#somebody i blocked and told to leave me alone months ago visited me at work for the second time last night

[a9saga]

the fucking week i have had in the last 24 hours

[hecohansen31]

Not The Right Time

The Story of How We Ended Up There:

Ivar+Reader (Modern! AU).

(A/N): Hello there, lovelies!

So this is my second idea for Ivar!

I am honestly a bit attached to this because it is the first one which came to my mind and with it being modern! Ivar I feel a bit more secure about the characterization, but still… let me know where I have to get better or work better!

I also wanted to explain that this is fictional and that some choices made by the reader are due to the plot and not what I actually and personally believe about such a complex argument as abortion.

Don’t feel judged in the slightest by this (and if you feel, please know I don’t mean it, and what I can do to avoid this mistake in the future).

Again this is a prologue to the bigger series, but it is mostly to know whether you like this idea or not!

So if you want more, please leave a comment or a reblog so that I’ll know what you think about it!

Have a nice reading!

SUMMARY: It wasn’t the right time to have a child and it isn’t the right time for you to meet your child’s father after all those years, but maybe... time and Destiny are two huge bastards.

WORDS: 4,7 K

WARNINGS: Pregnancy, Unexpected Pregnancy, Pregnancy at a Young Age, Mention of Abortion (and Being Harsh About it), Heartbreak and General Angst, Abandonement Issues and Being A Single Mom, Mention of Infertility, Use of the Word Cripple.

You were sure that you were cursed.

Who could end up pregnant… the first time they had had sex?

And worst of all, when you were nothing more than sixteen years old.

You weren’t also the type who would risk such thing.

Although you were naïve you were well-aware of the need to use protection.

And then, in the heat of the moment, you had forgotten about everything.

Just for eight weeks after to cry on the toilet, at the discovery that you were pregnant.

You hadn’t noticed it at first: you hadn’t gotten your period for a month, but you hadn’t thought too much about that, it sometimes happened.

But then, a few weeks after you had started feeling bad, both not energetic enough to do the normal chores and also extremely nauseous, which had then resulted in you thinking that pregnancy might have been a cause of your unwellness.

You had thought for the entire time you had been waiting for the result of the pregnancy test, that it wasn’t possible, it would obviously turn out negative.

You had a successful life ahead of you, a child… wouldn’t ruin your life, but certainly it wouldn’t have ruined all your dreams.

You had been mortified to discover that you were indeed pregnant.

And then you had been indignant: there were people who constantly had unsafe sex, every time they had it and they would never ever end up with a baby on the way.

Then you had had sex once, and shit went down.

Back then you had been scared shitless of telling your parents and had hidden the pregnancy test: what would have they thought of you?

Still you had thought that you had to talk about it with somebody.

And more precisely, the father of the baby.

You and Ivar were the typical high school sweethearts: you had moved slowly from friends-to-lovers and were both late bloomers in the sex department.

Hence when Ivar had wanted to ‘try’, you had been over the moon at that news.

Lately he had grown distant from you, after you had had sex, and some part of you couldn’t help but think darkly that he wasn’t interested with you anymore ‘because he had finally gotten what he wanted’.

But you knew Ivar better than anyone: he might appear like the coldest ice king, but he was sweet and soft with you, shy and gentle, the perfect gentleman.

So, you had thought to at least inform him about ‘the child’, thinking that it was also partially his decision about the baby, although right now some part of you, the one who wanted desperately to continue on dreaming wanted to delete this ‘mistake’.

But some deeper part in you, thought about what a lovely life would have been to share a child with Ivar.

It might not have been perfect, but you felt like it would have been a nice image.

A nice image of your future.

But when you had asked Ivar to meet you at your favorite diner, the one you had chosen for your ‘first awkward date,’ he had also told you that he had something to say to you.

Had he realized that you might have been pregnant?

The entire situation there had seemed rather awkward, Ivar had this acute gaze in his eyes, not to talk about the harsh way his mouth had been closed closed in a thin line for the entire time.

He had arrived late, meanwhile you were halfway through the second of a milkshake you had been having, the pregnancy cravings playing an important role in your diet lately.

“Hey, sweetie!” you had welcomed him, your high-pitched tone, expressing your happiness to have him there, he always fixed your darkest moments “…how are you?”.

Unlike you, he didn’t seem in the mood for any sweetness.

He simply replied with a nod and ‘a fine’, waving the waitress over for a coffee, you stared at him for the entire time: you hadn’t seen him in quite for quite a few days, due to studying, and couldn’t help but set your gaze on him, welcoming any new traits of him and wanting to kiss them, passing a finger through…

“… I don’t have much time, so I’ll say this as quick as I can” and then he had caught you in his icy gaze “… I am not in love with you, anymore”.

An arrow shot through your heart would have hurt you less.

You had stammered some questions, but Ivar had been glacial in his words, definitely not asking for any reply.

“… I have discovered it from quite some time ago, I didn’t want to tell you till I was sure, but these last days… have been… I didn’t miss you” every word was a strike to your hear,  and you hadn’t been able to properly protest “… I am sorry, I pulled this for so long, but I can’t…”.

Then and there you had gotten up, probably the best option possible, the only thing of that day that, looking back, you were proud of.

You had been crying on the sofa when your parents had found you, and there you had explained anything that had happened to you.

Child included.

They had been disappointed with you and your father hadn’t talked to you for the entire pregnancy but your mother had been the bigger support for you.

She hadn’t shouted, unlike your father, but just asked what you had wanted to.

‘Do you want to…?’ she hadn’t been able to talk about the option of abortion and you had understood her: she wouldn’t approve of it, but she would have helped through the entire process “… or do you want to keep it, babygirl?”.

“Shelley! Of course, she’ll fucking…! She is too young, she can’t fucking take care of a child!” had retorted your father, and you had covered your ears, shielding them from his hurting words.

It was as if for the first time your father wasn’t seeing his little girl anymore.

And you had chosen to try so desperately to go back to that image he had of you, choosing abortion, but when you had heard the child’s heartbeat, you hadn’t been able to carry on

You had gripped your mother’s hand and pleaded to her not to go through this, not to kill your baby.

Although you’d have to grow it alone, although the heartbreak was still pretty real and although it seemed the worst and you weren’t ready, you just couldn’t delete all this, so simply.

You had taken private lessons to hide your pregnancy, since you hadn’t wanted to reveal it to anyone, avoiding any outings unless you were sure you wouldn’t have been anywhere near people you knew.

The first week after the break-up, Ivar had continued on blowing up your phone with messages and calls, but you wouldn’t even look at his messages, ignoring him till you had convinced yourself to block his number and when he had tried to visit your home to talk, he had been lucky your father was out, and you had pleaded with your mother to fake of not being inside.

You had graduated from high school, one year prior, thanks to all the credits you had collected during the years and had a private diploma ceremony with your family and your pregnant belly.

You had grown to love your baby during the pregnancy: you would talk to them whenever you could, caressing your belly and chatting with them about your day, all the funny stuff you would do together and what the world outside looked like.

The entire birth part scared you like crazy, but you thought it would have been worth it.

And it had been as you had held your child in your arms, after hours of agonizing pain.

They had been forced to cut you open since the child was taking quite his time and you wouldn’t dilatate yourself, enough.

But when you had woken up your mother was lulling him in her arms.

He looked beautiful, having gained two beautiful blue eyes and a smile that made your heart clench.

Too bad that the doctor had taken it from you too early.

‘He seems to have problem moving’ he had mentioned, meanwhile he visited the baby ‘Is there any story of problematic diseases, troubling mostly bones or muscles?’.

‘The father has osteogenesis imperfecta’ had explained your mother, meanwhile you called out for your child ‘… but it isn’t…’.

‘No, sadly it is’ he had explained, meanwhile he gently handled the baby’s legs ‘… I can already feel a few broken bones… this is going to be much more difficult than you might think’.

Your mother had been scared about having to help you up, but you and Erik had just done fine, not without mistakes and problems, but you had managed to love your son and give him a proper life, even with his ‘problematic’.

All of this, without Ivar.

The Lothbrock had moved out on Erik’s first birthday, something which honestly helped you, since the thought of Ivar not meeting Erik stopped your ‘house arrests’ and pushed you out of the house, even more because you had to actually get a job.

Working as a waitress didn’t make enough income to help you with a child and the thought of moving away from your parents (although your mother insisted that you didn’t bother them, you felt that your father wasn’t of the same opinion) was terrifying, so you had taken up to giving some lessons to high schoolers and some more salutary jobs.

You ran all the time around, and had to definitely renounce to going to college, but each night, when you would come home, breathless and tired, to Erik, your sweet child, you knew it was worth it.

For five years it had been perfect.

And then everything changed.

Ivar knew he was already fucking late to the meeting with his brothers.

It hadn’t been properly his fault, although he would rather die than confess to his brother that he had been seeing a fertility clinic with Freydis, to try to start their own family.

The sole mention of a fertility clinic would have raised questions he didn’t want his brothers to ask.

Hhey already seemed to have a feud with Freydis that had been ruining his wedding’s preparations.

He already could hear Sigurd making fun of him for not being able to please properly a woman, which was partially true.

Through the years, his stupid prick hadn’t gotten up for any woman, even his beloved Freydis, the one woman that made him feel a god.

But it had happened once, probably more out of luck than anything.

His first love and the first girl whose heart he had broken.

And you had returned the favor: he reminded the days after he had acted onto his brothers’ wishes, when you wouldn’t answer the phone and pretended not to be at home.

It had been enough for him to feel like you didn’t want him anymore.

Maybe it was why his stupid prick wouldn’t work.

Some of the sex therapist Freydis had brought him to, had suggested that his ‘inability to raise to the occasion’ was due to some rejection his past, so it might have been actually true.

But he didn’t trust any of those doctors.

He simply did it for Freydis, because she still hoped.

He didn’t, anymore.

He walked in the diner, it was a small one, similar to the one of the city he had lived, before he moved in the big city, for work and for many more occasions, but he couldn’t help but regret the beauty of these small places.

They never aged and they always brought him comfort, timeless and always there for jim

He had had his first date in one of those.

(He had also broken up with his first love in one of those).

He still didn’t let himself drown in his thoughts, knowing that going back in time and turning it, was impossible.

(No matter how much, sometimes, he wished he could do so).

He immediately recognized his brothers’ table as the noisiest one, moving straight up to it, not minding the fact that half the eyes of the clients in the diner were on him.

It was one of the many side effects of being a cripple.

“You finally joined us!” exclaimed Hvitserk, talking through a full mouth of food.

“Unlike you lazy asses, I have things to do” he mumbled as Ubbe shifted to make him some space next to him “… can’t survive on father’s paychecks only”.

He sent a direct look to Sigurd, who was using his father’s paychecks to support his (failing) musical career.

“At least I don’t have to be reigned by my girlfriend” muttered darkly Sigurd and Ivar wasn’t able to stop himself from almost attacking him.

Thankfully Ubbe did it for him.

“No need to fight brothers” he stated, readjusting the glasses Ivar had knocked over “Don’t make a scene, we are older than children and we are here to have a nice night among brothers, are we not?”.

“I am here for the free food” muffled Hvitserk, offering a humor relief that made all the brother laugh lightly.

They talked more civilly and then a waitress moved in to ask their orders, but Ivar’s ears were suddenly attracted by another noise, a voice that had belonged in his memories.

Had he left them open?

And then he turned to where the voice came from.

And he saw you.

He remembered you as a sweet girl, what you had been hadn’t changed, except the way you carried yourself, showing a growth, a painful one that hadn’t changed what you believed in.

But it still left signs.

As the scars of a battle.

You had your hair up in a high ponytail, and you were wearing a waitress uniform, probably working there to fund your way to college.

Your eyes were tired, but your lips were crooked in a small smile as you took a small child’s ordination.

He thought he was hallucinating, when Hvitserk again spoke up:

“Is that (Y/N) (L/N)?!” this got all the brothers’ attention to shift to where Ivar was looking, although he wished nothing more than to shield you, because he had discovered you first.

“… oh shit, yeah it’s her” muttered Ubbe, following your silhouette as you turned your back to them to move to counter “… I thought she would be in college”.

“Some people don’t have their parents’ back up, she might be simply working to pay college” muttered Ivar, but nobody seemed to hear him.

“She hasn’t certainly aged a day!” commented Hvitserk, giving your ass a meaningful look “… ahh can you remember when we dared little Ivar, to…”.

Ivar shushed him with a dark look.

But when he was doing this, he didn’t realize that Sigurd was waving you over.

You approached the table smiling, since you and Sigurd had been an unlike friendship, and Ivar still remembered how his ‘most sensitive’ brother had been against the ‘dare’, but as he turned to face  you, you seemed to realize who Sigurd was with.

And the soft smile fell from your face.

You seemed to have seen a ghost.

“Oh Gosh, (Y/N), it’s been a lot since we have seen each other!” commented Sigurd, meanwhile your waitress friend asked with her eyes whether you knew these people or not.

You simply nodded, forcing a smile on your face, telling her you would have taken their ordinations.

“Ah it’s been a lot of time, indeed!” you smirked lightly “… I always see you in TV!”.

“… sadly, never winning” muttered Hvitserk “… we weren’t expecting to see you working here!”.

“And I wasn’t expecting you to greet me without your mouth full of food, so we are both surprised by how Destiny has cheated us” you joked back, smirking lightly “… it’s nice to see you, guys, but I haven’t much time”.

Although you were trying to be gentle, it was obvious that their presence was making you nervous and uncomfortable.

Ivar wondered whether it was for what had happened with him.

He couldn’t help but notice the way you avoided any eye-contact with him.

They all quickly gave you their orders and you thanked them, but before you could go away, again Sigurd grabbed your wrist, making Ivar hiss lightly.

“You have been greatly missed, (Y/N)” the simple affirmation seemed to break something in you and you were able to simply bow your head, as you moved to quickly report the order to the counter, before disappearing in the kitchen.

A quick sign that you didn’t reciprocate Sigurd’s thought.

“Well that didn’t go well…” muttered Hvitserk, going back to his food.

“It was strange” muttered Ubbe “… it’s strange… I expected her to be in Europe, she was always so brilliant”.

“Ubbe, what she does is none of your business” muttered Sigurd, for once, his words matching Ivar’s thoughts.

“I just… I mean… she doesn’t seem as the person who is stuck at 21st to serve tables, she was always smarter than that” mumbled Ubbe, again but shushed, as an elder woman brought them their meals.

“You know our sweet (Y/N)?” she asked, probably having witnessed the exchange of words, and Sigurd explained they were old schoolmates “…  such a sweetheart, and so strong…”.

“Anything bad happened?” asked curiously Ivar, knowing all too well when to ask and when to stay quiet, and that woman seemed like she wanted so desperately to talk.

“Nothing too bad” mumbled the old lady, pouring some coffee in their glasses “… just… she is so strong for bringing a child on her own”.

The news immediately surprised all the brothers.

Again, you were the smart and hardworking girl, the one that followed the rules and didn’t have any vices, so for you to have a child, so young, didn’t make sense.

You should have been attending the last year of college, hadn’t you already finished it.

The thought of knowing you were already a mom, completely shocked Ivar.

And, although he wouldn’t admit it, he felt jealous at the thought of another man having known you so carnally.

“… oh, we didn’t know” uttered Ubbe “We have lost the contacts, when we moved in another city, after high school ended”.

“If you want, I can tell her that you’d like to get acquainted again” mumbled softly the waitress, probably thinking she was doing something good, something that would have made you happy.

But from the simple thought of your forced smile, a few minutes before, you wouldn’t have been happy in the slightest of meeting them.

And Ivar couldn’t make it a fault to you.

“She is working, we wouldn’t want to bother her or get in trouble, we are going to try to maybe contact her through the socials, but it was good to see her” commented softly Sigurd, smirking gently at the elder waitress, who simply nodded before muttering something under her breath ‘about the usefulness of social’.

As she moved away a deep silence fell onto their tables.

“I didn’t… wow… she never told me” muttered extremely baffled Sigurd.

“Did you stay in contact with her after we moved?” replied harshly Ivar and as Sigurd shook his head “… well then you can’t blame her for having hidden this to you”.

They had obviously lost any right to you, after ‘the dare’.

He, himself, couldn’t blame you.

“…can’t believe it” muttered Ubbe, sipping slowly his coffee, meanwhile Hvitserk nodded.

“Accidents happen, don’t they?” muttered Sigurd. before he proceeded to move their attention away from the thought, although Ivar’s mind was stuck onto that news.

Had you searched the attention of another person, because he had rejected you?

No, you had always been stronger than you seemed.

You wouldn’t have simply searched somebody to feel some love.

You had had to have loved the father of your child.

And the sole thought of it burned his chest painfully.

You were on the last shift of the day, and although usually you were almost happy for the extra tips which would come, this time you would have given everything to change your shift or close early.

It had started as a nice day: Erik’s bones were strengthening themselves from the therapy he had been doing and he had been excited for the soccer training of that afternoon.

Your mother had been also extremely happy to accompany ‘her favorite grandson’: she had been rather blue after your father had left you, both.

Thankfully he had left your family but not the house and the little money your mother had on her own, which had funded your move from the small city to a bigger one.

Sometimes you wondered how much your pregnancy and Erik’s sickness had impacted on your father leaving, but you tried not to think about it.

He hadn’t been held at gun point, he had chosen to leave a faithful wife, a devoted daughter and a wonderful grandchild.

You, yourself, had walked at work happy, thinking about the fact that you had also managed to schedule a meeting with an art gallery.

Through the five years you had been working on improving your culture, although you hadn’t been able to attend college, you had attended some free courses and apparently they were looking for some people to explain the art gallery’s shows, hence you had proposed yourself.

Although you knew there would be many more talented people also attending it, but… you hadn’t felt like giving up.

If you got the job, you might have had to quit one of your many jobs and spend more time with Erik, alongside paying for some new therapies.

Then you had seen the Lothbrocks at one of the tables.

And you had been glad of having met again Sigurd: you sometimes would see some of his performances at lower TV channels, and always joked with Erik about his songs.

Ubbe and Hvitserk had been indifferent to you and you had kept up the same behavior.

But Ivar…

… part of you was worried about him finding out about Erik, solely from your thought.

Back in the day, he used to be extremely intuitive.

And part of you couldn’t help but feel the pain of rejection all over again.

You had tried to find an excuse to avoid them, after the first little chat, although you were aware they would be talking about it: the small town from which you had come from had talked since you had shown Erik to it.

‘She used to be such a good girl’.

‘She used to have such a bright future ahead of her’.

‘She could have been so successful…’.

Blah blah blah.

Although you would discourage people from getting pregnant at such a young age, you didn’t feel like you had lost anything, maybe just pushed it a bit in the future, but you, yourself, had gotten through your own prejudices of being a single and younger mom.

You might have lost something, but your child was a blessing in your life.

So, you just shook off the critics.

You were waiting at the cash desk, chatting amicably with the cook of the diner, the one who made the last turn with you, always having the kind heart of packing something for you, and leaving some sweets for Erik, slowly gaining a little spot in your family, as ‘uncle Will’.

You were also checking the situation at the Lothbrock table, because, whereas all the other clients had already paid or were going to do it soon, they were stalling.

Their meals were finished, and they were chatting, although there would be more silence than actual words, and when you had sent Marlou to ask if they wanted a dessert or more coffee, they had simply replied that they were full.

They were obviously waiting and deciding who had to pay for the meal, who had to come face to face with you.

You almost expected them to start playing ‘paper, rock and scissors’ but finally you heard the distinctive screech of one of the chairs moving, but as you raised your head to see whoever had finally managed to collect their courage ‘to battle you’, you couldn’t help but be a bit nervous to discover it was Ivar.

He looked a bit annoyed, as if he had expected somebody else to volunteer at his courageous attempt, but nobody did and you immediately shut your eyes onto the screen of the cash machine, finding their bill, so that you wouldn’t have to talk with him too much.

He, instead, seemed a bit chatty, although he had that painfully awkward smile in his face he had whenever he was nervous about doing something.

Back in the day when you were together you would rub onto the back of his hand if you were in public to let him know your support, or when you were alone, you would body-hug-attack him.

But those memories seemed so long ago.

“It has passed quite some time” he mumbled softly, trying to chat you up, but you had no interest in conversing with him.

‘I see it on my child’s face’ you wanted to mutter, but again: you couldn’t make Ivar discover about Erik.

At first it had been a petty thought of your broken heart, but the more Erik grew the more you were scared that Ivar knowing of him would take him away from you.

It was irrational, but sometimes you would check out on your child.

You would do it also that night.

“Quite some time, indeed” you shot back, telling him the total and asking whether he would be paying in cash or not.

Ivar seemed a bit taken aback by the coldness in your tone, but reacted to it better than he was used, hiding his pain at your harshness, as he told you he would be paying in cash, keeping up the entire rest of the transaction in silence, meanwhile you opened the cash collected the money, counting it discreetly, printed the receipt.

He tried to do one last attempt.

“… we should come all together one of these days”.

More like hell no.

But you didn’t reject the proposal completely.

“It would be nice” Ivar’s face seemed to regain a bit of color at that affirmation “I am just a lot busy with work, but I’ll see what I can do”.

And with that you passed him the receipt and wished him a good day, turning to the kitchen to fake an emergency there, whereas Will was simply packing you the leftovers which would be your dinner.

You waited there, spying on Ivar, seeing him for the first time in five years properly: he dressed as the industrial magnate he was rumored to become in a few years, expanding his father’s properties, but he didn’t have the face of an happy magnate.

At least Destiny hadn’t given him that.

He indulged a bit on his feet, and pushed a few dollar bills into the tips bucket, something that low key opened a bit your heart to him but didn’t make you feel any less convinced about hiding him from Erik.

You closed the shop alongside Marlou, who continued on commenting about how ‘gorgeous were your school friends’.

‘They were all so handsome! Ahh what a lucky family!’.

‘They could have been your children!’ you had retorted almost receiving an elbow in your stomach from the woman, as she muttered that ‘at least it would have been better than Karl’, her thirty something unemployed son with a permanent place on her sofa.

After you had wished her ‘goodnight’, you had walked till your apartment, rushing a bit both because seeing Lothbrocks had surprised you and both because you couldn’t wait to see again Eric, who had stayed the day with your mom, waiting simply for you at home to tell you all about his day.

No matter how tired or shaken you were, your son’s smile never failed to make you feel a bit better.

---

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[laceymorganwrites]

Prom date

Word Count: 2,641

Pairing: Tamaki x reader

Warnings: bullying, cursing

You can do this, you thought to yourself as you entered the big entrance hall of UA. You would be a hero! They would see!

You were going to do a test to see who really fits in UA, you were supposed to do an obstacle race. You were good at that, you were good at dodging things and running away.

You ignored the others and gave it your all as you dashed through the race and finished first.

Next you had lessons.

“Good morning...welcome to UA. We will determine if you really belong here in doing another little test. The one with the lowest points will be excluded from UA. We´ll meet outside on the tracking field after the break” your teacher let you know.

You barely found the way to the cafeteria, this school was too big… you received a text message from your parents saying they were proud of you and that you would make it if you did your best, which was just what you were gonna do.

As you got your food you spotted an empty table and made your way to it to avoid people.

Some girls you didn´t know told you you could sit with them, but you politely declined.

You especially tried to avoid people from your old school, but there they were, blocking your path.

You sighed, what was going to happen next.

You kept my head down and started shivering. “How did you finish first? Did ya cheat? Which teacher did your parents pay, huh?” one guy roughly grabbed you by the chin to force you to look up to him.

You frowned, trying to keep the tears at bay.

“Hey, congratulations to making first place!” some other guy came up behind you and touched your shoulder, making you jump. He was taller than the one from your old school.

He was accompanied by another boy who also held his head down like you.

You didn´t know what it was, but suddenly you felt like the guys from your old school couldn´t do anything to you, the other ones would protect you.

“Th-thanks...” you whispered, but he couldn´t hear it. The guys disappeared and the ones who protected you asked you to sit with them.

You really didn´t want to, but it would be rude to decline and so you sat with them. “Hey! You´re the girl who finished first, eh? What´s your quirk? How are you so fast? Why did you come to this school? What´s your name? Which school did you visit earlier?” a blue haired girl asked you, leaning over the table to inspect your face.

You hated it when people got too near to you and tried to back away, blushing. “Erm...” you mumbled. “I´m Nejire!” she introduced herself, stretching out her hand to you with a warm smile.

You shook it, shivering and also gave her a weak smile.

“Um...I...I´m...(Y/N)...” you looked down and fidgeted with your fingers. “Nice to meet you, (Y/N)! I´m Mirio” the boy who saved you said.

You smiled. “If you´re in trouble again, you can always come to us!” Nejire said. “Th-thank you...” you quivered. “Oh, this is Tamaki, he´s a bit shy, but don´t worry, he´s not as grumpy as he looks!” Mirio pulled him towards him by the shoulders. Tamaki was sightly uncomfortable.

You had to giggle, Mirio was a nice person.

“Stop it, you´re embarrassing me...” Tamaki hushed,youI could barely hear it. “Oh, classes start again! See you later (Y/N)!” Nejire got up, but Mirio held her back. “We´re in the same class, Neji” he laughed. “Oh, right!” she slapped her hand in front of her forehead. “Sorry!” she apologized. “No, no, don´t worry about it!” you hurriedly tried to calm her.

This was the first time you met them, if somebody had told you then you would grow to be great friends, you would´ve simply laughed at them. There was no way people like them would befriend someone like you. But that wasn´t the only thing that happened.

To you it was obvious, it had to happen sometime…

“Neji! I need your help!” you were rushing throughout the entire school building and the dorms until you finally caught her training with Tamaki and Mirio.

“Hi, (Y/N), I thought you were organizing the prom?” she came up to you.

“I am, but I need your help with the decorations” you pleaded, you didn´t know why you wanted to be in the prom committee in the first place. Well, all of you had to have some sort of extracurricular activities and you thought the committee wouldn´t be as much work.

Oh how wrong you were, it was absolute hell.

“Guys, you coming too?” Nejire smiled.

“Sure thing! We´ll be done quicker this way, come on, Tamaki!” Mirio joined in on the smile.

Tamaki just nodded and walked behind him.

He gave you a shy smile which you returned while your heart skipped a beat.

You weren´t one to hide your emotions for him, Tamaki knew all too well that you fell for him, but you never made him uncomfortable.

He was glad you didn´t, all of this was new to him, it was hard for him to express his feelings, or sort them out.

All he knew was that he felt a good kind of anxiety rushing through him whenever you were near him.

“Hey Tamaki, how was your day?” you smiled at him, gently taking his hand.

It was a habit you developed a few months ago and he didn´t mind it at all, he felt safe with your hand around his own.

He felt as if there was something he could hold onto and come back to if his mind was getting too much for him, if there were too many people, too many eyes on him.

He could always come for you to help, you always calmed him down with a simple sweet smile.

“G-good… Mirio and me just trained and I did some… homework… h-how was your day, (Y/N)?” he answered quietly, he even worked up the courage to ask you as well.

Of course you were all good friends and it came naturally talking to Nejire and Mirio, but you were different, Tamaki still was shy and nervous around you.

Sometimes he wished he was like Mirio when it came to talking to you, Mirio never screwed up answering a simple question…

“A bit stressful actually. But I´m glad you guys are helping out now, that´s very nice of you” you subconsciously rubbed circles with your thumb on Tamaki´s hand.

He forgot how to breathe for a second, stopping in his tracks and blushing.

“Ah, no problem at all, (Y/N)!” Mirio chimed in to make Tamaki move again, Tamaki gave him a quick smile and nod, he really appreciated his best friend always helping him out.

“I´m so excited for tonight! It´s gonna be so much fun!” Nejire chirped as you started decorating the big hall.

“Yeah, I´m stoked too! It´s always great spending time together with my best friends” Mirio grinned.

See, you decided to go to prom together as friends, your whole group, but you had other plans.

You had other plans ever since you realized that you loved Tamaki.

And Nejire and Mirio knew that, they were just teasing you to finally ask him.

But it was harder than you thought, it was near impossible getting Tamaki alone and when you did and told him about your feelings, he didn´t seem to get it.

It was really frustrating.

You were done with the decorations rather fast and to your dismay Nejire and Mirio left you and Tamaki alone.

You did feel less motivated asking him out now than you did a week ago, you just felt as if you had no chance and were making a fool out of yourself.

The more you thought about asking him out, the stupider you felt.

Why on earth did you think that could be a good idea?

If anything it would just destroy your friendship.

“Tamaki?” you didn´t know why you spoke up, but you just had to say this, you had to at least try.

“Yes, (Y/N)?” he coyly looked up to you with a quivering lip and fidgeting fingers.

“You know how you, Neji, Mirio and me are all friends, right? And I think that´s amazing, you´re the best people I´ve ever met. But I can´t say I´m friends with all of you. Because, Tamaki, I like you more than just a friend. And I really didn´t want to say anything because it would make things awkward between us and I don´t want that” you rushed out the words, watching Tamaki´s eyes go wide.

“But I always make things awkward….” he frowned, averting your eyes.

“I don´t care what anyone else thinks, I like your awkward” you smiled shyly, while he blushed.

“I...I like you too, (Y/N)” he whispered, more to the floor than to you.

But that was all you needed to hear, all that you ever wanted to hear.

You took a step forward to stand closer to Tamaki and tapped his shoulder to make him look at you.

“Um, do you maybe want to go to prom with me?” you smiled brightly.

“But...aren´t we all going together?” he asked, he didn´t want Nejire and Mirio to be sad.

“Well, yeah, but I´d prefer to go with you alone, not as friends. We´re still going to hang out with them, I just want to go out with you, Tamaki” you gently brushed your fingers over his shoulder.

“Really? Because… I think I´d like that...” he mumbled before smiling to himself.

You couldn´t conceal your bright smile anymore and nodded heavily.

“I´ll see you tonight then!” you gently stroked his arm and smiled at him again before leaving to get ready.

After the stress of getting ready was over you and Nejire went to the shared room of Tamaki and Mirio.

Tamaki had issues with his tie and in the moment you opened the door, Mirio fixed it for him.

Tamaki looked very uncomfortable and blushed when he saw you, but he still managed to give you a smile, a different smile than the one he gave Nejire, a special smile just for you.

Your heart skipped a beat as you saw his struggle. You knew Tamaki, normally he wouldn´t have bothered to dress up fancy, but because you asked him out, he actually put a lot of effort into his appearance.

It made you smile, he was so sweet.

“Yo! (Y/N), Neji! You two look good, we´re also ready” Mirio greeted you and you smiled at him friendly.

“Thanks, Mirio! How did you get Tamaki to dress up?” Nejire teased the poor boy.

Tamaki just blushed heavily, not daring to look into her eyes.

“I didn´t! He did it on his own!” Mirio grinned, wrapping an arm around Tamaki, embarrassing him even more.

As soon as the boys left their room, you got a hold of Tamaki´s hand, answering the question Nejire had.

“The suit looks good on you, Tamaki” you whispered to him and he gave you a shy smile, he felt relieved at your words.

“Thank you...y-you also...look beautiful” his voice was hoarse, he still had trouble speaking up.

The four of you entered the big hall to music and a dancing crowd.

“Guys, we´re gonna grab some food and a table” Nejire announced, dragging Mirio behind her to give you two some alone time.

“Alright!” you smiled at her, but frowned when you saw Tamaki´s helpless expression.

There were just too many people here, too many eyes staring daggers into him, the music was too loud, it was hot, he couldn´t breathe.

Out. He just wanted out.

“Tamaki?” you brought his focus back on you with a worried expression.

“We don´t have to dance if you don´t want to, we can go to the others, I know it´s too much for you and it´s alright. I just want you to feel comfortable.” you took his hand into yours and brought it to your lips to place kisses over it.

Tamaki averted his eyes, he knew he disappointed you, he knew he wasn´t good enough for you, you were probably just asking him as a joke.

“I know you don´t want to be here, Tamaki. Especially not with me, not after I confessed to you out of the blue. I know that it´s too much to take in at once, I didn´t even leave you time to think about it… and I just want to apologize to you. It was really selfish of me, I should´ve just kept my feelings to myself like I always did. That was a stupid idea, really… I know you well enough to know that you don´t like such events and forced you to come with me, I´m really sorry” you shook your head, frowning, you just wanted to go home.

Why did Nejire leave you two alone? Why did you even ask him out? You should´ve all just gone as friends…

This time it was Tamaki who grabbed your hand to get you out of your head, he didn´t know what to say, he never did.

“(Y/N), please stay… I´m sorry, I do want to be here with you, it´s just… I can´t do anything right and I don´t want to embarrass you… I mean you´re so perfect, I couldn´t believe you when you told me you liked me… after all I´m just me, nothing special….” Tamaki told you sincerely.

Your heart was breaking for him.

“You´re more than perfect to me, Tamaki, I hope you know that. And you´re not embarrassing in any way. Don´t give yourself less credit than you deserve. I wouldn´t have asked you if I didn´t want to be with you, but please don´t get inside your head all the time. You can talk to me, Tamaki, I have to know what´s going on in order to help you, okay? I just care too much about you...” you grabbed his hands and interlocked them with your own, holding onto him, showing him he wasn´t alone.

“Okay… I just never know what so say…” he frowned.

“Nobody does, and that´s alright. Do you want to go back to the others?” you smiled and he nodded.

So you led him through the crowd by his hand until you reached your friends.

Tamaki loosened up sightly and you four spent the night chatting, eating and having fun.

Tamaki not once let go of your hand, you thought he simply forgot to take it away, but in reality your hand gave him security, he never wanted to let go.

As the prom was over, you went back to your dorms.

Tamaki accompanied you to your room.

“I had fun tonight, Tamaki.” you smiled at him as you still stood in front of the door.

“M-me too… maybe we could….go out again?” Tamaki hushed, you could barely hear it.

His face was beet red and he swore everyone could hear his heart beat right now, he hoped someone would call an ambulance in case of a cardiac arrest.

“I´d like that very much, Tamaki” you hooked your arms around his neck and looked into his eyes dreamily.

He smiled and did what Mirio told him to do months ago.

Tamaki´s lips started quivering as he leaned in closely, squeezing his eyes shut in embarrassment.

You met him halfway and pulled him closer to you as your lips connected, the rush going through your body making you hold onto him tighter.

His lips still were trembling as you started kissing back, he forgot what he was doing for a second.

“G-good night, (Y/N)” Tamaki looked at the floor after you two parted for air, face still red as he walked away in embarrassment.

[doe-s-labyrinth]

Saviour

Saviour - Arthur x F!reader | Oneshot

Word Count: 5,308

Warnings: Angst, execution

They weren’t coming.

Nobody was going to come and save you - and the two weeks you had spent in that prison of a cell was proof of that.

The familiar damp, grey walls of the Strawberry jail had become home, and the little you could see out of the window bars was comforting. Two weeks in that grotty cell was enough to make anyone go insane. The little amount of food given every two days didn’t help in the slightest - and your clothes always felt wet from the constant dripping of water on the walls. The cot - now nothing could be as comfortable and homely as your bed back in the camp, but you’d somehow managed to sleep on the dingy fabric for the past few nights. They obviously hadn’t washed it in years, and you could smell every other person that had ever slept on it. The floor would have been cleaner bed if it wasn’t for the disgusting amount of cockroach carcasses you’d kicked into a corner.

Two weeks had been an absolute hell, of course you had been through worse, but the boredom you felt caused the two weeks of rotting away to be a firm contender with spending 3 days of being tortured in an O’Driscoll camp. You still had deep scars from that event, but you hadn’t told the Irishmen a word, and for that you were proud.

But at least then you were occupied. You’d had far too much time to think in that Strawberry jail cell - resurfaced memories that you’d blocked out, theories on how you could have escaped the bounty hunter that had once caught you, a comeback for Grimshaw’s relentless nagging.

Yet you couldn’t stop thinking about how stupid you had been to get caught - while wearing a dress of all things. It had become loose during the two weeks of little food and activity - a visualisation of the weight you’d lost, and the mud on the fabric had caused the outfit to become itchy and unclean.

It wasn’t like you weren’t being careful, but the increase of security in the town after Micah’s outburst had affected things. You were simply there to visit your mother’s grave - it was nearing the anniversary of her death and you’d welcomed the distraction with open arms. The tension in camp had increased after moving to Beaver Hollow, and all the secret conversations of leaving the gang was becoming heavy on your conscience. Of course you didn’t want to leave - you were all a family after all.

But the reality of playing happy families had turned stale months ago, everybody knew it, but nobody wanted to acknowledge it. The bank robbery in Saint Denis had really set a damper on everyone’s mood - and with the loss of Hosea, Dutch had no rationalisation in his plans, and it had been costly for everyone.

You couldn’t wait to get away for a while. It was originally meant to be a four day trip - head to Strawberry, visit your mother’s grave, and head back to camp. You didn’t want to leave for too long - the Pinkertons had been hot on the gang’s trail after all, and you didn’t want to abandon them. You’d told them of your plans and nobody seemed too fussed, so you didn’t wait before leaving. You had offered Arthur to come since it had been some time since the two of you had spent any time together. You’d barely seen him after he returned from Guarma, but Dutch had him doing all sorts of work. He was always busy, and you didn’t doubt that if you all still lived in Blackwater then he’d come along in a heartbeat, but things had been hectic lately and you understood that.

The entire trip had been peaceful until you entered Strawberry, and the alone time had been nicer than you thought it would, but things seemed off and the atmosphere was almost eerie. Nobody was very talkative - and for the small reserved town that wasn’t uncommon, but the uneasiness you felt was more off-putting than usual to say the least.

You’d only decided to wear a dress to visit your mother’s grave - you wanted to look nice for her, and she’d always loved seeing you in them even if they weren’t your favourite thing to wear. You’d missed her greatly, and placing some fresh flowers below her headstone was calming.

A nice drink was needed after visiting her, and so you’d decided to head to the saloon. You didn’t plan on having much, just a single bottle of beer to destress, but of course someone just had to recognise you. You could remember the interaction as clear as day, and you cursed yourself for letting it happen.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?” The drunk man’s words were slurred and his was accent thick throughout his sentence.

You’d tried to ignore him, all you wanted was to finish your drink before heading to the hotel, and you couldn’t wait to take that damned dress off. But of course he had to try and get your attention once more. You felt his greasy hand on your shoulder and you couldn’t help it when your jaw stiffened.

“Let go of me.” Your voice was clear and threatening, but of course he took it as a joke. The drunk laughed and mocked your words as you took a short sip of the alcohol in your hand.

“Wait, wait - I know you!” He bellowed, his wide grin showed off his lack of teeth.

You stiffened up at his words, and what felt like a hundred pairs of eyes moved to your back from the drunkard’s loud banter. Yet you turned to him, pushing yourself off of the bar you were leaning on, and standing straight as you gazed at him with a sickly sweet smile,

“Oh, you must have me mistaken with somebody-”

“No, I know you! You were walking with those - uh, Van Der - uh, what’s his name? Van Der Loins?” His rambling mumbles cut you off and your breath visibly caught at his words. More eyes looked curiously at the mention of the well-known name, and you were frozen in your place. You were about to move to leave when someone else stood up, pointing at you as he yelled,

“Aye - I recognize 'er too! she’s one of ‘em!” He shouted, his yelling just as slurred as the man beside you.

“That Micah bastard killed my brother,” another voice shouted from the growing commotion.

Your hand shook from where it hovered by your thigh - under your dress was a handgun, but a single pistol stood no chance against this crowd and you wouldn’t trust your shot with the anxiety building in your chest. You prayed to stay calm - but your nerves were getting the better of you as more and more people joined in on the yelling. Why couldn’t Arthur be there with you? He would know what to do - he wouldn’t let this happen.

“Get ‘er!”

Your widened eyes shot to a fairly large man pouncing at you - but thankfully your reflexes were quicker as you moved to run out of the saloon. The heavy downpour drenched you within seconds as you raced out of the bar - your horse was in the stables for the night, sheltered from the storm, but maybe you could make it-

A firm grip on your bicep pulled you back into a set of strong arms that easily lifted you up - you struggled and kicked at the perpetrator as the crowd that had gathered cheered at your capture. You screamed out as your foot collided with the man’s crotch, causing him to drop you onto the wet mud on the road,

“You bitch!” He roared, his fist colliding with your cheek and sending you back into a puddle before you could get up.

The crowd swarmed you, arms grabbed at you as you yelled out, desperate to escape them.

A gunshot rung through your ears, catching the attention of the mob. They cleared a path and the town's Deputy came into view before you, his gun still raised as he took in the scene. But he must have already been informed as he shot you a sickening smirk,

“Someone’s gotta pay for the rat’s actions.”

And so they carried you to the cell and set your date to hang.

You’d learned later on that Micah had killed the Deputy’s father during his mass-shooting - and he had definitely made you suffer for Mr Bell’s actions. The first week had been full of beatings that you were sure weren’t allowed, but the Sheriff would turn a blind-eye whenever they happened. Bruises littered your skin, but the lanky man’s punches were no match when compared to an O’Driscoll’s, and for that you were thankful.

The long wait period between your incarceration and your execution date was surprising, there was only one other man in the jail when you had arrived, and he had been hung two days after your entrance. Jail’s didn’t usually wait - they liked to have a free prison if they could, but you bet the lengthy period had something to do with the Deputy’s ‘payback’. Nobody ever answered when you asked about it, but you had a feeling that they were using you as bait. If they wanted Micah himself then they would be sore out of luck, he didn’t like you very much after you and Arthur became official, but at least this gave more time for word to spread about your incarceration.

The thought that you and Arthur were even together still made you smile, even if it had been a year. You couldn’t deny that the relationship had been rocky lately. The reappearance of Mary in Arthur’s life had set you on edge, and you were uneasy even with Arthur’s endless reassuring.

'We’re just friends’, his words rung in your head like a ghost’s whisper. You wanted to believe that, but you knew their past together, and that Arthur had never really gotten over her. The night’s he’d stay up after he saw her again worried you, and his denial of your comfort had hurt.

The two of you hadn’t been very close since you saw him with Mary in Saint Denis. He’d taken off that morning in a hurry after receiving a letter, and you’d thought little of it considering he was always rushing off to places unknown. Hosea had sent you and Charles into the city with a wagon to get some supplies, and on your way into the general store you’d spotted Arthur. His presence had brought a smile to your lips, and you were about to call out to him until you saw a giggling Mary at his side, her arms clinging onto his.

It felt like you’d been stabbed when you saw them, and Arthur looked the happiest he’d been in months. They didn’t notice you as they walked down an alley into god-knows-where, but you still stood frozen on the pavement, biting back tears and chewing on your lip.

Charles had noticed your shift in mood when you were leaving, but you didn’t spill a word of what you’d seen despite your friend's prying. You didn’t speak about it to anyone for weeks until Abigail pulled you aside one night and made you confess. You’d been acting like a zombie ever since you’d seen the couple, and Arthur hadn’t noticed your upset demeanour with all the time he’d spent out of camp. Those who had noticed had been worried, and Abigail had had enough of your moping.

With a bottle of whiskey and your best friends comfort, you spilled your guts. Abigail listened and offered you her solace - you had to stop her from storming over to Arthur and giving him a piece of her mind. But your mood brightened after that weight had been partially removed from your shoulders, but then the bank robbery happened, and Arthur went missing.

The time without him had let you think about the situation with a clear head - or as clear of a head as you could have with the amount of chaos. You'd managed to convince yourself that Mary would stay out of your relationship - that you would believe Arthur for now. You didn't want to lose him - he was one of the best things that had ever happened to you.

You were the first to greet him when he finally came back and found you in Lakay - even if the two of you had been distant before it happened, his complete absence was a horrible time. You had run outside when you heard Sadie call his name, and he was barely off the stolen horse before your arms were wrapped firmly around his torso. You couldn’t help but cry into his chest when you felt him hug you back - and for a second, everything felt whole again.

‘I’m here now, don’t cry, Sweetheart.’

You'd spent the entire night of his return together, and it was one of the best you'd had in a while. He’d held you so tightly, like he never wanted to let go of you again, and you gladly returned his feelings.

Your brain would always trick you into thinking he was laying in the cot beside you when he was gone, but when you’d reach out for him all you’d feel was the chilly swamp air. And now it was the same once again. You’d imagine that he was right there with you. You could imagine his strong arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer whenever he felt a chill in the night. His hot breaths on the back of your neck, and his snoring that never really bothered you. You even missed the way his beard would brush against you whenever he let it grow out, and the way he would always whisper sweet nothings to you whenever he thought you were asleep.

But now you were alone again, tears rolling down your cheeks with nobody to brush them away.

But there was one thing you had thought of over and over again in the past two weeks. It was almost all you’d dreamed about when you could sleep, and you could only hope that the past would repeat itself.

He’d saved you when you were trapped in the O’Driscoll’s basement, beaten and bloody, and he’d killed everyone there in a rage for what they’d done to you. You would often fantasise about seeing his face through the window bars of the cell, his ever calm expression would be filled with determination to get you out, and then you would run away back to camp together and spend the night holding on to one another like you did back in Lakay.

But the wall had been reinforced after Micah’s escape, and the machinery Arthur had used in their great escape had been moved so it couldn’t happen again. A stick of dynamite would do the trick - but your time was wearing thin, and your belief in your lover was slimming.

It had been two weeks since you were put away after all, or that was what you could tell from the shift in the sunlight you could see. Your hands clung loosely onto the window bars from where you stood, gazing at the lightrays, picking at the few blades of grass you could reach.

A crash behind you caused you to jump, your arms retreating back inside the cell as your eyes moved to the commotion. The Deputy closed the cell door behind him, a large bucket of water in his hands before he put it on the floor, some of the water sloshed and spilled onto the already damp ground.

“Clean yourself up, your hanging in an hour.” his accusatory finger pointed at you as he spoke, and he was about to leave until he turned to you again, “Too bad we couldn’t’ve had more fun.” the slimy man sneered, but you refused to reply as he left, locking the door behind him and shooting you one last snide smirk.

Your breath caught in your throat when the Deputy had finally left, and your knees felt weak as you fell to the floor. Tears brimmed your eyes as reality set in - your time was up. Your shaky arms reached out and pulled the bucket of water closer to your crumpled body. The least you could do was freshen up for your big show. But you didn’t doubt that you looked a mess. Your hair was greasy and knotted from the caked in mud and your skin was bruised and dirty. The cold water stung your arms as you rubbed the dried mud off, the skin was red and raw underneath. Your teeth held your bottom lip captive as you moved to dunk your face in the icy water.

The ‘bath’ was refreshing while it lasted, and you felt a bit better about yourself when you’d finally cleaned the mud from under your fingernails. You’d even managed to wash most of the mud out of your hair before the Deputy returned, rope in his hands.

No words were spoken as you stood and willingly let him tie your hands behind your back. Your legs hurt from their lack of use as he moved you forward and out of the cell, but the relief of finally leaving the small room was enough to mask the pain.

He pushed you through the door of the jail and down the wooden steps, but you couldn’t help but smile and take in fresh air. You’d forgotten how nice the air was outside of the musty cell, and if you hadn’t already been crying then you would have teared up.

But the Deputy spared you no time before he was forcing you to walk again. Your eyes caught sight of a large crowd - and you knew that they were there for you. They were there to watch you hang, to watch 'justice' be served. Even if you hadn’t committed the crime, you were associated with the perpetrator, and they were desperate enough to watch anybody pay for their losses.

The noose was already tied and it hung like a daunting reminder of what was about to happen. The crowd silenced as you neared and the countless amounts of eyes watched your every movement like hawks as you were walked up the wooden steps and onto the stage.

Nobody spoke a word as your eyes met the crowd, searching the people for any familiar faces - the least your ‘family’ could do was be there for you in your final moments. Nothing met your gaze but the angry stares of Strawberry’s townspeople as they awaited your death.

Steady tears glossed over your rosy cheeks as you were placed to stand right behind the noose, the Sheriff cleared his throat, and your breath hitched once more as he began reading from the paper in his hand,

“Fair citizens of Strawberry...” You rolled your eyes at that - this conviction was in no way fair, but nobody would testify for you, not when they knew who you associated with, “for as long as any of us can remember, it is justice that separates us from barbary.”

Your heart ached - not at their savagery, but the fact that the last time you saw your family, nobody had been happy. Times had been so rough lately and everynody was still mourning for Hosea and Lenny. You loved them all, but none of them knew what was happening to you right now - or they did know and they just weren’t coming to help.

The Sheriff’s eyes moved to you and your heart almost stopped at their evil glint, “Yet justice itself can at times be barbaric.”

He stepped forward and addressed the crowd once more, they watched on with interest, ready for main event, “For sometimes a man is so savage, the only way to deal with him justly is by savagery. Micah Bell is one such man.”

You let out a long breath at Micah’s appearance in his script, this was unethical and inhumane, you weren’t exactly innocent yourself, but you weren’t being hung for the crimes that you had committed. You were being hung for crimes Micah had committed. But the people were desperate to see someone swing - and you were the innocent they were about to watch.

“He has murdered, robbed, stolen, escaped and abused our town seemingly with impunity. Today justice catches up with him in the form of Ms Kingston.” the Sheriff’s arm extended out towards you and the Deputy pushed you forward a step before tying the noose around your neck.

He tightened it to a point past uncomfortable and you winced as he let go, the rope digging into the skin of your neck painfully as a few more tears spilled from you eyes. You couldn’t explain the flurry of emotions that ripped through your soul as you stood, tip toed on the trap door in an effort to lessen the pain of the rope. The crowd let out a few cheers before being swiftly silenced by the Sheriff. You swallowed thickly and your teeth bit onto your bottom lip as you put on a brave face. Arthur wouldn’t be scared if he was in your position, but you were terrified. But you had to be strong for yourself - it would be over in a second, and the pain tearing through your heart would be over.

“Your sentence is that you are to be hanged by the neck until you are dead.” The Sheriff’s words held no remorse as his eyes met your pained expression,

“This is not a task we take lightly, it is not a task we enjoy, but it is a task we must carry out if our civilisation is to prosper.” The lack of emotion in his voice was a cruel irony to his words.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you felt the trap door beneath you move - it was only an inch, but it was a sick, taunting taste of what was about to occur, the Sheriff turned to his Deputy and another man who stood next to the lever that held your fate, “Gentlemen, are we ready?” you assumed they were as the Sheriff quickly carried on with your sentence,

“Ms Kingston,” he began, and your breathing became erratic as you prepared for what was to come - but not even the noose around your neck would compare to the pain you felt of having to leave your family behind. Your heart yearned for them and you wished they could hear your subtle prayers of goodbye, “may God, in his infinite wisdom have mercy upon your soul.”

His words burned through your ears as you were forced to stare out at the anticipating crowd, and before you could think another syllable, the trap door beneath you disappeared.

But you fell straight through, the tail of the rope hit against your shoulder, the ends blackened and burnt. You barely had any time to think as a gunshot rung out and a body fell on the stand above you, and the crowd yelled out in screams and yells, quick to run for cover and pull their own guns out.

“Stay quiet,” a voice behind you said as you felt the bindings on your hands be cut, your eyes moved to the familiar voice, landing on a focused Charles,

“Charles, oh my-”

“I know, but we have to go.” He was quick to cut your reunion short as he helped you to your feet and took hold of your wrist, pulling you down the street with him in a qucik run,

“H - how did you know I was here?” Your voice caught in your throat - you still couldn’t believe what was happening, had they really saved you? Your brain hurt from your confusion, you were so ready for your fate, yet not ready at all.

Charles pulled you behind a tree as a bullet whizzed past your bodies. Your hands held onto his arm as he kept you out of sight. You still couldn’t believe he was here - and as you watched dead bodies fall on to the street you knew there were others here too.

“When Arthur noticed you hadn't come back, he started asking around. Figured something like this might have happened, and then we caught wind of a 'well deserved hanging' happening in Strawberry,” Charles did his best to answer your question while he aimed at a man behind a crate. Yet there was little time for more questions as he rushed you from behind the tree and down the street.

Arthur met you at the crossroads, and you couldn’t help waterfall of tears that left your eyes from just the sight of him. Your heart felt like it was exploding from all the emotions that flurried inside of you, and the look in Arthur’s eyes as he saw you only caused you to cry harder. Relief and concern, worry and love - you couldn’t shake the look he shot you as you were pulled over to their hitched horses.

They’d been shouting at each other as you were pulled along, too overwhelmed to keep yourself moving as reality drew you back in,

“Come on, darlin’” Arthur said as Charles let you go so he could mount his horse. Your eyes met Arthur’s as you turned to him and your hands immediately cupped his cheeks, slightly squishing his face. You had to know he was real, and time seemed to stop as his own large hand moved up to cup yours, you’d never seen his eyes look so gentle - his expression so soft in a time of such high pressure. You wanted to leap into his arms, hug him so tightly and keep him all to yourself for the next century or two. The way your heart calmed when you were in his presence made you feel almost lightheaded and-

“Hate to ruin the moment, but we gotta go!” John's voice yelled out, completely obliterating the tender moment, but he was right. Now was not the time, and you would have plenty when you were safe.

Arthur was quick to cooperate as he helped lift you onto his Arabian before getting on himself. His arms held onto you as well as the reins and your head moved back against his chest as he raced to get you out of that hell of a town.

John and Charles were quick on your heels, but went their separate ways as you left Strawberry as to not raise any more suspicion.

“I can’t believe you came for me,” you whispered once you were safe, walking on a unused trail in the direction of New Hanover. You felt Arthur let out a heavy sigh from where you sat leaning against him. The sun was beginning its descent into the sky as you trotted on and Arthur let out a laboured breath,

“We should have come sooner.” his words were heavy and laced with so much guilt that it caused your chest to swell. Your hand reached out and squeezed his thigh in a comforting yet forgiving manner,

“Don’t - you came,” You started, your heart felt heavy, you thought he wouldn’t come and now you those thoughts forced you to carry a guilty conscience - but it was nowhere as guilty as what Arthur felt for leaving you there. “That’s all that matters.” you words were genuine and soft, bringing tears to your puffy eyes once more.

Arthur didn’t say another word until you reached Valentine, the sun had set an hour before your arrival and he left you to tend to his Arabian for a few minutes while he walked into the hotel and rented a room for the night.

Your lips formed a small frown as you moved off of Arthur’s stead, your hands brushing through her glossy coat as you tied her to the post for the night. Arthur came out after a minute and signalled for you to go inside.

“I paid for a bath,” he stood awkwardly and his eyes refused to meet your own, “I’ll bring ye same clean clothes once you're done.” He didn’t bother to wait for a response before moving to walk up the steps and see which room he'd been given.

Your eyes met the floor briefly before you walked through the halls and opened the creaky bathroom door. You could have been shown a bath or a hundred bars of gold at that moment and still chosen the bath, it looked so heavenly and the steam in the room immediately eased you.

You were quick to undress and get in, your body completely relaxing for the first time in weeks. But even with your body submerged in the warm water - you couldn’t help but think of Arthur. Wasn’t he happy to have you back? He’d saved you and yet he was acting like you were a complete stranger. Your teeth bit onto your bottom lip for the thousandth time that day - it was an effort to keep yourself from crying again, but you were already drained of tears from the emotional day you’d had. Your hand moved to your neck where it was still sore from the noose - a reminder of your almost demise.

What if he didn't come? What if he’d left you to swing? But he hadn't’t - he’d saved you - so why weren’t the two of you making up for the lost time? He was leaving you to yourself - he probably thought it was what you needed, but you’d already had two weeks without him, and that had been enough to last you a lifetime.

You cleaned yourself properly before leaving the bath, determined to get to Arthur as quickly as possible and show him how much you’d missed him. One of the bath girls handed you your clothes and it took you less than a minute to put them on. It didn’t take long after that for you to reach your hotel room, your hand hovered over the doorknob for a second - hesitating. But you’d already made your decision. You wanted to see him.

You opened the door to find Arthur sitting at the edge of his bed, his jacket hung lazily over a chair, and his head buried deep in his hands. His head shot up at the sound of you, and you slowly closed the door behind you before walking over to him.

His eyes were red and he was embarrassed as he tried to hide it from you, but your hands cupped his cheeks, forcing him to look up and meet your gaze. You knew why he was like this - it was the same with the O’Driscoll’s, and Arthur was beating himself up over it. He’d promised to never let it happen again - but it had, and this time it was much worse.

“Arthur,” your voice was full of comfort and emotion as your thumbs traced his cheekbones, “its not your fault-” you couldn’t finish as he angrily got up, frustrated with himself, he walked to the other side of the room.

“I let it happen. Two damn weeks-” he cut himself off as he took in a deep breath and tried to calm himself, his hands forming fists at his sides, “I almost lost you.” he was tearing himself to shreds over it. You watched with an even gaze as you made your way over to him, trying again.

Your hand seemed small as it held onto his large bicep, turning him gently to face you. You smiled up at him with glossy eyes, “I’m still here,” You whispered calmly, your heart swelled for this man - his eyes finally met yours as he took you in for the first time in weeks. His eyebrows were furrowed - he didn’t understand how you could just forgive him so easily when you were littered in bruises and scrapes.

“Arthur, I’m here.” Your words were filled with love as you held onto his cheek once more, raising on your tiptoes slightly as your eyes flickered between his. “I’m alright,” You spoke quietly as you held onto him, pulling him closer as you rested your head on his shoulder and hugged him tightly, “I’m alive, because of you.” You whispered and you couldn’t help but place a small kiss on his neck.

All you wanted right now was him, and as his arms slowly held you back you knew you had him. In that moment you were his and he was yours, and that’s all you’d longed for for the past 2 weeks you’d spent locked up and away from him. You’d dreamed about this moment, and now that it was finally happening, it didn’t feel real.

You both needed some convincing, so your grip on him loosened as your fingers travelled the length of his arms until they were holding onto his large hands. Your eyes stayed on his as you stepped backwards, leading him with you until you reached the bed. You let yourself fall onto it, pulling him on top of you. His eyes searched yours for any trace of hatred - but he found nothing but love as your hands moved to his shoulders and then his neck.

“I love you, Arthur Morgan.” you whispered with such purity - as if you were an angel forgiving every sin he’d ever committed. He couldn’t ask for anything more as he hovered over you, his eyes never leaving yours as he neared you. He watched as your lids flickered closed peacefully, and his followed suite as his lips found yours in a tender kiss. He was being so gentle and soft - as if he were move too quickly or too roughly then you would disappear or break.

But you needed him, and you filled the kiss with passion as you pulled him closer, onto the bed. You’d missed him so much and now you finally had him all to yourself. He held onto you so tightly as he laid you down completely on the bed, you showed each other just how much you missed one another in your embrace. He’d never been so loving and you’d never needed him so badly - but that night you were each other’s saviours.

Your lips pecked his from where you lay cuddled up beneath the blankets. Arthur was like a furnace against you and it was the warmest you’d felt in weeks. You were at ease as he kissed over the marks on your collarbones and neck before you finally relaxed in his embrace. Your eyes watched his with love and you couldn’t deny just how much you loved this man - and he felt the same way. Life wasn’t going to be perfect after this - you both knew that, but you could always relish in these moments of pure love. You would never let yourself doubt him again. He would always save you, and you would always love him.

A/N: Hello! I hope you like it - this was my first fic on here with rdr2 and jeez is it a long one. Feel free to send any requests or just send a message, I’m always here for you lovelies~

[erikismybitch]

Waiting In Vain: Chapter 7

Self Harm 101

“A lot of things trigger you , and you act out. The good thing is- Marley, you’re not the only one who has this trait”

Marley sat across from the grandfather aged Therapist. In fact, he could actually be her grandfather racially . This wasn’t the first session she’d had with Dr.Robinson, but it had been a long time since she’d seen him. After college, when she moved here to start her adult life , he helped her a lot . Soon she met Trey and he became her boyfriend , best friend and therapist

“How do I stop doing the stupid things I do?” Marley cried out.

“Like what ?” Dr.Robinson asked strategically.

“Before I get into a bad situation , I already know there’s a high chance it will turn out bad . But it just kills me to not know what could have been if I didn’t take a chance” Marley squinted and tilted her head, as if it would help him understand more.

“Like what?” He repeated , noting that Marley avoided the question slightly.

“Every time my anxiety flares or I’m faced with an issue , the root of it is always a man”

Marley’s phone went off , it was a text message . Dr.Robinson told her she could check it . She rummaged though her big neverfull bag and got her phone .

Ironically it was a text from Erik

Meet me downtown in an hour.

The doctor could see the look of fluster take over Marleys face , her entire demeanor changed .

“Do you need to step out, is it something important?” He asked

Yes

“No, it’s just one of those bad situations” Marley gave off an uneasy smile .

“Well make a choice right now” Marley grazed her finger over the reply bar, then decided not to respond . She placed her phone back inside of her purse . “When you leave here, you can chose to do as you please . As for now, let’s focus on you”

Marley got more comfortable, taking off her sneakers and sitting criss-cross on the couch. As much as she wanted to respond , her healing was more important now.

“Last time I saw you , you were in a relationship. What happened there?” The doctor scribbled some notes down . Marley kissed her teeth while rubbing her palms up and down her legs .

“We broke up , but I’m not completely done with him”

“Why not just be with him?”

“It’s comfortable for me , he’s always there when I need him”

He wrote down more things . “Is that fair to him?”

“I don’t really care about what’s fair to him” she replied honestly . “He wasn’t very fair to me in our relationship”

Dr.Robinsons voice went an octave lower before he spoke . “If I recall the stories you used to tell me about your father ... you are showing similar traits of his right now”

“Impossible” Marley argued , she didn’t think so . She hated her father.

When Marley was nearing her teen years, her father left her mother for another woman. A white woman who he met at work. While he was still legally married to her mother . After he left , he would visit sometimes and play family . Her mother would desperately let him stay for a few days. He’d make love to her then leave as quickly as he came. The pattern reoccurred for years , until her mother got terminally sick. He couldn’t bare to watch her deteriorate. Leaving Marley by herself to watch her mother die . After death , everything went to her father . The house , her mother’s valuables and money. Marley got nothing but keepsakes . Her father used the assets to purchase a huge home for his girlfriend and her kids . While MarIey stayed with them for a while , but since Marley couldn’t handle living there , her father sent her to live with her aunt . Tiana’s mother , that’s where she played Cinderella, literally sleeping in a basement. There were extra rooms upstairs, Tiana was her mother’s only child. It was an average room, but nothing like Tianas . Her mother adored her and bought her everything, and did the minimal for Marley . “You should just be happy I let you stay here” she would say each time Marley even let out an ounce of a complaint . When she turned sixteen she got a job and started saving up her money to buy nice things. As soon as she graduated , she went away to school and never looked back ... until ten months ago . When she moved in with Tiana.

Don’t be selfish, people are not pawns” Dr.Robinson concluded after their long conversation about her learned behavior.

“And here I am, thinking I was the victim. Maybe I want to be a victim , so I can just crawl in bed and feel sorry for myself ?”

“Marley , talk about what exactly gets you out of bed”

She thought about it. Food was her top choice, but it had to be something of substance. “I get excited to go to the gym , and ironically sex...even though that’s in the bed” she chuckled.

“Do you have any friends , that are non-sexual” the doctor tried again .

“I made a friend, kind of...Becky”

“That’s good” .

“At first it was hard for me to accept being friends with someone who wasn’t black but I actually like her”

“That’s really good that you made a friend , you’ve had trouble with that in the past . You are not a victim , you just told yourself that , remember that “ Marley nodded her head . Dr Robinson eyed his wrist watch . “Until next time .”

He closed his leather journal, resulting in a pop that somehow reminded Marley that she had an unanswered text message . After finding her phone again, She answered Erik with a simple .

No

His text bubbles popped up , but went away . It was really hard , again Marley lived in the “What could have been” aspect of her life . This was new, her saying “no”. Besides, it was almost two o’clock and she had to go to her cycle class . She hadn’t loss much weight while going, but her body felt amazing and she saw the difference in toning. Especially her glutes.

Marley walked into her gym feeling a little bit lighter than before , due to her therapy session. As soon as three o’clock came and Marley went, so did her feeling of relief . Her phone had thousands of notifications. This was not a good thing , this was not the kind of attention Marley wanted . Hundreds of follow requests because thankfully, she was smart enough to have her profile on private. Unfortunately that wasn’t an option for messaging.

You’re such a fucking hoe, how could you do that to your own cousin.

Ugly ass girls are always after somebody man .

Those were just two of the messages she read, Marley was pretty sure the other ones were derived from the same formula. This whole ordeal was stemmed from a post that Tiana created while she was in class . After gathering everything together, Marley has realized what happened. Tiana had uploaded a video of her discussing Marley, her “hoe cousin” who in detail “was fucking her boyfriend”

Marley’s heart almost fell out of her chest . Her head was pounding and the upcoming migraine was building up . Boyfriend? Her boyfriend ? .

“What the hell is going on!” Marley panicked in the drivers seat of her car. She rested her head back on the seat , just Incase she passed out . The rush was that intense .

Tiana had just sent a text message .

Asia posted a throwback video of the strip club and I saw you . It was you kissing Erik at the club . You sat there in my face while I cried to you .

Then there was another text message from her soon following .

Oh and I paid to break the lease , so your broke ass has three days to find another place to live .

“Fuck ! “ Marley slammed her hand in her steering wheel so hard that it turned red , and because of the adrenaline she couldn’t even feel the pain. Becky called her , back to back but Marley was too afraid to answer. She didn’t even know what to say , what if Becky was on Tianas side ? With luck not on Marley’s side, she rushed home . There were two extra cars outside , one was parked in Marley’s spot . She swallowed her fear and unlocked the door to walk inside . Tiana and her friends were sitting in the living room. As if they were waiting for her to take this walk of shame to her bedroom. And she did , not looking any of them in the eye . They laughed and made sly remarks as she passed . When one of them called her a “fucking hoe” she almost ran back into the living room. Knowing that it wouldn’t be smart, them against one, she didn’t .

Her safe space wasn’t so safe anymore , she had to leave. Marley packed every important thing she owned and brought it to the car to load . Mostly her electronics, clothes and things left from her mother . They watched her walk back and forth like a ping pong match . Never had Marley felt so embarrassed and ridiculed. Over Erik, a guy who was NOT her boyfriend at all. A guy she was just having sex with , Marley didn’t even recall them doing anything in the public eye. This wasn’t about Erik, it was about Marley taking claim over anything that was deemed hers . Even when they were younger , Tiana wouldn’t even let Marley touch anything that belonged to her.

Marley dragged her last bag out and locked the door behind her . Tiana and her friends stood in the window seal , with their phones they recorded Marley from the inside . She took notice and hurried out of there, she drove far down the block so she could do what she needed in peace .

Cry .

She cried hard. Not even for the situation at hand , but for the little girl inside of her that still felt alone . And didn’t understand why her life was this way . Would it ever get better ? Or would it just be a lifetime of disappointment. She wiped her wet face and took a much needed deep breath .

Then she called the only person she knew would pick up . He answered right away .

“I saw it “ Trey said sympathetically, without greeting her . He knew her call was coming .

“Trey , she’s lying “ Marley started bawling , Trey just sat on the other line patiently, letting her know that everything would be fine . “I have nowhere to go, I left “her voice cracking with each word .

“Come home, I’m home ” he said . And she did.

[moodforanime]

The Nomad| The Possesions of the Wild(Naruto fanfic)| Volume 1

Chapter 8: Akari's Appearance

Word count: 2.1K

A/N: /

Tags: @insanity-is-always-fun

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

'Lord Hokage!' An woman said, as she rushed into the Hokage office.

The woman wore nurse clothes and, for a moment, she tried to trim her brown hair while catching her breath.

'Hey, Hey, hey!' An guard entered panting, following the nurse. 'At least knock, now will ya?'

The woman came running from the hospital as soon as her boss let her do so that morning. Of course she wouldn't let some guard stop her from reporting to the Hokage the results she received with just a couple of hours ago. The Hokage made an sign to the guard, who exited the room, not forgetting to close the door behind him.

'What's the rush, Asuka?' The Hokage asked.

'As you may already know, an girl named Kaiya is at the hospital in recovery after an surgery she had yesterday afternoon.' The woman spoke at fire-fast speed.

'Yes... I heard.'

'We took some blood and DNA tests while she was out in order to see how exactly should we proceed with her body, and you might want to see what we got.'

The Hokage's eyebrows each formed an perfect curve. He had his doubts on it, but the girl wasn't very different in any way. Her appearance was seemingly ordinary, she didn't act too repulsive or much-to-herself and, from what he heard from her team, she did her best and protected her team on the last mission.

If she had, by any chance, an ugly past that gave her doubts on her loyalties, she might've not hesitated and wouldn't risk her life. She either truly wants to be a shinobi of Konoha, or she is a really good actress. He wondered which one it could be.

Asuka walked closer to his desk and layed an notepad full of writing in front of him.

'We saw that she has an O-type blood. It isn't that uncommon, but it would get complicated if she would be in need of blood.' She explained, pointing to different notes on the page. 'Leaving that Aside, it's her DNA that's funny.'

'How so?'

'You know how we can, with a little work, identify someone's family tree through their DNA. Well, while the origins of 49% of her DNA are still unknown, we could still pair 51% percent of it with an clan, well, somebody actually, from here.'

'Did you Really?' The Hokage asked, truly surprised.

Asuka nodded.

'Who, then?'

Asuka pointed an name standing at the end of the page. The Hokage's eyes widened. From all the families possible, he couldn't bring himself understand how it happened to be this one. He had to delay finishing some paperwork and the meeting with Danzo and the other elders in order to check on something.

'Alright, then. You should return to the hospital now, I'm sure people wait for your assistance.'

Asuka nodded and picked her notepad, before bidding an goodbye and exiting the room.

'I need to talk to you, Asumi.'

____________________________________________________________________________

Lee did as he said and visited Kaiya the next day as well. The only difference was that he was alone this time. This time, Tenten, Neji and Guy joined him, much to both Kaiya and Lee's relief. They entered the room, guided by no one else but Asuka herself, who just returned from the Hokage's office.

'You're a lucky one, you know?' Asuka told Kaiya. 'Most shinobi don't get this many visitors. Especially ones who bring them food.'

Kaiya looked away, feeling her cheeks boiling. Asuka puffed in disagreement, before exiting the room.

'What?' Tenten asked in oblivion, looking at Kaiya and Lee, who avoided eye-contact.

'Never mind that.' Neji said, figuring out the situation and tensity in the air as an smirk escaped him along with an amused puff, before changing the subject. 'So, Kaiya, how do you feel? We heard from Lee that you had some... surgery?'

'Yep.' Kaiya answered in an strangled voice as she nodded while turned her head, hoping that her cheeks didn't appear as they were set on fire. 'I'm pretty good, to be honest. I hope that they'll let me go by Wednesday.'

'I don't think that'll happen.' Lee said quickly as he looked at Kaiya, blinking slowly.

All heads turned to Lee, who almost regreted his choice.

'I-I I mean, most people need at least two weeks to recover enough from an surgery to do most of their activities.' Lee tried to explained.

'Well, I guess you could say that I'm not like most people.' Kaiya retored in the most serious manner.

While Neji and Tenten began to giggle, Guy felt an smile grow on his face as he watched Lee block. It wasn't unusual for Lee to be verbally attacked, but it was unusual for him to be blocked like that, to make it even worse, he appeared like he didn't attempt to with any of his comebacks.

Kaiya looked at Lee, raising her eyebrows. As she opened her mouth to say something, an quite audible creak stopped her, announcing that someone entered the room. All eyes turned to the door that opened, letting two familiar faces enter the chamber.

'H-Here it is, Asu- Akari-sama.' The blonde nurse said, letting an young woman enter.

'Thank you, Kenta.' Asumi answered, without giving Kenta a single glance. 'Hello, everyone.'

Kenta quickly closed the door, along with an screech of terror.

'Hello... who are you, may I ask?' Guy asked, narrowing his eyebrows.

'Oh, I'm Akari.' She smiled. 'You must be Might Guy, am I right?

Guy slowly nodded, overflowing in suspicion.

'I've heard alot about you. It's nice to finally meet you in person.' Asumi stretched one of her hands towards Guy, who took his time in answering to her gesture.

Akari turned to Kaiya, whose eyebrows, just like everyone else's, almost touched each other.

'How... How did you know I was in the hospital?' Kaiya asked, doing her best in sounding calm.

'Word travels fast between the genin team leaders.'

'You're a team leader?' Kaiya asked.

'I used to. My team absolved to jounin last year, but I still keep in touch with my ex-colleague's.'

Guy felt his brain pumping blood. He was a jounin for quite a few years already, but didn't remeber the girl. More importantly... How did she know Kaiya?

'Ex-colleague's? What do you mean by that?' Lee asked, the only one brave enough to do so.

'Oh, let's just say that... I got some business in which I had to leave my past behind.' Asumi shrugged, as she set herself on an chair, looking at Kaiya.'But let's not talk about what I did or not. Tell me more about how you got here.'

It was just enough for Guy to shot an look at his students for his message to be heard. The three students looked at him and nodded lightly. Although he felt uneasy with It, it was best if he would leave this to Kaiya. The woman wore an forehead protector with Konoha's symbol on It, and it was difficult to get such thing if you were an outsider.

'Well, we will leave you two to it.' Guy said, as he, along with his students, slowly walked to the door.

Kaiya looked down, unsure of what to say. She didn't really want them to leave because Akari came along, but she wasn't sure of what to say, without making things uncomfortable for everyone. Her teammates each mumbled an goodbye, to which Kaiya tried to answer with an forced smile and an hand wave.

It was after they left that Kaiya felt how her visitor appeared to relax a bit. It wasn't a lie; Asumi did, in fact, feel less tense than when they were in the same room. In truth, she knew who Guy was ever since she was a kid, but she figured just a while ago that Guy wasn't as stupid as he liked to appear and that it wouldn't take much time for him to add one to one and realise who she was. She wouldn't talk to him ever again, if she could help it. She turned her attention back on Kaiya, whose expression was now blank.

'Say, Kaiya...' Asumi stopped herself, noticing how Kaiya didn't even mind to give the impression of listening. 'Is there something wrong?'

It was then that Kaiya moved her attention back to Asumi.

'Oh, I-I'm sorry, Akari-san. My mind drifted off to something.' Kaiya rested her head in her palms for a few moments, before fully turning her head to her visitor, forcing a smile.

Asumi looked at the girl. Although the girl seemed to be in an rather stable situation, she had an surgery just an day ago. She would get much out of her in this state. She was now very much aware of how gentle the mission was and how it required a lot of time, maybe even years, and she hated it. Because of her rather short patience, most of her missions don't last more than a month or two, but nobody could say nothing. They were all very effective.

'It must be boring here, all alone.'

'I guess.' Kaiya mumbled.

'I'm sorry, it must be horrible.'

'Don't throw that pity on me.' She suddenly demanded. 'It makes me vomit.'

She didn't like when people tried to see through her point of view and make it pitiful. She needed various things, it was true, but pity was, for sure, not on the list.

Asumi rised her eyebrows in surprise. You didn't see this everyday. On her missions, she saw plenty of people who were suckers for pity and attention.

'You look tired. Maybe you should rest.' Asumi suggested after a few moments' break.

Kaiya looked up to Asumi, her face blank. Everyone told her to rest, but it was easier to say than to do. Looking at the blank walls became boring sometimes, but the quietness, loneliness and safety offered Kaiya something she didn't get very often; time to think.

Her mind could drift off as it pleased, and could settle some things down. The fact that people refused those chances just because they wanted to stick with other people were things Kaiya could never understand.

She watched how Asumi opened the door and left, just before another familiar face to enter.

'At last!' Asuka exclaimed. 'It was me who got tired of them.'

Kaiya simply tilted her head into Asuka's direction as she walked towards her with an plate in her hands. Asuka placed the plate on Kaiya's laps.

'There.' She said. 'I'll pass by later to take the plate. I hope it'll be empty by then.'

'Yes, miss.' Kaiya mumbled.

Her meal consisted of some potato puree and a thin schintzel. It didn't look very appetizing, but who was she to comment? Not so long ago, her meals looked worse than She could've easily comment on it, but she couldn't bring herself to it, knowing the answer; eat it or starve.

She began cutting her schnitzel and, without even realising, the piece of meat was gone. She let an burp escape her mouth as she put the plate on her nightstand. She let herself fall into an comfortable position and did the only reasonable and possible thing she could do at the point; letting her mind wander.

Around that time, the thing that crossed her mind the most was the encounter with Temon and Kana. Even though she did what she did, the idea of killing someone didn't hit her as hard as Temon's words.

One of her worst fears was her reaction when someone would bring that subject up, and she felt ashamed with it; she should've controlled herself better. Her colleagues asked about it, something completely natural, but she couldn't bring herself to explain it to them when she couldn't explain it to herself.

In the end, how could she, without making them any more curious? For Now, it was good that they didn't know much on her backstory. If they were to know, they wouldn't be put in any particular danger, but it couldn't be gulped all at once and it may create resentments and fear, rejection an even exile, even. For all she knew, if she were to tell them, she must feel the trust from the bottom of her heart.

[ayearofpike]

The Blind Mirror

Tom Doherty Associates, 2003 390 pages, 30 chapters ISBN 0-812-53882-X LOC: PS3566.I486 B55 2003 OCLC: 51553156 Released May 1, 2003 (per B&N)

The dead woman on the beach is in the exact spot where David Lennon’s girlfriend broke up with him two months ago, before he left on business to New York. He is positive he wouldn’t have killed her, but it’s disconcerting that he doesn’t remember anything about that night. But as the events unravel, and as he learns more about who she was and where she came from, he starts to remember things he shouldn’t. Things only she could have known, that she never told him.

Pike is back, after a long absence! I know, it’s only been a couple of days for us here at A Year of Pike, but it’s important to remember the context that this book emerged into. The Blind Mirror’s mass-market paperback appeared nearly five years after the end of the Simon & Schuster years, when we were maybe starting to despair of ever seeing Pike again — or maybe even had forgotten about him as a contemporary writer. A lot can happen in five years to change your audience: personally, I graduated college, spent a year working overseas, got married, found a job that I thought would become my career, lost that job, and started working at another one better suited to my skill set (spoiler: that one also didn’t last, but it was less my fault).

So it was probably smart of Pike to take a little step away from his roots. It was maybe also necessary, given the shift in the YA market and what was expected of authors. No longer can you crank out sloppy half-hearted low-stakes stories every three months, not with the Harry Potter renaissance in full swing. He’d try his hand at a series aimed at younger readers about a magical child entering her birthright world in order to save it (we’ll get there), but first he’s finally given us one of those titles promised in The Listeners so many years ago.

And whoa, this one is a doozy. Talk about a tonal shift from Spooksville: sex, murder, profanity, Satanism, drugs, lesbians, statutory rape, illegal organ harvesting. Gone are the cutesy demons and teenybopper romantic tension that I’ve spent the last month powering through, replaced with some heavy shit. This is clearly something that Pike’s wanted to do for a while, and obviously it was going to have to come under Tor because there was no way his old YA contract would have let him go this dark. 

I do wonder a couple of things, though, about the creation of The Blind Mirror: 

How similar is this book to his original vision? Like, there are huge excerpts of another novel throughout, a vampire book for which David has been hired to paint the cover art. But the novel-within-the-novel smacks more of Pike as we know him than The Blind Mirror proper. If he was writing this in 1994, as indicated by the marketing copy in his last adult novel, it seems like maybe the excerpts are what he was writing at the time, which would jibe with his love for Sita and his reluctance to let her go.

Why did it take so long for this thing to come out? Why now? I can only speculate, absent any direct confirmation from the man himself. Maybe he’s addressed this in his Facebook posts, but I don’t have the time or patience right now to research it. However, one thing gives me pause: the dedication, “For Abir.” He has often mentioned Abir as a partner in his recent posts, someone who was a fan but has also been a devoted love and still is today. My educated guess is that he met this person and it turned into a real relationship, which helped him recenter and start working again after what might have been the end of a career. After all, writers don’t just stop having ideas and compulsions, but the market’s shift and subsequent dismissal of the genre that Pike was used to working in might have soured him on trying to be heard — until Abir, anyway.

So enough metatext — let’s get into the summary. David wakes up on a plane returning to southern California from a two-month visit to New York. He’s been looking for some commercial cover work, and has scored a contract with a publisher for their hot new book, The Last Vampire Vampire of the Heart. His neighbor on the plane is a chatty sort, a man who boasts of his abilities at organ transplants and who is coming into LA for a conference (he’s based out of Miami). Why does this dude matter, you ask? Wait for it! (Pike has at least gotten better at not leaving Chekhov’s gun unfired with his long layoff.)

David drives back home, to Spooksville Lompoc, a little nowheresville that is hard to get out of and so people generally don’t. But he doesn’t go home right away — some compulsion drives him back to the beach where he and his girlfriend ended, under mysterious circumstances. This is where he finds the body, and ends up talking with the sheriff about it. But for some reason, he’s less than straightforward with a legal authority whom David has known for his entire life. He feels that he’s being accused of murder even though he didn’t do anything, but because of that he keeps some details about his ex and her history to himself. Now for sure, he doesn’t know all of it ... we learn as we go that she hasn’t actually told him too much about herself. But why wouldn’t you, a white adult male who is truly innocent of any wrongdoing, tell the police everything you knew? Suspicious.

He goes to get a bite to eat and runs into a girl from high school. Julie Stevens was the hot cheerleader who never had time for anybody but herself, but now all of a sudden she is interested in getting to know David better. She’s just had a bad breakup and lost her job, and maybe David is a rebound, but he’s surprisingly OK with that, interested even, never mind that Julie has always been a stuck-up jerk with her head up her own ass. So they set up a date and then David ends up at the church, where the reverend has long been a kind of father figure and advisor to him. In fact, seven years ago he rescued the reverend’s young daughter from drowning, and he’s the one person David talked to about going to New York before he left. They talk for a minute, he chats a bit with the town drug dealer (whose name, no shit, is Herb) who is mowing the lawn for some reason, and then David finally goes home to check his messages.

There are three: his mom, Julie — and his ex. She’s feeling guilty about the breakup and wants to try to reconcile. David has mixed feelings: she broke his heart, but he’s still in love with her. But he doesn’t have a way to call her back, so he settles in with the vampire book to try to figure out what he’s going to paint. It’s an unusual story, about a vampire created by an alchemist who is no longer happy or satisfied feeding as she has for twenty-five thousand years, but before he can get too far in Julie shows up for their date. Pretty normal, as far as grown-up dates go: a movie, dinner, tequila shots, and hours and hours of fucking. Which, again, surprise considering she’s never previously given David the time of day (and his friend seems to think that Julie is a lesbian), but rebounds I guess.

David wakes up to a horrible headache, an empty bed, and a ringing phone. It’s Sienna, calling from the airport in her hometown, which is ... uhm ... New York. She wants to know if she should come back to California, and David says yes. Then there’s a knock on his door, and it’s the sheriff, who needs David to go down to the station to talk to an FBI agent. It seems that the dead body has been killed in a way that indicates ritual sacrifice, and that requires federal intervention. The agent is likewise suspicious of David’s story, not least because he can’t seem to remember how or when she left the beach, considering they drove there together and he left alone. He asks if David has ever heard of an organization called LESS, and it doesn’t ring a bell, but he’s willing to play the message from his ex on his answering machine for the cops, so they can hear that she’s called him and isn’t dead and rotting on the beach.

Only the message is gone. His machine has somehow come unplugged, which erases the memory automatically. So now the sheriff wants him to go along to the ex’s house in Santa Barbara, so he can try to find some physical DNA evidence that might tie the body to the girl who lived in this house. On the way, they talk about old friends of David’s, a couple who killed themselves in high school — the girl’s face was ruined in a fire and she was so proud of her looks, and once she was gone the boy shot himself in the mouth. This has never sat right with David, because he could never picture these friends wanting to end their lives. But the sheriff is pretty inflexible, although he does recall a car leaving the area where the boy’s body was found in a parking lot. They find some hairs, and David passes out in the bathroom, where he was first intimate with the girl, which still smells like her hair. Post-traumatic stress, right? Maybe. 

Back in Lompoc, David finds himself wandering his old haunts and thinking about his friends. He winds up at the boy’s old house, where he learns from his mom that the boy was seeing somebody new between when the girl died and when he shot himself. Further wanderings take him to the cemetery, where he runs into the girl he once saved, dressed up like a slutty Goth and attempting to provoke David into making a move on her despite being fifteen years old. He goes home and reads more of the book, where the vampire learns that all her ancient vampire friends are starting to feel the same thing, and maybe they are returning to human. Then he has to stop because his best friend has gotten him an appointment with a hypnotist, which he is hoping will help him remember that which has been blocked about the end of his relationship.

The hypnotist gets David down deep pretty fast, and David is confused by what he’s saying. He seems to be remembering more than one perspective, or more than two people coming to the spot on the beach. But just before he gets to the point where he stopped remembering, at a point where his ex painfully pinched his butt, his cell phone rings — the ex again, always calling at the most inopportune moments. He takes a while to shake off the effects of being hypnotized, and then goes back home to read a little more. It turns out that our vampire hero is pregnant, has been for the last twenty-five thousand years, and the baby is resuming its growth just as the time never passed now that she’s returning to human. He starts painting like a man possessed, and then takes a break before his next date with Julie to go walk on the beach again ... where he spots the reverend’s daughter riding the drug dealer on the exact spot where the body was found. Gross.

Julie takes him to a play about identical twins, one of whom has murdered the other in order to get her heart transplanted, and then they drink more tequila and have more sex, this time in the house where his ex used to live because Julie feels it is what he needs to get over her. Then he falls asleep and dreams that he and Julie are in Las Vegas, playing blackjack with a dealer whose name is the same as the vampire and then buying illegal drugs and having a threesome with her. It seems so real, but there’s no way. When he wakes up, he’s back at his house and Julie is eating Special K even though David doesn’t remember buying it. There’s a knock at the door, and it’s the sheriff and the FBI agent, here to arrest David for the murder of someone he’s never heard of. It seems that the hairs they found at his ex’s place match the corpse’s hair, and that plus his inconsistency makes him a prime suspect in having killed his girlfriend. Only he can prove he didn’t, because there’s a message on the machine! Or not! It’s suddenly blank again, despite his specific intent to save the messages! What the fuck?

So David gets locked up. The FBI agent has more questions, and gives up some more information. It seems that David’s ex is not the only one who’s been ritualistically killed in the last little while, and his partner has disappeared in the investigation. The sheriff comes in later, trying to get David to face the reality of the situation, but David knows what he heard. He dreams about a race that his dead friend ran, and realizes in hindsight that the guy maybe wasn’t as amazing and brilliant as David always thought. Then the minister comes to visit and encourages David to get a lawyer. He knows a guy who is brilliant and willing to do the pretrial as a favor. He also reminds David that nobody is perfect: the minister himself beat his ex-wife before seeing the devil in what he was doing and redirecting himself. He dreams again, about a road trip he took with his ex and a palm reader who was confused and discouraged by their life lines. The lawyer shows up and thinks he can get the charge thrown out on lack of evidence. Then David’s best friend brings him the manuscript so he can keep working, and he reads about how the vampire finds the alchemist’s sister, who wants the baby and holds her hostage, but the vampire goes back to her training and kills everyone in the compound just weeks before she’s due. It’s not really clear yet how this ties together, but be patient and I’ll try.

They go to the hearing, where David’s lawyer demonstrates how the police have no concrete evidence tying his client to the dead woman on the beach, regardless of the connection between her and the hairs they found in her house. The district attorney mentions that there are traces of bloody footprints on David’s carpet, which is new but not enough to hold him, so he goes free. There’s a small party at his best friend’s house, at which Julie apologizes for not being able to back up his assertion of the ex’s message and slips up in her facts when he asks how her job search is going. He does a little bit of research and finds out that not only has she not applied for these jobs she claimed to be after, but she quit the job that she lost, unceremoniously and without notice. So um. Why is this girl lying to him now? And what does it have to do with the girl who was lying to him before?

For some reason, David still thinks this has some connection to his dead high school friends. He goes to the girl’s dad’s house, who mentions that the older sister is married to some rich surgeon out in Miami. This strikes a chord, and he remembers that the doctor on the plane gave him a business card. His company? LESS — Life Extension Service Systems. See, I told you to wait for it. So now David has to go track down the FBI agent and learn a little bit more. As it happens, they’ve been tracking some kind of illicit organ trade, linked to a journalist who discovered a trend of rich people getting new livers and hearts when they shouldn’t have been anywhere near the top of the list and was suddenly and brutally murdered. The FBI agent and his partner were chasing the trail of the one who’d been on the case before them when his partner disappeared, and so now this guy is on the case kind of against the wishes of management, who no doubt doesn’t want to lose more agents to an unsolvable issue. But they do know about a cruise ship with no itinerary, one that the good doctor and his wife partly own. Suspicious! It seems like this ritualistic killing and disembowelment might be done to disguise the harvesting of organs for this operation. Although that doesn’t explain the FBI agent’s encounter with a creepy young girl at the site of a previous killing, one who marked him with a bloody heart that was maybe removed from the body. Is there more than meets the eye to these killings, or is it just as it appears?

After a quick encounter with Herb the drug dealer, who says he’s skipping town and not to tell anybody but to do the same, David goes home to sleep, only stopping to kick the preacher’s daughter out of his bed. He awakens to the sound of fire engines — not at his house, but close. It’s the FBI agent’s motel, of course, and there’s no hope for him. He encounters his best friend’s husband at the site and gives him the money Herb intended for them to get the fuck out of Lompoc. Then he drives himself straight to LAX and gets a last-minute plane to New York. After all, he still has a cover to paint.

The art director at the publishing house is more than happy to share the author’s address with David — after all, she’d expressed interest in meeting the cover artist for her novel. He ends up at a mansion where the last name on the mailbox is the name of the dead girl on the beach, which David is increasingly having to accept is the real name of his ex because otherwise there are too many coincidences. He rings the bell and meets his ex’s mother, who confirms that she wrote the book and intended it to get into David’s hands, and asks that he forgive her lies because she was dying of leukemia and wanted one last year of real life without people feeling sorry for her. She invites David for dinner and to stay the night, in his ex’s old bed, but he wakes up in the middle of the night and lets himself out because it’s too freaky — and not helped by the mom having loud sex with the young black butler who answered the door.

Next he flies to Miami, and it’s not hard to find the cruise ship in dock. He sneaks aboard posing as a food delivery porter and then pokes around the ship until he finds a weird new age recovery spa. Down there in an isolation tank is his dead friend’s sister, who invites David to join her for breakfast. As they eat (him bacon and eggs, her Special K just like his new girl), she confirms part of the FBI agent’s story: they do transplant organs illegally on the ship, using it so that the organs can come from third-world countries and never have to enter the US — they can helicopter it from the Caribbean island directly to the ship. David confronts her about the ritual killing, but she insists that they’re not intentionally murdering people to harvest their organs. Then she turns it back on him, reminding him of his crush on the dead friend and how it hurt the boy, and how that might have ultimately led to both their deaths. How does she know so much about this, if she and her sister weren’t close? Did she have a hand in it? What the shit is happening?

David doesn’t get answers to any of these questions. His cell phone rings, and it’s his ex, somehow, calling from his house and asking if he can be home by midnight. He does have time to finish the novel on the plane, and learns of the vampire’s ultimate fate, killing herself so that her soul will be able to block the alchemist’s from fighting off the new one that will be generated when her baby is born, because that was his plan — to cheat death by taking on new bodies. He thinks again of his dream about Vegas with Juile, and how the dealer had the same name as this vampire character. More than a coincidence? He has time to take a quick detour to Vegas, where he learns that indeed there is a sexy blackjack dealer who once had a threesome with the girls he has pictures of in his wallet. How could David have possibly known this? How could he have seen it?

When he gets home, a note on the door directs him to the beach. And who should be on the beach but Julie Stevens, carrying a boombox with a CD that contains every recorded message David has gotten from his ex in the last week. She reveals that yes, she and the ex were lovers, and now Julie wants to help him remember what else happened that night. As she’s massaging him, he has some memories, some views of the night of the breakup that he could only have had if he was looking at it from his ex’s perspective. Like when she pinched his butt, she was injecting him with a vial of ketamine. The confusion causes him to black out, and when he comes to he’s shackled and on the floor of his ex’s bathroom. And guess who’s there? That’s right, the good doctor.

He explains the whole scope of his operation: basically, rich white people have more right to live than poor brown people, and so he has taken to harvesting organs from Africa and south Asia and transplanting them into paying customers on his ship. However, there’s a problem: you might have a new liver or a new kidney or a new heart, but you’re still in the same old body. So they start thinking about what they can do, and land on the phenomenon of out-of-body experiences that have been reported from the use of ketamine as an anesthetic. Maybe you know it as a street drug, the doctor says: Special K. Yeah, the fucking cereal was a hint. Anyway, he and his partners started experimenting with it and realized that with the proper dose, they COULD leave their bodies and go into someone else’s — for a very limited time; they’d get snapped back pretty quickly into their own. Too much sense memory. But what if they took the appropriate dose, got into the other body ... and then murdered their old one?

(Disclosure: I have never seen Get Out.)

So yeah, the ex has entered David’s body, and it’s only a matter of time before her feelings and memories take over. What proof of this does the old doctor have? Well, brace yourself: the first body takeovers happened right here in Lompoc, ten years ago. David’s dear friend and crush was horribly burned in an accident and didn’t want to live in her body anymore, but she did have a bitch sister whose body she wouldn’t mind taking. From there it was a small manner to get her boyfriend into the body of the rich surgeon she was scheduled to marry. And guess what? The boy never forgave David for his crush, for his attempts to get more from the girl than she would give a non-boyfriend. His whole life has been a lie.

So nothing to do but wait for the change. What can help that along? Associations with the soul taking over ... you know, like having sex in the first place you had sex with her or reading a novel that she wrote or sleeping in her childhood bed. What else can speed it up? Starvation and imprisonment. Yeah, David’s gotta stay locked up in the bathroom until he turns into his ex. But David is surprisingly resilient, and two weeks later he’s still trying to escape. He remembers that his ex wore a lot of bobby pins in her hair, and some scraping and picking reveals a couple stuck up under the tub skirt. He fiddles with his shackles for an hour and eventually pops the lock, but the house is locked up too, so he has to break a window. 

And sure enough, Julie races back to him, pointing a gun and telling him to knock off the shit or she’ll kill him. But David calls her bluff, because there’s no way she’d go through all of this just to murder her girlfriend. Lucky (?) for them, the minister’s daughter shows up right at that moment, insisting that her father needs to see David. Julie tries to resist, and in response the daughter grabs a shard of the broken glass and SLITS HER FUCKING THROAT. Like, no remorse, no thinking twice about it, just straight murders a dude. Still, even though this chick is pretty grotesque, she’s taking David to the preacher, who has been the rock in his life and who will surely get him out of this predicament, right?

Welllll...

Remember how the reverend saw a demon, that night so long ago when he was beating his wife? It turns out that the demon took over his body in that moment, and from then on they’ve been best buddies. That was the impetus for his drowning daughter, in fact: get another demon over to this side. And now the good doctor, the clinic, the ship, the whole operation? It’s his. He controls and manipulates the whole thing, throwing in the ritualistic killing just for shits and giggles, because it appeals to Satan. The medical and scientific backing? Smoke and mirrors — the demon actually controls it all. So David’s got another soul in his body, and is going to change pretty soon, and is going to owe his eternal presence to the forces of darkness, and there’s nothing he can do about it, right?

Well, he could maybe kill himself, like the hero of the story. Isn’t that why his ex wrote the thing? To give him a clue and point out how he could save himself and his own soul? The demon laughs — there’s too much weak-willed terminally ill ex in there for him to actually be able to pull it off. As if to prove it, he suddenly roars in David’s face, jarring him, taking him aback, causing him to gasp and exhale, such that the force shoves his soul out and away.

And the ex is now in there alone. Left to think about what she has done and what the price will be.

And that is the end of The Blind Mirror. There’s a lot of story here, a lot of information, and I actually really enjoyed it. I didn’t remember it at all — again, this is one where the strong spine and clean cover indicates maybe I only read it once. Pike has said he likes it a lot, but it wasn’t well-received, and I can believe that I might have gone through it and been disappointed in the ending. Is this the first time a hero meets a tragic end in a Pike book? No, but it’s the first time we get zero redemption from it. Like, when Herb Trasker died he left photographic evidence of his killer. Josie Goodwin had time to kill off her megalomaniac attacker and save her other target before she died. But here, David is gone and his body and soul are pretty much fucked.

Still, this was a solid book. Really nice to get to the twisting and crossed threads of information that make a solid horror or suspense novel, and it shows what Pike is capable of at his best. The ending is still a little bit rushed for my taste, but I have to admit that he doesn’t leave threads hanging even as he races through David’s revelation and transformation in the last 40 pages of the book. Maybe taking some time to work on his craft and really refine this story will be indicative of the Pike we get over the next fifteen years. I sure hope so.

[latenightscribbles13]

Who knew (pt. 3)

We've come pretty far since the early days of December when I could barely stand being in the room with him. The month practically flew by, while I was getting accustomed to the new job and new people around me. I became less grumpy, and started making friends. I tried to ignore the feeling that I was throwing my whole education away by not staying in the film business. But I had to make do with what was left. And the movie deal was not officially off the table, we were on a sort of a stand-by. So I decided to hold out for a while, see where the road would take me.

On Christmas Eve, I volunteered to work the night shift. Christmas wasn’t as celebrated over here as it was in my home country, but I still thought it would be too lonely to spend it alone. So I took on all the work that I could, while still trying to bring the Christmas spirit into the studio with some decorations and Christmas music.

‘Hey, who’s gonna do the Christmas Wish special?’ I asked the man who a couple of weeks ago tried to take the delivery food that wasn’t really his. He turned out to be a pretty nice guy, and we became closer.

‘Wait and see,’ he said, a sly smile playing on his lips. I didn’t have a good feeling about this.

A minute later, the door opened. ‘Heeeey, guys, merry Christmas.’ It was him. Johnny. Of course it was. Who else. He was the personification of Christmas spirit, dressed in ugly reindeer sweater, wearing a Santa’s hat, humming the typical Christmas carols. ‘Are you ready for the best Christmas Eve special of your lives?’

God, he was cheerful. Must be nice to have all your friends and family waiting for you when you get home. ‘Yeah, yeah, let’s just do it,’ I said, trying to show my annoyance, when in reality, his mood was quite contagious. And the wine certainly helped at that.

When the work was done, late into the night, we all sat at the table, eating and drinking. Then, one by one, they all started going home. ‘You’re staying?’ asked the fried chicken stealer. I nodded, putting on a happy face. ‘Yep, this wine isn’t gonna finish itself.’ I raised my glass, wished him a merry Christmas, and watched him as he walked out. I was all alone. I downed the wine, and took the bottle to pour myself another glass, but it was empty. ‘Oh, c’mon, not you, too,’ I whined, already tipsy.

‘I can help you with that.’ I winced at that line, not realizing there was someone else in the room. It was my nemesis.

‘Why are you still here?’ I asked, very impolitely, but still managing to stretch out my arm so he could pour me more wine. I even had to motion him to pour some more. Stingy bastard.

‘I think that will be enough for now,’ he said firmly, putting the bottle at the other end of the table where I couldn’t reach it. Damn it, he must know how lazy I am. He then sat down, observing me.

‘What?’ I barked, uneasy under his careful scanning.

‘Why do you hate me so much?’

The question made me choke on my wine, so it took me a minute or two to pull myself together. It also gave me time to figure out the right answer. I felt slightly embarrassed. I didn’t know I came off that strong. Partly, it was my personality to be rough around the edges, partly, it was the insecurities gnawing at my pride. ‘I-I don’t hate you.’ Great, stuttering is the way to go. Bravo. I cleared my throat, continuing. ‘It’s just that um … I don’t know. I’m sorry.’ My eyes were everywhere but on him. I somehow couldn’t even look at him. I was sure he was going to grill me some more, enjoying my discomfort. Surprisingly, he smiled and nodded. ‘Fair enough.’ He sort of reminded me of a puppy. I didn’t notice it before.

From that moment on, we started to grow closer. We talked practically all night long, until the sunrise reminded us we should probably head home. He told me most of his friends went home, and he was the only one left at the dorm. His parents lived too far away to visit them. He was as lost as me, yet he was handling it much better. He was kind, smart, sassy, and entertaining as hell. He was even an aspiring signer, rapper, and dancer, and I had no idea. There was so much I never bothered to find out on my own before. And I could finally tell the difference between sincere questions and mockery. Apparently, mocking me was never his intention.

‘You’re too pretty to be mocked,’ he said, winking.

‘See?! It’s all those winks and smiles and the tone of your voice. Shady lines, mate, very shady.’

He sighed, mumbling something under his breath.

‘What’s that now?’

He replied by shaking his hand, and then changed the subject. When we went home later on, he even rode in taxi with me to make sure I got to my apartment safely, and then walked from there. For the first time, the grey block of flats felt a little bit more like home.

**

One of his passions is photography. I actually realized that on my own. Whenever we got together, he had a different camera with him. And he was always shoving it in my face, knowing damn well I hated taking photos. But he loves teasing me, so my protests were always in vain. He also took a lot of pictures of passers-by and seemingly insignificant moments of everyday life.

‘One day we will realize those moments were important,’ he announced solemnly.

I rolled my eyes at the cheesiness. ‘What cereal box did you get this one from?’

Nonetheless, his cheesy line proved to be very accurate in the future, when we celebrated my birthday at his friend’s café. It was just the two of us, as he asked his friend to let us in after closing time, so we could have some peace and quiet. Apparently, many people already knew about him and upcoming his group, so he didn’t want to draw much attention to himself. I preferred it like that, anyway. Just the two of us, some music and cake and wine. When I blew out the candle and made a wish, he handed me a shabby-looking notebook. ‘Happy birthday,’ he shouted, looking at me expectantly. I smiled, but inside I was wondering why the hell he was giving me a used notebook.

When I looked closely, I could see it was actually quite beautiful. It was more antique, than shabby. It seemed like an old diary, covered in leather. The paper was aged, but it was still well-kept. Inside, there were pictures. Many pictures. Me frowning at him, lifting my hand towards the shutter. Me, falling asleep at work, with my head in the papers. Me, watching a movie, straining my face so he wouldn’t notice I’m on the verge of tears (he never cries). Me, laughing like a maniac (probably at one of his stupid jokes, I love those). Me, looking straight into the camera with loving eyes. Then, there was us. Eating ramen. Lying on the grass. Cooking. Cuddling. Making ugly faces.

There was nothing written on any of the pages. One of his favourite cheesy lines is also ‘a picture is worth a thousand words’. He was right. Again. I didn’t need long love letters. I didn’t need any fake confessions. That old leather album was all I could ever wish for.

This time, I couldn’t stop the tear falling. I bowed my head, and tried to dab it away with my sleeve. Unfortunately, my middle name was not slick, and he of course noticed. He first kissed me on the wet trail that the single tear left behind. Then he planted another kiss to the corner of my lips. Then, he gently placed his fingers on my jaw, and turned my head towards himself. ‘Happy birthday,’ he whispered before placing his full lips on mine. They were so plump and soft, and I could never get tired of it. I turned my whole body to him, and while our lips were still locked together, my hand automatically flew to his hair. I loved playing with it, stroking it, running my fingers through it, tugging at it. He pulled me even closer, until I was almost sitting on his lap. I could tell he was getting excited, and I wasn’t falling much behind. I was hugging him, so his torso was almost glued to mine, and his hands were making their way up and down my back, occasionally passing the bottom. The temperature in the room was rising to a dangerous level, and at some point, his lips began brushing against my neck, which was driving me crazy. I held his jacket at the top of the sleeve, slowly gliding it down his arm.

Then, his phone rang. It was almost as if somebody had suddenly stopped a spinning vinyl. We both needed a few second to realize where we were and what was going on. I climbed off of him so he could answer. It was his friend, reminding him to clean up the place before we leave.

Thanks, pal.

After he hung up, we looked at each other a bit awkwardly, then decided it would be best if we cleaned up, and went home. So that’s what we did. On the way home, I couldn’t really focus on our conversation, or anything else for that matter. My body kept reacting to the recollection of our little performance. Should I just drag him into my flat or should we give it more time? Does it matter?

But, what if it’s bad and all the illusion will be gone and everything will be ruined?

What if he doesn’t like me? Like, all of me.

What if we’re all awkward or incompatible?

I had to hit myself on the head to beat out the stupid questions that kept popping up in my mind. Urgh, overthinking. But that only showed how much I cared about what we had. I mean, we came pretty far, given the rough beginnings. Who knew.

Now, we’re at my door, hands to ourselves, eyes wandering up and down the hallway as if it’s the most fascinating hallway we’ve ever seen.

‘Well, we’re here,’ he says in a tense voice. I can tell he was also unsure of what to do next.

Finally, I look at him. He looks back. For a few moments, we’re staring at each other in silence.

Until I’ve had enough.

‘Wanna come in?’

[pointlessdedication]

An untitled story

hi, this is something i wrote a long time ago, for further explanation you can see my previous post. this is only a small part of the whole fanfiction, but it's still 2,231 words, which might sound like too much. it's about dan and phil. hope you enjoy.

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Phil

It has been almost a year since Dan was diagnosed with lung cancer. Today we are headed for the hospital to get the results of the tests that will determine if he is cancer free. Google says that there is a 92% of chance he is going to be fine, and for once, I'm wishing Google is right.

He has fallen asleep and his head is resting on my left shoulder, I can see his chest moving up and down. I look out the window to realize that we are a couple of blocks away so I start to wake him up. Summer in London can be disgustingly warm and today it’s particularly moist. Dan’s hair has gone really curly because of the sweat forming on his forehead. I reach for his shoulder and shake it lightly.

"Dan," I say. "Dan, wake up. We are almost there."

He sighs and slowly removes his head from my shoulder. He rubs his eyes and looks at the window. I mimic him.

When we get there I pay the driver and open the door for both Dan and I to get out, but being the stubborn man he is, he opens the door on his side. I don't want him to feel like I have started to treat him differently or that I pity him, but no matter how much time has passed since this started, I could never get used to seeing my best friend dying. I try to act normal anyway and I walk to the entrance of the hospital feeling a pinch of guilt in my stomach for letting him walk on his own but I know, I think, that's what he prefers. A year ago, when Dan was diagnosed, he was alone at the doctor's and he had entered into shock, later that day, when he arrived home and I asked what was wrong, he exploded. He looked at me for a couple of seconds before tears started streaming down his face, he grabbed the first thing his hand could reach and threw it against the wall, then continued to melt onto the floor and started mumbling every curse word he knew. I kneeled next to him and placed my hand on his shoulder, he turned his face to look at me; stood up, sat on the couch and told me everything the doctor had told him. The next day, when we went for his first session, the doctor explained that the cancer had spread from his right lung to the lymph nodes in the center of his chest, which meant that he was on stage two. He said that almost no one gets the proper attention in order to find the cancer whilst the tumor is still on the lung– I still don't know how that was supposed to make us feel better; I know it didn't. Stage two basically means that you are screwed, that you can't simply remove the tumor because it has already spread and made itself a very cozy home. A year ago when the doctor had told us he needed chemotherapy and probably radiotherapy it meant nothing to me, but today, I am quite the expert on cancer.

As we walk down the hall I can hear Dan's unsteady breathing behind me, I clench my fists, close my eyes and take a deep breath. I try my best to swallow the knot forming down my throat; I look back and smile at him. He raises his eyebrows and replies with a small side smile. It's maybe impolite to think it but he looks awful. There’s no life in his eyes and the dark circles under them definitely don't help. His lips are red and swollen because he just won't stop biting them, his face looks drained from life and he has lost a lot of weight.

We reach the doctor's office and I start biting my nails– that’s a new habit, and a terrible one considering I always make my fingers bleed before I realize I have gone too far. We sit on the chairs the doctor offers us as he sits on one himself. His hands are trembling, and he looks rather stressed. Is there a new patient? Has somebody died? A surgery gone wrong? I stop the negative thoughts and try to focus on my own trembling hands.

"Gentleman, hello, it is very nice to see you again," the doctor says as he plays with his pen. "I, we, spent the entire night looking at your results, talking about your case and how the treatment has affected the tumors forming in your chest, and I have both good and bad news. The tumors that were located on the lymph nodes have completely disappeared, unfortunately, the one that is all over your lung, is still there, and even though its growth has been slowed down, there is a big chance that the chemotherapy will not get rid of it. “I didn't want to say it like this but unfortunately, I cannot rename medical terms, you have failed the chemotherapy. And this, in no way, means that it is your fault, however, it is imperative that we find another solution to your problem before the tumor finds a new place to spread."

We are both quiet. I search the entirety of my brain for something appropriate to say but it is as if everything has been wiped. I command myself to speak but I cannot seem to find my mouth, I cannot feel my face and I cannot find the strength to move my lips or my tongue, I feel my eyes fall to the doctor's face and that's where they stay. I am unaware of the rest of my body. I can't feel anything. I can't hear, I can't speak.

"There are other solutions," the doctor continues, he sounds like he’s really far away, "now that the cancer that had spread outside the lung area has been eliminated the possibility of surgery is viable again, and actually, the only option."

"So, that means that now there is a possibility of removing the bit of the lung that has been affected," says Dan. He is sitting next to me but the ringing in my ears makes it difficult to hear him clearly.

"Well, not exactly, you see, even though the chemotherapy slowed down the development of the tumor, it did not stop it. Your lung is completely covered by the cancer," the doctor replies as he lays his eyes on me. I should say something.

"Which means that you would have to–" Dan is unable to finish the sentence because the doctor interrupts him.

"Remove your lung entirely. Yes."

I wasn't expecting this. I had been too positive, too careless; it is my fault that my best friend is losing his lung. I could've done more. I could’ve done something better.

"As I said before, this is nobody's fault, the treatment simply didn't work, but we have options Daniel, and I'm sure you are going to be okay," the doctor continues but he isn't looking at Dan he is looking at me and someone who talks just like me starts shouting.

"And how could you know?! You told us that the chemotherapy would most certainly work, but it didn't, did it? So what happens if you leave Dan with one lung and then it doesn't work? How can we trust such an incompetent doctor like y-" I feel a hand on my shoulder, the screaming voice was me, I had stood up, and was leaning towards the doctor, Dan is now holding me back with both hands. I sigh and leave the room quickly. Well done Phil, this is the moment you decide to explode, screaming at the guy you have trusted Dan's life to. Amazing. You are so stupid. Dan's long fingers wrap around my arm, I turn around to see him half smiling.

"It's going to be okay Phil, don't let out the rage monster no one is supposed to know about in front of the guy who gives me the drugs," he laughs.

"I am so sorry Dan, you shouldn’t be the one comforting me. I just, I can't lose you." I say as I get the credit card out of my pocket and walk towards the reecptionist. It feels like that sentence has lost all meaning after saying it so many times.

"Eh, here's the money for the exams and, you know, everything."

"The doctor would like to see Daniel this Friday, at what time should I make the appointment?" The receptionist asks in a very lovely Scottish accent.

"Uhh, Dan?” I ask as I turn to see him typing on his phone.

"Yeah, anything after 12 is okay,” he replies, not looking away from the screen.

"Okay dear, I have a free space at 12:30, is that alright?" She asks looking up at me with big green eyes.

I nod and see her type Dan’s name onto the computer.

"Thank you, I'll see you Friday then,” I say as I make my way towards the door.

–––––

We arrive to our apartment and I hold my breath when I hear Dan’s irregular breathing as he climbs up the stairs. Walking up the stairs is tiring enough; now imagine walking up the stairs when you have lung cancer. He goes straight to his room; there really is not much to do when you have cancer. I go to the kitchen and decide we deserve to eat some microwaved popcorn. I walk into his room with a bowl in one hand and a new anime we ordered a couple weeks ago in the other.

"Hey you. I brought some popcorn and, guess what arrived today? Do you fancy watching some anime?" I ask him as I sit on his bed.

"Wild Tuesday night plans, I see,” he says mockingly.

“Yeah, well, we are not usually very wild, now are we?” I say as I rest my back against his headboard. Dan arches his eyebrows and smirks.

“Don’t ever say that out loud again,” he answers as he closes his MacBook and gets up from his bed. "Come on, let’s watch it on the big TV."

We make our way to the living room and we sit on the same spots we've been sitting on for the past five years.

As we watch the TV I find my mind wandering, the specific cancer that was slowly killing Dan is called Non-Small Cell Lung Cancer Adenocarcinoma and it had been, for the most part, our only topic of conversation this past year. I remember the first couple of months perfectly, though I wish my brain had blocked them. We fought so much during the first days; it is hard to remember it now. When I first found out I was really supportive, told Dan I'd be there every single step of the way and that it was all going to work out alright but I wasn't really aware of what I was promising; I was in a state of denial that prevented me from understanding that my best friend was dying. With every visit to the doctor my positive attitude decayed and so did Dan's. I realize only when the subtitles become a blur that there are tears streaming down my face. I fake a yawn and dry what I can with the tips of my fingers as discretely as my clumsy hands allow me. I see Dan looking through the side of his eyes towards my direction so I excuse myself and head towards the bathroom. I inhale and exhale– once, twice, I do it until the knot down my throat is gone. This is something that has happened before, I sigh and wash my face trying to get rid of the red patches on my cheeks but my eyes are swollen enough for him to notice so I sit on the floor and wait for my face to return to its normal state. I can hear my steady breathing now that I’m calm and it troubles me knowing that Dan’s breathing will never be steady anymore. I dismiss the thought before I start crying again. I wonder what would be different if Dan wasn’t sick. We were incredibly happy, the years before he got ill had been the best for both of us, we went to Japan, we published two books, we hosted awards and events, we went on tour, we created a gaming channel, we had never been happier and then one day it was all over. As the days passed, Dan slowly became too ill to film and I was often too busy taking care of him, there wasn’t much I could talk about in videos anyway. The first couple of months our subscribers were incredibly supportive, they made trending topics, commented in all our recent videos, tweeted us, all of them telling us how this would be over soon and that they’d be with us till the end, but 11 months later I had lost around 250,000 subscribers and Dan had lost around 100,000. I don’t blame them though, not all of them care about us enough to stay with Dan and I through this rough patch. I stand up and open the door only to find Dan sitting in front of the door across the hallway.

[sugarybliss]

Goodbye 2017

I have been contemplating for a long time now if I want to pen down my feelings of 2017 before the new year comes. And I’ve finally decided to write down how 2017 has been for me. For the last time, I will jot down everything that I have gone through and let go of the memories that have been hurting me...if you are still reading this personal space of mine that only you know about, I hope we can remember the happiest times we’ve spent over the years and forget all the hurt I have caused you and all the hurt you have ruined me. It is time to let go for me (and of course I know you have let go long long time ago when you left me).

17 Aug 2016, a day before our 7.5 years anniversary, you broke up with me over a long text message in the morning. I was at my desk in the office alone and I broke down in tears and I felt the excruciating pain in my heart as though you put a knife through me. I was in shock, at a lost, and was angry all at the same time. I didn’t expect you to break up with me so suddenly when we did not quarrel, when we weren’t unhappy about our relationship (or so I thought), or when we were still very much in love (I must be blinded by my love for you that I didn’t notice you slipping away into another woman’s embrace). No matter how much I texted you (because I couldn’t bring myself to call you and talk to you when I was gasping for air while crying silently in the office), all you would reply was text of calmness saying you didn’t want me anymore and that you are returning back to work and that you will talk to me again when I am more calmed. And you just left me alone.... I was crying silently in the toilet cubicle...for hours... and my world crumbled as I questioned myself...”What did I do wrong? Did I make you angry? Did I do something that hurt you?” It was just me blaming myself and never have I blamed you or questioned what you may have done. 

Your breakup text looked like you have been drafting it for the longest time and finding a “good time” to send it to me. You chose the day before we were supposed to meet for our 7.5 years anniversary dinner, and a week before your graduation, and 2 months before our Korea trip. The day you broke up with me, was also the day my leave for your graduation got approved. It was also the day when I planned to go buy your graduation gift after work on my own. Of course, I did not go in the end. I took urgent leave, and ran home to cry.. I locked myself in the room and just cried my heart out.. it was as though my sister could hear my cries and she came home not long after. She asked me what happened and all I said was “ah boy bu yao wo le. ta bu ai wo le. What did I do wrong? What do I do without him now?”

My parents came home and I knew my sister had told them about our breakup and asked them not to ask about it right now. I still had dinner with them and I was crying silently into my bowl and eating plain rice with soup and all my tears.. nobody at the table spoke a word that night.. dinner time was silence...I went back to my room and off the lights and cried till midnight.. I felt so lonely, so broken..

Leong Yew called me out of the blue to tell me he’s got a girlfriend and that he’s so happy that we are both attached... little did he know that you have just broken up with me...I was crying on the line and he rushed down to my door and we sat outside my staircase and cried till the next morning 5am... my eyes were so swollen I couldn’t open them and I was unable to recognise myself in the mirror after crying non stop since the minute you broke up with me.. never in my life have I cried so much..and never will I ever in my life, forget how you broke my heart and made me feel that night.... 

I wasn’t kidding when I said I had thoughts to kill myself because it seemed so effortless for you to let me go and break up with me. Tell me it was hard for you to let me go too, and think of why you chose to hurt me first. You know me at the back of your hands how you would break my heart and destroy the girl who loves you with all her heart, but you still did it... because of another girl you barely knew for 3 months..after my birthday... 

I closed myself in from the world for 3 months and didn’t go out or spoke to anybody about what has happened to me.. only a couple of close friends know about what happened and they told me “he must have another woman. if not why would he breakup with you when there is nothing to not love about you after all the years you guys have compromised and loved each other?” I never believed you would have another woman or if you would cheat, I was always on your side when the world was against you. I was confident you didn’t and would never cheat and it must be my problem that made you stop loving me. I never once doubted if you have cheated, never over my dead body.

Whenever I texted you after the breakup to ask for another chance (like why am I the one asking for a second chance when you are the one who broke up with me and done me wrong? I have no idea.), you would still reply all my texts but your tone seemed like another person I’ve never known. I started stalking your social media and people you hang out with. Since you don’t really hang out with many friends, I figured Lincoln was the person you are closest to and I saw a group photo taken in Bangkok on his instagram tagged photos. The photo was taken 3 weeks after our breakup. A girl was beside you. Your hair was blonde. Your body language didn’t show that you and that girl were already an item. And I too still did not think you would cheat or that she was somebody. I just felt upset that you actually had the mood to travel overseas barely a month after our breakup. Why did the breakup not mess up your life like it messed up mine?

October was approaching and I begged you to go Korea with me for the trip we planned so long for. The dates were specially chosen to celebrate your birthday, our 7.5 years anniversary and your graduation. It was a special trip that you said you wanted to go for. But, without hesitation, you told me “nah, I am not going. I have interviews to go for.” I so naively thought that you would give me a last chance and try to see if we can work things out. I was heartbroken, I wanted to cancel the trip, I wanted to sell away the tickets, and I wanted to go alone. My dad did not allow me to and Michelle offered to go with me. She called me and told me she’s bought a seat right beside mine and we will be flying together. At that point, I still checked for you how much refund you would get from the unwanted plane tickets. What was I even doing to myself? I didn’t need to care about you or your money.

October came and I went to Korea. It was such a difficult trip but I knew I wanted to complete the trip for the last of us (stupid and meaningless I know). I went to Namsan tower to lock “our love lock” on my own and I cried again.. you were on my mind the whole time... the trip ended after a week and I was back at work. 

One day, your little cousin texted me on facebook and asked me why I broke up with you. I felt surprised to why he would text me out of the blue and I asked more. He said “I asked YL if CH was in his room? Is he with the girlfriend? Is the girlfriend SL?” To which YL replied “CH is in his room. He is with his girlfriend. But the girlfriend is not SL.” I was on the way to visit my subject at work and I had to hear this right after my return from Korea. And I had to hear it from a kid. I knew at that moment that what I’ve stood by you all these while were all just my naive thoughts. I started digging out all the sources because I could not bring myself to believe you cheated on me. You will never hurt me because you have doted on me all these years and I was always happy in your embrace. How could you bear to hurt me? I started stalking you and her...

Even after getting the whole timeline and evidence on your cheating and confirming to myself that I have really been cheated on, my heart still couldn’t accept the truth. I knew I need to hear it from you. I knew I needed you to confess and break me once more. No matter how much I’ve begged you to tell me the truth, no matter how easy I’ve made it for you to admit your cheating, mo matter what I do, you just wouldn’t confess your wrong doings. You could even tell me our breakup has nothing to do with her and that it was between us. You were already protecting the girl you barely met for three months. You were not hearing yourself or seeing your actions as you hurt the girl you were together with for the past 7 years. You were so heartless. You were so cold. 

Soon enough, you started blocking me everywhere on social media and stopped replying to my texts or calls. I started picking up bad habits and drank every single day. I was having trouble sleeping through the night because every night you would appear in my dreams telling me you are leaving me. I was having trouble focusing at work. I was having trouble talking to people around me about what has happened to me. I was a living zombie, an empty shell. I started clubbing and started all sorts of distractions to divert my pain. You were never there when I needed you. You were beside her all these while when the person whom you hurt was suffering in agony. You were enjoying your Taiwan trip concurrently when I was in Korea without you. I wonder how you actually sleep at night knowing you have hurt the girl who loves you so much. I really wonder.

At the end of the day, I still blame myself for what you’ve done to hurt me because I have hurt you before when I was younger. Being younger doesn’t serve as an excuse for cheating but I am truly sorry that I’ve hurt you so deeply many years ago. Even after I realised my mistakes and returned my heart to you very soon enough, I know all these years you couldn’t let go of the hurt I’ve caused you. and so I tell myself, this is my karma and maybe I didn’t deserve your love and so now you cheat on me too. Although what you’ve done to me, what you’ve said to me and what you’ve cheated on me were obviously much more cruel, I tell myself I can only accept this. This is my Karma. And if I love you, I have to let you go and as long as you are happy, I will be one day. I was head over heels for you even after the many years together, even after how much you are hurt me, even after how much you have ruined me...it was always still you that I think about the most...even when I had a bit too much drinks now, I still cry and talk about you. I hate how I still have feelings over you.. but I guess I am getting better in moving on... I cry but I will be ok soon after. I am resilient now.. and I know I miss our memories and the old you.. because the you now... I no longer recognise even when we met a year later after the breakup..

You came back to look for me after she broke up with you and we met for the second time after the breakup. We met for the first time when we bumped into each other at our favourite Thai restaurant at Bugis. I knew it was you even without seeing your face. You apologised and told me you were sorry for all the hurt you have caused me and I realised I actually didn’t want the apology. I thought I would be happy to finally meet you because you finally “realised your mistakes” and “you were back in my embrace”. I never felt happy.. I felt empty. I couldn’t feel the “you” that I’ve loved all these years. You were different and I was different too. I knew we will never be the same anymore... and I left this time.. ( not that you came back for me or for us, but because you were lonely..) you don’t love someone after a year and telling me you realised your mistakes.. you don’t love me anymore..

But it’s ok, I’ve been sad for over a year now and I am so sick of feeling shitty. I forgot how being happy feels like honestly. I forgot how being cared for by someone feels like too. But the new year is coming and I hope to leave the heartbreak and sadness in 2016 and 2017. 

I am learning to let go. 

I am learning to only remember the happy times and forget the bad times.

I am letting you go.

I am letting us go.

Goodbye CH. 

Thank you for once loving me.....

[hkvoyage]

Fic: Butterfly Wings - Chapter 30

Story summary A fashion blog started at University launched Blaine Anderson’s fortune and fame. As Vogue’s new editor-in-chief, he is struggling to find an original angle for an upcoming issue. Kurt Hummel has recently arrived in New York City after finishing high school, and is having no luck building a musical theater career, so he decides to explore another passion of his: fashion. He applies for an internship at Vogue, and Isabelle sees in him the perfect fresh face to liven up the magazine, and convinces him to try out as a model. Kurt meets Blaine, and in spite of their 10-year age difference, sparks fly. Can they overcome misunderstandings and sabotage to find their happily-ever-after? Klaine model AU. Rating for this chapter: General (overall story is mature) Word count for this chapter: 6,140 Can also be read on A03 / FF Masterpost is here. The fantastic artwork produced by Cassie at CC-Graphics can be here.   Thank you to the amazing @lilyvandersteen for the beta work and support. ***** Surprise! I want Kurt and Blaine back together in this story as much as you do! Therefore, you’ll be getting two updates a week until they reunite. 

***** “As a kid I quite fancied the romantic, Bohemian idea of being an artist. I expect I thought I could escape from the difficulties of maths and spelling. Maybe I thought I would avoid the judgment of the establishment.” - Peter Wright February “I can’t believe I already have 1,850 followers for Surf’s Up! and every day I get more. I only posted a couple of comics on Tumblr a week ago.”

“I told you the webcomic would be a hit. I’m sure it helped that we blogged about it on our Krian accounts,” Blaine replies. “I have a few ideas for the story, but nothing has prepared me for the comments. I’m not sure what to do, because everyone wants Biffy and Jamie to get together.” “It’s way too early, Sam. The guys haven’t even come out of the closet! Don’t you know that the ship gets together at the end?” “Will readers really want to wait until the end? How do I keep the plot going?” “Sam, it’s pretty basic. Use the OMENS plan - Obliviousness, Missed chances, External factors beyond their control, No effective communication, and Smut in small doses. That usually works.” “Cool. I guess it’s the same formula for most Krian fics. It takes a while to create the comics, so I won’t post anything new for another month. Will people wait that long for an update?” Sam asks. Blaine thinks this question over carefully. He really wants Sam to succeed with his Surfs Up! webcomic. “It’s hard to say with only a couple of comics posted, but I have an idea. Why don’t you set up some dummy Twitter accounts for the main characters and get them chatting to each other? It would be an easy way of filling people in on their backgrounds and how they think about things. Give links to the Twitter accounts on your Tumblr master post and people will flock over to see what it’s about. You can even have a few scheduled Twitter Q&A sessions to answer questions about ‘Jiffy’.” “Hey, man. That’s a cool idea. I need to find something to do now that I can’t read KrianFeel’s fics.” “Did I hear you right?! You’re no longer reading KrianFeel’s fics? I never thought this day would come!” “Mercedes has banned me from reading them during her pregnancy. Something about not wanting to deal with so much kinky action in the bedroom.” “Then I’m not going to tell you about yesterday’s update...” “What happened, Blaine? I need all the deets!” Blaine laughs at Sam’s commitment to the story. “The chapter starts with Kevin and Brian doing homework together at their apartment in New York City. They both look up at the same time and realize that all their roommates are out… And they are alone for once. Brian waggles his eyebrows and Kevin gives him that smile – the one he uses when he understands what’s going to happen. The next thing you know, Kevin has Brian spread out on the couch, slowly stripping him of his clothes. Kevin starts to blow Brian, but then at the critical moment – at least from Brian’s point of view because he’s about to climax - Stan returns home. What a cock-block! It ends with a scene where Kevin tells Brian that Stan’s got to find his own place to live.” “Sounds like a filler chapter, so I didn’t miss much,” Sam replies with a deep sigh. So, how’s Mercedes doing? Is the pregnancy coming along nicely?” “That’s why I called you, dude. We went to the doctor’s this morning and Mercedes had a sonogram. I could see the baby! She’s about six inches long, and I could see her head. I could even hear her heartbeat!” “You know the sex of the baby? I thought that wasn’t possible for another month or so,” Blaine asks. “Nope, we don’t know for sure, but I’m certain it’s a girl. I want the baby to be a girl like Mercedes.” “Awww…” Blaine coos. “So dude, I wanted to ask you something important. Will you be baby Evans’ godfather?” “Oh my god! Absolutely! I’m so honored that you asked me.” “Of course I’m asking you. You’re my best bro. Mercedes definitely wants the baby baptized, and I’ll let you know the deets closer to the time. It will probably be after Mercedes’ national tour.” “Count me in. So how is the country and western singing going? Have you found any regular gigs?” “It’s hard to get into the country music scene in LA. I’d be much better off in Nashville, but that isn’t going to happen any time soon. Not with Mercedes recording and going on tour so soon after the baby is born. I’ll need to take care of my baby girl then.” There’s a pause in the conversation and Blaine can tell that Sam is thinking about how to break into the country music business. However, he waits patiently, because Sam will confide in him when he’s ready. “So what’s up with you, Blaine? I saw some pictures of you on Instagram with some tall hot dude.” “Oh… I went out a couple of times with a lawyer I met when I was signing the paperwork for the Westerville Monarch House. Connor is a really great guy, but I’m not sure if I’m going to see him again.” “Why the hell not?” “I like Connor a lot, but he’s never going to be the special one in my life, because he’s not…” “Kurt. Blaine, I know it’s tough but you’ve got to move on. Maybe Connor is your rebound guy.” “Connor doesn’t deserve to be somebody’s rebound guy. I really don’t feel ready to move on. I don’t think I ever will.” “Promise me that you’ll give Connor a chance and go on a few more dates. It’s not like you’re doing anything else and it beats staying home by yourself.” “Maybe,” Blaine sighs. He knows he should give Connor more time to see if things will develop. “Maybe what you need is a change in scenery. Come visit me in LA. It will be totally awesome! I can teach you how to surf and you can hook up with some of the dudes. They’re pretty buff and I’m sure they wouldn’t mind being your holiday rebound guy.” “Thanks for the offer, but I don’t want a holiday rebound guy either. I’d love to hang out with you, but I just took some time off in India and went home for Christmas. I’m saving all my vacation time this year for when the Monarch House in Westerville opens.” “Just remember, you’re always welcome to stay.” ***** “Did you see the photos I sent you?” Michael asks. “Yeah, Dad. Monarch House really looks like a construction site now. I can’t believe the renovations already started this week.” “Believe it, son. I’ve gone every day after work to see how it’s progressing. Meagan is handling everything well. I think she’s going to make a brilliant director of the Monarch House. She might not have any experience with a project of this scale, but she’s smart, super organized and really committed.” “I have you and Mom to thank for getting everything sorted out. I could never have done it without you… Both of you. I can’t believe that you got the planning permission through so fast.” “You can thank Burt Hummel for that. It’s amazing what a call from a Congressman can do.” “You know Burt Hummel? Do you know he’s my Kurt’s father?” “I didn’t know Burt before this project. When the press release went out for the purchase of Monarch House, Burt called me. He said he was 100% behind the concept and would help in any way he could. When I mentioned we were waiting for the city council to approve all the plans, Burt said he knew the Westerville mayor very well - something about helping out his teenage daughter when her car broke down one snowy night in Lima. The very next day, the mayor called me and said the plans had been approved.” “Wow, I guess it does pay to have friends in high places. You didn’t… umm… discuss us as well?” “Of course we did, Blaine. How could we not? It was mostly pleasantries about how Kurt is doing in Paris and how you’re doing in New York City. One thing I’ll say is that if Kurt is anything like Burt, you know how to pick them. Burt seems like a decent and honest man.” “Well, don’t leave me hanging, Dad! What is the news on Kurt?” “Kurt is settling in nicely and boarding at an old lady’s house in Central Paris. He’s about to start his first modeling job with Dior. I think it’s a perfume ad. He also has a job for the Paris Fashion Week. Kurt is making friends and exploring the city.” “I wish I was doing that with him.” “All in good time, Blaine. Don’t lose hope. Kurt is so young. You have to give him some breathing space to experience Paris on his own. But make sure he knows that he’s still very much in your thoughts and heart.” “I’m not sure how to do that, Dad. Kurt is living on another continent.” “Tweet him, send him something that has a special meaning for the two of you. You’re a smart man, Blaine. You’ll think of something. Andersons are like the Canadian Mounties – we always get our man. Ha! I never thought I would be using that expression to describe one of our love lives.” Blaine rolls his eyes as he chuckles. That sounded a bit awkward, but he knows that his father means well. ***** Blaine has been feeling out of sorts all day. It’s been exactly one year since Isabelle brought one Kurt Hummel to his office as Vogue’s ‘fresh face’. At the time, Blaine had never suspected that his life would be both shaken and stirred. However, life hasn’t been the same since that fateful day. Until September, Blaine has spent most his free time with Kurt and has fallen deeply and irrevocably in love. Blaine has mixed feelings about the fateful night of the diva-off. He was so happy when Kurt finally kissed him. Sure, things went a little too far, but he was so lost in his emotions that there was no way he could pull back. When they left the theater, Blaine felt optimistic about his and Kurt’s future together. Then the ‘Klainegate’ video hit the Internet the next day, and nothing has been the same since. In hindsight, Blaine thinks that he should have gone after Kurt as soon as he left Vogue – when he was at Elle and still in New York City. However, at the time, Blaine felt hurt that Kurt had cut him off so completely by accepting the Elle job, moving and changing phone numbers. When Blaine finally decided to seek out Kurt in Ohio and see if things could be mended, he discovered that Kurt had moved to Paris. So exactly one year later, Blaine is just where he was this time last year. Alone. Blaine reflects on the telephone conversation he had with his dad a few days ago. As much as he wants to book a ticket on the next flight to Paris, his dad is right. Kurt is young and should experience Paris on his own for a while. But that doesn’t mean that he can’t let Kurt know that he’s thinking of him… missing him… wanting him. Blaine just needs to find subtle ways of getting that message across. Thinking that there’s no time like the present, Blaine tweets A year ago today, @KurtHummel walked into my office and life hasn’t been the same since. #InstantConnection, #FriendsForever Connor invited him out to the Comedy Cellar to see Ben Bailey do his standup show, but Blaine declined the invitation, knowing he would be poor company tonight. No-one wants to be with someone feeling blue in a place that’s supposed to make you happy. He had promised Amy he wouldn’t stay home by himself tonight – she emphasized that it wasn’t productive to drown in his sorrow. Blaine knows of only one place where he wouldn’t feel out of place this Saturday night, so he gets ready for a night out. ***** Blaine enters the Treble Club Jazz Club and takes a seat at the far end of the bar. It’s the perfect place to sit on such a busy night, hidden in the corner, but still able to see the stage. “Hey, Blaine. What will you have tonight?” the bartender asks, placing a coaster on the bar in front of him. “Not sure. I’m not in a bourbon and soda mood. Any suggestions?” The bartender nods and spends a minute or two mixing a cocktail. When he slides the tall glass towards Blaine, he merely says, “The Never-Ending Story.” Blaine sees a shimmer in the drink and gives the bartender a quizzical look. “It’s basically a Long Island Iced Tea but with Unicorn Tears gin instead of… well, gin. Blaine slowly nods, because whoever knew there would be a gin liqueur called Unicorn Tears. However, his attention is soon on Marley Rose, who steps onto the stage. She sings a long set - a mixture of soulful slow love songs and more upbeat country blues ones. Once the set is over and the encore performance has been sung, Marley Rose slowly makes her way over to the corner of the bar. “Blaine, what are the chances of you coming here three Saturday nights in a row? You’d think that you didn’t have half of New York’s eligible bachelors knocking at your door.” ‘New York Fashion Week is starting soon and so I’ll be out every night. Today’s a special day, and I didn’t want to be with anybody. Besides, I like it here - I like listening to you sing.” Marley Rose smiles at Blaine and takes a sip from her drink. Blaine is relieved that she gets it – she knows that he’s thinking about Kurt but doesn’t want to talk about him. “How’s the song-writing coming along? I was so excited when you told me before Christmas that you were playing the piano and composing again.” Blaine bows his head and places his two palms on his forehead. “I’m enjoying playing the piano, but the song-writing is another matter altogether. I actually composed a song called ‘I'm Never Saying Goodbye to You’. It is so melancholy that I had even considered submitting it to Adele. Song-writing is unleashing emotions that feel too personal and raw. I’ve got to figure a way out of this funk.” Marley Rose squeezes his shoulder and gives him an encouraging smile. “Maybe we can both do each other a favor. I’ve written the lyrics to a song called ‘All or Nothing’. I’m thinking that it needs upbeat music to accompany it, but I can’t figure out for the life of me a single musical note. Perhaps you could help me?” “Why not? E-mail me the lyrics and I’ll see what I can do.” ***** Blaine wakes up early Sunday morning, thankful that he had only one ‘Never-Ending Story’ drink last night. After a run in Central Park and a shower, he opens his e-mail and notices a new message from Marley Rose. True to her promise, she has sent him the lyrics to her new song. Blaine pours over the lyrics as he eats his breakfast. Then, with a newfound energy, he sits down at the piano. After doing his usual warmup exercises, he starts to compose the music. I can't stay here I am not the girl Who runs and hides Afraid of what could be And I will go there I need time, but know That things are always closer Than they seem Now I'll do more than dream yeah! The lyrics resonate with him, and he can’t help but wonder if the full story with Kurt has been told, or if there’s a new chapter waiting in the future. He hums out possible music to go with the rest of the song. Once he has an idea of where the composition is going, he switches on the mic and starts recording.

That it's All or nothing All or nothing Cause this is my life I'm not gonna live it twice There's no in-between Take it too extreme Blaine spends the rest of the day making minor adjustments and re-recording. When he’s satisfied with the end result, he sends Marley a text. Got my muse back and composed the music for the song. Want to meet tomorrow night to hear it? B 

Gathering all his courage, Blaine attaches the audio file to an e-mail for Wes with the following message: I’ve been working on my music again. Marley Rose wrote the lyrics and I’ve composed the music. It’s something that I want Kurt to hear. Could you please forward this to him? Thanks – B. ***** “Prêt sur le plateau,” the photographer calls out when the lighting is ready. “Ready on set,” Louis, his Parisian agent, whispers to Kurt. “Don’t worry, there are only a dozen or so things that you’ll need to learn in French. You’ll pick those up quickly today.” Louis and Kurt step out onto the rooftop of a skyscraper, with the cityscape of Paris in the background. Kurt is freezing, as the sun is weak on this winter’s day, but he’s thankful that the wind is blowing only softly. Kurt is wearing a charcoal-gray suit with a simple white shirt. Instead of a tie, the first three buttons are undone, exposing his neck and his upper chest. Fortunately, it’s slightly warmer with the photography lights beaming at him. Kurt is surprised at the traditional poses he’s asked to take – standing near the guard rail, adjusting his shirt cuffs, lifting up the jacket lapels, and stuff like that. It all seems so easy after posing for Elle on the dance pole. “I want the faraway look. Like you are thinking about a beautiful femme, or homme. And face the city.” Kurt turns and leans his upper half on the guard rail, taking in the mix of historic and modern buildings of Paris. There is only one person to think of to give him ‘the faraway look’ – Blaine. He calculates the time in New York City and wonders if Blaine is awake yet. Is he alone in his penthouse or waking up with the new man in his life? Kurt has seen photos on Instagram and Twitter of Blaine out and about with a tall and good-looking man. They weren’t taken at high-profile events, but rather at coffee shops, the theater and local restaurants. Blaine looks comfortable around this new man, but something’s missing. There’s no hand-holding or shared smiles – nothing to indicate they are lovers… yet. Kurt had zoomed one of the photos and stared at Blaine’s eyes, for they are always so expressive. Blaine’s eyes look warm, but they lack the sparkle – the way they used to sparkle when Kurt and Blaine were together. “Cut. We’ll take a 30-minute break to warm up. The look was parfait, Kurt.” Kurt dashes inside and goes down one flight of stairs, where the model prep area has been set up. Louis immediately comes over and throws a wool blanket around his shoulders. “Kurt, don’t look sad. You were magnificent on set. The Dior manager is very pleased with the shoot,” Louis says. “I’m not sad about the photo shoot. I was thinking about someone towards the end of the session, and I miss him.” “The world is a small place. Why don’t you invite him to Paris to visit you? After this photo shoot, you have two weeks before you’re needed for the next job. Paris can be very romantic, even in the winter.” “I wish that it was that easy, Louis. But the man that I miss has found another.” “Impossible! There is no such thing as finding another after you.” “That’s not what the photos on Instagram and Twitter say.” Louis goes off to get Kurt a hot drink from the canteen. Kurt desperately wishes that Blaine was here in Paris - but Blaine isn’t, and no amount of wishing is going to change that. Kurt finds his phone and opens Twitter. He’s surprised when he reads the tweet from Blaine, reminding him that they met exactly a year ago. Has it really been that long? Blaine’s message has been retweeted thousands of times, with #klaine tagged. Kurt tosses his phone aside when he reads the retweet, Why aren’t my babies together? Before reading the tweet, Kurt thought that Blaine had moved on with his life, with brand-new projects and a brand-new man. But maybe the tweet means that Blaine misses him? He picks up his phone and retweets Blaine’s message, And what an amazing year it’s been. #InstantConnection, #BucketLists, #GoodTimes, #FriendsForever ***** “How did the photo shoot go, Kurt?” “It went really well, Dad, although it was shot outside and it’s cold here. The ad is going to hit the March issue of the magazines.” “Let me know which ones so I can go out and buy ‘em.” “The ad will definitely be in the American issues of Vogue and Elle.” “Then I’ll buy Vogue next month.” Kurt laughs when he notices his dad’s earnest expression, obvious even through Skype. “You’re probably Blaine’s number one fan.” “Of course I am. I really respect what he’s doing in Westerville with that Monarch House project. We had a long chat about it, and I think I might be able to convince him to open the next one in Lima.” “Wait a minute, when did you have a long chat with Blaine?” Kurt can see his dad take off his cap and rub his head nervously. “I wasn’t supposed to tell you about that.” Kurt wraps his arms around his waist and arches one eyebrow. “About what, Dad?” “After I dropped you off at the airport last month, Blaine came to the house looking for you. When I said that you were on your way to Paris, he looked as if his world was ending. Blaine was a mess. A snow storm started and I couldn’t send him back to Westerville in that state, so he spent the night.” Kurt shakes his head. He wishes that his dad had told him about this earlier. “And you just talked about his Monarch House project?” “No, of course not. It was all I could do to convince him not to jump on the first plane to Paris.” “Blaine wanted to come to Paris?” “Of course he did. Blaine is crazy about you. However, I convinced him that you need this time to figure out things for yourself.” Kurt rushes through the rest of the conversation because he wants some time on his own to think about this. When he gets off Skype with his dad, he heads down a floor and runs himself a hot bath. Once he’s soaking in a tub filled with his favorite lavender-scented bath oil, he thinks about what his dad told him. Kurt wonders what his reaction would have been if his dad had told him that Blaine came over when he had first arrived in Paris. He probably would have taken the first plane back. But his dad was right… He does need this time to experience new things and to gain a perspective on his relationship with Blaine. Kurt steps out of the tub and gets into his nightwear. After doing the long version of his nightly moisturizing routine, he heads back upstairs and crawls under the warm down duvet on his bed. Not everything his dad said made sense though. If Blaine is so gutted about Kurt moving to Paris, why is he dating another man? Why is it only now that Blaine is tweeting him? Kurt knows that Blaine is sentimental, so he must still like Kurt to remember the day they first met. But does Blaine like him just as a friend or could there be more between them? ***** “Café au lait et un petit pain au chocolat, s'il vous plaît (A coffee with milk and a chocolate-filled bun, please),” Kurt requests, sitting at the famous Café de Flore on Paris’ Left Bank. Kurt has switched his usual grande non-fat mocha order to something he feels sounds more adult. Besides, the flaky croissant pastry with fine dark chocolate chunks on the inside satisfies his sweet tooth. “Mon chouchou, I’m sorry I’m late. I was painting François and lost track of time,” Antoine apologizes as he slides into the seat across from Kurt. He snaps his fingers to grab the attention of the garçon and orders a double expresso. “Of course, I would prefer to paint a portrait of you,” Antoine adds with a wink. Kurt gives Antoine a tight-lipped smile. This isn’t the first-time Antoine has asked him to pose for one of his paintings. However, Kurt feels uncomfortable posing in the nude. Although Antoine promises he can cover up his ‘bits’, it doesn’t feel right that the first man to see him naked would be like this. Antoine hints at it, but never pushes, and Kurt is grateful for that. Kurt has met up with Antoine a dozen times since they properly met at the afternoon tea with Emmeline. They’ve played the tourist on the Left Bank and visited the Pantheon, the Sorbonne University and The Invalids. They’ve strolled through the Jardin des Plantes (“we must return in the spring when the first flowers blossom”). They’ve also explored the little shops and boutiques in hidden streets that Antoine knows so well. They have gone to clubs and bars and met up with Antoine’s friends. Wherever they go, Kurt notices that Antoine always attracts a crowd. His easy-going nature, good looks, and natural charm draw everyone to him like a magnet, women and men alike. Antoine has always been a perfect gentleman towards Kurt and makes sure that he’s included in the conversations, introducing him to his friends, who are artists, writers, musicians, chefs, and professional students. Kurt always enjoys himself with Antoine’s friends and is curious about their lifestyle. They seem to live in the moment, without thinking about the future. This isn’t a bit like he was raised in Lima, Ohio – where commitment and family are what really matter. “Mon chouchou, I have an idée magnifique (magnificent idea) for next Saturday if the weather is beautiful. Everyone must experience the Château de Versailles.” “I’d love to visit the palace where Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette were married. It’s on my bucket list of places to visit in Paris.” Kurt bites his lip and wishes he’d never mentioned his bucket list – that’s something special between Blaine and himself. However, remembering the photos of Blaine with the new man in his life, Kurt is determined to get past Blaine and his feelings towards him. ***** Kurt is glad that he downloaded the audio guide app of the Versailles Palace the previous night. Kurt and Antoine have toured all the impressive areas inside the palace - the King’s Apartments, the Hall of Mirrors, the Queen’s Apartments, and the Chapel, but also lesser known areas such as the Gallery of Battles, and the apartments of Louis XV’s daughters. “This palace is so ornate and over the top. I can’t believe the royal family could live like this for a hundred years.” “Now you know why the French Revolution happened. Come with me, mon chouchou. We now need to explore les jardins (the gardens). If Kurt thought the palace itself was over the top and impressive, nothing has prepared him for the gardens. There are meticulous manicured lawns with paved paths creating intricate designs. The flower beds are mainly empty on this winter’s weekend, but the shrubs provide sufficient greenery. There are statues in small pools of water dotted throughout the gardens. “And I thought the palace was the main attraction. These gardens are something else altogether,” Kurt observes. “We’ve only seen a small portion of the gardens. There are almost 2,000 acres at the Château de Versailles. We’ve visited the most famous parts.” Antoine checks his watch and then adds, “Come with me. Let’s grab some lunch.” They stop in a small café, get ham and cheese baguettes and mineral water to go, and return to the gardens. They sit on a wrought iron bench, which is cold. However, Antoine soon has Kurt laughing with jokes and trivia about Marie Antoinette. “I had absolutely no idea that the children’s song ‘Jack and Jill’ was about Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette getting beheaded. It certainly puts a different slant to ‘and Jill came tumbling after’.” Suddenly, classical music is heard from speakers throughout the gardens and the swishing sound of water starts. Kurt looks up and sees the fountains come to life with spouting water. “You are in luck, mon chouchou. Usually the fountains aren’t switched on until spring.” Kurt puts the remainder of his baguette into his messenger bag and rushes from fountain to fountain to see the spectacular water shows. He makes sure to see the Latone, Saturn, Apollo and Neptune fountains. Antoine remains on the bench and laughs at Kurt’s enthusiasm as he takes photo after photo. The train journey back to Paris takes just over an hour and they arrive at the Left Bank in the late afternoon. “The day is still young. Come to my studio, Kurt. I’ll cook dinner and show you my artwork.” Kurt agrees and they wander back to Antoine’s place. After climbing the stairs up to the fourth floor, Antoine quickly opens the door and leads Kurt in. It is a large studio apartment. Half the space is taken by canvases, easels, and paints. The wooden floors are old and unrestored, with oil paint splatters making interesting patterns. There’s an old upholstered couch and a large king-sized bed, which are surrounded by studio lights – Kurt guesses this is also used for the models. There is a small kitchenette along one side and a door leading to the bathroom. “It’s modest, but it works for me. When I get inspired, I can paint right away. I’m planning to make a cassoulet for dinner. Have you eaten this before? “No, what is it?” “I think you Americans would say pork and beans, but it’s a lot more than this. It takes a while to cook, so let me get the casserole prepared and then we can relax.” Kurt helps Antoine with the prep work by chopping onions, carrots, tomatoes, and garlic. Antoine combines this with cubes of pork, ham, beans, and fresh herbs into a cast iron casserole dish and slides it into the oven. He then pours Campari and mineral water in two glasses to create an aperitif. “Santé, mon chouchou,” Antoine toasts as he clinks their glasses together. Antoine takes Kurt by the hand and leads him to the coach. Antoine then heads to the studio’s corner, where there are at least a dozen oil paintings leaning on the wall in the corner. One by one, he takes a painting and places it on the easel for Kurt to view. The first ones are landscapes of the French countryside – mainly fields of poppies and wheat. The next few paintings are classic stills of fruit and flowers. The last ones are portraits of young men in the nude. “You certainly cover the full range of subjects for your art. Which do you enjoy painting the most?” Kurt asks. “The landscapes are the best sellers and help pay the rent. I paint the others when I feel inspired, and currently I enjoy painting the portraits. I do charcoal sketches at first and then the oil painting later.” Kurt can see that Antoine is passionate about his art, as he rants on about the meaning of each painting, with hands waving everywhere and the same look in his eyes as Rachel gets when talking about Broadway. Antoine puts ‘Lucie’ by Pascal Obispo on the sound system and soon they are discussing other things they plan to do in Paris together. The meal starts with a terrine de campagne (country terrine or pate), served with crusty baguette and red wine. Kurt only nibbles at it because he can smell the rich cassoulet cooking in the oven. The main course is soon served with a simple side salad. “I can see why this is a popular dinner in France. The tastes go together so well and it’s hearty for a cold winter’s night.” “I’m glad you like it, mon chouchou. This recipe is from mami Emmeline. Apparently, she got the recipe from the executive chef at the La Fontaine de Mars restaurant decades ago. God knows how she pried it out of Jean-Guy Loustau.” After the dinner dishes have been cleared, Antoine places an artesian cheese platter and baguette on the coffee table and they relax on the couch. “I’m afraid that I can’t eat too much cheese if I want to be able to get into the suits that I model. I already broke my diet with the ham and cheese baguette at lunchtime.” Kurt’s cheeks flush when he sees Antoine’s glance move from his head to his toes. “I really don’t think you have anything to worry about. You are parfait (perfect) in my eyes. I’ll put this away, but I insist you join me for a digestif. Would you prefer cognac, armagnac or calvados?” Kurt has never tasted any liquors before, so he asks for the only one he recognizes. “Cognac, s'il te plaît.” After the drinks have been poured, Kurt takes a sip and finds he can’t stand the taste of cognac. He thinks about how he could get rid of the drink without Antoine noticing. He doesn’t want to appear unsophisticated, but there’s no way he’s finishing this drink. “So tell me about your life in New York City?” Antoine asks. Kurt talks about working at the Spotlight Diner and auditioning for roles in the theater without ever getting call-backs. He then goes on to relate the story of his Vogue internship interview and how he became a model that very same day. “What an incredible story, Kurt. What do you hope for in the future?” “I’m not entirely sure. I want to continue modeling until I get bored with it or people stop paying me lots of money. I’m thinking of studying musical theater and taking another stab at Broadway. I’m also thinking about studying fashion and get into the designing end of things. But for now, I’m enjoying Paris.” “Exactement, mon chouchou. You are young and don’t need to weigh yourself down with plans. This is the time you should live for the moment.” “What do you hope for in the future, Antoine?” “I hope that I continue to be inspired to paint, and people are inspired to buy my artwork. I want a place to live, good friends, and the freedom to do what I want. Une vie simple (a simple life).” When Antoine puts it that way, a life free of commitments and society’s pressures sounds ideal. However, Kurt does want to put down roots eventually, and get married and have kids. “There is one more thing I hope for, and as luck has it, you are here tonight.” Antoine slowly leans towards Kurt and presses their lips together. Kurt can feel the sensation of Antoine’s soft warm lips and it feels nice and comfortable. Kurt is pleased that he’s wanted by such an attractive and nice guy. But there aren’t any fireworks or butterflies in his stomach like he felt with his first real kiss. Kurt doesn’t think anything can compare to kissing Blaine. However, for now, it’s a welcome feeling. “Stay the night, mon chouchou,” Antoine whispers. Kurt jerks away quickly as if he has been burnt by fire. “I’m not ready for that… for things.” “Kurt, look at me. I’m not expecting anything. Okay, maybe more of the kissing. We can take this at any speed that you’re comfortable with. I’m very interested in you and enjoy your company. To see Paris through Kurt Hummel’s eyes is quite magical. So please, spend the night. I can always sleep on the couch if you want.” Kurt likes Antoine. He’s fun to be with, and this would take their relationship - can he call it that? – one step further. Kurt knows Antoine well enough to know he’s not a predator and will honor his word. But something holds him back. He can’t get Blaine out of his mind, and isn’t ready to take things further with Antoine yet. Kurt slowly shakes his head. “I think I better call it a night.” Author’s notes Song Marley Rose writes the lyrics and Blaine composes – “All or Nothing” performed by the Glee cast. Next up: Kurt models at the Paris Fashion Week opens and the Westerville Monarch House opens. It will be posted on Saturday.

[jacewilliams1]

Dear NASA: learning from my mistakes

The Aviation Safety Reporting System (ASRS) is where maintenance technicians, pilots, controllers, etc. can anonymously report inadvertent violations of regulations or unsafe conditions which resulted from their action (or inaction). In exchange for our candor, the FAA agrees not to take certificate action against us – mostly.

I have never been deterred from submitting an ASRS report for a transgression, mistake or bad decision. And I’ve had plenty of material to work with.

Confirmation Bias: “occurs from the direct influence of desire on beliefs.” (Psychology Today)

Not everything outlandish in California resides on the coast. About 20 years ago, my wife and I took a Cessna 150 into a private airstrip located in the Sacramento delta called Funny Farm. The name did not disappoint. Its landing surface was eclectic. Some parts were grass, others were dirt and, with a broad enough definition of “pavement,” some was that. I managed to land and taxi onto the grass adjoining the runway before burying one of the main wheels in a ground squirrel burrow.

While I vainly tried to dislodge it with the towbar, my wife hailed a man and his young son from across the runway to lend a hand. The gentleman introduced himself as Mr. Behne. He was owner (and presumptive king) of the Funny Farm. The two of them had been working on a dull, weathered, Temco Swift that was going to be his son’s personal ride. He said his son was proficient in the airplane, but Mr. Behne wanted to go through it thoroughly before he flew it alone. The boy appeared to be about 14. I was greatly impressed because I remembered stories from my own youth about the Swift being a handful to land.

After we freed up the 150, Mr. Behne showed us around the field. At that time it was a ramshackle collection of out buildings housing airplane parts, work benches, and projects in different stages of completion. Everyone was friendly in a rustic, old boy sort of way. Mr. Behne had big plans for the property, though. They included an upscale fly-in community and a water skiing lake. We finally said our goodbyes and took off for home.

With a name like Funny Farm, you never know what might happen.

The trip remained a pleasant memory until, a year later, after several days of rain, ceilings lifted enough to make a VFR excursion. Why not pay a visit to the Funny Farm, I thought? The trip up was uneventful. I found the property after a few minutes of poking around and set up in a standard traffic pattern. The reason I’d had difficulty identifying the field was the brand new paved asphalt runway – smooth, glistening, beckoning. Coming out of the base turn I began to realize how narrow it was. But I’d landed on narrow runways. On short final I could see sheets of plastic laid out on the approach end of the pavement. Whatever they covered, I would touch down beyond them.

Rounding into the flare, rows of freshly planted trees began zipping along a few feet from the wing tips. They were about eight feet tall, spaced 10 or 20 feet apart. Well, that explained why the runway was so narrow. As the airplane rolled to a stop, everything fell into place. This wasn’t a runway – I just landed on somebody’s street!

In near panic, I disconnected the shoulder harness and leaped from the step. On my right, the old decrepit runway was paralleling the street. On the left a person was approaching from a connecting driveway. My mind raced to come up with a rational explanation for what I’d just done. Three things stood in the way: the airplane, the street, and me standing on it. The gentleman turned out to be a carpenter. He’d been working on a palatial house under construction at the end of the driveway. He looked at the 150, then at me. Then raised his arm and pointed to the runway saying, “Most people land over there,”

Today if someone does something in public they wish they hadn’t, it will likely get recorded on a cellular phone. My incident preceded all that, but I still wasn’t out of the woods. There were two people who knew what just happened. Only one of us could be reliably expected to keep it to himself. I resolved to do whatever was necessary to maintain that fellow in my sight.

There was no possibility of dragging the airplane through the sea of mud separating the street from the runway. So I prevailed on my new friend to help push the airplane back up the street. Near the end I watched the wheels roll over those plastic strips, bright orange and laid out in an “X” pattern. Before engine start, I instructed him to go back to the driveway and stand a safe distance from the street. He promised to wait there until I was safely up and away.

That evening I filled out NASA form 277, wondering whether the people who read these have a sense of despair or a sense of humor.

A couple of years later, a French Magister jet set down at our local field. It drew quite a crowd as it pulled up to the Jet-A pump. The canopy unlatched, swung open, and out stepped Mr. Behne wearing a worn T-shirt and shorts. He took on a bit of fuel, taxied back, and took off, leaving a trail of burned kerosene and the low rumble only a pure turbojet can make. That was the last time I saw him, but not the Magister.

Much later, on a Coast Guard Auxiliary Aviation patrol over the Sacramento delta, we passed near the Funny Farm. I told my colleagues I’d once landed there (but not the context) and asked them to fly over it. Mr. Behne was as good as his word. There were now three massive homes set back from the street. The street itself was all but invisible beneath the now-grown trees. The 1900’ runway was newly surfaced and sported real airport markings. Just to the west of the runway, you could see the unmistakable silhouette of a Magister jet. When I pointed it out, one of the pilots asked, “How’d they get that thing in there?” and the other retorted, “On a flatbed truck.”

Maybe, but I doubt it.

Obstinacy: “unyielding or stubborn adherence to one’s purpose” (Dictionary.com)

McClellan Park (MCC) represents one of the more successful transfers of a military base’s assets to civilian use. For a time I commuted by air to a job located at the south end of the base. Like other uncontrolled fields, traffic conflicts were negotiated between pilots.

Not the airplane for a game of chicken.

A few months into my commuting routine, Evergreen Airlines set up a maintenance base at McClellan for its 747 freighters. I only encountered one of them in flight, but it was memorable.

I’d gotten a late start and a stiff head wind put me even farther behind. Since my route of flight lined up nicely with McClellan’s north runway, I called a straight-in approach five miles out. At two miles, I heard a 747 call “inbound ILS” landing on the south runway. That would put them eight or ten miles out. I didn’t see a problem. I’d beat them in, and clear the runway with plenty of time. That said, I was irritated at the freighter crew who made no attempt to coordinate their arrival in spite of my repeated position calls.

I was an ant on the picnic table who knows he got there first even as the sun is blocked out by someone’s thumb. They seemed not to understand, or chose to ignore, an approach clearance and a handoff to advisory frequency do not constitute a clearance to land! I called “one and one half mile final” then listened – nothing. I told myself I’d be happy to work with them if they would simply acknowledge me.

But they would not just push me off the approach. The landing lights waxed brighter and the airframe materialized out of the haze. My original thought had been to land short and taxi back. I could see by now that wouldn’t work. The next exit was 2000 feet farther down, but was angled and could be taken at speed.

I called “one mile” as the Sacramento River slipped leisurely beneath. The Boeing continued in silence. We promulgated this ridiculous bluff with dream-like symmetry, flaring and touching down within seconds of each other at opposite ends. The 747 was well into its landing roll when I finally cleared the runway.

I was confident we’d individually and collectively violated several paragraphs in 14 CFR. While it would be hard to argue these weren’t willful, at least NASA would get to read my version first. Since then I’ve wondered what happens when NASA gets two reports of the same incident. And, if the 747 captain submitted one, what it said.

The post Dear NASA: learning from my mistakes appeared first on Air Facts Journal.

from Engineering Blog https://airfactsjournal.com/2019/02/dear-nasa-learning-from-my-mistakes/

[unspokenx]

Us

About a year and a half ago (July 2015), I came across a tumblr post about a website called fetlife. Being a curious cat, I decided to check it out. It’s a fetish website (obviously) where you can talk to people near you and who share similar fetishes as you. It was a bit much for me at first. Too many men were just throwing themselves at me and expecting me to me turned on by it? But it was a complete turn off to be honest. I wanted somebody who would take the time to get to know me. But I was also on a fetish website so I think I was asking for too much. After a week or so, I decided that fetlife wasn’t really my thing, so I stopped using it. A few days later I was checking my email and saw that I had a notification, so I went back on and checked. I found a message from some guy. His profile picture was interesting. It was just his beard/mouth area. Made me want to see more. He asked me if I’ve ever don’t anything naughty in public. I debated on answering, but decided I would. I thought we’d chat back and forth a few times and be done with it, but that wasn’t the case.

He told me that he had went to Mad Decent Block Party that weekend, and I quickly found out we shared a similar music taste, so we kept talking for a bit. We exchanged kik names for a little and talked on there. After a bit of talking, we decided to meet. We scheduled a meet up one day, but things happened and we couldn’t. We then scheduled a Starbucks date for one night, and it happened. We met at a Starbucks near me and he bought me my favorite tea. We then decided to go hangout at the beach. I started directing him where to go, but then about 10 minutes later, I realized I told him to go the wrong way. I was so embarrassed. I looked like a total dork. He just laughed about it and turned on his gps and headed to a different beach. We got to the beach and went and sat on the lifeguard stand. We started getting a bit touchy and some stuff happened. After that, we left and he brought me back to Starbucks, and I went home. That night was when I realized I liked him. We fit together perfectly. We clicked.

After that, we started talking on the phone all the time and texting all day. It was so nice. However, there was one thing he didn’t know. I was 17. On the fetish website, it had said that I was 18…so he thought I was. I felt terrible lying to him, but I knew if I told him, then he wouldn’t talk to me anymore. Looking back, this was a horrible mistake and it could have potentially been bad. I regret it so much, but I do not regret that it allowed me to be with him. Other than that (minor) inconveniece (haha see what I did there), everything was perfect. The next weekend, I went to his place. He made me sit there while he did a bit of work, but I didn’t mind. I played with a tape measure and annoyed him for a bit. We started watching Donnie Darko, but we were both so into each other that it took us 3 attempts to watch the whole movie. One of us would always get a little sidetracked and start touching the other (I was usually the one who started the touching, oops).

We had our good times, we had our really good times, but we also had our bad. He never liked it when I drank. I tend to be a bit excessive with that, and obviously it isn’t good for me. I know he just cared about me, but it was a bit much. I felt suffocated. I of course wanted to tell him how my nights went, but starting off my story with “I drank half a bottle of fireball to myself” didn’t quite sit well with him (don’t blame him). It was hard. A few times I blacked out while out with some friends and didn’t text him until late the next morning. He was furious. It was hard. I understand blacking out and drinking that much isn’t good for you, but I am a teenager, let me have my time. Since he is a bit older, he doesn’t go out and do that anymore, but I know he has. When he was the same age as me, even younger, he did the exact same thing. So how can you tell me not to. I get that he wasn’t going to encourage me to go out and get super drunk, but shaming me for it wasn’t the right choice.

Our relationship continued for a while. In about October of 2015, I knew I had to start thinking about college. It was stressful. He thought I was 18 and already in college, but I wasn’t. It sucked not being able to share this part of my life with him. He didn’t get to see my prom pictures, senior week outfits, graduation, all that stuff. College applications were the most difficult part for me. I knew I was going to have to leave him. The one guy I really liked, I would have to leave. The college I wanted to go to wasn’t just a 30 minute drive, it was a 3 hour drive. Around the same time, he told me about a job position he was looking at…in Miami. We lived about 20 minutes from each other. With him in Miami, we would live about an hour and 20 minutes from each other. With me in Orlando…about 4 hours. When he told me about the job, my heart stopped beating and fell into my stomach. What could I say? I had to just shut up and be happy for him. As much as it was going to hurt, it was his life and if it made him happy, that was all that mattered. I cared about him so much and I couldn’t say anything to bring him down. He was so happy with this job. He wanted it so bad and was so excited, so being a good girlfriend, I encouraged him. I made him a pro and con list of why he should take the job. the only real con was being away from me (which I put on the list about 4 times), but there were so many good things that were going to come out of moving to Miami and taking this job.

Around March was when he finally went for the job interview and all that stuff. For a while, he would commute to and from Miami everyday, until he moved there. I could already tell things would be different. Our phone calls weren’t the same. He would be so distracted that he was never really there. He would play around on his work laptop instead of talking to me. He wouldn’t be doing work, just looking up some stuff, but I came second. Since he had such a long drive, he would get home a bit late and be tired. So once he got home, he would either eat and go to bed, or watch TV and go to bed, so it left no time for us to talk. It was work 24/7 and no time for me. Being a very understanding person, I got it. I knew he was trying to learn things and fit in, I knew he was tired and just wanted to sleep, I knew he wanted some time for himself. But being a girlfriend, it hurt. He chose work over me. He chose watching a TV show over me. He chose everything over me. I came second to him and that really sucked. I felt like I was losing him.

Around end of May/start of June, he made the move to Miami. That was the last time I saw him for a while. I left for college at the end of June. It sucked. Even though I didn’t see him after he moved, just knowing I was going to be farther away was hard. We still talked on the phone and texted and such, but it wasn’t the same. We were constantly fighting over the stupidest things. Sometimes I would get mad at him and later realize I just missed him so much and I was taking that out on him as anger. During one of our fights, I was sitting on a bench outside crying, and I realized i really fucking loved him. Through everything else I was feeling, I loved him. He was my first love. I have never given that to anybody in my life. Nobody deserved it. But him, he deserved it. But I never told him because I didn’t think he felt the same way about me. He was always a lot more open with his feelings, so I thought if he loved me, he’d tell me. I was afraid of the one person I loved not loving me back.

A little bit later during the summer, things started going south. I felt so alone and I was hurting and I met somebody else. I didn’t feel any emotional connection to him. It was just sex for me. I don’t know why I did it. It was the worst decision I have ever made in my life. Nobody ever deserves to be cheated on. Ever. It was hard having your boyfriend so far away. I was meeting so many new people, guys included, and it was just hard. Not saying that my actions were justified in anyway, but it was difficult. I went home for 2 weeks between summer and fall semester and was hoping to see my boyfriend, but that didn’t happen. We were still about an hour and some change from each other andit just didn’t end up working out.

Fall semester started and it was just all the same thing. I continued hooking up with the other guy, but my heart was always with my boyfriend. He was going to come visit me one weekend, but it so happened that my sister and her best friend came up to see me that weekend, so it didn’t work out. So he came a few weekends later. I had the best time ever. It was the first time we actually did anything together. In a year and a bit, it was the first time we actually went somewhere as a couple and did something. We went to this really good food place and I had bao buns for the first time and became obsessed. I always want to go back. It’s our little spot. Then we went to a park area and walked around. It was super cute and pretty. There was a big lake and a bunch of swans, and the sunset was so pretty. Later that night we went to a comedy show downtown and then did dinner after. It was nice. I was so happy. It really made me rethink a lot of things. The next day we went to breakfast and then to this botanical garden and walked around and looked at all the pretty flowers and plants. It was nice. I loved holding his hand and walking around with him. He took me home that day. I was so sad. I didn’t know when I was going to see him after that. I didn’t want him to leave. It was the first time I had seen him in about 4 months.

After seeing him, I held onto the hope of things getting better, but they didn’t. I would cry and cry everynight over it. I wanted him back. I wanted us back, but nothing was the same. The guy I was hooking up with told me he loved me, so I knew I needed to end that. He deserved somebody who would love him back, and I knew that wasn’t going to be me. I started distancing myself from him, but he would call me crying because of something, and ask to come over. While this was happening, I also met another guy. We use to be friends because of a mutual friend a little while back, but never really talked often. He texted me one day asking if I wanted to grab dinner so we could catch up since we both went to the same school now. We went and got dinner and just talked a bit and it was nice. He invited me to a small concert with him the next weekend, so I went.I told my boyfriend that another friend of mine was going with us, but that wasn’t true. I didn’t expect to start liking this guy. He was cool, but not my type. He posted a picture on social media the next day, and that was when everything went to shit. I didn’t exactly realize it at the time, but I had been talking to three guys at once. I hit an all time low. I never meant for anything like this to happen. I did not want to hurt anybody, especially somebody I loved so much. I was miserable and I deserved it. The first guy I was hooking up with started calling me a whore all over social media. His friends were messaging me telling me to kill myself and I was a slut and all that nice stuff. My boyfriend didn’t really say much to me. I was expecting a lot from him, but he just stopped talking to me. The second guy called me and asked me what was going on. I couldn’t even talk for how much I was crying. He picked me up and brought me to his place where we talked about it. He wasn’t telling me it was ok, but he was there for me and telling me what I needed to hear. He told me I should start counseling, and that was the greatest advice I have ever received. I know I hurt all 3 of them, my boyfriend the most, but I was hurt with how he ended it. He didn’t even try talking to me. He just left. After everything we had been through, he was gone. When I needed him the most, he was gone. God it fucking hurt. I thought we were done. I didn’t think he wanted anything to do with me anymore. I didn’t try reaching out to him because I didn’t really think he wanted it. I started hanging out with the third guy for a bit after this and started having feelings for him. I didn’t think he was my type, but he was something new and I gave it a chance.

A few days later, my boyfriend (ex) and I talked. He wanted me to choose between the two of them, and that wasn’t something I could do. He wanted me to tell my mom and all my friends about us at that moment and it was all too much for me. I didn’t know what I wanted. I was confused. I didn’t know who I was. I wasn’t mmyself. My ex and I decided to go to a music festival together since we had been planning it for so long. I was going to just pay him back for the ticket, but I knew he wanted this very bad, so I wanted to make him happy and go with him. It was fun. I was having some bad anxiety issues so it was hard for me to breathe, but I didn’t want him to worry so I tried to play it off like I was ok. It was honestly amazing. Seeing our favorite dj together was so bittersweet. I feel like I can’t listen to him anymore without crying because I just think of my ex. But it was magical. We got breakfast at the cutest spot it wasso nice. I didn’t want him to leave. I knew this was going to be the last time I saw him.

Some time went by and I got into a relationship with the other guy. He made me happy. I started getting better. It was nice being able to go out and do stuff with your significant other. But I still had my ex on my mind. I loved him. How could I not think about him. I started drunk calling him all the time. He didn’t like it, but I couldn’t help myself. I needed to hear his voice, and I was drunk so I couldn’t rationalize the thought and tell myself not to. It became almost a weekly thing. I could tell he was getting angry with me, and one night just blew up. I deleted his number after that point. He obviosuly didn’t want anything to do with me, and I was only making it harder on him. A few weeks ago I posted something oon this account and he read it and messaged me and we started talking. We would talk all night long. We would facetime for hours straight. It felt so fucking good. I wish our relationship was always like that. I feel like he tries harder when it’s too late and that sucks.

I felt like as great as our relationship was, we were never both in it 100% after a few months. Looking back, it felt like one person was putting in more effort than the other. For the first few months, everything was fine and dandy. When he got his new job, I felt like I was chasing after him. When I moved away, he was chasing after me. After we broke up, it was a bit bath and forth. At first he was chasing after me, and then I was chasing after him. Then he told me to stop calling him, but then he started talking to me again. Then I was the one always asking to talk on the phone and Facetime. And then he was the one who said he was done with all that.

This is as far as I got for tonight. I might edit it and add more, but for now I think I’ll just post this.

[lalobalives]

I cried today. That your-entire-body-shaking kind of cry. He got hurt today and seeing so him so helpless got me thinking about when our dog Napoleon came to us after my brother died, and how he was such a big part of my grief. All that hiking I did and sitting with myself and grieving, and how Napoleon was always there. I brought him with me when I hiked in the woods of Inwood Hill Park, and he learned that whistle that still brings him running to me. When I cried, he’d curl himself by me, making sure I felt the warmth of his body next to me. When I sat and wrote, he did the sat at my feet, sometimes pawing at me until I picked him up and let him lie across my lap.

Today he lost a nail. It could have been so much worse. But hearing him yelping and crying, and looking at me like, “mommy, it hurts, make it stop”, just undid me.

Did I realize that my dog being hurt would trigger grief? No. Not at all. Not until I thought about how he came to us just after my brother passed, and what an integral part that beautiful dog was and continues to be in my journey. I had dogs in my childhood; a little chihuahua named Fluffy that was also an enormous part of who I was and what I held. They aren’t just companions and pets. I’m seeing that today, in such a profound way.

***

I don’t remember exactly when I got Fluffy, maybe when I was eight or nine, but I remember how much I loved him. I was the one who walked him. I was the one who fed him. Mom only let me give him boiled hot dogs but he got so sick of that, that when I noticed he wasn’t eating, I’d sneak him some of the meat mom fed us–some chunks of beef or pollo guisado. I fed him a chicken bone once and was so scared when he started hacking and bleeding from his gums. Thank God that was all the damage it did. I didn’t know any better then.

Fluffy was scared of everything and everyone. He was one of those rare breed of chihuahua that actually has a lot of hair. And he looked like he was always crying; he always had a ring of burgundy wetness under his eyes.

He was at the door whenever I got home. I could hear him yapping and scratching at the door as soon as I entered the building and walked the long hallway to our apartment, 1L, on Palmetto Street. He’d jump on me and lick me in welcome. This didn’t stop when I left to boarding school at 13.

One of the hardest parts of leaving home was leaving him. Who would take care of him? Who would walk him? Who would cuddle with him and give him love? Who would feed him? Who wouldn’t eat so he could?

He was always a skinny dog but he was skinnier when I returned that first time in November, but there he was at that door waiting for me when I arrived. That night, I snuck him onto the bed when mom was asleep. He cried when I left, but I was a young girl and had my own life to make so I did…but I never forgot about Fluffy.

My junior year, I went to Philly to do a three week business program at UPenn’s Wharton School of Business. When I returned, Fluffy was gone. My sister said she put him in the hallway to mop the house. “He probably ran away,” she said. “Pero Fluffy was scared of everything and everybody,” I responded. “How’s that possible?” Fluffy was a trembling coward. If I took him to the corner and let him go, he went running back to the house. Trust me, I tested this theory plenty of times.

“Or maybe somebody stole him,” my sister said. Steal Fluffy? As much as I loved that dog, he wasn’t the kind of dog people steal. He wasn’t cute like that, though he was the cutest dog in the world to me. He wasn’t an expensive breed. He was what latinos call a bira lata, a mutt, a scraggly little thing that only I loved. “Who would take Fluffy?” I asked.

“Ay, who cares? He’s gone and that’s it,” my sister said. My brother and I talked about it over the years and agreed that she probably hurt or did something to him. She’s always denied it. I don’t believe her. But as you know if you’ve read any of my work, I don’t trust my sister. 

The thing is, Fluffy was my companion. I spent much of my youth feeling alone and distraught. It was Fluffy’s fur I cried into to hamper my sobs. It was Fluffy who curled himself into my lap when I was sad. He came out to the backyard with me to escape what was going on in that tiny railroad style apartment. He walked with me to El Faro, the supermarket on the corner, to get milk and ham for mom. I sometimes snuck him a slice of that ham when we were walking back up the block back home. He was my friend…sometimes the only friend I had. This was over thirty years ago and I can still see his face in my mind’s eye. That’s what lasting relationships do to you…even those with animals.

***

My daughter and I found Napoleon one summer afternoon as we were heading to the supermarket by our apartment in uptown Manhattan. He darted past and almost got hit by a car, before I scooped him up. He had a collar on but no contact information. This was the summer of 2012. The last thing I wanted or needed was a dog, but he was so cute and he was shaking and scared and how could I just leave him? So we brought him home and fed him, or at least I tried to. He wouldn’t eat any of the dog food we gave him. Then, that night, I caught him staring and licking his lips as my daughter and I hate the turkey meatloaf I’d prepared, so I mashed up a little bit in a bowl with some rice, and he gobbled it up quickly. The next day, it rained all day, so we kept him home with us, feeding him whatever food we ate, holding him on our laps while we watched movies. My daughter, who was then nine then, took to him right away. She pulled him up on her bed to sleep, and grew frustrated when he hopped off and followed me out of the room. Over the next few days, we put up signs around the neighborhood, but the rain swept them away. Truth is, I silently prayed that no one would claim him. He made my daughter smile, and she loved walking him and cooing at him. That weekend I had a dinner party at my crib, and my sister-friend commented, “I think he was brought to you, V.” I wouldn’t realize how right she was until much later.

I named him Napoleon because whenever we walked him, he’d walk right up to the big dogs and try to challenge them. He growled, he huffed, he pushed out his little chest. He swore he was a monster, and it was the most hilarious thing to witness. “Napoleon, that’s your name,” I said. He wagged his tail and jumped up. He approved.

I got the call a week and a half later. Someone said he was her dog. His name was Tweety. When I called to him with that name, his ears perked and he wagged his tail. Baby girl cried when we took him to his owner.

That was the summer before my brother passed.

Flash forward to the fall of 2013, four months into the greatest grief of my life and over a year after we’d found and bonded with this dog who always ran to us when we saw him in the street. I got a message from the owner that she was getting rid of him. He kept impregnating the female dog they had, and he was always fighting with his son, who they’d kept. He was a nuisance to them. He kept peeing everywhere and he would growl and bite visitors. I could have him if I wanted him, but if not, he was going to the pound. I told them to give me a few days to think about it.

I had so much going on. I was working and being a single mom. I was trying to write through my grief. I was in such a terribly dark place. I didn’t know it yet. Hadn’t yet called it that but I was in the abyss of depression. My mother had yet again walked out of my life, and I felt like I was suffocating. But I also knew that I needed to bring some light into my daughter’s life. My daughter who was watching her mom unravel. My daughter who was dealing with serious separation anxiety. Who cried when she had to go with her dad for weekend visits. Who told me repeatedly, in the saddest, most whiniest voice I’ve ever heard come out of her, “I don’t wanna go, mommy. I wanna be with you.” I’d learn later that she was scared for me. That she felt helpless and worried about her mama.

Baby girl would tell me a year later that she was scared that I was going to hurt myself…

But this was before that. This was when I was trying to decide if I could handle taking care of something else. If I could take on yet another responsibility.

Then, one day, we ran into Napoleon on the street with his owner. He ran to us, wagging his tail and jumping up and down with such joy. I saw the smile on my daughter’s entire face and I knew.

I called the next day and said, “Yes, we’ll take him.”

It took a week before we got him. He was in a home where they’d never taken him to a vet for shots or a check up or anything, so I had to guarantee that they did that first. Once I got the proof of paperwork, he was ours.

I didn’t tell my daughter. I only told her I had a surprise for her. We waited outside our building. I saw him from afar, walking down the block, and the minute he heard my whistle, he started pulling his owner towards us. She let him go and he ran right to me. He was shaking. It was like he knew his life was about to change but the anxiety over not knowing what that made him tremble.

I turned to my daughter and said, “He’s ours now.” She shrieked, picked him up and squeezed him. He in turn snapped at her and caught her on the lip. That was how he started their brother-sister relationship. Our Napoleon, showing what a loving asshole he can be. Ha!

***

This morning, I was up making myself coffee and about to prepare our breakfast when my daughter came in from their morning walk with Napoleon in her arms. Her eyes were wide with worry. “Mommy, Napoleon hurt himself.” I took him in my arms and he started crying and yelping. Blood was dripping from his paw. I tried to run cold water over the paw, but he screamed and snapped at me. Then I saw it: his nail was hanging at an odd angle. It was pulled out from the root.

Vasia kept saying, “I’m sorry, mommy. I’m sorry.”

I was distressed. I thought about what this was going to cost me. Another expense. Another worry. Napoleon kept crying and limping. He left droplets of blood in his wake. When he put his paw down, he yelped and hobbled his weight off of it. There was no avoiding it–I had to take him to the vet.

My daughter has said it repeatedly over the three plus years since we’ve had him: Mom, we have to take Napoleon to the vet. I knew she was right, but it just felt overwhelming. The idea of another bill, something else to pay, something else to do, sent me reeling.

Today, there was no avoiding that.

I sent my teary-eyed daughter to school with the promise that I would text her when we got to the vet and would send her periodic updates. I reminded her that she did nothing wrong. Napoleon was in the dog park playing with two big dogs (his name is Napoleon for a reason) when it happened. It was an accident. These things happen.

The good news is the nail came off easily, though he cried so loud when the vet pulled it off with one swift pull. That’s when I first cried. 

What I realized was just how much I love that dog and what a big part he is of our family. I haven’t taken care of him like I should have over these years of loving him. He needs to see the vet more and may need some dental work, but today I realized (with my partner’s coaxing) that I was doing the best I could. Now I can do better. We need him as much as he needs us.

In a few weeks, once his paw has healed, we’re returning to the vet to get him the shots he needs, and we’ll follow up with the dental work too. Popo came to us a little beat up after years of not getting the attention he needed, but he’s ours now and we’re gonna keep loving him up for many years to come.

***

It’s been three and a half years since that fateful day in October of 2013. Baby girl now walks him every morning and evening. He sleeps with her every night, and has traveled with us to Connecticut and Maryland and Jersey and to beaches and parks. He still hikes with me, and though he’s getting old and tires quicker, he’s still my little trooper. He’ll lag behind when he needs some rest but he still comes running when he hears my singsong whistle. Get too close to me or my daughter, and he’ll shred your ankles.

I was sitting in my living room when it happened: grief sledgehammered my chest, caught my breath and made me heave. I was looking at the picture my partner took of us at the vet. I looked over at the picture I have sitting on the table of my brother and my daughter when she was six months old. I thought about how his death shattered me and how Napoleon help me put myself back together, never the same but somehow more beautiful…Napoleon has helped me become the woman my brother always said I was, I thought, and the tears came. They came in torrents. I started shaking and heaving. My partner tried to help but there was no stopping those tears. No one can stop grief when it comes for you.

Sometimes you need these reminders to remember why you love who and what you love, and why and how they love you back. Napoleon can be a pain in the ass. He’s done things that have made me shake with rage, like that time he ate an entire jar of Albolene, the grease that boxers put on their hands to avoid the skin cracking that the chalk and gloves cause. That little mutt was shooting that nastiness out of his ass for days. It was everywhere. Yuck!

Why did I keep him? Because what he’s done for me makes up for all of it and more. He was part of my healing. He’s still part of my healing. And did I tell you how he makes my little girl smile? Yeah, I don’t need another reason. That, he, is everything. <3

Relentless Files — Week 63 (#52essays2017 Week 10) I cried today. That your-entire-body-shaking kind of cry. He got hurt today and seeing so him so helpless got me thinking about when our dog Napoleon came to us after my brother died, and how he was such a big part of my grief.

[wellmeaningshutin]

Short Story #45: Garden.

Written: 2/18/2017

After several days of rain, it was finally bright and sunny outside, which meant it would be a perfect day for gardening, a task she was helpless without. During the days of rain and gloom, she would sit by her window, watching water pour down onto her poor flowers, wanting to be outside with them. Several times she had called up her children, telling them, “I wish I was outside right now. Oh, how I want to be outside, I love gardening very much.” Or, “Without you kids around, its so lonely. Oh, please do come by to visit. I can’t handle being alone like this, without anything to do.” The responses she got were either, “I’m busy right now. I’m doing laundry and I can’t focus at all with you talking to me”, or “Fuck you. With all of the shit you put me through, the way you treated me, you think I’d want to spend time with you? Stop calling me”.

After those calls would end, she’d spend a couple hours waiting, and would dial her offspring again, and they would give similar responses, and would do so again when she inevitably called again. Sometimes she tried to cry, but it felt pointless with nobody to see her do it, and she’d mostly forgotten how. It was just easier to sit and pity, and then try to get pity or company from her children. If they visited her, she would probably cry then.

Now that she was finally outside, it seemed like the whole world belonged to her. Sure, her flowers may have been a little damaged by the rain, some may have been drooping to the ground, slightly torn out of the ground by the high winds, had their petals all over the ground, but it was nothing she couldn’t fix. The only obstacle she seemed to face was the mud, which seemed to be everywhere, but thats what boots and overalls were for. It wasn’t until she started assessing her petunias, which were a little ravaged, but seemed fine, that she realized an intrusion in her garden. And when the first intruder was found, it was easier to spot many more, and what, at first, seemed like a simple annoyance had turned into a large scale problem: Worms. Worms everywhere. And with worms there would probably be snails, too, because they were also attracted to the rain. Worms and snails would bring birds, which would cover her beautiful garden and home in their droppings, but would also attract local cats, who would bring dogs that would hunt the cats, tear up flowers for sport, and bring disease, plus they would attract worse animals, but what hunted dogs? Large birds? Mountain lions? Troubled teens with pill addictions, who refused to have any sense of common decency? And what would those beasts attract? Poachers, bears, drug dealers, prostitutes, wolves, tigers, panthers, even bigger birds?

And what would happen to her if all of these things had invaded her yard, made it their home? Would they invade her house and eat her, or would she simply be held captive? Whatever would happen, she couldn’t let it get that bad, there was just too much at risk. So, the worms had to go.

When she came to the conclusion that she would have to dispose of the worms that had congregated in her yard, she reached the problem of figuring out how to get the task done. She was no expert in killing anything, even if she may have been prone to fits of rage every now and again. Exterminators couldn’t be called because they were strangers, and who knows what they would do when they came into her house? What if their solution was to bring birds into the mix, thus speeding up the horrible chain of events? What if they sprayed an awful poison that would kill her beautiful garden? What if they got rid of the worms, but then demanded to high of a payment, like her heart medication or her dignity? What if they were an alcoholic, and were too drunk to even reach the garden, and instead overdosed in her living room, which would probably attract more bugs, or even would bring in predatory animals.

Sure, she knew she worried a little bit, but it was just her being smart, which kept her and her kids alive for so many years.

Being smart enough to admit when she was clueless, she decided to go to outside sources for help. Who could she trust? Her first instinct was to call up Anthony, her very intelligent son, a substitute teacher in fact, but when he answered the phone, all he told her was, “Look, if you keep calling me I’m going to have to block your number. I don’t even know how you found this number, I told you months ago that I didn’t want you in my life anymore, and I don’t care about whatever problems you’re going through, because the scars you’ve given me are worse than whatever made you call me in the first place.” After that, before she could even get a word in, he hung up the phone. What had gotten into him, why was he being so ungrateful to his mother? Didn’t she give him everything in the world? Did he even know everything she gave up for him? Since he was probably just upset about something silly, maybe girl problems, she decided to call him back in a couple hours when he would have cooled down.

Next, she decided to call up her darling angel, whose name eluded her at the moment. Four rings, and then somebody picked up on the other end, but she didn’t waste any time to let them speak first, she had to get across how serious the situation was, “Dear, I need your help. I have worms.”

“What? Like in your intestines? Your stomach? Did a doctor tell you this, or are you making stuff up for attention again?”

“No, in my garden. There’s worms all over my garden.”

A sigh was heard. “Mom, I don’t have time for this, I’m at work right now.”

“What if they bring in-”

“I have to go.”

Click.

A horrible situation was made even worse since her own children, her own blood, had refused to even lend her a hand. After everything she had done for them, after being such a wonderful mother, so wonderful that the other mothers, those awful, jealous women, had to fabricate stories of abuse and neglect, which sent CPS to her house even though she did nothing wrong, the other women were just jealous, and that’s how her darling children treat her now? It was clear that she was in this alone, and she couldn’t waste time being upset where nobody could see how upset she was. She had to clear out those worms before they brought in bigger problems.

Wandering back outside, she decided that the best plan was to see where all of the worms were, the areas of higher concentration, just so she knew where she should start clearing them out. An actual plan would come to her later, she was smart enough to figure something out, and then her kids would probably be very impressed with her after she was done. Then they would feel bad about missing her calls, then they would come by to visit. Standing in her garden, smiling and staring off into the distance, she was so focused on this fantasy that she completely forgot about the worm problem.

She liked to picture her children sitting at the kitchen table as she told them the story of how she saved her home, and the looks of awe and amazement on their faces. After they would shower her with compliments, and maybe gifts, yes gifts actually, and expensive ones too, she would tell them that she’s why they’re so successful, because her genes are so great. And they would tell her that they would call all the time now, so much that she would never even have to dial a number. And they would offer to come over every night and cook her dinner, and maybe would move back in with her to keep her company. They would leave their horrid little families behind to live with her, because until this moment they never realized how their families were actually filling their heads with lies, poisoning them against their own sweet, loving mother.

That fantasy would’ve held her attention for quite some time if she didn’t hear, through a megaphone by the neighbor’s house, “Come out here with your hands up, the house is surrounded. There’s nowhere for you to hide, make this easy for yourself.” Her neighbors were always getting into all sorts of problems, and now that she thought of it, they might have been the ones that put the worms in her yard in the first place. With the amount of persecution she was feeling, now that there was the possibility that it wasn’t nature threatening her, but somebody who was jealous of her beautiful garden, she found the motivation to solve the problem.

When her husband was still alive, he would always tell her these colorful stories about the time he served in the war. He was such a manly man, it was like he was some action movie star that had come to save her from all of the people who were conspiring against her. One of her favorite stories that he would tell was about the time he was trying to find one of the enemy’s camps, in the jungle, and even though they knew the rough area, they weren’t aware of the exact location, and there were too many traps in there to warrant safe travel. So, they decided to drop a bunch of napalm in there, burn the place down, and take care of them that way. This lead to a problem, because she didn’t have any napalm. She wasn’t even sure if she had a lighter.

“We know you’re in there.”

Considering her options, she realized that she did have a stove, and even if she couldn’t use the fire from that stove she could use the heat, by boiling water. Maybe she should’ve been a scientist, a chemist maybe, because of this solution she was able to come up with.

While waiting for the large, black pot of water to boil, she didn’t have a clue of how to pass the time. Normally she would go out into her garden, but then she would just feel upset about the worms. Her children were to busy at the moment to hear from her, and she would have to wait at least an hour to call them again. Didn’t she have a television somewhere? Maybe she could watch the news, but it was usually too gloomy and unrelated to her life. Who cares if somebody was murdered, run over, or burned alive in their home, if it wasn’t somebody who she knew? When she puttered over to the television, she noticed the VCR that sat below it, and figured that she could watch home movies. They were like shows that were relevant to her life.

When she arrived at her cabinet that was used to store tapes of her home movies, she found it difficult to pick one, but in the end, like always, she decided to watch her wedding video. She was so beautiful on that day, so young, everyone watched her and was so happy for her, there was no reason to pick anything else. However, when she opened the case, it wasn’t inside. It almost broke her heart when her expectations were crushed, and she couldn’t understand how the world could be so cruel to her. First the rain, then her children lie about her, or prioritize their work and families, then her wretched neighbors fill her garden with bugs, hoping that it would turn her house into a zoo, and now this! This was the last straw. Although the water had come to a rolling boil, and steam had started to steadily pour from the top of the pot, she decided it could wait, since the police next door had to be informed of her stolen tape.

There were so many officers out front, so many cars, she felt very confident that she would get the help needed to solve her problems. It wouldn’t be too much to get a handful of these fellows to solve the crime that had been perpetrated against her, and maybe they could take care of the worm situation too. Before she could get too close the the barricade, some bloated cop with a greasy, black mustache told her that she couldn’t go any further. It took her a lot of willpower for her to not show how offended she was, but she had to reply, and decided to tell him, “Do you know who my husband was?”

“What? No, ma’am, I guess I don’t.”

“He was a very hard working man, he ran a hardware store  not too far from here. He was a member of the neighborhood watch here. He was a very important man, and wouldn’t be very happy with the way you’re currently treating me. Why, I have half a mind to file a report and-”

“Look, lady, I’m doing this for your own safety. There’s a dangerous man in there-”

“Hmph, you don’t need to tell me how dangerous he is, he tried to get me killed.”

This seemed to get the mans attention, “How so?”

“Well, he dumped a large amount of worms into my garden-”

“Okay, look, this is serious, I’m going to need you to-”

“Now, look here, I know a lot about serious. I had my wedding tape stolen from my house, and I just need a couple officers to-”

“We cant afford to help you out right now with your misplaced-”

“Stolen.”

“Stolen tape. There’s a dangerous man in there-”

“You don’t need to tell me how dangerous he is.”

This exchange went on for quite some time, and the officer proved to have a lot of patience.

While they were talking, the officer with the megaphone said, “We know you have the child in there, and if you let her go we can make this much easier for you. You don’t have to do anything rash, it doesn’t have to go down like that. Hell, if you give us the girl we’ll let you walk right out of here, we wont bother trying to arrest you or anything. Her safety is more important than-” but the woman didn’t hear any of this. Eventually she became so fed up with the way she was being mistreated, and stormed back into her house, making sure to slam the front door.

When she was back inside, she noticed that the water had finally been done boiling, and ambled over to turn off the stove. She didn’t need the officers anyways, she could solve the problem on her own. Then, when her issues were taken care of, she would call the department and complain about the officer who had been so awful to her, about how he undressed her with his eyes and refused to help her. What were they doing that was so important that they couldn’t even take a little time out of their day to help her find her wedding video? Didn’t they know how important to her it was? It took a little while to find oven mitts, but when they were found she felt very satisfied. The other policemen would probably have sympathy for her, and would definitely help, but that cruel man had kept her from talking to them. He probably knew that they would help her.

It was difficult to get outside, into the garden, without spilling any of the dangerously hot water. Plus, it was almost too heavy for her, so she had to hold it slightly above the ground, arms limping down, with her body hunched over it. It was unclear how she was supposed to get all of the worms, because if she tipped it over there was no way it wouldn’t fall. She considered flooding the whole garden with it, which would probably have the added benefit of getting rid of any unseen bugs, especially if the water heated up the plants, getting to warm for any bugs who may be on the leaves, causing them to hop to the ground which would boil and kill them.

Before she could go through with her plan, there were some loud noises, gun shots, screaming, and a haggard and wild man had leaped over her fence, and crouched down in her petunias. In one hand he had a gun, which were all the same to her, and in the other hand was a little girl, must have been three years old, that seemed afraid, but the man’s hand was placed over her mouth. Both the man and the woman made eye contact for a little bit of time, he was unsure if she was going to be a liability, the police were shouting about trying to see where he went, somebody kept yelling “officer down” and “oh god is this the end”. After what felt like a lifetime to the fugitive, the older woman motioned him inside.

He couldn’t believe it.

She told him, “You can hide in here, I’ll tell this horrible policemen that you went into the other yard. Why should I help them if they wouldn’t help me?”

He thanked her profusely, which made her beam.

She told him, “You can stay as long as you like, but you have to help me with” and she listed of some inane problems that he didn’t care about. It didn’t take very long for him to realize that the woman was out of her mind, and very alone, so he figured after she misdirected the cops he could just bash her brains in with whatever was lying around.

[nostalgiaispeace]

286.

Has the last person you kissed met your father? Yes.

What’s your favorite breed of dog? corgi

Who is the first person you saw this morning? Matt

What would you like to do right now? peeing

What was the last thing that was on your wrist? bracelets

Are you outgoing or more reserved? reserved

Can money buy happiness? well it doesn’t make me sad

What was the last thing you drank? mtn dew

Do you swear in front of your parents? yeah

When you say you don’t care, do you mean it? usually.

Honestly have you kissed someone of the same sex this week? no

Who knows you better than you know yourself? probably my therapist.

Have you ever kissed a blonde haired blue eyed person? yes

Who last texted you? my mom

Do you listen to music when you’re down? sometimes.

Do you still talk to the person you had your first kiss with? no

What would you do if you found out you were pregnant to the last person you kissed? i’d be happy and nervous

Have you ever stayed in a hotel? yeah

Have you ever dated someone who was not good to you? No.

Ever been told you were loved by someone who didn’t mean it? No.

Have you ever been cheated on? Nope.

Are promises important to you? Yes.

What is one thing you spend way too much money on? books

If you could have something right now, what would it be? Money.

Are you texting anyone? yes

Do you find it hard to trust others? yeah

What was the last thing you spent money on? gas

Are your nails done? no

Who are you talking to? Kevin, Britt, Sami

What’s your middle name? Nicole

Where will you be 12 hours from now? in bed

Can you make yourself cry? yeah

What color are your socks? orange and green i think

Do you like someone? yes

Current mood? cranky

Were you in a good mood last night? sure

What should you be doing right now? laundry

Where did you sleep three nights ago? My bed.

Have you argued with anyone today? Nope.

Are you ready for kids? no

What do you tend to drink a lot of? coffee

Have you ever woke up crying from a bad dream? Yes.

Who was the last person you gave your number to? Chase I guess

Are you married? almost

Who are you texting? Sami;Britt

Do you think you can last in a relationship for 3 months? obviously

Where were you 2 hours ago? Here.

Do you eat breakfast? no

Do you have plans for tomorrow? work, sleep,read.

Can you recall the last time you liked someone a lot? When was it? yes; rn

Will you talk to someone on the phone tonight? Nope.

Have you ever trusted someone too much? Yes.

Have you ever made someone cry? Yes.

Believe in love at first sight? dunno

Who is your last missed call from? a number that I don’t know

Have you ever had to block anyone online? yes

Have you ever punched anyone in the face? probably

Do you miss anything? yes

Are you okay with the life you live? no

How did you get your last bruise? work probably

Where were you around 3 PM yesterday? home

Where were you at 1:30am? my bed

Last time you got a text message and smiled? friday?

Have you ever made a boy cry? Yes.

Are you scared of ending up alone? no

Did you sleep alone last night? no

Would you be able to date someone who doesn’t make you laugh? no

Have you ever dyed your hair? yeah

Are you currently looking forward to anything? yeah

How often do you hold back what you want to say? not often anymore

Do you think that in the end, everything will fall into place? probably not

What color is the photo frame closest to you? black

Are your pets asleep right now, if you have any? yes

Would you have any idea what your parents are doing right now? nope

Do you have a good relationship with your cousins? some

What was the last kid’s movie you saw? dunno

Do you know anyone who was born in Africa? Nope.

Have you ever been to an internet cafe? Nope.

Are there any upcoming events for you to look forward to? no

Has the year gone quickly for you so far? no

Are you one of those people who can drink vodka straight? i drink all alcohol straight

Have you ever done three or more shots in a row? yeah probably

Do you share a middle name with any of your friends? probably. it’s super common

Are you interested in international politics? not really but i want to learn and be informed at least.

Do you know the name of the pharmacist at your local drug store? no

Do you use public transport in your town or city? no

Have your parents ever worked in a factory? doubt it

Is there a Hard Rock Cafe in your town or city? yes

Have you ever shared a shower or bath with someone as an adult? yeah

When was the last time you had a bubble bath? dunno

Are you sleepy right now? yeah

How big is your backyard? don’t have one

Do you know anyone with Tourette’s Syndrome? Nope.

What was the last zoo you visited? Louisville Zoo

Do you like crime films and tv shows? love them

Have you ever seen A Clockwork Orange? yup

Are you bitter about anything? always

Is there anything in your possession that probably shouldn’t be? not that i’m aware of.

Do you listen to music to fall asleep? no

Do you use emojis? yeah

Have you ever wanted to be a lawyer? no

What percentage of battery does your phone currently have? 76%

What was the last type of soda you drank? mtn dew

Do you have supplies handy right now to draw something if I told you to? i have a pen

Have you ever been married? Nope.

Do you use Twitter? Yes.

Is there a floor lamp in your bedroom? no

What does most of your weekly or fortnightly income go towards? bills and food and gas

Have you ever been to another continent? Nope.

Do you have any hidden piercings? (this includes bellybuttons) Nope.

What month is your birthday? December

What can you hear right now? TV and Matt

Be honest, do you miss anyone? yes

Anything bothering you at the moment? yes

What are your plans for tonight? i guess i’m going to Chase’s for a superbowl party

Will tomorrow be better than today? no. i have to work

What are your plans for tomorrow? work, sleep, read

Who did you last text? Chase

Is there someone who you instantly smile when you receive a message from? I mean, not always, but it happens.

What color shirt are you wearing? black mostly.

Have you graduated from high school? Yes.

Do you ever leave the house without make up on? yes

Did you receive a good morning text today? no

Is there anyone you would seriously punch right now if you had the chance? sure

Has anyone called you perfect before? yeah

Does anything hurt on your body? yeah

What was the best thing that happened today? slept in

How are you? tired, cranky

Are you excited for next year? no

Is your room clean? kinda

How many pillows do you sleep with? 3

Do you wear eyeliner? yeah

Does anyone annoy you? tons of people do

Are you gonna get high later? Nope.

Do you hate the last guy you had a conversation with? Nope.

Do you still talk to the person you last kissed? duh

Do you think somebody’s in love with you? Yes.

Have you ever liked someone that was in a relationship? Yes.

Have illegal drugs ever entered your bloodstream? yeah

How many kids do you want to have? one

Do you need to say anything to anyone? no

Do you still talk to the person who hurt you the most? nope