react to each command, what to do if we have an “out of boat experience,” that type of thing. You could tell from a million miles away that this dude spent the nine months of the year that weren’t summer completely baked in neighbouring Colorado, just punching decriminalised cones and snowboarding. One thing that he said, however, had me a little worried; he told me I was going to freeze in my cotton t-shirt. Should’ve opted for the wetsuit. After receiving our advice and instructions we started to hit some small rapids, but it was when the first wave sprayed over our boat that we truly realised that this river was formed from glacial runoff and was absolutely freezing. The four of us were seated in the back two rows of the boat, the family in the front two with the father and the teenaged son having volunteered to be at the very front of the boat. Every time we hit a rough patch that sent water over us the teenaged kid seemed to cop it the worst and from the very first time you could just see him perpetually shivering and his teeth audibly chattering the entire ride. It was a really great time, the scenery was stunning, and it was hilarious when we would see a capsized boat or people doing something stupid and a possibly still-stoned Hunter would make chicken noises and yell either “Utah” or “Florida” at them, the latter an obvious reference to the less than stunning track record people from that state have in the common sense department. Not all of the people in the water were in there accidentally, though. Some of them were swimming! I mentioned earlier about how these people are impervious to cold and some thought a dip in the frigid waters was rather refreshing, one group even turning their inflatable boat upside-down and used it as a slip-n-slide. Me? I was soaked in my t-shirt, probably shouldn’t have worn socks either, my hands and feet were wrinkled and completely devoid of any colour whatsoever. In my own defence, it wasn’t the kind of boat I was expecting and I didn’t think I would get quite so wet, but we had an absolute blast and I’m just thankful I didn’t have an “out of boat experience.” Here’s a few shots from inside the boat, some of our group, and a couple more of our beautiful surroundings:

Heading down to the water behind the family that would be joining us

Yup, we’ll be on a small one of those

All aboard!

And we’re off

Going to have to put the camera away and paddle soon

Adrian, Anna, Hunter, Nicole, and my saturated self

The upside-down boat is the slip-n-slide

It doesn’t look that rough, but it certainly was

Another area of the river

Looking back on from where we had come

We got back in the shuttle bus and made the one hour trip back to the hotel, trying to get the feeling back in our lower extremities the entire way, as the moment we had spent a large portion of the previous day shopping for was almost upon us; when we arrived back at the hotel it would be time for us to start getting ready for the Western-themed dinner. I was a little nervous about the dinner for the sole reason that when I purchased my cowboy shirt, it was one of those seemed-like-a-good-idea-at-the-time moments. You see, as I mentioned, the shirt was on a discount rack for fourth of July stock that the store now needed to get rid of, but this wasn’t just any old shirt — It was an extremely ugly shirt with a design based on the good ol’ stars ‘n’ bars. Yes, my shirt was a particularly patriotic-looking one that resembled the American flag and I was worried the irony would be lost on some at the event. Admittedly, it really was the cheapest shirt I could find, but my concern was that some people wouldn’t find it anywhere near as funny as we initially did. At least there would be others that would look just as stupid as I would, as Adrian had just ordered a generic cowboy costume online and this was his first time even trying it on, although we had to remind him to refrain from calling it a “costume,” because it closely resembled the wardrobes of some in attendance.

When we arrived there was a live country band churning out some more Farm Emo so Anna started to do the rounds, chatting to colleagues, friends, and acquaintances and I hit the bar, which had some really good local microbrews available. Soon it was time to sit down for dinner, but not long after we were seated some of the organisers wanted to get everybody up again to do line-dancing and they were relentless! They just wouldn’t take a “no” for an answer, but fortunately they also weren’t going to get a “yes” out of myself. It was a good thing too, because the end result wasn’t pretty:

As you can clearly see some people got a little more into the line dancing than others, possibly even enjoying themselves, as is also evident here:

The food started to come out and the line-dancing devolved into just regular dancing to country music for those that refused to give up the dance floor. Dinner was good, but there weren’t a whole lot of options and there was one woman on our table who had allergies to seafood and nuts, as well as being lactose intolerant, ruling out the bulk of what was served to her. The night continued on, but one thing that occurs when drinking at high altitudes is it takes you nowhere near as much to get drunk so the crowd started to peter out a little as people began to realise they were getting sleepy and went back to their rooms. As for Anna, Nicole, and myself, we decided to hit up the Mangy Moose again, joined by a cool pharmaceutical representative from Chicago we had met, Tony. We hung around in the Mangy Moose until they were going to close, the girls getting served special, albeit exceptionally strong, house Slurpee cocktails. When the Moose closed, we headed back to our rooms, myself content in the knowledge that I would never need to wear that shirt ever again. Or so I thought; one of our plans for this trip was to attend a rodeo and Anna was insistent that I wear it, fully aware that it could possibly get me killed. Anyway, here’s how the dinner and drinks looked:

This is what I’d be rocking

More Farm Emo

On the menu tonight

Some really got into the line-dancing

The table centrepiece

It was a fun night, but I couldn’t dress like this all the time

Back at the Mangy Moose

The next day we had lunch with Tony and then drove out to Grand Teton National Park to begin the holiday leg of our journey.

Stay tuned for the conclusion to this story to see us exploring the US Pacific Northwest and “glamping” in Grand Teton National Park, as well as staying in the world famous Yellowstone National Park, encountering more than our share of geysers and wildlife along the way. If that doesn’t interest you, at least check to see if I have my Borat moment at a rodeo:

via GIPHY

Hanging out in Wyoming, an American state that some don't even believe exists It's been a while since I've checked in because we've had a relatively quiet two months, until now that is.

[writebythenight]

The Silence

Disclaimer: I own nothing, except my mediocre ideas!

Summary: Rick asks the Psychologist survivor, Rose(OC) to talk to Negan. 

Chapter Fifteen

This fucking woman never stopped fucking surprising him.

"I can't ask you to do that." Even though he felt his spirits lift higher than they had since he'd been locked up.

"Okay well don't ask." She shrugged. "I'm doing it either way."

"And just how are you plannin' to Shawshank me outta here, sweetheart?" He was leaning on the bars his hands high above his head making him feel very imposing to Rose.

"At night." She began.

"Yeah...?" He dragged the word on wanting her to elaborate.

"Don't you worry your pretty little head, big guy." She smirked leaving him shaking his head slowly, smirking right back as he watched her leave.

X X X X

Tonight was the night.

The luke warm water trickled over Rose's body and she cherished every last drop knowing this wouldn't be the norm any longer. She was well aware of everything she was giving up for this man who in the grand scheme she didn't know all that well. Knowing of the Negan before he was locked up didn't help, nobody could have been through what he had for the last two years and stay the same. She just had to figure out if it had been for the better or for the worse.

She was standing by her morals!

She couldn't let somebody die as a warning to the new world, not after everything!

That's what she continued to tell herself. When she tricked Scott into giving her the keys to Negan's cell, when she stole Lucille from the "secret" part of the weapons store that everybody knew about, even when she looked Tara in the eyes and lied about what she would be doing that night.

Feeling fully clean she wrapped herself in her scratchy towel and stared at the clothes she had laid out. Practical, warm, the clothes she had turned up to Alexandria in. Thick black jeans that were fraying but had no holes, a vest, a long sleeved stripy, burgundy and white top, a thick jacket and thick dark green coat. Her boots were new and so were the thick socks. Both of which were hard to come by out there.

Her bag was packed, hidden inside the wardrobe all she had to do was wait. Wait for 3am when in the silence of the night her new life would begin.

X X X X

Two sets of keys clinked together in her hand as she approached one of the only three cars remaining with fuel. This was what she felt most guilty about, she knew it was the very last fuel until they could perfect making it themselves.

She was only going to borrow it. The note she left in her room had told them so with co ordinates of where to find it.

He was sat up on his cot, his knee jittering nervously. He was nervous for different reasons to Rose. This was his last chance whereas she was worried about being caught, about living out on the road again but at least she wouldn't be alone this time. Negan could handle himself, that was a definite.

He didn't say a word as he stood up,  there was nothing to say. The lock clicked loudly and the gate swung open. "You're sure about this?" He was still stood in the shadows.

"Don't make me regret this." She said the seriousness of the situation portrayed in her voice. "Please."

"I won't." He said. No jokes. He needed her to know that he knew the severity of the situation. He walked out of the shadows  of his cell for what he hoped would be the last time and stopped right in front of her.

"We don't exactly have time for staring into each others eyes longingly..." She whispered.

He smirked and motioned towards the door. "You sure you've got this?" She had told him the plan but that didn't mean he was comfortable leaving his only chance in the hands of somebody else, even if it was her. He had no choice though.

Rose started walking to the door and he noticed her entire countenance had changed, she was stood taller, more on edge, aware and he hated that she had to be this way now. It was his turn to look after her, he owed her and he wanted to. He realised it was the first time since Lucille that he wasn't doing it as part of a deal. He just wanted her safe.

"You put this on." She handed him a baggy grey hoody which he pulled on and made sure the hood was covering his face. "If anybody comes, you hide. I'm sorry but the only way we're gonna get out of here is if I take advantage of the fact that they trust me." He nodded and noticed her take a deep breath as she walked out of the building and up the stairs beside him.

She peered over the last step and he found himself unable to stop watching her, this was the first  clue of how she had been before Alexandria. She nodded her head to gesture that they were going to move and they both fell into step, Rose guiding them. They didn't hit any trouble until they turned the last corner before getting to the car.

Negan had been worried that he might have lost his touch having been in that damn cell for so long but when Rose shoulder barged him into a large bush without him so much as being prepared for it, well that confirmed it. His mind caught up quick and he realised there must have been somebody coming.

"...didn't feel too good." He heard Rose lie.

"You want some company?" That was Scott, he always fuckin' hated the big bear looking fuck.

"Oh no..." Rose said a little too quickly before recovering. "I mean, it's late you should get some sleep."

"Yeah I guess I will. See ya tomorrow, Rose."

"Yeah, bye." Negan heard the sadness in her voice and if Scott hadn't then he was a moron.

"Get out here... quick." She whisper shouted. If it had been any other situation she would have laughed seeing big bad Negan crawling out of a bush, holding his back with leaves in his hair. Unfortunately she couldn't enjoy the moment and dragged him the last little way to the car, popping the boot.

"This better fuckin' work." He grumbled, climbing in the boot.

"You're really not in the position to complain here, asshole."

"Yes, sir." He said with a laugh as she closed the boot on the scrunched up six foot something man.

The second she started the car she would have to be quick, the sound of an engine travelled far in what was now such a silent world. What used to be background noise was out of the ordinary these days.                  

The rumbling of the engine sent a flood of adrenaline through Rose and as she drove up to the gate her stomach sank further and further.

"Fuck. Shit. Fucking fuck." She chanted under her breath as she drove, right up until Aaron came up to the drivers window.

"What are you doing?" He looked worried and it made her guilt even worse if possible.

"You need to let me out. Right now." She demanded. "Quickly!"

"What the hell is going on, Rose?"

"I can't tell you. You just... you have to trust me." Her voice broke just like she knew it would no matter how hard she fought it.

"Are you okay?" He asked. There was nothing in his face but concern, no accusation, no anger.

I'm so sorry, Aaron.

"Nobodies gonna get hurt okay." Not anybody in Alexandria anyway, she did have a murderer in her boot after all. What the actual fuck am I doing?! "That's all you need to know okay. Just let me out right now."

"No." He said simply while feeling for his radio, she was afraid of this. "I'm so sorry Aaron." She whispered as she pointed the gun she had been holding by her side at him just as he had lifted the radio to his mouth. "Get them to open the gate."

He stared at her, so confused and the fact that he still wasn't angry almost made her put this plan to bed all together.

"You wouldn't." He said with conviction.

"Don't make me. Please don't make me." She never ever would but she just had to hope, as the tears rolled down her cheeks that he wouldn't call her bluff.

She didn't know if she was relieved or terrified when he gestured for them to open the gate. She heard someone yell, "what the hell" but Aaron just gave them a look. "Do it."

Then the gates opened. Simple as that, Negan was free and Rose was the reason. Her foot hit the gas and she heard the dull thud of Negan probably being thrown back in the boot.

Good. She thought, it served him right for making her feel something for him, for getting her into this situation. Looking into the rear view mirror she saw Aaron talking on his radio, someone would come after her, if not straight away then as soon as they noticed Negan was gone but she just had to hope they wouldn't use one of the cars. That was what she was counting on.

Rose's mind went back and forth as she drove until sun up, not stopping even to let him out of the boot as they needed to get as far as they could before stopping for even a second.

She had nearly turned around a ridiculous amount of times but it was too late, she knew that, there was nothing to go back for but had there ever really been anything for her to go back to?

XXXX

When the boot finally opened Negan sat up slowly.

"I felt like this was all a trick to get me in a smaller, much more fuckin' uncomfortable box to rot away in for a sec there, doll." Rose said nothing to him, just stared at him. "Are you okay?"

"No." She told him. "But I will be." She nodded at him and all he could do was admire this woman who had single handedly gotten him out of that hell hole more effectively than any of those shower of shits he had led for so long could have. "We need to keep moving." She said matter of factly,  walking to the back of the car and opening the door before reaching inside and pulling out a bag. "Here."

"You really thought of everything." He chuckled as he climbed out of the boot and stretched his long limbs.

"You've no idea." She said quietly putting the bag on the floor this feet before reaching back in. When she came back out with his old leather jacket in one hand and Lucille in the other he honest to god nearly broke down crying. She really is a fucking angel.

"I thought...I..." He just shook his head, speechless. She had actually made him speechless. "Well shit, angel..." He approached her slowly and took both items in his hands like greeting an old lover. "I thought... Michonne said she was gone..." It took Rose a second to realise he was talking about the bat.

She remembered reading an article once named the psychology of stuff and things... it talked about how an object can become an extension of ones self, how it can be a way of someone  displaying their status or power. That was what she used to think the bat was to him but now she knew it was so much more than that. It was a physical representation of the loss of somebody he hadn't dealt with losing, a way of tricking his mind into feeling the comfort of still having her by his side.

She didn't know where she stood in all of that and she hated that a bat was making her insecure but the way he so gently caressed the bat was almost uncomfortable to watch.

"Michonne probably said that to hurt you."

"Well she fuckin' hit me right where it hurt like fuck." He rasped.

"Come on." She got his attention back on her and he nodded before pulling his leather jacket on, it was a little baggy but it felt amazing.

"So what's the plan, doll?"

"Get the fuck outta dodge." She slammed the door and started to walk up the street, Negan, his bat on one shoulder and his bag on the other as he caught up to her.

"WOO!" He shouted. "This feels fuckin' good!" He was elated and that was only to be expected, Rose just hoped he wouldn't be so elated that he'd get them both killed.

"What the fuck have I done?" She groaned only for Negan to laugh loudly.

A/N

This took longer to upload than I thought it would because I wasn't too happy with it. I'm still not! If you think the same I promise every single chapter from now onwards will make up for it.

SHITS ABOUT TO GET REAL.

Chapter Sixteen

[webcricket]

Looking Glass

Chapter 14 - You Can’t Go Home Again

Pairing: CastielXAU!Reader

Word Count: 1547

Summary: The past, present, and Castiel all catch up to the reader leaving her more uncertain than ever about the future in a strange world.

Miss a chapter? Have a Masterlist Link!

Yellow fender of the cab long departed from view down the iron lamp-lit dusk stretch of street, you stand across from home where the driver dropped you. The strap of the bag containing your belongings, all borrowed, none really yours per se, sags loose in your grip; slipping from your fingertips, it drops in a soundless heap on the sidewalk beside you. Eyelids clamped, dampness of disbelief overflowing at the tight pressed edges, you count to ten; when your wet lashes lift it’s all still there – a memory made tangible.

Azaleas flower along the foundation; the deeply green shrubs heave their fragrant burden of pink blooms up toward a wraparound porch unique in the neighborhood for its impractical lack of a railing – a feature you considered a benefit until the afternoon you broke your wrist launching a brand spanking new 10-speed bike on a bet off the side in a daredevil effort to bridge the neighbor’s neatly trimmed boxwood border; the long-knitted break in bone throbs as the recollection races through your mind of the summer spent in a cast frowning longingly at that cherry red beauty of a bicycle gathering dust in the corner of the garage.

There hangs the green shutter, slightly askew, missing several slats, outside your bedroom window. It sways on the hinge just so in a gentle buffet of wind producing a creak so familiar you would know, blindfolded, there’s surely a powerful storm sweeping in from the East. The burgeoning breeze blows loose strands of hair across your cheeks to tickle your nose as if in teasing confirmation of the impending tempest. Texas storms exist both fearsome in destructive potential and astounding in grandeur, and the walls of home always kept you safe from their wrath. A subtle shiver of excitement courses your body at the familiar electricity surging in the air.

Even the cliché fairy-tale white picket fence perimeter surrounding the front yard – whose upkeep you were charged with every summer from when you were old enough to wield a brush and dip it in a paint bucket – sits intact; the pristine white luster of each post gleams, a welcoming toothy smile enticing passersby to step on up to the doorstep and ring the brass bell framed beneath matching brass house numbers to say ‘Hello neighbor!’ and partake of a glass of your mother’s locally legendary lemonade. You can almost taste the sweet sandy grit of sugar on teeth mingling with peels of tart rind swirling over your tongue to quench the thirst of a hot afternoon.

And yet, for all the welcome likeness whose brick walkway looms not ten yards away, you remain a frozen fixture out front. The effect of seeing your lost home – a haven in a world that technically isn’t yours – instead of being comforting, vaguely unsettles; it’s very much like looking into a funhouse mirror, except you’re the one grotesquely distorted in the face of non-apocalyptic normalcy. The slightest tentative movement forward on your part toward the facade seems to skew you to the depths of your soul; it shines a paralyzing beacon into that alcove of your heart that knows coming here, especially like this, at the expense of Castiel’s trust, was a mistake.

Stuck in this dithering delay, you hear Cas’ truck approach before you see it; the squeak of the stiff suspension unmistakably cleaves the otherwise suburban silence. Pulling up to the curb, cutting the cantankerously sputtering engine, squinting at you through the dusty windshield, he climbs out without a word. His stare drifts over his shoulder to the innocuous seeming house so raptly holding your attention as he shuts the door; faint recognition rises in his awareness that this place matches the home he saw sprawling in the smoky vestiges of your memory.

Transfixed by a light switching on and the shadow of a figure moving beyond the illuminated red-checkered curtains of the kitchen – someone clearing dinner dishes you suppose – you inhale a shaky breath and avoid looking at the angel now standing beside you.

The demand for some kind of an explanation resides implicit in his continued silence. He gazes ahead, hands shoved in his pockets, indirectly reproving you with taciturn fortitude.

Tucking your chin to your chest under the weight of your duplicity, deeply regretting disappointing him, you quietly mumble, “I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you.”

He knows you’re not lying; it doesn’t make deceiving him – any of them – okay. Lips a taut line, he still says nothing.

You glance sideways – his stone-faced expression defines indeterminacy. Thunder rolls nearer. Wind violently bangs the green shutter. The hem of his trench coat flutters around the rigid column of his body. Your voice quavers. “Cas, please say something.”

Blues fixed on the lighted window, irises reflecting the shimmers of lighting piercing the churning clouds overhead, he asks in a curtly clipped cadence, “What I don’t understand is how you coerced Rowena into going along with this charade.”

“It wasn’t like that-” you falter when his regard inclines to you. Unlike his stoically set features, his eyes aren’t unreadable; the hurt of your betrayal dims their brightness. Feeling the coolness of their sustained scrutiny prickle your skin, you look at the ground to avoid the pain and reproof. “When I brought her the feather, she asked where I was from. You know, small talk.” A self-recriminating shrug over how quickly the stupid little thing snowballed into this mess. “I-I told her.” A stutter. “When she did the location spell …” An earnest glance upward. “I-I didn’t know she was going to say it, I didn’t-”

“No, you didn’t, did you?” Jaw flexing, his mouth thins further; a subtle flare of the nostrils discloses the unsuppressed anger. He shakes his head slowly as he speaks, “Didn’t stop us from taking an unnecessary detour. Didn’t think about the lives you put at risk by saying nothing – not just Sam and Dean pursuing a potentially dangerous archangel on their own, but the entirety of this world if we failed in the task.”

You step backward, shrinking from his condemning manner.

He seizes you by the upper arm to inhibit your withdrawal and spins you, forcing you to face him.

The firm clasp of his fingers borders on being unkind in roughness; it reminds you of the other him. The gesture compels you to meet the dejected glaze of his eyes where a flicker of fire flares within that dark glower when you choke out a startled whimper.

Fingertips digging into your flesh, he growls, “Y/N, the people in there – they aren’t your family. That’s not your home. You don’t belong here.”

Tears springing at the cruelty of his words – and the harsh reality of them – shuddering bodily with a sob, you yank your arm from his grasp. Stumbling into the street, you catch your balance slumping against the bed of the truck.

Bending to pick up your discarded duffle, he makes no motion to comfort you. “Get in the truck, we’re going-” He stops himself before referring to the bunker as home; it’s not yours – thoughts diverting to Heaven’s current angel-less predicament and its imminent demise, a part of him still resolutely believes it’s also not his, not exactly. He glances once more toward the mirror of your remembered home.

The first fat pellets of rain begin to spatter the surface of ground so desiccated by drought they bounce. Brilliant white energy unleashes in a blinding flash above. A shocking peel of thunder cracks the atmosphere.

Prying open the passenger door, Cas carelessly tosses the bag into the foot well and circles to the other side.

Ducking from the onslaught of rain, shivering in the cold slick of wet saturating your skin, you clamber numbly up into the seat and tug the door closed.

Observing your form huddled in the seat as far from him as physically possible, realizing his callousness was perhaps in part redirection of his own frustration with a sense of belonging, he gazes at the mud-streaked glass for a moment, heart aching for you, but not quite knowing how to apologize. “Y/N, I-”

Before he can utter a missive of remorse, you sniffle, “Are you going to tell Dean?”

Too worried about where you went, whether you were safe, tracking you through the cab dispatcher, and ultimately presented with your subterfuge, he hadn’t planned that far ahead. Anticipation of Dean’s antipathy again agitates his ire over the situation. Any softness of compunction he feels dissipates – he’s done defending you to Dean. “You mean, am I going to tell Dean he was right about you distracting me from the mission?” He cranks the ignition and shoots you a scowl. “No, I’m not going to tell Dean.”

For an instant, the warmth of relief wraps your trembling frame. The feeling is transitory.

“You are,” he grumbles. Revolving the steering wheel, revving the engine, he swerves the truck wide back toward the highway and the direction of your penance.

Twisting to peer out the window through the waves of windblown rain, you watch the house and hope disappear; it occurs to you that the angel is right, you don’t belong here, and what’s more, you can never go home again – it’s lost forever to you; and now, you fear, you’ve lost him, too.

Next: Ch. 15 - Rifts

[littlesoufflecafe]

One For The Road | Chapter 9 Cut Scene: “Karaoke, Billiards, and American Accents”

A/N: This is from an early draft of One For The Road, chapter nine! I knew I wanted The Doctor to hop up on stage and sing “Pretty Woman” to Clara at the end of this chapter, but building up to that scene and making everything flow nicely took a few tries, and this was the first of them. Please note that this cut scene (and many others of mine) end abruptly, as I usually don’t continue writing dialogue/descriptions if I don’t feel like they’re going anywhere. Enjoy!

-----

The last time Clara stepped foot in a place like this, the air was damp.

She had reluctantly dressed herself in an outfit she loved, smeared liner under her eyes for a smoky effect, and topped it off with a pair of Nina's three-inch pumps. It wasn't until she teetered across the threshold of the bar that she realized how little it mattered. If anything, she felt overdressed as she shouldered her way through the throng of university students, the hazy lights and overcasting scent of alcohol and sweat making anyone a fair target of attraction.

The anxiety in her bubbled and burst as she perched herself on the edge of a bar stool that had just been vacated, wisps of her fringe already stuck to her forehead by a thin layer of sweat. The twenty year-old had no interest in indulging herself in her legal privileges, but felt the need to conform to her own environment as she ordered a drink and focused on the bartender's hands as he prepared it.

The entire room felt saturated in everything—like a picture with a filter turned all the way up. Her friends had long since left her side to mingle as any other conventional student would, treading in lively waters when Clara couldn't even keep her head above the surface. She was drowning in a sea of gregarious extroverts and crystalline glasses and smoke, and wondered why on Earth anyone would want to spend time in this congested, miserable place.

This time around, it was nothing like that.

The Doctor kept his hand on the small of her back as he guided her into the bar, his gaze flicking to hers constantly, as if to confer that she was okay. The place was warm, kept alive by intimate pockets of conversation—held up by mainly business people with heavy eyes and loosened neck ties. It felt a lot more mature than the one she had been to in university, though Clara supposed that was a given. It was a Monday night, work hours were ending, and no one looked to be younger than they were.

"B-52?" a waitress with blonde bangs asked them upon entering, plucking a shot glass from the tray she was balancing on her shoulder. "It's on the house."

The Doctor shook his head politely, flashing the woman a quick smile. "No thanks, I'm the designated driver for tonight." He looked towards his companion. "You?"

Clara looked at the concoction—the way its layers separated in the shot glass like oil and water—and pursed her lips. "I'm good, thanks."

They found themselves a small table adjacent to the bar and ordered mozzarella sticks to share just as a band of college girls teetered up onto the stage, their faces flushed by the light of the karaoke projector as they balanced precariously on their skinny three-inch high heels. The leader of the group, a brunette wearing a silky pink slip dress, snatched the mic off of the stand as it blared slightly from the impact.

"This one goes out to our best girlfriend Brittney, who's turning twenty-two years young tonight!" she announced, the slur in her voice only partially noticeable as the crowd answered back with a series of claps and cheering. The beginning notes to Lady Gaga's 'Poker Face' filled the speaker system as the girls began to speak-sing the lyrics, their voices fading in and out as they tried to maneuver around the cramped stage in their stilts.

Clara picked a mozzarella stick from the platter that had just appeared before them and dipped it into the marinara sauce. "You were right," she said, taking a bite. "I can see why you find this fun."

The Doctor grimaced as one of the girls began molesting her hair. "You know, I've never actually watched one of these fully sober."

"Brittney sure is a lucky girl."

"Dear god," he murmured, face reddening as he turned to look at Clara. "That girl's breast is about to pop out of her top if she keeps doing that."

"Oh, no no no, you can't look away now," she urged, eyes glued to the stage in a sardonic sort of fascination. "They're just getting to the good part!"

She began bopping her head to the beat as the chorus went into full swing, the girls doing their best to enunciate their P's as The Doctor leaned over to whisper in her ear. "You don't need to lie and say that you're actually enjoying this."

"Oh no, I am loving this," she promised him, reaching across the table for another mozzarella stick. Her eyes were still affixed on the train wreck unfolding before them as she leaned over and took a sip of water. "Best decision I ever made, coming here. Thank you Doctor, I am feeling much better now."

He opened his mouth to object, but was stopped as the crowd—and Clara—erupted into revelry as the birthday girl herself hiked onto the stage without even bothering to use the stairs, her velvet dress shimmering under the light as she swung her linen napkin over her head like a lasso. And despite himself, The Doctor couldn't help but crack a smile, not because of the girls on stage, but because of the one sitting next to him. She did look relaxed, her features a mix of bewilderment and rapture. The young man couldn't help but adopt a similar expression. She was just that contagious when it came to him.

They bore witness to several more honorable performances, the two travelers singing along to the songs they knew, nodding their heads in support of the ones they didn't. It wasn't until an elderly couple began cooing 'Somethin' Stupid' by the Sinatras that the place began to subside from the hype, Clara's feet propped up on The Doctor's lap as she leaned back in her chair, mouthing the words silently.

He wanted to reach out for her in that moment, grab her hand and squeeze it before pulling her close to his chest so that they could dance, swaying in tune to the gentle, lapping waves of the music. What was stopping him? Fear, perhaps. Pure, unadulterated terror. Something he seldom faced when it came to taking chances. He didn't know what to make of it.

Gently lifting her sparkly feet and setting them back on the ground, he excused himself to go locate the toilet, resisting the urge to smack himself with each passing step. Idiot, idiot, he kept telling himself as he scrubbed his hands for the sake of having something to do, forcing himself to face his reflection in the foggy mirror. He saw a young man shriveling in his tweed coat, staring back at him.

"You are a coward," he murmured to himself, the words dying on his lips as a man with a red goatee pushed into the restroom with an unlit cigarette dangling between his lips. The Doctor mumbled out an apology before crossing the threshold again, not wanting to leave Clara by herself for too long as he desperately tried to derive another way to make her smile without making his intentions so overt.

He actually found it not a moment later, in the form of cue sticks and worsted green wool. Returning to the table with a wide smile on his face, The Doctor shared with the young writer his most recent discovery.

"Clara," he prompted excitedly, not even bothering to sit down as he jabbed a finger towards the back room. "They've got billiards here!"

His companion craned her neck to meet his gaze, wringing her hands atop the table as she stared at him with a blank expression. "Do they not have billiards back in London?"

"No silly, of course they do," he replied, blinking back in confusion. "Now come on! You can play me in pool," he urged, the smile on his face faltering as he saw that she wasn't budging. His shoulders slumped slightly.

"I haven't played in years," she admitted. "Stars, I don't even think I remember how to play."

"Even better! I can re-teach you."

Her gaze drifted towards the stage longingly. He rolled his eyes.

"Clara, watching drunk people make fools of themselves isn't having fun, it's being cruel," he accused, frowning as he beheld a thirty year-old man weep the lyrics of 'Time After Time.' "At least...get drunk with them. Spare them the judgement of the sensible person in the room."

She pursed her lips into the corner of her mouth, watching silently as the performer on stage gripped the microphone in an ardent desperation.

"Okay, I'll play you in pool," she muttered begrudgingly, standing from the table and following him towards the back room. It was a cozy space tucked behind a velvet-lined curtain, two sets of pool tables lined-up side by side. The Doctor beamed at the vacant of the two and immediately began teaching Clara the basics, from the history of the game to choosing the right cue stick based on one's size, in which he selected for her the shortest one. She appreciated the bit, although she swiped the thing from him more forcefully than intended.

She caught onto the rules fairly quickly and watched as The Doctor took the first shot, accepting his help for her first few turns before insisting she could do it herself. Her gaze had zeroed-in on the exact pocket she wanted the ball to go in when a party of four drew themselves to the adjacent table. A young man with tawny brown hair and rolled-up sleeves gestured to the abandoned pool game with his drink.

"Is this table taken?" he asked the two. The Doctor straightened from inspecting his own game, an idea bursting into his head at the last second.

"Nah man, it's all yours," he said casually, his voice lowering as he adopted an American accent. Clara was thrown as she made her shot, cursing under her breath as the ball flew past its intended target and smacked into the railing. No one seemed to notice her spasm, or the deception behind The Doctor's self-satisfied smirk, for that matter.

"Mind me saying, but I recognize that accent. Are you from New York?" the young man asked, setting his glass on the lip of the table as his friends began preparing their table. Clara drove her cue stick into the floor and eyed her friend in suspicion, The Doctor's face breaking out into the biggest smile she'd ever seen.

"Where else?" he proclaimed, gesturing towards Clara affectionately. "Me and the missus are actually on a road trip to San Fran, trying to catch the Giants game on Wednesday."

She didn't know what shocked her more—The Doctor continuing to refer to themselves as a married couple, or the fact that he actually knew when American baseball season was. Nevertheless, she couldn't shake the discomfort of this character he had devised on-the-spot, with his lack of flailing and naturally fluid stance. It was so unlike his actual self that she began to question what she really knew about him.

"So you guys are Yankees fans, I take it," the stranger surmised.

"We prefer the Mets," The Doctor admitted, no doubt having learned his two cents from Amy. Clara was at his side in an instant, her arm sliding into the crook of his in a rigid grip.

"Uh...Doctor?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I talk to you for a second?" she asked, a plastered smile on her face. She pulled him away from the conversation before he could respond, her mind burning with questions as she drove them towards the nearest corner and began whispering to him. It came across as more of a hiss than anything.

"What's with the accent?" she blurted, infuriated by the cue stick still in her left hand. She leaned it against the wall and set her hands on her hips. The Doctor's hands had retreated into his pockets, a sheepish grin on his face as if she'd just asked if he'd done something wrong. He shrugged.

"Thought I'd try it out, you know, be one with the locals," he whispered back excitedly, his natural accent returning to him as if letting her in on some sort of covert secret. "What do you think?"

Clara blinked. If she were honest, she'd have said it was good. Really good, even. "I dunno, it sounds like your voice plunged off the face of the earth, and it frightens me."

"Oh. Sorry," he said, furrowing his brow. A second passed before he asked, "But didn't you think it was at least a tiny bit cool?"

Her smile was askew as she folded her arms across her chest. "What, pretending to be someone else?"

"Pretending to be a New Yorker! Pretending that I actually know how baseball works! I was really convincing back there Clara, didn't you see?"

-----

Read the full fic here!

FanFiction: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12799845/1/One-For-The-Road

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14986580/chapters/34731947

[saintaugustinerp]

Congratulations C! You have been accepted for the role of The Fallen Angel with the faceclaim Zoë Barnard.  Please be sure to check out the accepted applicants checklist! Also be sure send us a link to your blog within the next twenty-four hours. Welcome to St. Augustine!

OUT OF CHARACTER

Name/alias: C

Age (18+): over 21

Gender/Preferred pronouns: Cisfemale, she/hers pronouns please

Timezone: GMT/GMT+1

IN CHARACTER

Desired Skeleton: The Fallen Angel

Character Name:  Lady Alexandria Georgiana Fox

Age (18+): 7 June, 1997

Gender/Pronouns: Cisfemale, she/her

Hometown: Chelsea, London, England (via Somerset, England and Panjim, Goa, India)

Major: Art History (with a heavy emphasis on the Baroque period in Europe)

Desired Faceclaim: Zoë Barnard

Character blurb: She always used to wear the most pristine little miniskirts, even in the snow, with only diaphanous stockings to keep her warm, her jumpers tied at her waist. ‘Hot blooded,’ her boyfriend would call her, leaning in close and kissing her and then you could only stare longingly at those lips of hers. That thin, almost imperceptible white line that divides her top lip into a quarter and three of them was there before all the others, impossible to miss in a snarl and even more so in a smile, a wound that had stitched itself back together and left a mark. She cut it on a broken wineglass someone was running around with in first year, and everyone laughed at it bubbling over and bloody, bleeding profusely until it didn’t stop and she went to bed drowning in the stuff. Of course, that scar is of little consequence now, not with that fat, pink one encroaching on her left eye. I heard some people calling her Princess Die, but she was the one who crashed her convertible in Corsica. Not a driver outrunning rabid paparazzi. She has only herself to blame. Don’t look at her, misery would kill for some company at this school.

Developed Head Canons:

Note: The subtitles are stolen from Rosalía’s El Mal Querer (it translates to like, The Bad Love), a Spanish-language concept album released last month with this very cyclical, ancient narrative. You can listen to it here as you read if you so choose.

ALEXANDRIA Cap. 1: Augurio (Omen)

Her parents met when they were both on holiday in Egypt in the 90s, a spitfire and the not-quite reserved son of a Duke. She was the firstborn, but her brother, James, born two hours (and a few minutes no one ever bothered to calculate) after her, will inherit almost all — their father’s title, the estates, the townhouse. It’s not common knowledge at Augustine she has any siblings, let alone a twin who could be a mirror image of herself: he’s studying economics at the École normale supérieure in Paris, and Gia is far more likely to visit him than he her; in Switzerland they tend to meet to ski in Gstaad or Verbier. James, Jamie, is half her heart, and when they both chose to go to different universities she was some kind of agony. It was the first time she was ever alone, truly alone, since the moment she was conceived, but gradually, she blossomed in Switzerland, alone, magnetic in her own right and beloved even without her complement.

FRANKFURT Cap. 2: Boda (Wedding)

She was going to marry him, Gia swears, had they survived to his graduation, had they survived the weight of courtship outside of Augustine, had he not fucked her over. Her parents had met in Egypt when they were nineteen and twenty, and she was supposed to meet her husband then too. And Théo, he was their dream, he was hers, when she held her head close to his heart and listened to it beating she could have sworn it was hers, lovesick (sickening) and naïve. She held her head high, arms slung around Théo and Julien, her boys. The revelation that called herself Sylvianne (the slut) was magnificent in her cruelty, they shared classes and once, sat next to each other in a mixed-year lecture, but Théo was on fire. He reduced her to tears, shaking, dropping to her knees unable to breathe in his bedroom. She hadn’t loved him enough. That was the worst thing. She loved the way he made her feel, she loved his name and the way he spoke hers and she loved that he was hers but she didn’t love him enough. It would have been easy to liken their breakup to an imperial divorce between loveless royals if not for the humiliation, brutal and public and unbearable. Théo and Sylvianne made her something ferocious and wounded and yowling, begging after it was over in the silence not to die alone in the mountains.

ZÜRICH Cap. 3: Celos (Jealousy)

She was beautiful, and she knew it. Thick, long, glossy hair, wide doe eyes with thick lashes, full lips and freckles. Gia cared deeply about her appearance, how she presented herself to the world, and her mother brought her to spas across the continent in search of youth, to halt time in its tracks, placing an emphasis on beauty above all else. Her mother is more than Botox injections and collagen boosters, she knows, Astrid was top of her class at her boarding school, she speaks four languages and was an au pair for an aristocratic family in Spain, but all anyone ever refers to Gia’s mother as is beautiful. She epitomises aristocracy and post Chelsea mummies, married by twenty-three and pregnant by twenty-four, a celebrated hostess and the curator of the Somerset house’s beloved collection. Losing Théo was more than a betrayal, it was more than him cheating, it made Gia a failure, someone with a first love and not an only love like her mother has, it brought her beauty and charm into question: if she wasn’t enough for him, would she be enough for anyone?

BRUXELLES Cap. 4: Disputa (Argument)

The aftermath of the betrayal was as ancient as the idea bearing a cross on one’s back as punishment. A last supper. A resolution. Body and blood and disciples. When the semester came to a vicious end, well before her last class (and for that matter, before she sat any exams) James chartered a plane from Paris-Le Bourget to Zürich, and she boarded an empty train car and uncrossed her legs and pointed her toes at the seats opposite hers, the wetness that lingered on the soles of her calfskin boots in the Alpine spring making them damp and dark. She bought a triptych from her iPhone, texting the Sotheby’s dealer her parents kept on retainer her bids. It was easy to proclaim that the Reveller was a naughty, stupid little thing, stood across from them, but the Oxbridge students she had gone to primary school with in England beckoned her closer the second she stepped off the Gulfstream and wandered back into their territory. Before, it had always been so easy to justify her abuse as use, as necessity, never addiction, it was a line when she needed to focus, a drink or four so she looked like anyone else, she was never high, she was never drunk, never foolish enough to even so much as make herself look like she was either. An old friend called her, in June, in the middle of a fête at the Tory Whip’s daughter’s penthouse flat in Canary Wharf, and she answered, eyes shining and glassy and rimmed with red, a slur dogging the ends of her sentences. She wasn’t addicted. Not so fast. She was being reckless. He wouldn’t hear it. When Diana divorced Charles, she became a queen in her own right, despite severing herself from eligibility. When she died, she became a goddess. When Gia divorced Théo, she drowned herself in wine and white powder and didn’t die. She spent her sympathy long before she ever needed it, never kind enough to be anything but elite and untouchable and once she could be touched, she was unwanted.

CORSICA Cap. 5: Lamento (Lament)

The 5th Duke of Westminster had a villa in Corsica, Gia and James’ childhood palace that lay abandoned as they grew older and realised London was, as they had suspected all along, the centre of the universe, and also that they had a country estate in Somerset and sand was stupid. But their family decided, as Gia’s three-month-long implosion (that didn’t birth a new star, otherwise it would have been acceptable) continued, that she needed some sun, a wholly English cure. She was meant to be forced through some kind of rehabilitation, both for her heart and the whisky, her brother was meant to watch her around the liquor cabinet. The Duchess had not laboured so long to give birth to a daughter who had her heart broken once and became nothing. In the dark the morning of 8 July, sober and awake and alive, Gia left the villa with the keys to the convertible she’d learned to drive on the winding Corsican roads in her palm. The car roared to life and shot out of the garage before anyone could wake up and realise what had happened, its top down in the balmy island heat.

CHELSEA Cap. 6: Clausura (Cloister) Trigger warning: severe injury, car accidents.

Recovery was a bitter process. She was evacuated from the dingy (but needlessly expensive) hospital in mid-August, forced into hiding in Chelsea — it would have been Somerset if not for the necessity of her doctor’s appointments. She broke ribs, if the car had crashed into anything more solid than a grove of olive trees she would have broken vertebrae. But it was the glass that did the most exquisite damage, shattering into a thousand pieces and destroying the side of her face she turned to face it, the left side. She underwent reconstructive surgery and skin grafts, her leg fractured even as they took skin from her thigh, the evidence of what she had done visible. A plastic surgeon did his best to repair the scars, but some were too delicate to even begin to touch in the week before she was meant to return to school. The scars remain visible, almost a dividing line between the old and the new, her freckles shifted by pink and silver lines, her left eyebrow in two. She’s meant to have another appointment, over the summer, to finally repair the repairs and erase the worse of the scars, and ease the severity her headaches, an aftereffect from the concussion she received when her forehead slammed into the steering wheel, but a surgeon in Zürich warned her that her demand, to return to the way she looked before, was impossible to meet. She returned to Saint Augustine like something out of a Bond novel, a villain, and they shied away from her, all of them, hanging their heads as if they knew they had done it themselves (they had).

SOMERSET Cap. 7: Liturgia (Liturgy) Trigger warning: extremely brief and not graphic mention of suicide.

No one was ever blunt enough to tell her what she had done wrong, but she figured it out herself. She was hysterical. Hysterical women were unattractive, unwanted, they always had been, soothsayers or not, beautiful or not. She should have handled the end of her relationship with Théo Rothschild with grace, with her head held high, then they would have adored her, called her back to them, cried for her when she crashed whether she had done it to herself of not. There were whispers she had been in a relationship with the dead boy, something like that, maybe, that she had tried to kill herself when he had died. And the opposite, that she had hungered for attention so much so that she stole what should have been his, or tried to, anyway, vicious and starving. Gia walks with a limp and keeps her eyes on the ground, retreating, retreating, retreating. No rumour could be as cruel as someone telling her the truth, even just once.

TOKYO Cap. 8: Éxtasis (Ecstasy)

Before, she was defined by how dazzling she was. She learned how to fly planes in the summer before university, with James in the cockpit beside her so she wouldn’t dare crash. She loved ski weekends in Gstaad and summering at Lake Como, and she was a half-decent figure skater with a penchant for old noir films and gore and westerns. Gia loved art, it wasn’t just the acceptable degree chosen for her by the sort of people who expected her to be a wife and mother and party guest, she spent hours dissecting the evolution of Caravaggio’s technique as he gained students and imitators in first year and presenting a paper so exemplary the professor urged her to submit it to peer-reviewed journals (she didn’t). She drank, but not to excess, holding bottles of Château Cheval Blanc, her favourite, aloft and making promises of vacations in the Loire Valley. She fit perfectly into the hollow under her best friend’s arm, or her boyfriend’s, and she never made trouble. She was adored, however shallowly, and after, with her face wet and stinging, in the dark she prays that she is exalted, that she is adored again, for someone, anyone to love her the way she was once loved. She wants that even more than she wants suffering.

SAINT PETERSBURG Cap. 9: Concepción (Conception)

She was forged in her mother’s image the way James was moulded steady-on by their father, a rosy-cheeked maiden bred for slaughter-by-marriage and utterly excited for it. She attended a boarding school in Surrey for primary school, chased by a Swiss education for secondary, following in her parents’ footsteps. They were both Oxbridge students, dry and unencumbered by society’s ills. Her mother, despite being born to a nouveau riche half-Indian banker and his wife, an immigrant from Goa, caught her father’s eye and never left his gaze, settling in in his mind. They were lullabies, her parents, fairytales, their marriage impeccable and undeniable, a perfect union of two understated powers. And, her mother’s daughter, her accompaniment to the opera in Vienna and spas in Lucerne, she begged for the same, to be something, to marry someone who was something, because she was told, again, and again, but never so explicitly, that was all she could ever want and the only thing she had to live up to: James had the difficult task.

BERN Cap. 10: Cordura (Sanity) Trigger warning: car crashes, suicide (not graphic).

It weighs heavy over her, the second before the crash, when she made the decision to turn the steering wheel and pitch over the side of the road into the sea of trees below. She hadn’t set out to die, or be crushed by the vintage convertible she had coveted for five months before it became her birthday present, she had meant to inhale the salt and drive in the dark until she was exhausted enough, without a dram of whisky necessary, to collapse into her bed and finally sleep for the first time in months. It was assumed she had something in her system when she crashed. No one ever checked her blood alcohol, neither of her parents spoke enough French and James had sworn to protect her, telling the Corsican nurses instead that she was allergic to penicillin. They whisper that she wanted attention, and she did, if anyone would ever think to ask that she wouldn’t deny it. She just wanted attention, for someone to ask what was wrong, to ask why something not quite unexpected had nearly killed her, and her shame makes her eyes burn and one cheek striped white and the other pink and no one meets her eyes anymore but she never even tries to meet theirs. He’s a boy, for fuck’s sake. A boy. Not a man. Not a God. Not worth anything she did to herself in want of someone, in want of him, to ask, ‘what have I done to you?’

PARADIS Cap. 11: Poder (Power)

She has a plan, face half-scarred, teeth too white, skin stained with iodine under her school jumper, newly cruel in disposition herself when once she was, at the very least, civil. She should punish Théo, yes, and she will, but the slut knew who she was fucking — neither of them should go without blame. Georgiana watches Bas Décsey, her old boyfriend’s old friend, not reverently, but hungrily, flashes of something sharp in her smile, that wild, untamed thing once so easily caged. He’s better suited for her, anyway, no platinum-plated spoon between his lips (only a gold one, it’ll match hers), his interests align with hers. A simple, easily soft spoken question — ‘I need your help.’ The overlap of Theology and Art is undeniable and endless, their knowledge overlaps. Vengeance shines when sworn, she thinks constantly of the slut’s realisation that the poor creature she wrote off has taken everything from her: her own boyfriend, her dignity, her degree. An eye for an eye. Bas would know better than anyone, that’s what God would want. She relies on rumours of his grace and magnificence, and her own wretchedness — this is the time to prove he is a true prophet. (He won’t. He’ll never see her coming.)

(There’s another route, too, she could take: Théo slept with Sylvianne. Sylvianne sleeps with Bas now. Bas and Théo could so easily be torn apart by that fact, couldn’t they? Couldn’t she make Théo lose as much as she has? Could anyone even hate her if she did? It’s revenge. And they can claim piety all they like, but everyone hungers for it. Everyone.)

Writing Sample: Must be IC, should be at least two paragraphs

LATE JUNE 2018

She’s in a nasty mood, hovering on the edge of a violent strop, a wet, heavy feeling in the back of her throat, choking her.

These are wild lands, the mountains (are they mountains? they look nothing like the ones she knows so well) like rows of jagged teeth rising out of the sea, the cliffs cut black and white. An old Aznavour song in a language she doesn’t understand croaks through the radio, staticky from the distance. She leans forward, flicking it off, pressing back into the leather and tracing the steering wheel’s stitches. She’s alone. The girl and her car. James thinks it’s haunted, the car, the way the villa is, the way the island is. When they were little lights would flick on in the middle of the night, and something that sounded like dogs would bark and howl even though they had none. A Nouvelle Vague starlet had owned the villa next to their great-grandfather’s and drowned herself in the pool and she had German Shepard, according to Jamie, when he was older.

The car speaks for itself, top down, never playing the right songs, the leather always frigid even in the Mediterranean heat.

Gia inhales through her nose, the edge of her fingernail sliding under a loose look of stitching and pulling. Her nail breaks. She swears, bringing the split, ragged edge to her teeth to even it out. She’s ruined her manicure — that was her mum’s doing, a hundred pounds for an emergency appointment at DryBy, the soft pink shade easily mistaken for her own nails from a distance. Something whistles. The wind.

She turns the radio back on, taking her foot off the car’s acceleration but leaving the key turned just so. To her left, a brief walk and her door opens out onto the salt, a vivid, vibrant, aching blue in daylight; a churning black sea, the stuff of monsters, of Grecian legends and Napoléon, when the sun goes down. To her right, the dirt. This road ends here. It gets steeper and steeper until it’s too treacherous for a car, even a small one barely suited for two people, like hers, to drive without pitching backwards and succumbing to flames.

It’s dark. She needs a light. She’s never gone this far before.

Gia takes her phone with her, on silent, its brightness turned down, and raises it to take a picture.

An endless grove of olive trees stares back, illuminated by the sudden flash of light. She turns. Above, the road that leads back to the villa, haunted. This is why she came down here. That distance, the gap between the road above and the road below, if she was going 100 kilometres it would cease to exist and all there would be to catch her would be the yearning arms of the olive trees.

It’s a good thing she knew to drive slowly through uncharted territory.

Other: Anything else you want to show us or say you can put here, including any desired changes or questions you have for us.

One last note  — in terms of timelines, determining what the ‘fall’ was is difficult, but I tend to place it as a gradual process rather than all at once. It began, of course, with the revelation she had been cheated on, but she failed to act (as she desired) on the information for a good week. It was a slow descent (here’s where this blog’s title comes from, “An Angel who did not so much Fall as Saunter Vaguely Downwards”, Terry Pratchett, though sauntering is a nice word for it) from recklessness to Corsica and the crash. So while any of these things could be the fall, I tend to find that starting at the beginning is what I prefer, in terms of before and after. But the scars are a great visual marker of change, so I can hardly protest any other interpretation!

[the-mf-bread-babies]

loneliness </\///\|/3

a fic by rocco wulfram north, m.d.

(found that name on hardcore baby names)

–chmapter jop–

before the tríp

It was a normal day for the Skullsmashers: go to somewhere, kill people, be gay, sleep, get brunch. Right now was the first part of their daily routine, and they were getting ready for it.

“holy fuck nova could you hurry the shit up i have to brush my fucking teeth you bitch” Ace hissed, knocking repeatedly on the bathroom door. “Fuck You. I'm Going To Go To Hell Itself” Nova gargled back, mouth full of mouthwash. More banging was heard; the door had seen better days.

Several feet away was Jake, all dressed up and ready to go, waiting for the others to get ready. He sat on the couch gayly in the living room down the hall, scrolling through Apocalypse Twitter. ‘every day i throw down an unpeeled boiled egg from the rooftop to simulate fear and unreadiness’ he read, a tweet from Orc's account. What the fuck. Classic Orc.

“ah fuck !! am i late !!” Jake turned around to see Damon panicking and counting the daggers in his pockets. “no no not at all. i just get ready really quickly to throw everyone into a state of disarray” Jake replied in an honest, monotone voice. “come sit down”

Damon sat down nervously next to his captain, knowing he'll ask him for Bambi on the PS2 now. “look. look at them those dumbshits” Jake uttered, pointing to Ace and Nova arguing. “those little bastards are completely unaware that ive put a fake cockroach puppet in the mirror. watch now” he added, pulling out a cheap remote control and pressing a button.

*sound of glass breaking* Jake sighed. “okay maybe that wasn't really the best idea” Nova screamed, running out of the bathroom and confusing Ace. “Fucking Roach!!!!!!!!!!!!!” she yelled, already too far away from them to be heard clearly. “huh. well okay then!” Ace grinned, going into the bathroom.

“i'll guard. you do your thing okay? :-)” Damon said to Jake, smiling mischievously. Jake's heart skipped a beat as he was suddenly flustered by the killer's action. «oh god, shit's just gonna get more complicated from here» he thought, staring into nothingness.

Damon braced himself against the bathroom door, eager to hear Ace's chaotic screaming. “ready ??” Damon asked, sending Jake back to the real world. “hhuh??????? oh yea right” he mumbled before beginning to control the cockroach with the remote. “this shit cost me like 200 bucks so it better be worth it”

HOLY MOTHER OF

F U C K

JAKE JESUS FUCKING CHRIST

WHAT THE S H IT DUDE

ace will remember this.

Jake cackled loudly, rolling on the floor and hitting the table with his fist. “LMAOOOOK FUCK YOUUU” he yelled, angering Ace even more. “I WILL GODDAMN SKIN UOUR FUCKIGN ISTINEDSTINES OLD MAN I SWEAR TKC FUCKF” they yelled back, pushing the door repeatedly. “IM GOIND TO FUCKIGN DIR HERE YOU BITCH”

“ah . ace ? could you move a little please ? i'm trying to get in ?” Damon said annoyingly kindly, making Ace jab a fake knife through the space between the door and the doorway. “THIS IS THE BEST FUCKIGN KNIFE I HAVE ON ME RIGT NOW BUT PLEADR JSUT FUCK O F F”

“hm ... i'll have to check in with the blacksmith today to know what this one's worth... possibly rusted here, though.... could also just be dirt tho.....” Damon mumbled, examining the knife. “FUCKING HEL P” Ace yelled in distress, his breath seeping through the door. “ace. brush your fucking teeth that's disgusting.”

“IM FUCKIF D TRYINF THERES JUST A FUCKGIFN ROSCH HEREERF” Ace explained fearfully, trying their best to get some pity from the other. “a what ?? don't think we have those here” “A FUCKIFN COKROSKC” “corrosion ???? how bad” “FUCK YOU A GODDMAND COKCROACH” “girls?? what?? are they milfs??” “HOW THEE DFUCKDB DID YEOU HEAR FTHAY WHATS DUCUNESKRHI”

Jake's hand slapped against Damon's shoulder as a way of saying thanks. “good work out there soldier. us skullsmashers really need someone like you damon” He said confidently, disguising his flirting as a compliment. “cool !! you too man !!” The shorter man replied, completely unaware of the flirting and continuing to yearn for the mutual love between him and Jake. fuckin idiots lmao

“alrighty fuckers, let's move!”

Rachel's voice sent Ace and Nova into a panic, making them scram to look for their weapons and equipment. “Got everything ya need? W'ain't makin' any stops; tryin'a save fuel.” Shaw asked, leaning against the wall at the entrance menacingly. “When the fuck did you even come here.” Dennis asked in surprise, carrying suitcases. “Hmph. Man never tells his secrets, young man.” She replied, tilting her cowboy hat. “What…”

Aaron was sitting peacefully in the trunk of a pickup truck they had, only to be met by a large backpack to the face. “ah!!!!!!!! very sorry!!!!!!! we'll be going in separate vehicles, and trunk space is very much needed!!!!!!!!” Whitney said, apologizing. “Ah. Well. O-okay then.” Aaron stuttered out, holding back tears from the painful impact the backpack had. Pretty sure he'll get a bruise from that.

Henderson and Rachel were waiting in the front seats of yet another pickup truck. To pass the time, they took very cringey pictures of each other pretending to be on Cowboy TikTok™. “Do one where you're pregnant with the truck's baby!” Henderson suggested, making Rachel flip the bird at her but begrudgingly agreeing with her stupid idea. “i literally would skin you alive.” She spat out, putting a pumpkin inside her shirt. “That's… literally so sexy, babe.” Henderson replied back, taking more pictures.

Meanwhile, Andre was busy explaining to Cyprus, who was in a small glass jar, that forcibly entering Damon's bloodstream and mutilating his entire body was not very nice, with Orc and Sarah judging. “YES BUT UNLIMITED POWER COULD BE RIGHT IN OUR HANDS ANDRE” “That'd very mean of you to do, and could actually probably kill you too in the process.” he explained to deaf ears. Well, technically no ears. Yet. “CYPRUS I KNOW IT SOUNDS STUPID BUT YOU COULD LITERALLY DO THE SAME BUT LIKE IN AN ELEPHANTS BODY DUDE” Orc suggested, only to be ignored. “cmon cyprus just pleaaaaase dont kill ppl ok”

Jake looked outside, then back at Damon. “well guess its time to move!” “yea ... but at what cost.” Damon replied confusingly, making a sad face. “did you know today is…” he started, then regretted saying anything. “nvm…” He turned away from the punk, sniffling and walking to Dennis and Aaron.

“damon” “??” Jake asked quietly, craning his neck a little before making the decision to leave the new recruit alone. Instead, he joined Henderson and Rachel in their odd activities.

“hey guys. i fucking miss sans.” Damon confessed, taking a seat next to Dennis. “My nose is bleeding.” Aaron pointed out. “ok. today's sunday. and you Know what That Means… Meant,” The boy continued, facing the ground. “Kanye West he…” Dennis began (begun???? idk). “… liked.” Aaron continued, also affected emotionally by the departure of not only Sans, but Komaeda too.

Jake stared longingly at the family, wishing he was a part of it too. He truly felt Ariel Little Mermaid's desire to become human. Seven Vagánias… that was a risk he was willing to take for him. He would shave his eyebrows off for that man, and he just might do it right now.

“Jake? Don't do that. Please don't fucking do that.” Henderson suddenly interrupted, surprising Jake. “do what” Henderson squinted her eyes, giving Jake a suspicious look. “That's the face you make when you want to do silly things…” She pointed out.

“You had that when you almost electrocuted yourself at that stable, you had that when you threw the dart at Scoran, you had that when you glued Marcus and Reese–” “OKAY OKAY I GET IT IM A DUMMY SILLY LITTLE BITCH BOY OK”

Rachel put the pumpkin back on the ground and went to the two friends, curious to know what the quarrel was about. “what's poppin gayboy!” She loudly asked, slapping Jake's forearm strongly. “i am in peril and shaking and crying” “daddy issues” “yget?” He explained, gesturing towards the Russells.

“ah. please clarify what kind.” Rachel said, knowing Jake has a very questionable taste for fictional middle-aged men, such as Sigma Overwatch and the guy from the cowboy game. “the fuckin. family one rachel” “look at em just vibing and simply being gay”

Rachel and Henderson gave eachother a look that questioned whether Damon and Jake were going to be a thing or not, since Jake's technically still with Andre. “Considering the fact that they adopted Damon, they could probably also adopt you if you wanted to.” Henderson suggested, knowing Jake wouldn't like this and would stupidly unknowingly accidentally confess his love for Damon to them both right then and there.

“what?????” “ew no thatd be fuckin incest or some shit what the fuck” Jake said, being grossed out. “what would be the incestuous part, jacon. we did not say or hint at anything related to incest.” Rachel asked, making Jake's hair stand up in panic. “fuCKIN NOTHING DUH” “BUT LIKE YKNOW I GET CRUSHES REALLY EASILY YEA??????” Jake explained weirdly.

“So there's a new one right now, huh…” Henderson asked… feeling like she was in Ace Attorney. “no!!!! no wait” “well yea– no.. but i–” “fuck You but yes” Jake grumbled. “ah no, we won't tell, obviously. it was just getting way too obvious, so we just wanted to hear it from both sides.” “WH” Rachel said mysteriously, getting into the driver's seat of the pickup truck. “okay guys let's go!!” She yelled out, starting the engine. “THE FUCK IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN??????” “BOTH SIDES???”

chapter dos

two four trucks

The journey to god knows fuckin where idk didn't plan i guess a fuckin cabin or smth idk was long and torturous, especially when Rachel said that cryptic-ass thing before going. What the fuck was that supposed to mean, bro.

sudden interlude for seating arrangements !!

truck 1: Henderson, rachel, whitney, CYPRUS

truck 2: jake, damon, marge, Andre, Aaron

truck 3: ace, Nova, Dennis

truck 4: sarah, ORC, Shaw, viper

truck two.

Jake awkwardly patted Marge's head in the backseat of the truck, avoiding eye contact with Damon and Andre. Of course he had to go on a three-day trip in the same car with his ex, his crush, AND his crush's father. God, he was pretty sure this was the lab rats' doing.

“cows.” Damon pointed outside, earning Andre's attention. “Holy– what are those?” He asked, taking his sunglasses off to admire the beautiful little cows. “Cows… we drink their milk and wear their skin as jackets…” Aaron explained, his eyes drifting from the road momentarily. “They can have best friends and stuff. Really nice guys. Also, they're expensive as hell.”

“Y–You do what. Their skin??” Andre asked, his voice a pitch higher than usual. “yeah and we rate them based on which layer it is. also, like their meat, expensive as hell. but still very cool.” Damon said, confusing Andre even more. “they also give us cheese and ice cream and whipped cream and stuff. underrated little babies. they deserve better.” “they also have nose rings which are punk as hell–”

“Wait, why the nose– cheese?! Cheese?! AND ice cream??!” Andre asked again, his mind attempting to comprehend the greatness that cows are. “Oh man, you are not ready to hear about pigs.” Aaron said jokingly. “What the fuck are pigs???” “Sausages, ham slices, bacon, lard, leather too, rotisserie–” “aaron please i'm gonna throw up.” “Oh, right. Sorry,”

Jake sat quietly in his seat, just now realising how much of his world Andre's missing. Sure, his world was much cooler, but do they have sheep? Palm trees? Penguins? Thought not, bitch. “andre do you know what a kangaroo is” He asked, breaking his silence like that one YouTuber.

“A what?” “kangaroo. some of them are buff as shit and they move by hopping. they cant hop backwards and they also keep their babies in little pouches attached to them and their bones and guts are exposed on the inside of said pouch. baby kangaroos are about the size of a jellybean, and the adults can box you”

“They what” “yea they're weird as fuck.” “its from australia so” “That sounds fake.” “oh man. wombats bro. quokkas. fuckin drop bears and flying foxes. PLATYPUSES!!!” “wombats poop in cubes and quokkas are always smiling” “Koala bears hold onto tree branches and eat their mom's shit, which is the leaves of said tree branches.” “Please stop what the fuck” “ohoho fucking GEESE” “GET IM JAKE MY NEIGHBOR HAD FUCKIN THREE OF THOSE BITCHES”

truck three.

The three sat silently, with the exception of Dennis, who was swearing at random times. “You call that a fuckin’ turn, old man?! HUH?!!” Ace's shoulders jumped, the sudden exclamations preventing them from sleeping through the trip. “This Is Probably The Last Time We'll See Each Other Alive.” Nova stated calmly. “i slept for like two minutes last night… didn't even get to wear conditioner today. unrelated but just sharing my struggles with you.” Ace said, shifting into a more comfortable sleeping position.

Dennis overheard the two talking, and opted to stay quiet for the rest of the trip, before stumbling across a strange sight. “FROG!!!” he yelled, waking up the duo. “he said fuck! he said the f” Ace yelled out while rubbing their eyes. “Are We Aliven't” Nova asked, stretching. “Sadly, no, but the good news is, I found a frog!” Dennis excitedly said, opening the car door.

“WHAT” “THAT SHITS GONNA POISON US WHAT THE FUCK” Nova yelled out, unfortunately not loud enough for Dennis to hear it. The man kept walking towards the creature that was technically an alien to them, and picked it up with watery hands. “DENNIS YOU'RE GONNA FUCKING KILL US ALL!!!!!!! DENNIS!!!!!!”

“So, you kids know how to handle a frog?” Dennis asked in a wholesome tone, alerting the two even more. “KILL IT KILL IT FUCKING KILL IT” “Oh, are you guys allergic to this little guy? Sorry, I'll put it in the dashboard instead.” “GET ITBOUT WHAT THE FUCK DENNID JESUS” “… Huh?” “POSIOJ DART FOGR” Nova shouted, hiding behind the passenger seat and being pushed by Ace, who was also going to hide there. “BITCH”

Dennis and the frog stared at them in confusion, hearing their horrified screams. “This is… a wood frog… not a poison dart… that one would probably die in this climate…” he explained plainly, his hands gently cupping the newfound friend. “oh. ok” Ace muttered quietly, while Nova maintained an awkward silence. “You can… pat them very softly if you want.” Dennis suggested. “Or spray the shit outta them. That could work too.”

Nova nervously held out her hand to pat the frog, then smiled in succeeding to do so. “Death Quivers Before Me” She said, proceeding to pat it even more. “can i do the spray thing.” Ace asked, their voice quiet as a whisper. “Yeah, sure. Go right ahead.”

*the frog was going to die so technically they didnt like fuck up the ecosystem or smth. do not attempt this irl.

truck four.

“What jolly tunes d'ya have on this here truck. Fellas.” Shaw asked, observing the radio. “uh, really, i don't think it'll be necessary!!!!!” Viper nervously said, only to be ignored. “NONSENSE! ONE'S TASTE IN SHANTIES PROVES TO BE A WINDOW INTO THEIR LIVES.” Orc said wisely, patting them on the shoulder. “i guess that's good advice, but really–”

TWO TRUCKS HAVING SEX. TWO TRUCKS HAVING SEX. MY MUSCLES. MY MUSCLES. INVOLUNTARILY FLEX.

“I SEE. A MATING SONG FOR YOUR SPECIES?” “my truck f### playlist,.,.,.” Viper tried to mute the speaker to no avail as most of the buttons on the control panel were very much broken. “I'm. Very sorry for this, pardner. But this doesn't sound so bad. I could put this in a jukebox…” Shaw consoled, only making them panic more. “im so f#ckig sorry” They said, before smashing the radio with a briefcase.

They all paused for a moment, unsure of what to do. “i have spotify…” Sarah croaked, holding up her phone. “they have lemon demon too, if you want…” She muttered, scrolling through the song choices. “does anyone want to listen to wet a–” “no.” “okay.”

The truck grew even quieter for a while, until Shaw gave a suggestion to pass the time. “Wanna play 20 questions?” “I'll start: how many folks have y'all killed?” Viper gave the assassin a horrified look, confusing her. “I think mine's around 150. No… 145…” She confessed, rubbing her chin. “Wait, or was it 160?”

“like six. do you like girls, and, follow up question, do you also coincidentally like short girls with long hair.” Sarah said without hesitation, stopping Orc from answering the first question. “Yes! I literally have a wife!” Shaw shouted happily, rolling up her sleeves to show Sarah her tattoos. “This one is her setting herself on fire and me getting inspired–” “ah, yes–” “That one was a total cover-up! Previously, it was the names of my exes, all thirteen of them, but now, it's my cat!”

After some time of receiving a bit too much RexShaw lore, Sarah finally got the answer she so desperately needed from Viper. This was the verdict that determines whether she could make a move or not. This answer could change– “i am gay and do not get attracted to women. thank you.” Ah. Back to more hunting. “I am a lesbian! High-five!” Shaw exclaimed.

And finally, the first truck.

truck one.

Loud country music blared in the truck as they drove by the snowy mountains of uhh. Winsnow. Like winter and snow. They had all chosen separate routes in order to cover more land and see if there were any new developments in the area.

“BRANDY!!! FETCH ANOTHER ROUNF!!!!!!” Rachel screeched as she drummed on the dashboard. “AND SHE FJSJS” Henderson kept driving, searching every inch of land for a rest stop to stretch her legs and also listen to something else.

“hendy.” Rachel said, getting her girlfriend's attention. “do you wanna buy that slime that cleans cars and stuff?” Henderson stared into the distance, pondering. “Hm. There's always the possibility of the slime disappearing under mysterious circumstances and turning up in the trash can the next day covered in saliva, so.” Whitney looked away, feeling attacked.

“yeah, that's a problem.” Rachel muttered, her hand instinctually moving to Henderson's. “Please don't crash the car.” She begged, looking sadly at her. “is there a domino's nearby. i heard they have that new peanut butter chocolate lava cake.” Rachel asked, cupping Henderson's face gently.

“Rachel. There's fucking mountains.” Henderson pointed out, gesturing towards their surroundings. “That shit will freeze.” Rachel put her head down in disappointment. “yeah. damn.” “MORE FLESH!!! MORE FLESH!!! MORE FUCKING FLESH!!!”

Oh yeah, Cyprus was here the whole time. “why does the metal say fuck?????” And Whitney too! “MIND YOUR OWN GODDAMN BUSINESS. FLESH NEEDED!” Cyprus yelled out, resembling a hungry toddler on a road trip.

“do you want like a burger or something......” Whitney asked, judging the spirit. “FLESH” “like are you more of a kfc or a mcdonalds guy” “NEED FLESH” She gave the couple a look, one that was kind of undecipherable due to her lack of normal face details like eyebrows, visible pupils, etc.

“So, three peanut butter lava cakes and one meat lover's… what else?” “ah!!!!!! no lava cake for me, i'm on a diet!!!!!! dirt and dirt only!!!!!!!!!!! also fish bones as a treat” Whitney corrected, her eyes searching for a nearby body of water. “Or, we could get Cyprus the fish meat, and Whitney the bones.” “sounds good to me!!!!!!!!” “FLESH”

…

“welcome to domino's! can i get your order?”

“three peanut butter lava cakes, please. that's all. thank you.” Rachel said, her seat switched with Henderson's, who was too nervous to order. “okay but they each take like three hours to make” “what.” “yea you can stop by like the grocery store up ahead” “fuck you for ordering this” “i–” “fuck off”

the grocewy stowe

The truck stopped by the front of the building, Rachel telling them to go in first while she searches for a good parking spot. Much to Henderson's disappointment.

“My lover…” Henderson said with fear in her voice. “it's okay… go along… i… i have to do this for you…” “for you all… i won't forget the good that you've done to me and everyone i've ever known…” “Rach, please don't go, I lo–” “you all are the kindest people… heaven may wait eagerly for you, but as for me, the ground trembles for its latest meal. fresh from the oven, i will enter the furnace…” “why the fuck would they cook you again” “because i'm TOAST!!” “haha”

“Kill Ronald Reagan while you're at it… I forgot which one he is but I'm pretty sure he's a total bitch…” “i will meet you doomguy” “heeeeeeeh” Rachel whined weakly as she slowly drove over to the spot she wanted.

MOTHERFUCKER.

A silver Honda Civic quickly made its way into there, angering the scientist. “not on my watch, fucker.” Rachel muttered, sliding the pickup truck across the road. She slammed her palm onto the car horn, which terrified even a murder of crows.

“huh wonder who that is” “hm anyway which fish do u like ???? :-)”

A woman who seemed to be in her late 40s exited the Honda Civic, throwing a rather large and flashy boa around her neck. “Jesús, ít's cold in hère,” The lady commented, putting on a pair of expensive-looking sunglasses. “Márie, come along, ma cheghhy!” (i forgot how to spell it)

oh, son of a B I T C H .

it's the french lady who smells weird.

Of course, seeing your enemy in any circumstance that wasn't planned was clearly a little scary and will probably be your last day alive, but bumping into them at a Target was kinda… awkward.

Both the hazelnut and the dolphin were less armed and armoured than usual, and there weren't any bodyguards or security. Usually, if a top leader goes anywhere, the standard protocol was to do thirty separate background checks on the location and have it guarded up somewhere in the three months before their arrival.

So, obviously, someone in Top 50 driving around town in a decades-old car buying groceries isn't very safe, or probably even legal. Hell, she hasn't even seen them wear anything this ridiculous ever. Could this be a distraction? Or is it an opportunity?

Ah, wait, they're both wearing their stupid little marriage bracelets.

It's the middle of October.

This is their anniversary vacation.

Shit.

in the store

Henderson strolled through the aisles with Whitney at her side, hugging Cyprus's jar. She examined the cereal boxes to make sure they didn't contain any food colouring that could potentially kill her.

Whitney, on the other hand, zoomed over to the meat section, licking her lips at the sight of a raw cod. “cyprus…… do you feel that? the need to devour a being???? the uncontrollable desire for energy that it transcends all laws and regulations placed on mankind?????? the growing hunger for power, one that's so strong it controls your every need????

a natural, primal instinct to become such a brutal being that no one, not even you, recognise yourself anymore. you look at yourself in the mirror and you feel like you want to destroy that, to put yourself onto the pedestal you belong on, to wreak havoc on the cosmos of all beings, living and dead, real and mythical, walking and extinct.

you know that you're the only who understands this instinct, the only one who follows it to this distance. everyone else may underestimate you, but in the end, you'll rise above them all. man's natural instinct is to become the ruler of all.”

“What the fuck, Whitney. Anyway, I talked to the deli guy and he said he could pay you to eat up some scraps if you want. You down?” Henderson asked, her trolley already full of snacks. “yea fuck it man” Whitney replied, walking over to the ‘staff only’ door. “im hungy as fuck”

parking lot.

Despite the growing need to kill the woman, Rachel was managing to control herself. Even though this was the perfect opportunity to eliminate one of them, she knows she'll be replaced by someone much crueler. So for now, she'll just stick to watching this lady consider which can of tomato sauce is better than the other.

Rachel parked the truck near the entrance and the Honda Civic. She kept an eye on the couple as she quietly made her way inside through the back door.

“So thàt's when Í saìd, ‘that's not a cactùs, that's a lámp!” Karén playfully said, her hand entwined with her wife's. Rachel was unsure whether to stalk the two or join her friends in shopping.

WELL, FIND THAT OUT IN THE NEXT PART,

B I T C H !! !! !!

[meltingalphabet]

Real People. Not Actors.

There’s a new car commercial on television, have you seen it? Unsuspecting real people, not actors, are lead out from what is presumably their house to find a brand new SUV parked in the driveway. They ooh and ahh over how prestine and shiney it is, saying things like “this is the most attractive SUV I’ve ever seen” or “it’s so stylish, so modern.” Then the spokesperson, dressed appropriately for the late January weather, opens the backdoor and the subject’s real family, not actors, pop out like an overcrowded Jack-in-the-Box. Everyone squeals and screams in delight, hugging each other tightly while still finding space in their joyous meeting to coo at the car behind them, as if the surprise reunion and the SUV are now so intertwined they can’t help but think of the inanimate object as part of the family.

Now they have to buy it. Now you have to buy it. You wouldn’t not buy a member of your family, would you? You wouldn’t abandon your family, would you? Only a real animal abandons a member of their family like that. Though, I suppose, animals have a sense of loyalty one shouldn’t disregard, so only a real sub-animal would abandon their family like that. A real low-life.

You don’t want to be a low-life, do you?

Well, I was in one of those car commercials. Sort of. Let me start from the beginning.

My boyfriend, Henry, is an actor. Though the term “actor” is a real stretch. One might be inclined to call him more “real person” than “actor.” Ever since I’ve known him he’s wanted to be in front of an audience, despite having no natural acting abilities nor any desire to memorize scripts or practice. I think his logic was that if he pushed the universe enough, eventually he’d be given a spotlight. He was desperate to be famous, even if it was for only a few minutes. About a year ago he started focusing more on commercial gigs than “real” acting gigs. I guess he figured commercials would be easier.

“Lean against the counter and eat a spoonful of cereal. Act as if your life has meaning now. Do you practice mindfulness? Try to look like your practicing mindfulness as you eat the cereal.”

I was reading a novel in the tub when Henry came bursting in, screaming about how he had done it. I had been fully relaxed in my little ritual of self-care and the outburst completely surprised me, causing me to drop my book in the bath.

“God dammit!” I cried as I fished the book out from the soapy water and threw it on the floor. It sat there open, the paper pages melting into the synthetic fibers of the bathmat beneath it, completely ruined.

“I did it! I did it! Babe!” He cried, his hands raised in triumph, one clutching his phone as he looked at me, “I did it!.” The dimples in his cheeks were deep from the wide smile stretched across his face. He looked almost manic.

I inhaled, the lavender scent of the bath filling my nose as I tried to calm my frazzled nerves.

“What did you do, Henry?” I asked through clenched teeth.

“I got a gig! A gig, babe! A real gig! Isn’t that crazy, babe?” Henry had the infuriating habit of saying “babe” constantly as if he were a sheep baaing.

My anger melted with shock and happiness at my partner’s joy. I shrugged off the book. Buying another wasn’t too much of a hassle, and it could have been worse - it could’ve been my kindle. “Oh my god, that’s wonderful!” I stood, naked and wet, and we hugged in excitement. The now lukewarm water lapping gently at my calves.

“And guess what, babe! You get to be in the commercial too!”

My grip on him loosened as my enthusiasm waned. “What?” I asked, pulling away from him.

Henry straightened, his smile engulfing my entire view as he looked at me. “It’s a family commercial, babe! They want you too! Isn’t that awesome!?!”

“Why can’t they cast you a professional girlfriend?” I asked, not trying to hide the sarcasm in my voice.

“Babe, it’s a “real people, not actors” thing, so it’s got to be the real deal.” His face fell in concern, “you’ll do it with me, won’t you?”

My heart pained and I sighed, “of course, love. Anything for you.”

Henry cried out in glee, “thank you, Claire!!!” He gave me another squeeze before running out of the room, “I’m gonna call my mom!”

“You might want to change your shirt too!” I called after him as I bent down and pulled the plug.

I stood in front of a nondescript office building far outside the city holding two paper cups filled with coffee - one black, one with cream and just a touch of sugar - while Henry dealt with the casting director inside. It was chilly and I had the bulky scarf my aunt knit me for Christmas wrapped tight around the bottom half of my face. I was trying to think of a way to drink the hot brown liquid without removing the comfort of the scarf when Henry appeared beside me. He beamed as he took back his cup.

“Ok, babe, the release forms are all sorted!” He bounced on the balls of his feet in excitement and looked out over the barren parking lot, “the casting director said someone will be here soon to drive us to location.”

I nodded and looked longingly at my cup as I wondered why we couldn’t wait inside the dingy office. Turning my head, I searched the windy road we had driven up only moments before. I was impatient to get the shoot started. The sooner we started, the sooner we’d finish. Henry had warned me it’d probably take all day and I was already regretting my decision to come. I strained my eyes trying to see further down the road, willing a vehicle to manifest. I held the cup of coffee in both my hands, the warmth penetrating the skin of my fingers and palms only slightly, the rest of my body shivering in the cold.

We only had to wait a few minutes before a grey windowless van pulled up in front of us. I eyed it suspiciously. Rust was beginning to eat away at the wheel well and the grey paint was dull, having lost its luster long ago. I looked at Henry and silently begged him not to make me get into the van, but he wasn’t looking at me. The driver’s side door opened with a squeal and a young man jumped out.

He was slight and very chic looking. His wool peacoat was fitted, and the jeans and boots I could see beneath it were dark and fashionable. He wore round glasses and his beard was neatly trimmed close to his skin. A grey beanie was pulled over his ears and he smiled warmly at us as he brought a pen down to the clipboard in front of him.

“Henry Cooper and Claire Lane?”

“That’s us!” Henry exclaimed. I waved unenthusiastically.

“Hi, I’m Brett. I’m the production assistant for today’s shoot. The location is only a fifteen minute drive from here.” He slid the back door of the van open and Henry jumped in. I hesitated, looking from the worn cloth seat, yellow foam visible at the corners, to Brett.

Brett just smiled that warm professional smile at me. “I know it looks a little sketchy - they won’t let us drive the prop vehicles unfortunately.”

I groaned beneath the thick wool yarn of my scarf and followed Henry. Brett slid the door shut behind me and I searched futilely for a seat belt. The van bounced and swayed as Brett hopped into the driver seat. “Hope you guys like indie rock!” he called over his shoulder as the van rolled out of the parking lot and onto the main street.

The back of the van was surprisingly clean and I found myself becoming more comfortable with the situation. I could only see the road through the windshield, but the winter sun shone through the bare trees and it felt nice to be so close to nature. Henry took my hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. I rested my head on his shoulder and smiled as a Modest Mouse song played over the speakers from Brett’s iPod.

Twenty minutes later, we were both beginning to shift in our seats. My coffee cup rested empty in my hands and I had removed several layers as the dry heat of the van started to make me sweat.

“Hey Brett, are we almost there?” Henry asked, peering around the passenger headrest in an attempt to see more of the road.

“Yep, any minute now!” He called back over his shoulders. The van jostled beneath me as he turned onto a dirt road stretching through the dense trees.

“This is where we’re filming?” I asked, looking around him. “We’re in the middle of nowhere!”

Brett laughed goodnaturedly. “Yeah, easier to set up all our gear. You’ll be surprised how much lighting and camera equipment we need for a minute long commercial.”

I lurched back into my seat as the van hit a pothole, my coffee cup falling to the ground. Bending down to retrieve it from under the seat, I touched something sharp. I hissed in pain and brought my finger to my lips instinctually. My tongue traced the source and the coppery taste of blood stung against my taste buds. “The fuck?” I said under my breath as I bent my body down further so I could see. My coffee cup was rolling lazily with the sway of the vehicle, lightly bouncing off of a polished axe, the edge sharpened to a nasty point. My brow tightened in confusion.

“We’re here!” Brett cried cheerily. I sat upright and peered around him. In front of us loomed a giant house, old and brittle looking like a haunted house leftover from Halloween. Windows were smashed in or boarded up and the wood walls were rotten and sagging under the weight of their age. Shutters, bricks, and glass littered the ground.

I looked at Henry with concern, but he only shrugged.

Brett pulled up in front of the house. He turned in his seat to face us, smiling, waiting for a reaction. I sat still, disbelieving the situation around me. Brett, not phased, grabbed his clipboard from the other seat and jumped out. Henry wouldn’t make eye contact with me as the back door slid open. Brett stood there, his hand outstretched like a driver preparing to escort his fare out. I shook my head and scooted backed into Henry.

Brett laughed and turned his head, “Bob, can I get some help with the talent?”

A beefy hairy man appeared in the door. “This is Bob, the gaffer.” Brett explained as Bob reached towards me. I turned, pushing Henry to go deeper into the van. A strong hand wrapped around my ankle as I threw myself over the back of the seat. I kicked hard, but struck only the winter air. Bob tugged and my hands slipped from the seat. Pain shoot through my knee as I fell to the hard ground. Tears began to collect in my eyelashes.

Bob pulled on my leg, still in his grasp, and my chin hit the ground, more pain screaming through my body. My leg pulled at my hip socket as Bob started to drag me towards the house. I looked up to see Henry jump from the van and run towards me. Another big man, much taller than Bob, ran up to him and, using the bottom of his heavy work boot, kicked him in the side of the leg, right beneath his left knee. Henry fell with a sickening crack. He screamed in pain and I realized I was screaming as well. I clutched desperately at the dirt in front of me trying to stop Bob’s progress. My fingernails tore upward as I tried to cling to the frozen earth moving beneath me.

The tall man picked Henry up and hoisted him over his shoulder like a bag of flour. Henry cried out and squirmed in his grasp. Bob stopped and my leg fell to the ground. I rolled over and saw that I was in front of a brand new SUV. Behind it, the trees stretched out towards the cold sun like forgotten bones.

“What the fuck?” My throat was hoarse, the tight and raspy sound of my voice foreign to me. My whole body shook and the tears that glazed my face were beginning to freeze.

Henry was dropped unceremoniously beside me and I grabbed him. We hugged each other, our bodies clinging together in desperate fear.

“Cameras ready?” The tall man yelled, his voice low and gravely, the words sounding as if they were rolling over jagged stones.

A small woman being swallowed by an oversized green army jacket held out a thumbs up from behind a giant camera. Brett ran up beside him, the clipboard in one hand, the axe I cut my finger on in the other. He looked towards us, that warm friendly smile from the office parking lot unmoving.

The sound of a throat clearing startled me and I looked back, ready for the next horror. Standing over us was an attractive man in a smart charcoal coat. He smiled down at me, his perfect teeth a bright white that contrasted sharply with the grey colors surrounding them.

“You guys ready?” He asked, his smooth voice viscous like oil, dripping from his lips.

“Wh-what?” I whimpered, “r-r-ready for what?”

“Places everyone.” The tall man cried from beside the camera and the handsome man looked up towards him, smiling that dazzling smile.

“Camera rolling?”

“Rolling.” The woman said.

“Ac-tion.” The word was spoken meticulously, the man relishing every inch of it.

The handsome man looked down at us, “what do you guys think of the new 2018 Meridian?” He asked enthusiastically, gesturing to the car.

I looked at the car, then to the camera, then back to the handsome man with the white smile.

“Cut!” The tall man yelled. He bent down to pick something up. I screamed as he stood, a crowbar hanging loosely in his grip. He began to walk towards us, his heavy boots crunching the pine needles and leaves beneath him. I turned away, preparing to stand and run when I saw Bob watching me. His arms were crossed and a smile slowly formed on his thick lips. My knee twinged with pain.

No running. I thought. There won’t be any running.

The tall man reached us and slowly knelt down so that he was eye to eye with us. He rested his weight on one knee and snarled, the crowbar resting on the ground beside him, his fingers lightly tracing its sides.

“Don’t. Look. At. The camera.” He growled. He stood stiffly, raised the crowbar, and swung it down onto my outstretched foot. The pain tore through my bone and muscle, electricity shooting through my body as I screamed in agony. The tall man walked back to the camera. I sobbed as I looked to my leg. Bone jutted out from torn flesh, as white as the handsome man’s teeth. I tried to scream but the sound that emitted was pained and small, my voice no longer functioning. Henry hugged me closer, and I tried to swallow, to give my throat some relief, any relief, but my mouth was dry.

“Ready?” The tall man asked again. There was no answer. “Action!” He said, the word chopped short.

“Henry, Claire, what are your thoughts on the new 2018 Meridian?” The smooth voice asked from behind us.

I turned to look back at the man, who never stopped smiling at me. “W-why?” I choked, barely audible.

“What was that, Claire?” The man held his hand behind his ear, “I didn’t catch that.” He dropped his hand and gestured towards the SUV, “what are your thoughts on the new Meridian?”

“I… I…” My voice caught as more tears forced their way from my eyes. I couldn’t speak without sobbing, so instead I simply nodded, hoping to somehow make this torture end.

The handsome man stepped around us, careful to avoid my injured foot, and walked towards the car.

“Well, what’s a family SUV without family?” He pulled the back door open with a flourish.

My blood curdling scream filled the quiet air around me, piercing high into the sky. Four faces starred out from the inside of the car. I screamed again as their eyes widened in recognition. My mother, father, sister, and brother-in-law began to squirm and pull against the chains binding them to the seats. Their cries were muffled by dirty rags wrapped around their mouths. My niece, only five years old, was slumped over in one of the seats, completely unconscious. I tried to focus, to see if her chest was rising and falling, but I couldn’t tell. Bruises and cuts lined their faces, their skin only clean of blood and dirt where rivers of tears had washed them away.

Before I knew it I was standing, all my weight on my good foot, my good knee. Bob’s arms were wrapped around my waist as I struggled, flailing my arms wildly. I slapped and punched his solid mass, desperately trying to push myself forward while his meaty arms held me back.

The last thing I remember is something hard falling against the back of my head and the world going black.

I woke up in a hospital room yesterday with a mild concussion, a dislocated knee, and a shattered foot. They say I was found outside the doors of the emergency room early in the morning, bloodied and unconscious. I’ve repeated this story numerous times to the police, who are still searching for my family. I pray they are still alive.

The nurses are kind. One of them tried to wash my clothes for me, but the police took them in as evidence. They were able to give me back my wallet though. All my cards and receipts were still there, even the Christmas check from my grandparents that I still hadn’t cashed. As I looked through my wallet, the familiarity of it comforting me slightly, I noticed that one of the card pockets felt oddly thick. I pulled forward at my credit card and found a small, folded up note behind it.

“I don’t expect you to understand, but they promised me fame. I’m sorry and I hope you’ll forgive me one day. I love you, babe.

[toreadorwriter]

What happens in the dark ch 2: Marie's past.

Several hours later, Susi came back home and Jewel practically jumped into her arms. Marie came out of the bathroom with Alysa, who was nice enough to hold what little amount of hair she had left when she was puking up a storm.

"Damn dirty hot cheetos," she muttered. To make matters worse, Susi and Jewel were chatting up a storm. The other ghouls were so happy to see one another that Marie's stomach churned seeing them hug and ask about each other's day and frankly seeing them all happy and just plain not miserable.  Just being in the same room as all that positive emotion made Marie want to throw up again. God,she couldn't stand the new roomate. Jewel didn't do anything bad to her but still the pangs of jealousy hit Marie like a truck and the beast in the Nosferatu was begging to frenzy.  

"Let me out, I can help you solve your problems" the beast whispered seductively into Marie's thoughts.

Before things went too far out of control, Marie rapidly excused herself from the room leaving everyone else behind. Alysa tried to follow her concerned for her friend's safety and happiness,but  received a glare so nasty and cold that if looks could kill the other vampire would have been ash in the wind by now. 

Going upstairs, the nosferatu slammed the door and locked it and switched on the dimming lamp before flopping down in her bed.

Her punk themed room was filled with underground band merch and posters and a huge American flag. She grumbled curses as she dug underneath her pillow and pulled out some paper and a bag of weed and rolled a fat blunt before putting on her headphones and letting the wailing of guitars take her away from all her problems.

Marie

"Stupid Jewel, Isaac used to be mine. Before she came along, I used to be a really popular musician and Isaac's favorite ghoul. I was a pianist and I was talented as hell, smart, and gorgeous, and both men and women swooned whenever I entered the room. It's not fair, why did I have to be turned into a ugly Nosferatu? I'm not a bad person andiI didn't deserve this- if it wasn't for stupid Gary fucking Golden getting jealous of Isaac and embracing me. I would still be rich and famous- and most of all HUMAN. God, I just wish I could be human again and see the sunrise and be able to show my face in public without the revulsion my presence causes. That's all I ever wanted! not this cursed unlife!" 

Marie's thoughts mixed with the lullaby wafting through the air from the smoke  led her to sleep and ignore the real world completely.

Five years earlier

Marie was busy putting on a tight fitting black dress which showed off her assets quite nicely. The young woman gazed affectionately at herself in the mirror across her vanity and went over to her walk in closet and pulled out her Red bottom High heels and slipped them to complete tonight's ensemble. She then placed the gorgeous diamond necklace that Isaac had gifted her around her neck and finished the look with the matching earring set.

While she was finishing touching up her makeup and curling her hair, she heard a knock on the door. 

Spritzing an expensive perfume all over, Marie ran to the door to reveal Isaac standing there with a rose for her hair.  Isaac ,smiled he nearly had to keep his jaw from dropping as Marie looked absolutely beautiful. And that dress! He had a hard time believing her beauty was not supernatural and he definitely couldn't wait to introduce her to the other local Cainities at tonight's piano concert she starred in. His soon to be bride and child was going to make him proud tonight and his undead heart almost beat again with excitement.

Marie smiled at him, her hazel eyes sparkled and Isaac's breath was taken away even though he hasn't needed to breathe since his own embrace. Isaac will never forget the time he first met Marie, she was as beautiful as she was 2 years ago she was still the same young,  carefree, musician she was then. He met her at one of her performances and her sparkling orange dress caught his eye, and the angelic sounds from the piano drew him into the first row of the audience. From this point of view, Marie looked absolutely angelic in the spotlight and his Toreador sensibilities approved wholeheartedly of the scene.

He was absolutely enthralled for the two hours of the concert until she gave her final encore and exited the stage. Isaac scrambled to meet her offstage when the audience began cheering and she left the stage, dodging roses thrown by other admirers.

Isaac found Marie busy pouring herself some punch as a young man with an atrocious fake tan and frosted tips approach her and he placed his hand on her shoulder. Marie was startled and almost dropped the punch in her hand. She looked at the stranger in the eye and sighed but cracked him a polite smile anyway.

''The names Chriss Tapper and I'm a big fan of your work," he said, not even bothering to give her eye contact. His eyes were busy ogling down her dress anyway. Feeling a bit uncomfortable, Marie did her best to ignore his ogling.

"Thank you, that means a lot. I'd love to stay and chat but unfortunately it's getting late and I have other obligations" Marie said while covering her chest with her purse. Isaac could feel her discomfort from across the room. 

Marie tried to leave the situation at hand, but Mr. Staring Contest was not having any of that and blocked her way. Chris grabbed her roughly by the arm shocking her completely. What nerve! Who the hell did he think he was?'

'''Let go of me! I won't tolerate this behavior!" she snapped and that caused Chris to chuckle obnoxiously.

 "You don't scare me. Try to start some shit with me and I'll make sure you never play in this city again!" He threatened.

Marie instantly decided she didn't like the city much any how and tipped her drink over his head.

Isaac decided to intervene and stepped in between Marie and this horribly dressed man before anyone had more than their egos hurt. The punch left streaks in the spray tan as it ran down the man's face.

"Sir. I wouldn't do that if I were you. You might end up in prison or six feet under" Isaac said casually with just a hint of anger in his voice. 

Surprised and scared from the speed of the other man, Chris backed off.

 "Fuck you, she's not even cute anyway…." He muttered before slinking off like the coward he was.

Turning around ,Marie gave a sigh of relief

.

''Thank you so much for helping me, that guy was a total creep.”

Marie trailed off, entranced by Isaac. He looked so enticing under the lights in the ballroom. 

If Isaac was alive,he'd blush from the look she was giving him. He also noticed Marie was wearing the delicate rose shaped necklace he had made especially for her in his shop the night they met. 

Isaac led Marie to the dance floor and began to lead her in slow circles and pulled her closer to him. She breathed in his cologne scent and sighed contently.

“I could live in this moment forever” Marie said longingly into Isaac’s ear. 

Isaac purred a response “we can live this moment forever in private, are you interested?”

Marie nodded and he lead her out into the night. 

Isaac called one of his cars to the theater to take the pair back to Marie’s place. The driver was able to ignore the two in the back seat whispering sweet nothings during the ride home. 

Marie lived in a cozy but small brick apartment in a rougher edge of the city. The air smelled of cheap cigarettes and fast food. Isaac did his best to ignore the smell and walked Marie up the stairs, arm in arm. Marie dug in her purse for her key and quickly unlocked the door. Stepping inside,  Marie turned on the switch and the lights fluttered on and Isaac was in awe- her apartment looked like a scene straight from a Elvira movie. It was punk and gothic and various band posters was interspersed with antiques painted black in the living room. There was an all black leather couch that beckoned to Isaac to relax, and off jumped a cute black cat that stretched and meowed and walked up to greet them.

Marie stooped down to pet the friendly animal and even though this apartment wasn't to his taste, Isaac had to admit she did have creativity. He really liked that in a woman. 

''Awww, how's my good boy. Midnight did you miss me?." She asked while kneeling down to the cat’s level. The cat meowed a happy reply and returned to his spot on the couch. After getting up from the floor and placing her thing's down Isaac, cleared his throat catching her attention.

''Would you like to continue this night forever?”

“Yes”

He then pulled up the sleeve of his dress shirt and offered his wrist to Marie.  Then he remembered that blood was a pain in the ass to get out and he did not want to ruin his new suit or Marie's furniture. Getting up, he walked over to her kitchen cabinet and fumbled around with the doors before finding a crystal wine glass. Obviously cheap and from a halloween store,  but it suited him. The toreador sat on the couch and bit into his wrist letting his crimson vitae spill into the glass. The crimson blood shone in the light and in a few seconds the cut he inflicted upon himself closed up and the vampire offered the wine glass to her.

Marie looked at it as if he just offered her a plate of deep fried cockroaches but regardless of her hesitancy, she obliged. 

She should have been disgusted and was instead surprised when the blood tasted like caramel and she felt a wave of emotion wash over her body. She instantly felt relaxed and it was stronger than any drug on the planet and in this moment, nothing hurt. It was beautiful. 

''Wow what ever you just did, I  want more." 

Isaac chuckled. ''oh you will but in due time." He promised. The vampire smiled at her, and he allowed his fangs showed this time.  Marie felt her heart flutter. She felt the strong urge to please him and be next to him at all times and she didn't know why, but surely she always had these feelings deep inside.

The world started to fade to black for Marie and  Isaac knew that the sunrise was starting. He quickly closed all the blinds and carried Marie upstairs. Opening her bedroom door he gently laid the sleeping ghoul down and tucked her in. Seeing that it was only one bed in the apartment Isaac excused himself and went to go sleep on the couch but the eyes from Midnight said he was not willing to share. Isaac went back upstairs and wrapped his arms around Marie and fell into the dreamless sleep of the dead. 

To be continued….

[dust2dust34]

Pieces of Always: April 2033 (FICoN ‘verse)

Life continues after Forever is Composed of Nows.

by @so-caffeinated (and @dust2dust34)

Summary: Will gains a little perspective on some of the more complicated aspects of his life from his friend and coworker.

An ongoing non-linear collection of family moments for the Queens. (You do not need to have read FiCoN to enjoy this, but it will spoil the end. Please see the first installment for additional author notes. Thank you @jsevick and @alizziebyanyothername!)

A/N: Please see the first chapter for an important Author’s Note. The effervescent @so-caffeinated is fully in the driver’s seat and she’s kicking all the ass, so please go send her your love!  Also? As far as this chapter goes... say hello to Alex. At times, though rarely in this chapter, Alex speaks a bit of Spanish. You'll find translations in the end notes. Thank you to @latinasmoak and @alizziebyanyothername for their continual help with Spanish.

A/N: Janis and I have started a Redbubble account for FICoN! The first thing we have up is our Ellie the Elephant tattoo that we got a few months ago - check it out here! (Her awesome husband helped to make it more Redbubble-friendly.) More will be coming soon! If you have any ideas for something you’d like to see, let us know!

(read on AO3)

April 2033

The bond between the guys on Will’s crew is absolute. There is nothing the four of them would not do for each other. It goes hand-in-hand with the job. Will knows that, but it still feels special to him, unique. Any one of them would jump in front of danger for the other, any one of them would die for the other, if needed. Their kinship isn’t brotherhood, exactly, but in some ways it’s something more.

Still… that doesn’t mean Will doesn’t want to strangle two of them right now.

“Oh my hero.”

The singsong voice is designed to grate on Will’s nerves and wow is that working. “Stop.”

“So big and strong, let me cling to your arm with the lights out, my what an impressive bicep you have.”

“I swear to god, Javi…”

“All part of the job, ma’am, now let’s stand here and stare at each other longingly like a cheesy ass chick flick for the next five minutes.”

“Elliot…”

“But how will I ever repay my big strong hero for saving me from the non-existent fire?”

“I bet the next round that Will’s got a few ideas on that,” Elliot smirks, leaning back in the booth and raising both eyebrows as he takes a huge swig from his mug of beer.

Will wants to brush him off, wants to punch him in the shoulder and call him a tool and demand he grab another pitcher. But it hadn’t been just any girl and the way Amelia’s eyes had widened in surprise, the way her gaze and her hand had lingered on him… it’s thrown him for a loop and he doesn’t have it in him to shrug off the guys’ teasing right now.

But it’s Javi who’s the last straw. He turns away from them and wraps his arms around his own head making mocking kissing noises. Elliot laughs like it’s the funniest thing ever. And… yup, that does it. Will shoves Elliot’s shoulder hard before sliding out of the booth.

“I’m getting another pitcher. I might share if you two grow the fuck up before I get back,” he tells them, trying to sound unruffled. His voice sounds a little thick even to his ears, though, and he knows he’s mostly failed. But that’s only underscored by Alex slapping Javi upside the back of his head.

“No sean pendejos,” Alex tells the other two. The most senior member of their team sounds very much in charge and both Javi and Elliot immediately look like they’ve been put in their place. Alex has a way of doing that.  “Know when to fucking knock it off.”

Will pauses just a moment, tossing a grateful look toward Alex before heading over to the bar. Suitably chastised or not, he needs a bit of distance from Javi and Elliot right now. They’re good friends, great teammates and they’d even been decent - if messy - roommates for a while before he’d gotten his own place, but neither Javi nor Elliot knows when to let things go, when to grow the hell up. Will does. He learned that lesson the hard way, for the most part. And that’s something that’s led to him relating more to Alex than their other teammates in recent years.

Today can’t have been easy for Alex either, Will knows. Mostly, that’s for different reasons… but all the same, he can’t imagine the other man is much in a joking mood right now.

“Can we get a pitcher of the seasonal IPA on tap, please?” Will orders when the bartender walks by. She’s quite familiar with their group by now - more than a little familiar with Javi, actually, but that was a year ago - and she tosses back a “Sure thing, babe, coming right up,” with a wink before turning away.

The bar isn’t crowded tonight, but Five Alarm’s got a rep for spicy food, a solid rotating tap and a regular hangout for firefighters so there are still a couple dozen people hanging around. A few college girls down near the end of the bar are overtly staring at him and while Will might happily welcome the attention another day, he’s really not in the mood at the moment and he offers up little more than a polite nod of recognition before turning away.

“You off your game, vato?”

Will doesn’t even have to look to know it’s Alex who’s joined him at the bar. He has presence, fills a space effortlessly with his tall, bulky form. And Will had known the older man would come the moment he’d stepped away. Alex takes his role as team leader very seriously whether they’re on or off the clock.

“Not playing a game at all,” Will answers. “Not today, anyhow.”

Alex just hums in agreement and it’s the near silence that finally pulls Will’s attention to his friend. He’s leaning against the bartop on his forearms, looking past Will to grin at the girls down the bar. It’s flirtier than Will had been, for sure, but no more serious. Alex has a girl and he’s not that kind of guy.

“It’s not like you,” Alex says after a minute, catching Will’s gaze with a heavy look. “Your girl’s got you in knots.”

“She’s not my girl,” Will answers immediately. And, wow if that’s not the crux of it. The way his voice cracks under the strain of emotion only serves to emphasize his words.

Amelia is not his girl. She’s his… she’s his something though. She’s his ‘what if,’ his ‘someday,’ his ‘if only.’ The connection between them defies reason, but every time he sees her it grows exponentially and feels more and more well-founded.

Every day is different in his line of work. Normally that’s something Will loves about being a firefighter. He never knows exactly what the job will entail on any given day. But today… today had thrown him for a loop.

Being called to City Hall for what turned out to be a false alarm - lightning had struck the generator and several people had smelled smoke - had given things an uneasy start. His grandmother, who has been mayor for most of his life, had foolishly chosen not to evacuate, valuing her phone call over safety protocol.

Watching Alex read her the riot act had given Will more joy than he should probably admit, but it had also set him on edge. Because Alex was right. Because the mayor refusing to evacuate set a terrible example for her staff and knowingly endangered everyone in the building as well as any emergency response personnel showing up at the scene.

So he’d already been in a weird place when he’d barely caught the sound of someone singing to themselves and been drawn off path as he and the boys had been heading to talk to the site manager.

“Our boy’s got a siren pulling him in,” Javi had laughed, much to Elliot’s amusement, but Will hadn’t listened to them at the time.

He’d known who it was. There hadn’t been a doubt in his mind.

And he’d been right.

He’d found Amelia in a barely open storage room with earbuds in as she rifled through files and the very sight of her had taken his breath away. He hadn’t even registered the snickers of his coworkers at the time. That’d come later - they’ve been persistent - but in that moment he’d seen nothing but Amelia, heard nothing but Amelia. He’d taken off his helmet and leaned against the doorframe, just watching her silently until she she’d caught sight of him out of the corner of her eye and jolted, pulling the earbuds from her ears.

Her eyes had barely flickered toward his friends before honing in on him, cementing that ever-present connection between them. It hadn’t taken more than a look, nothing more than her eyes lingering on his to make his heart flip and his breath catch.

Maybe he shouldn’t feel this strongly about her, maybe it defies reason, but he can’t help it and every time he sees her, he finds something else that draws him in. And he can’t let go of her, not entirely.

“Fine, that girl that isn’t yours has got you in knots then,” Alex amends, pulling Will back to the present. “You got history or what?”

It’s a harder question to answer than it should be. “Not exactly,” he answers after thinking about it for a moment.

“Ah,” Alex says. He clearly gets it and Will is beyond grateful that he doesn’t need to explain further. “Sorry, man. Sometimes that’s worse.”

“Yeah,” Will agrees with a heavy sigh as he rakes a hand through his hair. “It is.”

“Maybe she’ll change her mind,” Alex offers, clapping Will on the shoulder. “She sure as hell didn’t look disinterested today.”

It’s true. She’d been all false starts and stilted gestures, instinct drawing her closer to him, but resolve making her pull back. The push and pull of it all had felt tidal, left him drowning in a riptide of emotions. Truth be told, he’s fairly certain she didn’t fare much better. That she hadn’t even heard the fire alarm because of faulty, outdated equipment and her music had sparked something in Will. The knowledge that had this been real - had there actually been a fire - he might’ve seen her again under far more dire circumstances had set him on edge, made him more protective, heightened absolutely everything, and she’d picked up on that immediately.

He can still hear her voice swearing to him softly that she’d have evacuated if she’d known, that she wouldn’t have knowingly put herself in danger. And a moment later… a moment later when lightning had struck again nearby and the power had died, taking the lights out with it, she’d yelped and grabbed his arm in a momentary blind panic. Without even thinking about it, he’d pulled her closer. And, with the lights out and his buddies fishing for flashlights, he’d held Amelia protectively in his arms and everything, everything had been right.

But the lights had come on and with that his dreams had faded away. She’d stepped back, seemingly embarrassed and chastising herself as she brushed her hair behind her ear and avoided his gaze.

For a moment.

Resolve aside, nothing seems to keep them from connection for long and her eyes had found his again soon enough.

But he knows Amelia, knows her better than she thinks, and he’s well aware that today won’t have changed anything between them in the long run. It’s just another of their series of near misses. And, as much as he would give almost anything for it to be more, Amelia’s going to keep her distance.

“Maybe,” he agrees anyhow, wanting to get off the subject with Alex.

“Javi and Elliot are gonna shut their traps about it either way,” Alex vows, drawing Will’s surprised gaze. “The boys don’t know when to quit ‘til I knock their heads together a few times. They’re set straight now, but I can’t promise Elliot isn’t gonna bring up how hot she is.”

“I can’t promise I’m not gonna sock him, then,” Will grumbles.

“Come on, vato,” Alex says with a tisk. “Girl’s got legs for miles and a rack straight off a swimsuit calendar. Can’t blame any of us for noticing that.”

Well, that’s irksome. Elliot’s one thing. The guy’s his brother and he’s got a good heart, but he’s also forever making lewd comments about women. Alex is another thing entirely. With three years on Will, Alex is the oldest member of their team and the most experienced.

He’s also the most professional. Even over drinks, Will’s a little surprised to hear him talking about any woman’s body so openly, especially if it isn’t with a wink and a grin and definitely referencing his girlfriend.

“Marisol’s gonna love that,” Will bites out, feeling more than a little bitter at Alex’s observation.

“Not much of her business what I notice these days,” Alex replies tightly, nodding at the bartender as she drops off their pitcher.

“You broke up?” Will asks surprised.

“Yeah. Again,” Alex replies grimly. “Ain’t everybody who’s cut out to be a firefighter’s girl, you know? Mari likes the idea of it, but reality is something else.”

It’s true. The schedule alone is a burden to their loved ones - 24-hour shifts are a bitch - but the constant danger wears away on them, too. Some people are built for that. Others aren’t. It’s one of the reasons Will tells himself he keeps to more casual relationships. That’s easier to deal with than the thought that he’s so hung up on the very idea of Amelia that it’s affecting his life.

“Sorry, man,” Will tells him as the bartender puts a pair of mugs down in front of them and Alex moves to pour them both some beer. Elliot and Javi are chatting up a pair of girls over near the pool table, so it looks like they’ve lost their booth. That’s fine. Will finds he’s feeling a bit restless anyhow.

“It’s life,” Alex shrugs, trying to look unaffected. Will doesn’t buy it for a second. He and Marisol had been back together since early last fall and she’d all but moved into Alex’s place. But he’s also not about to say anything like that. “You got plans tomorrow?”

The change of subject is swift and deliberate.

“I’ve got Bethy for the day,” Will tells him. Just the idea of his baby sister perks him up some. She makes everything brighter. “Not sure what we’re gonna do yet, but David’s working so I said I’d take her. Better me than some babysitter, right?”

“You should bring her over,” Alex tells him. “Javi and his brothers were gonna come over for the game. Elliot said he might join, too, and I think Javi’s got some nieces and nephews comin’. We can do a barbeque, toss the kids in the pool and let ‘em play. Beth would have fun.”

Bethy’s not-quite-three now and she loves the water. She’s a miserable swimmer, but she gets so much joy out of Will tossing her up in the air and splashing about.

“Yeah, maybe,” Will agrees. “What time?”

“Game’s at eleven,” Alex says, taking a swig of his beer. “Anytime’s fine, though. Nothing else I’m doing tomorrow other than handing Mari a box of her stuff whenever she drops by.”

Ah… So then that’s what’s going on. Invitations to Alex’s place aren’t uncommon, but Javi dragging along his entire extended family definitely is. And Elliot hates soccer, which is absolutely what game Alex is referring to. But both of the guys had to have known about Alex and Marisol’s split before him and planned to be there as silent backup.

“We’ll be there after her morning nap… assuming she takes one,” Will promises. “Want me to bring anything?”

“Whatever Beth’s gonna eat,” Alex tells him. “I’m not sure she’ll eat anything in my kitchen.”

She won’t. He’s right about that. Beth’s a picky little eater.

But while Will is busy mulling over what to bring along to Alex’s place tomorrow for Bethy, he’s also suddenly aware that his friend is watching him with a strange, contemplative look on his face.

“What?” Will asks warily.

“Nothing,” Alex says, shaking it off and taking another sip of his beer.

“No, really, what?” Will asks again after a minute. Alex isn’t the sort to leave things unsaid and the idea that he’s biting his tongue now sits poorly with Will.

“Man, I don’t think you wanna know,” Alex tells him ruefully. It has the opposite of his intended effect. Will sits up straighter, every bit of his attention turning toward Alex.

“Tell me anyhow,” Will challenges.

Alex still hesitates, winces and licks his lips, looking off to the side before speaking in a lowered voice. “Your girl…” he starts, his voice trailing off at the end.

“Amelia?” Will asks, suddenly on the defensive.

“Yeah,” Alex agrees with a heavy nod and piercing dark eyes. “Amelia…. She’s hot and all, man, but I don’t get it.” Will blinks quickly at him in stunned surprise as Alex continues. “I don’t have to, I know. It’s none of my business. But all the hot girls in this city and you get hung up on some cold, cut-throat politician?”

“She’s not!” Will insists before realizing he’s a little too loud. The girls at the end of the bar are paying far too close attention. “She’s not,” he repeats in a much quieter voice.

“If you say so,” Alex agrees, but he clearly doesn’t believe the words.

“She’s driven and passionate, but she’s not cut-throat. You don’t know her,” Will insists. And it’s true. Alex had been around her for all of ten minutes. He’s judging her largely by her association with Moira. And, while he surely has his own reasons for that, there’s so much more to Amelia than just her relationship with her mentor.

“Okay,” Alex says, holding up one hand in surrender. But Will isn’t ready to let it go.

“Amelia is… she’s someone who knows exactly what she wants in life and she’s not willing to settle for anything else,” Will informs him. “She wants to make a difference in the world. She’s not after power or money or anything like that.”

She’s not like my grandmother, he wants to insist. He knows that’s what Alex meant, even if he left the words unspoken.

“She’s smarter than anyone gives her credit for, but she knows how to use that to her advantage and she does it to push political agendas that help people,” Will tells him. “She’s a loyal enough friend that she put off graduating college by a semester to support a friend who needed her. She drinks black coffee like it’s water and she’s the first one in the office in the morning and the last one there at night because she’s that dedicated to her work. She wears high heels even though most of the time it probably makes her the tallest person in the room, probably because it makes her the tallest person in the room. And she has a plush bouquet of daisies on her desk that I sent her a year ago, even though we haven’t really talked since then. She’s not cold and she’s not cut-throat, Alex. She’s just… she’s scared of being hurt and she plays it safe and defensive more than she should because of it.”

“Will…” Alex says slowly, cautiously, like he’s not sure if he wants to be sticking his nose in this or not. “Bro, even if you’re right… girl like that’s gonna break your heart and you gotta know that. The scared ones, the ones who hold back pieces of themselves always do.”

There’s a surprising lack of judgement in Alex’s voice. Instead, it’s all sympathy, and somehow that hits Will even harder.

“You aren’t askin’ my advice, so I’m not gonna give it,” Alex tells him. “But speaking from experience, there isn’t much that sucks more than loving a girl who’s scared of her own feelings. And you add to this that she works for your grandmother… man, that’s just messy.”

“I’m not letting Moira Queen screw with my life more,” Will announces firmly, the muscles of his jaw tightening at the thought of his grandmother. “She doesn’t get to have that kind of control.”

“You’re awfully pissed at her for somebody you aren’t giving any control to,” Alex notes.

Something angry rises up in Will at that. If anyone in the world had solidarity on this with him, he’d have thought it would be Alex.

“How can you say that?” Will asks. “How can you expect me not to be pissed at her? After everything she’s done. To me. To you. How can you just brush her aside?”

“Because I matter more than she does,” Alex answers immediately. The confusion must be plain on Will’s face because Alex offers him a sad smile and a shake of his head. “Me hating her wouldn’t make my life better, vato, and it wouldn’t bring my father back, God rest his soul.” Alex pauses and crosses himself at this. “Hate is toxic, man. It’ll eat you alive. I ain’t never gonna forgive her for what she did. A part of me is always gonna feel like that little boy waiting for his papa to come home after the ground split open and swallowed part of the city whole. But I also had to let that go. You’ve got that choice, too.”

The surge of guilt Will used to feel - just for being a Queen, just for being his grandmother’s grandson - doesn’t wash over him the same way, this time Alex brings up his father’s death in the Undertaking. But it laps at the edges of his being, anyhow.

“I don’t know how,” Will confides. “How do you just decide to forgive her? She doesn’t deserve it.”

“No,” Alex agrees. “She doesn’t. But I do. You do, too. I wish she were in jail. Personally, I think she belongs there. The jury didn’t see it that way. Not in this life. But everybody answers for their sins eventually. I gotta believe God’s gonna hold her responsible for all the lives she took when she meets her maker. I’ll leave that to Him and live my life like my Papa would’ve wanted me to. You oughta think about doing the same.”

Will wouldn’t know where to start and he honestly has no clue how to respond, but he’s saved by Javi and Elliot joining them, the girls they’d been hanging out with are nowhere to be seen.

“Beer!” Elliot smiles brightly, stealing Will’s mug.

“Hey!” Will protests, shoving his friend.

“You’re the one who put it down,” Javi says. Like that’s some kind of excuse.

“Don’t look at me,” Alex shrugs. “I learned that years ago.”

“It’s cool,” Will says when Elliot tries to hand him back his mug. “I’m gonna head out anyhow, I think. I’ve gotta pick up Bethy in the morning and it’s getting late.”

“You’re no fun, old man,” Javi tisks, but he’s laughing as he says it and Will knows better than to take him seriously.

“We seeing you tomorrow?” Elliot asks. “Javi’s sister’s coming and she’s va-va-voom.”

“Hands off my sister!” Javi says, whirling on Elliot and suddenly deeply serious. “Sisters are off limits. Not cool, man. Not cool at all.”“Chill, Javi. He was kidding,” Alex says, gripping the other man’s shoulder hard in an attempt to rein him in. It might work better if anyone actually believed Elliot wasn’t serious. Still… Will can’t believe Elliot would ever screw around with Javi’s sister. Their team means a hell of a lot more to all four of them than to risk it over something like that.

“I’ll be there,” Will agrees. “Bringing Bethy with me, so maybe try to keep it PG. Okay?”

“You got it,” Elliot agrees. “I’m cool, Javi. I swear. I’m just messing with you.”

While those two have some kind of silent communication thing going on, Will tilts his head toward Alex in long-overdue thanks. He’s always valued Alex’s insight to things and tonight is no different.

“Have a good night, vato,” Alex tells him. “Think about what I said, yeah?”

There’s no doubt he will, really, but Will can’t imagine ever finding the level of peace with his grandmother that Alex has managed. Maybe he’s just too close to it. Maybe it’s because they’re family that it’s so very complicated. But the parts about Amelia…

“...there isn’t much that sucks more than loving a girl who’s scared of her own feelings.”

It’s true, Will thinks as he bids the boys goodbye and heads out. But that doesn’t change that he knows they could be happy together if she gave him half a chance, that he would never, ever break her heart if I could help it. And he doesn’t know how to turn off his own feelings any more than he knows how to make her comfortable with her own.

*

Thank you for reading! Reviews literally feed the soul and muse, so go send some love to @so-caffeinated!