#the original idea actually happened last summer at camp but i never wrote it out and forgot about it until yesterday

[chasing-the-persea]

Imagine Percy having a really rough day. His power, what he’s done, who he’s had to be to do those things, are weighing on him. Frankly, he scares himself. He doesn’t know how any sane person would want him around, much less around kids, especially as a counselor.

He puts on a brave face. Maybe if he looks happy no one will remember there’s a person behind that face who can’t look at himself in the mirror.

He doesn’t know how it happened; maybe he agreed to it when he was lost in his mind, putting on the “chill older counselor” face everyone expects, but he finds himself in the sand volleyball pit on the team of campers from the less populated cabins. The Demeter and Hermes cabin teamed up on the other side.

The game itself is a fog to Percy. The only breaks in his gloom come in the form of reminders: that’s only a volleyball (images of a giant hurling rocks at him flash in front of his eyes). they’re calling the ball (the sound of campers crying out for help in countless battles echo in his head). that’s just sand (the phantom touch of Gaia’s earth brush his legs)

Before he knows it his team is cheering: they won. He doesn’t know how–or if–he contributed any. He chastises himself. A good leader wouldn’t let themselves be distracted. Wouldn’t…his shoes are gone.

He could’ve swore they were right there? If he wasn’t so caught up with himself he would know where he put his shoes, that’s so stupid what would have happened if he was in battle and he got distracted, then it’d be on his head if another camper got killed again because of him, he shouldn’t have even played what was he thinking—

A Hermes kid was holding them up, taunting him, retaliating for their loss. He took one step towards them and they took two steps away. Their face was…playful? This was a prank. They’re pranking him. Don’t they know what he’s done, why their cabin is so empty now?

He took another step. This time the kid let out a excited laugh and ran a few feet away. This was a game. For fun. The kid knows but doesn’t care. They just want to have fun with an older counselor. camper. cousin. whatever the relation, they genuinely just want to mess with him.

But why would they—unless. Unless they aren’t afraid of him.

They see him as a leader, and like any other rotten kid, they want to tease whoever’s in charge. The kid is just being a kid, doing kid things. Like stealing someone's shoes and knowing they won't be hurt because of it. Because they believe Percy is good.

He tries to ignore the similarities on the kids face to one he knew so well, one he thought was good when he was the kids age.

I'm not Luke, he reminded himself. A tiny whisper in a corner of his mind hissed how are you any different?

He looked at the kid again, who was still holding out the shoes, attempting to lure him into a chase. The kid took a couple more steps away, grinning wildly as Percy’s face set in determination.

I’m going to be the person Luke needed, and the one he never was for me. We deserve better.

He sprinted after the Hermes kid, laughing lighter than he had in months.

[show-choir-gal]

How You Two Meet - Slashers Preference

Masterlist of Masterslists

Thomas Hewitt: You were walking by the house after escaping a potential assaulter You had been walking for what seemed like hours. You had sliced clothes and open wounds. You were shivering uncontrollably and your eyes were swollen from sobbing. It was dusk when you came across a lone farm house in the middle of who knows where. You were so tired from walking, the attempted assault, and crying. Your body was finally starting to give out. You started to trip over almost every little thing. A sheriff car rolled up behind you. "Hey there, I'm sheriff Hoyt. Are you lost?" The man said as he rolled down his window to talk to you. That was the last straw and your body finally let go and you fell to the ground crying. Hoyt got out of his car and grabbed you and placed you in the passenger seat. Once you two were parked by the farm house, Hoyt called for a woman as he grabbed you and carried you into the house. He placed you down on a chair in the kitchen and a woman came running in. "Oh gosh, what happened?" The woman asked as she looked at you then Hoyt. "I don't know, she was just walking when I found her." A man in a leather mask walked into the room and immediately he was drawn to you. He stared lovingly at the woman in front of him. "Thomas, please stitch this young lady up so she can get better." The woman said as she sent the man to fetch his supplies. "I'm Luda May. I think Thomas really likes you. He'll stitch you right up and I'll fetch you a glass of water and you can explain everything, alright?"

Bubba Sawyer: Your car broke down by the farmhouse You were driving down a long dirt road when all of a sudden your car started to make a strange noise. You tried to power through it but to no avail. The car slowly came to a stop and would not turn back on. You screamed at the top of your lungs. When you looked back to the scenery in front of you, you can see two men walking towards you. "Everything good?" One of them said. "M-my car just broke down." You replied. "Ah yes, that often happens on this road. I'm Nubbins." The second man said as he smiled. "I'm sorry miss, I should've introduced myself. I'm Drayton. Nubbins and his brother are pretty good at cars and can get you on your way in no time. Would you like to come into the house to get away from this dreaded Texas heat while they work on your car?" "That would be great actually. I really appreciate the help. I'm Y/N." Nubbins stayed behind and Drayton walked you to the house. "We have a guest!" Drayton yelled as he lead you around the house and then finally lead you to the living room where an old man and another man with a mask. You sat down as Drayton explained what happend. Every now and again the other man, named Bubba, was always seeming to be staring at you. As soon as Drayton left, the old man spoke up. "Could you help me into th-" He started to ask with a smirk. "No." Bubba declared, which startled you. The old man began laughing, "Bubba seems to really like you."

Michael Meyers: You were stalked during your babysitting Your parents were going to a Halloween party and called you to come and babysit your little brother. You drove from your college to your childhood house and greeted your family as they waited for you in the living room. They handed you $20 for dinner and kissed you and your brother goodbye. You two ordered some pizza and fries and hung out for a little bit until you looked at your brother and told him that he needs to do his homework. "But why?" He begged. "Because I don't want to be yelled at for letting you get away with not doing homework. Besides, I'll do homework with you so you're not alone. After we're both done we can bake some Halloween cookies, deal?" He took and your hand and shook it, "Deal." "Alright kiddo, we got this." You two finished your homework about an hour and a half later and then once that was cleaned up you two started on the cookies. The cookies finished baking and you took them out of the oven and put them on a cooling rack. "Yo, who is that? Is that a friend of yours?" Your brother asked as he looked back out the window. "What are you talking about?" "Look!" You looked out the window to find some person in coveralls and a pale white mask, "I have no idea who that is, they're probably just trying to scare us." You grabbed a sandwich baggie and put some cookies in it and grabbed a handful of candy that was meant for tomorrow and you opened the door and looked in the direction the person was originally standing. "Halloween is tomorrow asshole, but I like your spirit. Here's some candy and cookies for the night. Make sure you stay warm, it's a bit chilly out." You placed the items on a little stool on your porch, "Have a goodnight." You said before you went inside. Michael was hiding in the woods, but suddenly felt this warmth inside him when he witnessed your kindness and just not being scared or freaked out by him.

Brahms Heelshire: You were looking after Brahms (in doll form, obvi) This goes right along with the movie, but before Greta. Forget Greta even happened.

Jason Voorhees: You were renting a cabin for the summer You just wanted a nice and peaceful summer, so you rented a cabin right by the popular Camp Crystal Lake a few towns over. You pulled up to your cabin and took a little tour before you started to bring your bags inside. Unbeknownst to you though, while you were bringing your bags inside, Jason was watching you bring your bags inside. Jason would normally be observing to kill but, he was intrigued by you. You weren't loud and partying, you didn't dress in only sleazy tops and short shorts. You were by yourself, quiet, kept to yourself. He watched as you finished unpacking and sat on the front porch and...just started to read a book . The wind was blowing your hair out of your face and you were smiling gently to yourself. Jason really liked that about you. You were different to the people he killed, and he liked and appreciated different.

Billy Loomis: He saw you at the local coffee shop You had just moved to Woodsboro with your parents. You moved because your father found a better studio to write for and so you all moved with him. You weren't one to complain, this could be worse, it could be a lot worse even. Once the final moving boxes were put away, you kissed your parents goodbye and heading to find some nice places around the town. You found some nice boutiques and parks and a beautiful movie theatre but you came across a really cute coffee shop and chose to stop by. You ordered a latte and a muffin and started to subtly people watch. Your eyes were caught on a boy who was already looking in your direction. You smiled at him and he smiled back and you finished your latte and you left. Stu was going on and on about how he should make a move, but Billy just watched you as you left the shop, a smile never leaving his face.

Stu Macher: You were assigned as partners for a project This was the final English project before midterms and you were just hoping that you didn't do all the work again. Your teacher was assigning groups aloud when she called your name, "You're working with Stu Macher." Kids snickered and the teacher shushed them all and you just slung your head back. "If you can get him to do his work, I owe you a spa day." Your best friend whispered in your ear. "You just earned yourself a bet!" You exclaimed in a whisper as you held you hand out to shake. The project was a breakdown of a book turned movie and the differences between the two. Class eventually ended and you packed up your things and headed straight to Stu's locker. You spotted him and made your way over. "Hey Stu, we got assigned as partners for an English. We can talk about the project tomorrow in class. I chose Psycho for our project, I think I remember you talking about it a few times so I hope you don't mind. See you tomorrow." You said with a smile as you walked away to your own locker.

Bo Sinclair: You stop for gas at his gas station You were on your way to visit some friends and had to make a quick pit stop to use the restroom and get gas. You pulled into this run of the mill gas station and went inside to use the restroom. Bo had been staring at you since you pulled up but you brushed it off thinking that it's just his job. You walked out after washing your hands and grabbed a few snacks on the way to the counter. You placed your items in front of the gas station attendant - Bo. "What is a pretty young thing doing here today?" He asked with a smirk. "Just making a pit stop while heading to see some friends." You replied with a smile. "Well they must be lucky to have a friend like you. How much do you want on your pump?" "$17 please." "Snacks are on me, as long as you give me your number." He said with a wink. You blushed and wrote your number down on some receipt paper and handed it to him. You grabbed your snacks and headed out to your car and then started to fill it up.

Vincent Sinclair: Bo takes you home to kill you You were just chilling at the local bar when gas station attendant Bo started to strike up a conversation with you. You two hit it off pretty well so you two decided to ditch the grimy club and head over to his place. Bo was a gentleman and opened all the doors for you. He gave you a brief tour of his house and led you to the living room, he had you sit on the couch and he asked if you wanted anything to drink. You said you only wanted a water and he smiled and went to the kitchen but there was immediately some commotion. Vincent came out to see Bo's newest victim, but when he looked at you he fell head over heels for you. Bo didn't like this, but Vincent never felt this type of way for anyone so Bo gave up his blood thirsty ideas. He came back with some water and said, "My brother Vincent thinks you're pretty and wants to get to know you." Bo said with a smile

[rons-hermiones]

Come Find Me

Come Find Me

by rons-hermiones

Summary: Unplanned, Hermione is forced to spend Christmas at the Burrow due to her grandmother falling very ill. After being ignored by Hermione for weeks, Ron is determined to show her how much she means to him. Just before he gets the chance to tell her, Bellatrix Lestrange shows up with other plans for Hermione. Can Ron get to her before it's too late? (Ron/Hermione Half-Blood Prince AU)

Rating: M for language & dark themes in later chapters.

Chapter Seven

It had been two days since she arrived at the Burrow for holiday. 

Within that time Hermione has done her absolute best to avoid the entirety of the family. Well, specifically a certain gangly, freckled git. 

Most hours she didn’t spend reading, the guilt was gnawing at her for being such an awful, unappreciative guest. She’d avoid meals when she could, but in the event she couldn’t evade Molly, Hermione would eat as quickly as she could before excusing herself. 

Ginny, like her mother, was very perceptive and quickly caught onto what was happening. Oftentimes the girl would peel whatever book Hermione had been latching onto away from her hands and practically force her down the steps. And in the event Ginny successfully got Hermione to the living room, she’d just sit idly and watch the family interact, never interjecting herself. 

Harry had stopped by from time to time, thankfully he never pried her from the bed, but surprisingly, he did make her talk. He knew, probably from Ron, of what Harry phrased as her ‘ridiculous’ plan to stay out of his way. When the conversation started turning to anything Ron, or even worse, Lavender related, she’d excuse herself and venture out into the garden. 

And besides the three parties mentioned, no one really bothered her. 

Fred and George did their best to get a laugh from her on the occasion she was downstairs. Mr.Weasley would greet Hermione warmly and ask if she’s heard from her parents. 

She hasn’t. Not since the day after she arrived. They had sent a brief letter informing their daughter that they arrived in France, they loved her, and that they would write soon. Despite their silence, Hermione still wrote them everyday for any answers. 

Bill, Charlie, and Fleur had just taken to small talk, but Hermione usually halted it, never allowing herself to get invested in conversation. Something she’d usually do. 

And as for Ron, well, some nights Hermione swears she hears his loud, familiar steps shuffling outside the door as he whispers with Ginny. But, whenever the door opened, it was just Ginny and Ginny alone. These instances always disappointed Hermione for some silly reason. 

Now, on the night before Christmas Eve, something she dreaded so much knowing she’d be unable to evade Mrs.Weasley’s insistence she join them, she sat in the garden. 

Normally this is where she’d retreat if Ginny or Harry had taken to pestering her from the camp bed she was now seemingly glued to. Or often the contents of her prized book were too heavy, and the fresh air eased her. But tonight, she came out for a different reason. That reason being, the sight of her trunk had begun to make her sick. 

Inside it held hope. Something she had lost months ago. 

When her parents originally agreed to let her stay at the Weasley’s for Christmas (not under the pretense of a possibly dying Arthur), she was ecstatic. Immediately she began searching for the perfect gifts.   

For Molly, she had found a lovely welcome mat with small embroidered stars around the thick lettering. It would look perfect on the front steps. 

For Arthur, a Muggle alarm clock. It was both practical and for him, fascinating. 

She had picked up a broom cleaning kit down in Diagon Alley. Harry was attached to his Firebolt, so Hermione figured he’d appreciate it. In addition, she had a picture printed of him and Sirius from last Christmas. The brunette just hoped she wasn’t over stepping with that one. 

For Ginny she had gone with a few hair clips similar to the ones the ginger told her she liked over the summer. That and of course, a book on the best female quidditch players who ever lived. 

Hermione had been perusing a Muggle shop before coming to the Burrow over the summer, and there were the perfect gifts for the twins. A Muggle joke book along with a bag of whoopee cushions. They were harmless, but would surely keep the pair thoroughly entertained. 

Ron had informed Hermione early on about Charlie, Bill, and Fleur joining them for Christmas, so she was able to pick something up for them. For Charlie, she decided to go with something practical being this would be the first time they would meet. A few bottles of dittany (known to help burns and scratches from Dragons) along with a baby picture of Noberta, was what she had gone with. Bill and Fleur, being newly engaged, Hermione had gone with a joint gift. She had struck gold when she found a brilliant take on the Beauxbatons and Hogwarts shields combined. Something to remind them both of where they came from. 

And as for Ron, well, now she was afraid her original gift may be too personal for where they stood right now. She had gotten the idea from a talk they had back in fourth year, when he was fighting with Harry... 

“Where have you been?” Ron asked Hermione as she entered the common room. His tone wasn’t accusatory, just worried. 

At this, she flushed red, “I was uh, talking to Harry.” At this he made a noise of disgust, “well I wouldn’t exactly call it talking.” 

And for the briefest moment Ron paled, imagining the pair of them snogging. 

“What do you mean?” He barely managed, fumbling over his words. 

“Well,” she blushed again, “I mostly yelled and he well, he just stood there.” Hermione admitted sheepishly. 

“Why’d you yell at Harry?” Not that he was opposed to the action. 

And just like that she’s fired up again. Her hair crackles at the thought, “it’s completely unfair the way he’s treating you Ron! And I’m not going to let him get away with it.” She tutted. 

He stared at her in amazement, “but you told me you didn’t think he put his name in.” He pointed out softly. 

Hermione squirmed, “I don’t think he did, but that doesn’t give him the right to treat you the way he is. I suppose you tried to speak with him Ron and though I think he told you the truth, he didn’t have to be such an-” she paused, “he didn’t have to be so rude about it!” 

“Bloody hell! You were about to swear.” The smile on his face only grew. 

“No I wasn’t!” The brunette quickly defended, “anyway, he doesn’t understand it Ron. You’d think he would, you two are closer than I am to either of you.” Her voice dropped. 

The smile he was wearing soon slipped, “that’s not true Hermione.” If only she knew... 

At this, she remained silent, eyes trained on the fire. 

“What doesn’t he understand?” Ron whispers after a moment. 

Finally, her brown eyes meet his and she sighs, “Ron I know you better than you think I do.” If only he knew...

At this his face scrunched in confusion, imploring her to elaborate. 

“You don’t particularly care if Harry actually put his own name in or not, you just care that he’s making you feel second best.” She whispered, worried he’d react in red hot anger. 

Shocking them both, he merely gulped, “yeah, I suppose you’re right.” He admitted. 

“Oh Ron,” she said sadly, “I don’t know how it feels, being an only child, but you have to know when I think of you, I think of you alone.” Hermione confesses bravely. 

“What do you mean?” He dares to push her for more. 

“I don’t think of how Bill may be a brilliant Curse Breaker, or how Charlie is bravely taming Dragons, I don’t think about how Percy was Head Boy and expect you to want that too. Even the twins, whenever you make me laugh, I don’t compare it to how much they make me laugh. Ginny too, she may be brilliant at Quidditch but that doesn’t make you any worse.” 

He stares at her in shock, she takes this as confusion and goes on. 

“What I mean is Ron, is that you’re you, Ronald Weasley, and I don’t want you to be anyone else. I don’t expect you to be like anyone else, alright? If I wanted to be best friends with any other Weasley I would, but I’m not, amI? Am I even making sense?” She rambles, desperate for him to speak. 

Catching his breath, Ron nods and faces her, “I think I know what you’re trying to say Hermione.” A small smile finds its way across her face, “it’s just hard, when you’ve never had anything of your own, part of you feels like them. Does that sound mental?” 

His mind flashes to all the robes, books, bed sheets, and toys he’s shared with his siblings. 

In Bill’s old shoes, he feels like he has to be braver. 

Whenever he’s reading one of Charlie’s old Charms books, he feels like he has to be daring. 

In Percy’s robes, he has the sudden urge to make sure everyone’s doing what’s right. 

When his Mum gave him a mixture of Fred and George’s old quilts, he felt like he had to make his dormitory laugh whenever he was nestled underneath them.  

Even Ginny, his youngest sister, whenever he shared the family owl with her, Ron felt like his letter had to be an inch longer than hers. 

“It doesn’t sound mental Ron.” She assures, and the look in her eyes conveys nothing but understanding, it warms his heart. 

He huffs quietly, “Harry, I mean, he was my friend, and now, everyone’s gonna go around and want that too. And he’ll probably let them because what am I next to someone like Cedric Diggory?” He admitted. 

“Hey,” her hand fell atop his knee making him look at her with wide eyes, “you’re the best friend I’ve ever had, I wouldn’t trade you for a dozen Cedric Diggory’s.” Hermione gave his knee a small squeeze. 

And the action, the expression on her face, it all felt so sincere. So real. 

Bravely, he grabbed her small hand from where it was resting on his leg and held it snugly. 

“Thank you for yelling at Harry, it must’ve been wicked.” He teased with a light laugh. 

A chuckle moved past her lips, “that’s not exactly the word the first years who watched would use.” She said blushing. 

Ron beamed even more at this, imagining a feisty Hermione scaring away little first years as she took her anger out on the chosen one. 

“Ron, I just wanted to let you know,” she’s looking away, suddenly feeling shy, “that if you’d have me you know, I’m yours. Just yours.” It’s nothing but a whisper, barely heard over the crackling fire. 

The breath leaves his mouth so fast, it’s like a dementor’s kissing him. Quickly, he berates himself for allowing himself to think she means as anything more than friends. He’ll take it anyway. He thinks he’d take anything she has to offer. 

“Yeah,” he says softly, “yeah I’d definitely like that.” 

A grin etches its way across her features as she twines their fingers together. 

They sat like that the rest of the night. Not letting go even when Dean and Seamus eyed them from nearby. 

It wasn’t a grand gesture or declaration of love, but it was the start to the possibility of something more. And as Hermione spent the remainder of her night holding his hand as they talked in hushed whispers, Ron realized she could’ve been anywhere else. But instead, she was here. 

And for the first time in Ron Weasley’s life, he felt like the first choice. 

When recalling that night on the common room couch, something always stands out in Hermione’s brilliant mind. 

The fact that Ron said he’d never had anything that felt like his own. So with that in mind and the ever growing feelings the witch had blossomed for him, Hermione decided on something bold. 

It wasn’t exactly an ‘I love you’, but it was personal to him, and if he had cared that much about her to read into it, well he might figure out how important to her he really is. The fact that she’s cataloged just about every interaction they’ve had in the past six years. 

Wanting to convey as much without spelling it out, she had found a lovely oak whittled Wizarding Chess set. And in the box that held it, she had gotten ‘Property of Ron Weasley’ carved on the top. 

She’d even preemptively written the card: 

‘Something to call yours, Happy Christmas Ron. 

Love, Hermione.’ 

She had signed plenty of letters to him with those four letters, but part of her hoped that the note coupled with the gift may wake something within him. The possibility he feels the same way. 

However, she knows now that isn’t the case. It can’t be. Not when Lavender Brown will be waiting for him when they return to Hogwarts. 

So here she is, out in the garden, the Weasley’s garden no less, her precious book thrown aside, contemplating on whether or not she should give the gift. 

The selfish part of her says no. Hermione tells herself he doesn’t deserve anything from her after how he’s made her feel. 

Her morals scream otherwise. They’re telling her she’s the one who expected anything more than friendship from him and that she’s stupid to get so upset because he didn’t feel the same. 

Weighing her options, Hermione makes the quick choice to just give him the damn thing. One last act of friendship. A goodbye of sorts. 

She closes her eyes in pain, she just wants him happy, even if it kills her. And if that means distancing herself from him, then so be it. 

For the smartest witch of her age, she sure is oblivious to the fact that inside, only meters away, Ron is feeling the exact same way. 

...

“You know I don’t like how she just sits out there. She’s so far away.” Ron comments boldly from his place on the couch. 

“Ronnie, she’s not that far, you can see her from the window.” Fred says. 

“I don’t think he exactly meant physical distance.” Bill commented over the book he was reading, making the room laugh, as Fleur elbowed him harshly. 

He blushes, “shove off! The lot of you, I just mean that things aren’t exactly safe.” He points out. 

Ginny scoffs from the couch, “please Ron, the wards here are almost as tight as the ones at Hogwarts.” She points out. 

Bill speaks again, “yeah, Dumbledore himself helped put them up. He came by here with Mad Eye over the summer while we stayed at Grimmauld place.” 

Ron sighed, “you still don’t know, I mean, look at Charlie. He just waltzed on up.” He defended. Harry seemed to agree, but said nothing. 

“Well to be fair Ronnie, I know exactly where the Burrow is, I reckon You-Know-Who and his followers could care less about where a bunch of pure bloods live.” Charlie pointed out. 

“Technically, we’re blood traitors.” Ron commented. 

They ignored this, “anyway, there is an apparition line, why do you think I walked up from the pond? That’s where it ends.” He reminds. 

“Still it’s rather close and look at Hermione, she’s not far off from the pond at the edge of the garden.” The youngest Weasley boy says peering out the window again, watching as the witch reads that same damned book soundly under a tree. 

The twins began to laugh, “you sound almost as paranoid as Harry over there.” Fred teased causing the dark haired boy to give him a small shove, but a grin played on his lips no less. 

“Ickle Ronniekins just wants his girlfriend inside so she’ll finally talk to him.” George reminded.

Ron opened his mouth, no doubt to say something nasty to his brothers, before Bill stopped him, “even if someone did apparate we’d hear it first Ron.” 

“Yeah,” Ginny chimed in, “we heard Charlie the other night.” 

“Exactly.” The eldest Weasley agreed. 

“Ron if you are so worried you could always go out there too, no?” Fleur suggested with raised brows and a mischievous smile. 

At this Bill proudly kissed her cheek as the room erupted in snickers as the blonde joined the fun. 

“Yeah Ickle, listen to the last, why don’t you go sit with her? Unless...” he began knowingly. 

“Unless what Fred?” George asked his twin. 

“Unless little Hermione would rather be taken by death eaters than spend time with Ronniekins.” 

 “That’s not even something to joke about Fred!” Ron boomed angrily, suddenly feeling faint at the idea of the likes of someone like Malfoy’s dad anywhere near Hermione. 

“Alright.” Charlie said standing, “Ron, don’t you have reading to do or something?” He asks his heaving brother who looks like he’s about to pounce on Fred. 

Surely, this calms his breathing, “right, reading.” He says gruffly, quickly exiting the room. 

“Honestly, he’s so sensitive.” George mutters to his brother. 

The room is still tense. No one speaks for a few minutes, and it’s Ginny who breaks the silence. Her eyes are wide as a somewhat amused smile strikes her lips. 

“Wait, did you just say Ron’s reading?”

[lunasilvermorny]

The Summer of Muggles

It’s finally here - and it was all my idea!

Kidding...

First of all - I’m so glad to see that anyone is that invested in anything related to my headcanon ^^ So thanks anon for giving me the motivation to finally make that post!

That being said...Here’s the thing.

When I made the "Summer of Muggles", it was just something I made for myself, to figure things out, so it involved zero research. And as someone who's never personally been to the UK, I probably got a lot of things wrong and Americanized the hell out of everything. Anyway, for me to post it, I need to do a proper research and I'm just not invested enough in it to dedicate the time and energy that will make it happen.

That means that the full thing will just stay as something I wrote for myself.

However...!

I can summarize it for you. (and by summarize, I mean - make a very long and detailed post about it.)

(I realized that the drawing I made about the Summer of Muggles is almost a year old, so I’ve decided to redraw it... It’s really encouraging to see how much I’ve improved since last year.)

0. Introduction:

For Luna's 14th birthday (it's in December, so she was still in her 4th year), her mother bought her a car that Luna named Oliver. Luna's muggle grandma has taught her how to drive (the first time she let her sit behind the wheel was when she was only 8 y.o.!), and she really loves muggle technology in general, so it was the perfect gift for her.

When Luna came back for the summer vacation between her 4th and 5th year, she's decided to go on a road trip across the UK with Oliver. The car had a magical protection that prevented muggle-cops from approaching it, so Luna was able to drive around without a license. She also looked older than she was (mostly because of her height), so she didn't draw any attention to herself whenever she got in and out of the car.

She drove around, especially next to coastlines, parked next to beaches and slept in the car. During her trip she met many muggles, but a selected few actually traveled with her for a portion of it.

You can divide her trip into 4 major sections:

The first week (the adjustment period)

The end of July

The first three days of August

The rest of August

Okay, let’s dive in!

----

1. The first week (around mid-July)

She spent most of the time getting used to sleep in her car and go to public places for basic needs like food, bathroom, laundry etc.

The most memorable event during this week was when she met a group of people that were on their way to a rock-concert when their car broke down. So she gave them a ride and in return they've sneaked her in.

----

2. The end of July

That's when she met Pete and Lynn - fraternal twins that just finished high school and wanted to have a small taste of freedom before going to uni. She met them while she stumbled across a forest party for their graduation.

Most people there were too wasted to notice her, but they saw her almost immediately and started a conversation with her. So they drank, danced and talked for hours. They were also the only muggles that figured out she's a witch. (Well, almost... you’ll see why in the next section.) Lynn has noticed her wand and they told her that their little sister is also a witch that just finished her first year at Hogwarts. After the party was interrupted by the cops, Lynn and Pete asked her if they can join her for the trip, and without any second though she agreed.

They mostly went to parties and got drunk in different places for the rest of the month, and had a lot of fun together.

--

3. The first three days of August

After arriving at a small town and sitting in the local pub, Luna’s identity as a witch was discovered and she had to use Obliviate on the muggles in the pub to keep it a secret. Because they were in the middle or nowhere essentially, a wizard from the Ministry of Magic arrived shortly after to see if a minor used magic there. Luna, Lynn and Pete hid in the car, and once the wizard got in the pub, drove away in a hurry.

Knowing that she needs a strong alibi in case they found out it was her that used magic, Luna left Lynn and Pete with Oliver next to a small forest outside of the town and flew in her owl form to her parents’ house, but when she saw that the wizard got there before her and was already talking to her father, she's decided to fly to the Weasleys instead. She got there in the middle of the night and woke up Bill to ask for his help.

In the early morning the wizard from the Ministry arrived at the Weasleys’ house and was greeted by Luna and Bill, although Mrs. Weasley joined them shortly after he got there. When she saw her son was telling the wizard that Luna has been staying there for more than a week and never left their house, she supported their story, even before she was sure why they're lying about it.

The wizard said that he found a letter addressed to her in the pub (oh right, I forgot to mention that while in the pub, Charlie Brown showed up with a letter from Rowan, and with the whole fuss surrounding her being a witch, she hasn’t noticed when she dropped it.) but Luna kept insisting she was never there.

The wizard left eventually and Luna found out later on that her father made the problem “disappear” and that's why she got away with it.

She stayed there for a couple of hours and gave Mrs. Weasley a not-really-convincing explanation for what happened, but Mrs. Weasley chose to trust her eldest son and his reasons for helping her.

Luna flew back to the road outside the small town where she's left Lynn and Pete with her car, but when she got to the exact spot, they weren’t there anymore. She's spent the rest of the morning searching for them in both her human and owl forms and when she couldn't, she went to a small pub on the side of the road to get some rest. The pub was empty aside for the bartender - Michael, a 20-something y.o. bloke that ran his parents' business when they got too old to do it themselves.

They talked and bonded, and eventually he offered her to sleep in his flat on the second floor, because she looked too exhausted to keep looking for them. But she barely got half an hour of sleep before she's decided to keep searching, and Michael offered to help her. She knew she'd be better off searching in her owl form, but he looked determined to help her, so they've searched together for a few hours. Around noon Luna thanked him for his help but said she preferred to keep searching alone, so she had the chance to cover more ground in her owl form.

Toward the evening she started to lose hope and took a quick nap on a bench in a random bus stop, before she was interrupted by an old lady and her son. She almost lost her wand, but the old lady gave it to her just before she left again.

She kept searching for a few more hours and just before she lost all hope, she went once more to the place where she had left them in the first place and to her surprise, found Lynn sitting next to a tree a few meters from the car.

Lynn told Luna that Pete and her had a huge fight and he's decided to go to Wales alone (because that's where they were heading) and Lynn went to a nearby town to sleep, but got stuck with the car because the gas ran out, and by the time she got back to the same point, Luna already gave up on the idea that they might still be there.

When Luna suggested they should just keep going, Lynn told her she's too tried and they both went back to Michael's pub to get some rest. But instead of sleeping they've spent the entire night drinking and talking with him and when Lynn finally fell asleep around dawn, Michael asked Luna to join them on their trip, since Pete’s spot has opened.

--

4. The rest of August

The three had great chemistry and spent most of the time like before- partying and drinking, only that with Michael there, they also went camping more. Lynn and Michael almost became a thing, which made being around them awkward, then it didn't work out, which made being around them even more awkward, but after a few days it went back to normal.

They went to the northernmost point in Scotland before they turned back to England, but kept driving past London and went to the southernmost point in England. There they met Connor, a rich young bloke that celebrated his financial freedom with a huge party on the beach.

During the night he made a very negative impression on Luna and Michael, but after he sobered up in the morning he offered them to come visit him in Brighton, where he'll make it up to him. Michael was against it, but both Luna and Lynn were intrigued and they've decided it will be the last place they visit before they head back home.

They partied with Connor for a few days and Lynn's decided to stay with Connor, while Luna and Michael headed toward London.

Luna dropped him at the train station and planned to go home, but when she stood outside of her house, already prepared to open the door and get in, she's decided that she wanted to get a proper goodbye from Pete as well and flew to his aunt's house in Wales.

Pete was surprised by the strange owl that knocked on the window, and even more surprised when it turned into Luna. He hugged her and apologized for leaving without a saying anything, and just said that he and Lynn had a huge fight and he couldn't stay there with her anymore. He refused to get into the details but showed concern for his sister’s safety and reassured Luna that they tend to have huge fights like this a lot and they'll make up "sometime soon."

--

After that Luna really went back home - and that's the end of the Summer of Muggles.

If you think that was long, the original post was ~30 pages long in MS Word, so... I actually summarized it. (Who know I was capable of it? Not me.)

[missmaxime]

Ahem let's try this again - 14, 23, 27, and 43!

Yes thank you for these!💕💕 And also for these:  I think you've answered all the questions already - so I'm gonna come up with some of my own! What's one non-Brio pairing that you'd love to write? What's one fic you'd love to write but know you won't? What's one fun fact about any of your fics? What's one non-Brio pairing that you'd love to write? Okay, so yesterday I woke up in this ongoing dream where Rio and Joan Holloway were dating in Mad Men AU and I can’t shake that pairing off (and, y’know, the last time something like this happened I wrote Beth/Turner). So there’s a chance that I might write that one in the near-ish future. While I don’t think I will write a main pairing not involving either Beth or Rio, there’s a few side-pairings I might write into fics someday. Like I’d like to write Annie/Amber because that sounds like all the fun and drama. Another one, for a very non-outlined, non-existent ISYTT follow up is Marcus/Emma, even though it’s again about Jane. What's one fic you'd love to write but know you won't? When we all did the Fake Title Meme, I got this one from @foxmagpie I think. And while I still like the set-up, I’m not really into writing teens. But then again, every time I tell myself I won’t write something, I end up doing it anyway at one point. It’s a pretty good incentive actually. But I don’t see it happening soon-ish, because I already have a lot of WIPs.

Never is a Promise Beth and Rio met in their teens/early twenties at a holiday or summer camp - Rio’s single and Beth and Dean are on a break. When they parted they’d told each other they’d keep in touch, but all kinds of circumstances prevent them from following up on that. Years later, when Beth’s divorced, she finds a stack of letters Rio wrote her in the garage, that Dean managed to hide from her. His final letter says something like ‘Never is a promise, and I’ll always be waiting for you’, and Beth sets out to find Rio again.  

What's one fun fact about any of your fics? I’ll give a few about some: - Before I wrote Ain’t No Sunshine, I was telling myself I couldn’t really do angst and kink, and then I got the idea of writing that pairing and I did exactly that. - I really thought I See Your True Technicolors was going to be this fun weird thing nobody would read but the prompter, and hopefully at least they’d be happy with the result. Now that blew up! - Originally I intended for The Girlfriend Experience to be a full Pretty Woman AU, but it ended up being a wildly different story. There’s still a few bits and pieces in it, like the shopping scene (even if that’s a Rio POV, I was kicking myself over that so much!!) and the assault scene (I really played that down in the fic compared to the movie), and the price negotiation was a little inspired by the movie, but even more by the Rio/Beth negotiation over Eddie. 

ACTUAL QUESTIONS from the list under the cut:

14. Do you have a personal word minimum that you hold yourself too? Why or why not?

No, absolutely not. I do like chapters being roughly the same length, but I don’t mind if it’s under 2k off (my chapters are usually on the longer side, so it’s not that much in comparison). Since I don’t outline every single scene, it’s never a dead given how many words will make up a scene or a fic for me. For the Reality Tv AU I’m starting to write I think I will aim for chapters to be around 4-5K, just because I personally like reading (at least) that length. When I read other people’s fic who post like 2K chapters a week, I can easily skip 2-3 weeks just to read more in one go. So I would like to give an audience the amount I would like to read. 23. What’s your absolute favorite trope to write? LIKE YOU DON’T ALREADY KNOW THE ANSWER TO THIS LAUREN!! It’s obviously fake-dating. It’s my all-time favorite trope ever. I love to write it, and to read it. There’s just so much space for comedy, yearning, UST, bed-sharing, banter. It’s got potential for everything I love. 27. Do you like to give your readers some warning of what might be coming or just slap them in the face with content at random? I do warn in the tags for future events I think might trigger someone (and also ask people to tell me if they feel like I didn’t do that enough). But I don’t tease a twist or something in my Author’s Notes. Especially for a fic like The Girlfriend Experience, I was very deliberately choosing my tags to still warn, but not give away the twist in that fic. I don’t think the impact would come across if I already teased it beforehand. 43. Talk about a positive experience with fanfiction or the fanfiction community that you will always remember.

Back in the days, like between 2005 – 2010, I was a member of a very close-nit (like 15 people) Harry Potter RPG forum. I had been involved with fandoms before, but I was super young and most people in those fandoms were 25-35 back then. And I never really had an opportunity to really make friends online, I was like orbiting around them, sometimes making some Ava’s or other artwork. But on that board we were all between like 14-18, and it’s the first time we didn’t just bond over the fandom, but also wrote together and created. This was MSN Messenger time, so we were in a group chat, but also discussed creatively which storyline we were going to play out, in between bonding over typical teen troubles and just our personal life. We mostly wrote our RPG, but we also started writing fanfic. And it was a super helpful and kind experience, because we knew each other so well that everyone could point out both good and bad parts about the fic, without there being hard feelings.

When we got older and went our own ways the forum died down. We had a brief revival, but the RPG is officially dead (the board that hosted the site is completely gone), but I still keep in touch with a few members on the board from time to time. It’s pretty fun to see what the people are doing in their real life now that you met fifteen years ago on a HP board. The GG fandom hasn’t even existed that long, and I haven’t been a part of it for even half of it. But hopefully I can feel a similar way about this one if it comes to an end.

[hecohansen31]

Heavy Is The Heart Of A King

Hades! Michael Langdon+Persephone! Reader:

(A/N): Hello there, lovelies!

This was not supposed to be happening as in… I wrote this Friday and worked my ass off, through Saturday for it, because I am not in the best mood (plus I haven’t felt like replying to asks, I am rather sorry for it, I just haven’t felt up for the smutty ones, particualrly…).

Still I hope you’ll like this, because I honestly loved the concept and it might be turned into a series as “Angel” let mw know, what you think about it!

Also last note: the original idea of “Hades and Persephone! AU” belongs to @7-wonders​ (who’ll by now think I am a stalker, I swear I am not), although mine more than being based onto the myth is based onto the “Hadestown” version, because it is one of the main reason behind the writing of this (basically Friday I was listening to “Epic III” on repeat so…

This will debut Sunday night, and if you want to be tagged in it, just like this teaser!

SUMMARY: Your husband lately has seemed distant and you are unable to stop yourself from goin anything but pushing away. Not everything is easy when you are the ruler of the Underworld...

WORDS: 5,9 K

WARNINGS: OOC! Michael, Not Based Onto Actual Myths, Hadestown! Inspired, Anger Outbursts, Mention of Explotaition and Sex.

You had been nothing more than a maiden when you had first met Michael.

Having run away from your obsessive mother, meanwhile she was talking with some handmaiden about the latest human harvest, you had found yourself in a flowery camp, being more than happy to spin around it, meanwhile you gently collected some of your favorite flowers, making sure to replenish whatever you took with your magic.

You thought they would have looked beautiful all collected together around your room or tangled in your hair, bringing their sweet fragrance in it, meanwhile little bees swirled around you and you jokingly chased them away, muttering about how you were the goddess of that place.

Then a sudden darkness had encompassed your small heaven and you had looked around, to find out what this threat might be, finding just a boy around your age, onto his chariot, stuck in the middle of your field.

A dark contrast with your delicate flowers, since the chariot was completely black, with two furious black stallions who raised their legs trying to escape their master’s hold.

You shushed them, cooing them gently, till you were in front of the boy, who was almost as surprised you and you blushed, focusing on the stallions, which became quite meek under your attention, searching you for sugar, till you exited a small cube of it for each of them.

The boy looked at you, and you stared at him from your side-eye never ever having been in front of a boy, since your mother thought they were more trouble than what they were truly worth, and the only boy your age you had seen was Hermes, who you didn’t like very much since he would tease you about your young age and your inexperience.

But this boy held no smirk, just absolute darkness in his eyes.

It almost scared you, but there was also a longing that made you pity him: he was looking for somebody who might play with him, just as you always did, caged inside your mother’s protective hold.

“I am rather sorry to have interrupted your afternoon, my fair lady” he commented, as he finally realized what had happened, quite embarrassed and hiding in his long drapes, meanwhile he exited the chariot, coming towards you, before he realized that as he moved everything turned black and dead, around him.

And then you had realized who you had in front of you: Hades the god of the Underworld.

Everybody made him out to be some kind of cruel torturer but you couldn’t believe those voices, when that angelic creature waltzed towards you with an unnatural grace, still but so liquid in his movement that they were seduction in themselves.

And you felt quite enthralled by him.

“No need for it, my lord” you simply muttered, bowing deeply, knowing that since he was one of the three original gods you had to show him your respect and submission, but he shooed off the gesture, an hand almost shooting up to grab you to help you steady up, but he stopped himself midway… almost regretting the original gesture.

“… well my stallions are quite the intolerable asses, if you might pardon my vulgarity, my gentle lady” he joked, before he gently patted both the stallions, who neighed loudly and pawed the ground greedily, as if they already wanted to go back, under.

“They might be stubborn but they’re beautiful creatures” you muttered, wanting to add ‘as their master’, but you couldn’t help but feel ashamed of the rapid fire coursing through your veins at that accidental meeting “… flowers seem to ease them”.

“… or the pretty girl giving them sugar” he retorted, before he also gave them some sugar, adjusting the long cape on his back, which, with a closer look, looked made of pure darkness.

You snickered a bit ashamed of being caught red-handed but he simply sent you a welcoming smile of his own, before he looked down at all the flowers around him, growing dead, and his gaze immediately turned sad, and following the pathway he had taken to dismount from the chariot, he came back onto it, and you were unable to stop yourself from moving closer.

The flowers came to life again at the small moves of your feet and Hades wasn’t able to stop himself from staring in pure awe at your power.

You smirked, definitely confident in it, shooting an hand out, for him.

“I am Persephone, goddess of spring and flowers, my mother is Demeter, goddess of the harvest and summer. She has chosen this name for me, but I would rather be called (Y/N), I have seen some mortals, owing such a beautiful name… and… I just find myself enthralled with it”.

You coursed yourself for your silly dialogues.

The god of Death might not be interested into knowing such silly knowledges, but, since you hadn’t had much exposure with people of your age, just spying on mortals and running away when your mother wasn’t looking, you didn’t know what to say.

But you had wanted him to stay.

Desperately.

He had looked at you surprised, almost ashamed of the discourse, since red tinted his cheeks, but he immediately smiled back, a smile that outshone his robe of darkness.

“Well then, my sweet maiden, you might as well know me as Hades, the god of the Underworld, but I have also heard mortals, and I would have loved my name to be Michael, you might as well call me that, it’ll be our memory of this meeting”.

His tone was sweet, but he didn’t treat you as a child, as your mother did.

It was full of warmness, and you found yourself also with bloody cheeks, meanwhile you tried to keep an hold onto his sweet gaze, gently pushing yourself onto your tiptoes so that you could keep on staring at him as he set up on the chariot, assuming the proper shape of a king on his throne.

“Then you might call me (Y/N), and it’ll be the sweetest of secrets I know”

He had smiled before taking off and suddenly the horses had started moving again, truly pawing at the ground till a big and large hole had appeared on the ground and you had fallen back, due to the air being blown by it.

Your mother had found you like this.

She hadn’t allowed her outside for so long, and only when you had started forgetting what the rays of the Sun tasted like on your skin, she had allowed you outside and you had run to the hole now glimmering with life and flowers, but soon shadows had loomed onto them and your mysterious god had come to you.

“… my mother didn’t let me attend anything before, she gets kind of overprotective” you had huffed out, meanwhile you had started tangling flowers in elaborate crowns.

“She is right, I am not the least threatening figure” he had mumbled, meanwhile he had kept his hands to himself and his gaze low.

“Don’t say this! You have done nothing to make me feel uneasy around you, unlike Hermes, who always taunts me!”.

He had giggled at your juvenal outburst, before he had offered to have a little talk with the messenger of the Gods.

“He can be quite witty when he wants to, but he is smaller than you might think…” he had joked, making you giggle softly, meanwhile red rushed to your cheeks, and meanwhile you did so, you offered Michael one of your crowns “… oh sweetie, we know what happened last time I touched a flower”.

“… but…” you had huffed, almost acting as a brat and puffing your cheeks out, almost comically “… I put so much effort in it”.

And he was unable to refuse further but as soon as he had reached out for the flower crown, barely grazing it, it had fallen to the ground, completely ruined.

“See… nothing good comes from me” his tone, although obviously sarcastic, had held some kind of harshness and depth, as if he truly believed the words he had spoken.

This had filled you with some kind of sorrow, and the following time you had met him, you had suddenly reached out for his hand, and he had been truly too surprised to do anything to stop you from touching him.

A slight pain coming through your arm, but that hadn’t stopped you from keeping his hold onto Michael and gently you had been able to get a bit of your magic onto him, a soft and comforting buzz and before he knew it, flowers had grown through his blonde curls.

You had giggled at his confused expression before he had realized what had happened and joined your laugh, saying that he wouldn’t be very threatening, and nobody would obey him.

“You don’t have to be either threatening or cruel to have people obey you” you had muttered, gently offering him a smile, and taking a rose from his hair, red as blood “… there is a force also in tenderness”.

He had simply smirked and gently moved you closer to him, meeting you halfway in a small kiss, that got you giggling and with flushed cheeks, meanwhile his expression become so soft and his body was molten under your hands.

And in that moment, you had understood that you had that power over him.

And you quite liked it.

Almost as you did like him.

And every breathing time, away from your overbearing mother, you had spent it alongside your newest lover, turning yourself around in flower fields and clutching to his hand, meanwhile you walked through them.

As soon as you would stop by with his head onto your lap, he would talk to you about the Underworld, and although at first he was shy, because he was sure it would scare you, he had grown more convinced once you started asking for more, curious and famished about anything different from the endless fields of happiness she wandered through.

“You are no gentle flower, are you, (Y/N)?” he had asked, clinging onto one lock of your hair to bring you closer to his face, laying a gentle upside down kiss onto your lips, meanwhile you gently smirked.

“… you realized it too late, my love” she had mumbled, kissing softly his nose “… now you are stuck with me”.

He had giggled, and softly kissed you to oblivion.

But one day your mother had discovered your little liaison, and she had stopped you from seeing Hades.

She had grabbed onto your hair and pushed you inside, just when you were escaping in the night to meet up with Michael.

“What are you doing, careless youngster?” she had screamed, meanwhile she held you down, summoning Hephaestus to bind you with chains “… that man is dangerous… you don’t understand that he wants you just for one thing! Men are like this… careless and destructive!”

You had tried to tell her that Michael wasn’t like this: he loved and cherished you and wanted to have you as his bride, had she given him her consent.

“He’ll never have my consent” and she had then pushed her onto a chair, spelling her with magical swine to keep her in place, meanwhile she waited for the Gods’ blacksmith “… he is a monster and before you’ll understand that…before you’ll finally realize that, you won’t be able to get away from him”.

She had then moved onto waiting for her nephew and you, in a last stand of strength, had ripped the swine with magic, and meanwhile she waited, you had run away.

You had reached the hole and this time, instead of waiting, you had started pawing desperately at the ground, till Michael got your message and showed himself in his night-robes, looking at you as if you were a mad woman, but it didn’t stop him from asking what was wrong.

“She… my mother… discovered about us… she wanted…” you took an extremely deep breath “… she didn’t want us together, she said that she would chain me to the bed, if it was what would keep me from coming after you!”.

Michael’s gaze had grown dark, but he had tried to make you go back to your mother.

“… she is right, I am dangerous for you, little flower”.

“You are not!” you had retorted, and moved to hug him gently “I know that you wouldn’t… she is the one who wanted to hurt me, keeping me away from you and taking my freedom away”.

“… she is still your mother” Michael seemed less and less convinced to let you go, his grip tightening softly around you, sheltering from the cold weather “…you might regret it”.

“I won’t” you hadn’t sounded as convinced never, but you loved Michael, so desperately and stupidly and gently pushed him away, to look at him in the eyes, in search of something that might link you together, without Demeter rupturing you apart.

You had been the one to think about the pomegranate, since a tree was near and Michael had enchanted it for you.

You had bitten in the juicy fruit, swallowing the seeds, enough for you to be stuck with him, but right when you were eating your seventh, Demeter had walked in you, her face shock and horror and had thrown the pomegranate away from your hand.

But it was too late.

The liquid of the fruit run through your hand as blood and you had just smirked to your mother, and Michael gently had taken you with him, re-opening the hole in the ground, which swallowed you.

Certainly the Underworld wasn’t as you expected and it had taken you some time to get used to it, mostly because you missed the fields of flower and the sun on your skin, but Michael tried to ease each of this lacking with any kind of help he could give you: he brought you flower that blossomed at night and he made sure that you had your little corner of light, thanks to some fossils and burning fire.

But you could survive to everything with Michael by your side.

And the life of his wife had quite its perks, one of which being the carnal knowledge of her husband, a rather pleasurable hobby.

The same night you had bitten the pomegranate, you had offered Michael your own forbidden fruit, and as the juice of the pomegranate had dribbled onto your hands, blood had left your legs, in a painful pleasure that had brought you over the edge more and more.

And you loved standing by your husband’s side: you could spend each minute of your time, with Michael and you loved it.

Still you had your own friends even in the Underworld, everybody loving you somehow, either because of Michael or because of your own gentleness.

But the more time you spent together, the more Michael got cold and was driven apart from you.

He wanted to distance himself from the other gods, to prove them that he was the best, after they had “exiled” him in the Underground.

“You have me my love” you had sweetly chanted to him, gently blowing softness in his ear “… isn’t it enough?”.

“Of course, it is” he promised you, holding your hand, but, in the morning, when you would wake up, he was gone and your bed felt cold.

The more your husband neglected you, the more you found the thought of coming back to him, after your stay with your mother, dreadful.

Not because you had fallen out of love with him or you didn’t love the Underworld, but because you felt more and more like you were growing invisible there, unlike on Earth, where you were welcomed with full gentleness and excitement and you loved to stay among humans, discovering their ideas and changes through the continuous flow of years.

You had also somehow grown to a mutual agreement with your mother: she wouldn’t get in your married life business, and she would appreciate the time you’d pass together, with no bickering, although she could see your own unhappiness, and chanted for you to question your husband.

“You just can’t do this, anymore, ‘sephone” she had caressed your hair and brought you in an hug, as you cried with her about missing the husband you had married “… you need to talk with him, make him reason”.

But you just couldn’t, unable to stand any confrontation with Michael, mostly when he showed himself to be so careful at you in his own way, showering you with gifts and compliments, making the Underworld more appealing for you.

But you didn’t care about any of these things, you just wanted to be hugged and feel loved, seen by him as the first time you had met, in that beautiful field of flowers.

An anger had been growing inside you, although you hated such a feeling.

Michael’s anger outbursts made you quite attentive not to become like that, trying to comfort your husband whenever they would happen; at first they wouldn’t be nothing more than brattish fights against his annoyed employees, you would calm with caresses and sweet nothings whispered in his ears, but lately Michael had also showed some anger towards you.

You hadn’t been able to stop that anger from flowing freely, when Michael came to take you.

At first you had loved those moments, the sweet conciliation of being again in his arms, it would lull you to sleep satisfied after you had worshipped again his body and he did the same with you, but slowly you just felt like you were going back to a golden cage.

But that year not only Michael had come, reeking of smoke and pollution, but he had come early, surprising you effectively, meanwhile you were meeting up with your human friends and he had just grabbed you to bring you away from the crowd not hearing your protests.

“You are early!”.

“I missed you”.

His eyes glinted with true emotion, and he leaned down to kiss you, but you ducked away, making him kiss nothing but air.

“I was with friends” you complained, although you knew all too well that any resistance with Michael was futile, mostly with the tight gaze he owned “… couldn’t you just wait, instead of grabbing me like a caveman?”.

“You never usually mind me grabbing you, sweetheart” he tried to reassure you softly, smirking at you, but nothing made you more relaxed or the tension disappear between them.

“Well you never came early, on Earth” you replied, spitting poison.

All the rage you owned suddenly exiting your body and turning towards him, in an accusing way that made him quite nervous, as you could notice from the traits of anger you recognized, alongside him tightening the grip onto your wrist.

“… I missed you, my love” he replied through gritted teeth “… aren’t you happy to see your husband again?”.

You wanted to huff out that “no you weren’t happy in the slightest”, but you had missed also your husband, although he might be extremely volatile.

“I did” you mumble and pushed yourself onto your toes to kiss his lips softly, effectively feeling him melt under you “… I am sorry, I just… this is so sudden and rushed”.

“I have a surprise for you that’ll make living easier” he had promised you before stuttering away towards the Underworld.

Since the time had moved in the Underworld, Michael had become flashier and more attentive, elaborating magic and human technologies to his heart’s delight till he mastered them both.

You thought… it was some kind of abomination.

You felt like nothing of the old tales existed anymore in the Underworld and although you loved the beauty of the light and the feel of warmth, you sometimes wished that it was just back to the old times.

But what you hadn’t accepted was Michael using this knowledge to create weapons.

And worst of all, his great surprise for you: a wall.

That would separate you from everything, effectively blocking them inside.

But worse was who was building the wall: humans, that Michael had recruited for this harsh work, promising riches and wonderful opportunities in his new world, making them work unrightfully and in dangerous situations, that made you quite angry towards him.

“What is happening here, Michael?” you asked exasperated, looking at sweating humans, their forehead full of sweats and greasy and their back hunched onto the creation of indestructible bricks.

“Our empire” he had welcomed you, gently cuddling you close to his chest and sadly you were unable to hear his heartbeat.

“Are you crazy?!” you had screamed in his face and pushed him away, meanwhile he had looked at you concerned, before his gaze grew grim.

“You don’t understand, like all of them…” he had muttered darkly, meanwhile he seized your wrist, obliging you to watch the horrible sight “… this is true power, not some castle in the sky or some field full flowers, and I am giving you the crown of it”.

Your eyes had become full of tears, at the knowledge of that suffering and had turned to Michael who seemed almost surprised of your emotions, but immediately brought up a straight face, hoping that you would accept the branch of olive he was offering you.

“I don’t want it” you had simply uttered, and had exited his grip, running away, not knowing where you should have gone and eventually growing tired.

There two invisible arms circled your body, and you knew it was Thanatus, your husband’s loyal servant, who was your body-guard.

You woke up in your bed, again cold and the fact that Michael had completely removed his objects from your shared room hurt you, although your refusal of that new world was strong and you wouldn’t change your mind so easily.

You would make Michael change his.

You had done it once.

And you would do it again.

But not right now, not when you felt like you couldn’t walk, barely able to turn around the bed, wondering whether you wanted or not to cry again, with your tired and heavy limbs.

And then you heard it, a heavenly music luring you outside of your warm cocoon and across the throne room, where Michael already stood, his eyebrows raised, although his lips were pressed tight against each other, and his arms crossed.

You knew it all too well that he was trying to hide his interest, and only a slight smirk showed that you were being acknowledge by him, but you gave him no mind, focusing on the elegant poet stringing the guitar and creating the heavenly music.

The music spoke of gentleness and of a lost love, but hope dragged through it and in the end, it shone of happiness and of his love being found again, asking for forgiveness and gentleness, a wedding being fulfilled.

“My beloved…” the petname reeked of venomous sarcasm, but you just rolled your eyes “… this is Xavier, looking for his love, since apparently I have taken her in the Underworld”.

“You did!” he replied, showing more guts or stupidity than you had seen in any human who had challenged your husband, in the latest centuries “… you offered her riches, in exchange for her hands and eyes”.

“Don’t you think that it is a fair then, for me to keep her?” he smiled charmingly at Xavier “… she signed a contract”.

“You tricked her in signing it!” he shouted back, before facing you, his eyes becoming suddenly watery and sadness took over rage “… my lady, please… tell your husband that he made a mistake, I miss Eurydice each night I don’t have her by my side, and to know that she is down there, deprived of the sight of the sun…”.

You couldn’t help but feel pity for the young poet and for his lover, knowing all too well, what she must have felt like, trapped in a lightless cage.

“I am sorry, my poet, but my husband is the ruler of this world, and if he had set up a deal with your lover, there is no way to get her back” you replied, pushing yourself against the throne as if you wanted it to eat you up “… your music still has brought great comfort to my heart, and maybe it might convince my husband to grant you some mercy”.

The undertone of your words didn’t get unnoticed by Michael, who turned to you with a harsh glare, although you stood right back at him with a tense look that he couldn’t avoid, and he immediately returned his attention to the poet.

“Apparently your music delights my wife” he mumbled, almost jealous of that talent “… why don’t I also do a contract with you?”.

“I have no intention to build your wall!” spited out Xavier, and you were sure Michael would incinerate him on the spot “… I just want my Eurydice back!”.

“And you shall have her” Xavier’s eyes brightened with hope, meanwhile you wondered what horrible plan might sleep in his mind “… if you manage to sing me a song that might convince me to let her back in your bed”.

You were surprised by Michael’s show of mercy, you hadn’t seen one in so long and you hadn’t expected your husband to be such a gentle soul underneath that dark exterior, again.

Was he slowly becoming your Michael?

“You’ll meet us again tomorrow, here and you’ll have to sing to move not only my wife, such a big fan of your work, but also me, the merciless king of the dead”.

It seemed more a death sentence, but you didn’t dare say anything, staring in the hope that blossomed in Xavier’s eyes, before he rushed away, as you did, when you felt the sitting being closed, shooting Michael one last look.

“I’ll have to work long hours wife” his tone was extremely glacial, and it hurt you in an unthinkable way, but you tried not to let it show.

“Of course, my husband, I would never want to disrupt your work” you had replied, your voice lightly pissed, but mostly you just hoped for this mood to go away, alongside the wall.

Xavier’s music was able to lull you to sleep but it didn’t help you from having the nightmare of losing your husband and the empty bed didn’t help to calm your heart.

But you managed to get yourself together in a new dress, a rosy ones, threaded with pinkish and purpleish petals, giving you some kind ethereal glow, meanwhile you adjusted a flower crown onto your head, your magic going into keeping them alive, meanwhile your handmaidens helped you gently with finishing your make-up, refreshing your sleepless face.

“My lady, you need to take care of yourself, more” mumbled gently Ker, meanwhile Macaria adjusted your hair, being careful to avoid touching your crown.

“It’s just the beginning of coming back that is hard” you hoped so, but you smiled weakly to the two goddesses, before they both kissed your cheeks, leaving you to your attendance of Xavier’s cause.

The poet was already there, meanwhile your husband looked at him annoyed, but he spared a look at you, unable to stop himself from shyly blushing at your appearance: he loved whenever the stark contrast between you two would stand out, an eternal reminder of what you two truly were.

And of how well you fit together.

But he quickly shifted in a more casual position, moving away from you, and setting up his attention onto Xavier.

“Play your music, foolish lover” he mumbled, meanwhile Xavier started stringing his guitar in order for it to sound its better.

Your hands became tight in your lap, in a silent prayer of your husband’s heart gaining some pity.

But as soon as the song started from his expert fingers, you knew he could do it.

He would definitely.

“King of shadows King of shades Hades was king of the Underworld”

You, half expected the poet to go for some kind of panegyric of your husband, the man himself smirking at the attempt.

“But he fell in love with a beautiful lady Who walked up above In her mother's greenfield He fell in love with Persephone”

You were extremely surprised by the mention of you.

Although you had had hymns strung up for you, you weren’t used to being mentioned ad slightly blushed, mostly because Michael turned towards you, his curls following in a golden halo his movement and you found staring at each other.

Like you had done the first time.

“And you didn't know how And you didn't know why But you knew that you wanted to take her home You saw her alone there, against the sky It was like she was someone you'd always known It was like you were holding the world when you held her Like yours were the arms that the whole world was in And there were no words for the way that you felt”

The words spoke truly of what had happened, almost as if he could effectively reproduce the emotions you had felt when you had met your soon-to-be-husband.

The feeling of belonging together, although you didn’t truly know who you were.

The familiar feeling of having known each other, each fears and each passions, since the start.

And the fact that holding onto each other, made you feel like you had the entire words in your hand and nothing else mattered, more or less.

You could see a change in Michael’s face and gently held out an hand, from your lap onto the arm of his throne, gently offering it to him, who, although shyly, grabbed onto it, caressing with his thumb the back of it, meanwhile Xavier gently strung the guitar.

“The greater the weight of the world on his shoulders See how he labors beneath that load Afraid to look up, and afraid to let go So he keeps his head low, he keeps his back bending He's grown so afraid that he'll lose what he owns But what he doesn't know is that what he's defending Is already gone”

Michael’s expression became almost pained, as if the harsh reality was growing onto him and he was suddenly realizing the mistakes that had brought him to care more for an uncertain future, than what he had in the present.

You moved your head so that you would be able to lean it onto his shoulder, your magic growing through you in him, meanwhile you pushed your conjoined hands in your lap, gently cooing him, meanwhile Xavier’s music swept over you, giving you a safe haven.

“Where is the treasure inside of your chest? Where is your pleasure? Where is your youth? Where is the man with his arms outstretched? To the woman he loves With nothing to lose”

The song came slowly to an end, but Michael’s judgement hadn’t, you knew it all too well by the battle in his eyes, and he dismissed roughly a protesting Xavier, saying that he would need time to express his judgement.

“You are already lucky, human, that I won’t kill you for this blasphemy”.

You didn’t know what to do, pained by your husband’s conflict but also not knowing whether he might want your opinion or not.

But he gently moved to you, once you were alone in the throne room, he moved on his knees in front of you, his head gently coming to sit on your lap, and your hands went to his hair, gently curling them around your fingers, in a calming caress.

“That song did move me” he mumbled, his tears wetting your dress and the petals crumbling in his hold “… I can’t deny it, it made me feel again… what I felt the first time I saw you, in that field”.

He smiled a bit vague at the thought and you smiled back to him gently, knowing the feeling.

You had grown so distant, but the shared memory of that meeting had made you somehow meet each other back, for the time of a song.

“… my love, I felt the same way” you gently comforted him, moving the hair out of his face before you plopped a kiss onto his forehead “… it was wonderful to hear it all again”.

“… what did we do to ourselves?” he asked, before a sad smile came onto your face “I let myself be corrupted by the power and envy that I promised would never reign me, and I pushed you aside”.

“I didn’t say anything and wasn’t by your side meanwhile this went on” you replied, before you lowered to kiss his forehead, hearing him sniffle softly, a tremble going through his body.

“… I am sorry that we came to this”.

“This is no point of no return, my love” your eyes stared into his icy ones, delivering a message of hop and rebirth, proper for the goddess of Spring “Let’s forget about this wall, and the humans and the others, just return back to how we were!”.

Michael’s gaze became shadowed and you realized that you had hit a blind spot.

“… I would seem weak in front of anyone”.

“You don’t have to be either threatening or cruel to have people obey you” you reminded him, before you kissed his forehead one last time “… I already told you so, back in the day”

And gently bidding him goodnight you left him to his mind, knowing that only he could do the choice.

That morning you were woken up by two arms, gently tangling around you and you pushed yourself close to him, turning to smell Michael’s deep fragrance of smoke, gently bashing in his heat, because contrary to popular belief, the god of the Underworld could be quite warm.

“I gave him back his girl” he whispered, his nose cold gently skimming through your hair, meanwhile you enveloped him in a loose hug, bringing him close to your chest, your heartbeat always having been of some comfort to the man “… on one condition that he didn’t look back for her”.

Although it was a rather cruel bet, you knew that your Hades had come back to you and kissed his forehead.

“He looked at her, when she told him she thought he had stopped loving her” he told you and you brought yourself even closer, already knowing that this tale would bring out tears from your eyes “… and then he was so sad that he wasn’t able to sing anything but sad songs: Maenads came to him and ripped him to pieces… he is dead now…”.

You knew that it didn’t end there, but felt your husband shift closer, his voice holding some kind of hurt in it, and you soothed it, cooing him gently.

“… I gave them to the Champs Elysees, they’ll be happy, at least in the Underworld” he finished the story, but you knew it wasn’t over.

At least not for you.

“… I am going to break that fucking wall, before it drives a dent in my marriage, with the most heavenly creature” his tone was tough but you knew it all too well that he wasn’t aching for nothing more than a soft caress and your forgiveness “… I’ll free all the humans, just tell me that you love me”.

“I’ll always love you, Michael” your voice was firm “… my love for you will never stop, but… it might grow distant, because I feel like you are not interested in me anymore, that I might not… be what you want”.

“You are all I have ever wanted” his words were almost rageful and you knew it all too well he meant each of them “I am sorry for being a terrible husband”.

“Nothing to be sorry, my love” you gently shushed him “I am not able to be angry with you for long, you know it”.

He smirked, and gently kissed your neck, making you flush embarrassed, remembering that not only you had missed your husband’s warmth, but also his body.

“… let me still beg for my forgiveness, my lady” his head moved till it was between her legs, slowly pushing your nightgown up your legs, laying a few kisses onto them “… I have not been the most attentive lover, and I’ll be damned if my wife isn’t satisfied”.

“Then who am I to stop the great lord of the Underworld”. 

---

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[ev--writes]

GRACE // wip intro

Hello tumblr!

GRACE is my primary novel, and it has a special place in my heart and a VERY long history. 

The History:

It all began in April 2016, when I jotted a note in my notebook, about the relationship between two childhood best friends after one of them dies. Nothing really came from it until two years later, in spring of 2018. I reimagined the original sketch of the story and tried to write the entire novel in a week (yeah, I know). Unsurprisingly, that didn’t work. 

After another reimagination, I wrote a draft for the July Camp NaNo that same year. While that version was the best yet, it was technically incomplete, so instead of editing it, I restarted it again for NaNoWriMo 2018. And yet again, it didn’t work.

Then for a while, I put the book on the shelf (I’ll talk about that in a bit). I was never super solid with that decision, so when one day in spring 2019 I was reminiscing about the book, the solution to my problem quite literally fell into my lap: I needed to change the title. I changed the title to GRACE, which led to idea after idea, a process that’s lasted for almost a year. Now I finally feel happy about the direction of the story. The only reason I haven’t jumped into this project already is that I’m trying to get some older projects wrapped up first. 

The Struggle:

A lot of things went into my decision to temporarily shelf this story, but one of the biggest was my anxiety about being accused of self-insertion. It’s not something that I normally worry about, but of all of my stories, this book is the closest to my actual life. The story is own voices (masc gay female, religous elements, etc), which is all fine and dandy, but a major element of the plot sorta happened to me? I don’t really want to get into the details, but it’s why this book has sat in brainstorming limbo for almost a year. I’m still a little nervous about it, but I’m confident enough in the changes I’ve made that I don’t really think anyone is going to care (people probably wouldn’t have cared anyway, but yaknow). 

The Story Now:

This logline is the same as the one that appeared in my master wip intro, but in case you haven’t seen it, the plot goes like this:“After the death of her childhood best friend and long time crush Vicky, Robin is invited to spend the summer with her estranged father, his new husband, and her young half-sister at their Maine summer cabin. As her relationships with her father’s family and a fellow vacationing teen Claire grow, her relationships with her remaining friends and mother back home begin to fracture.”

Setting

Most of the book happens in a made up tourist town in Maine, but parts take place in New Hampshire. Setting isn’t super important to the overall story, but I feel like New England needs more setting rep. 

Characters

These are my children. Feel free to tag yourself:

Robin

- Butch lesbian

- Cranky

- Lil self centered

- Artsy

Vicky

- Gorgeous

- Catholic girl

- Perfect? (no lol)

Liam

- All the respect women juice

- Supportive bestie 

- Dad friend

Olivia

- Kind of a bitch? 

- Dedicated worker 

- Wicked smart

  Claire

- Artsy aesthetic

- Ray of sunshine

- A party girl in another life

 Keith

- Trying his best but doesn't really know what he’s doing

- Grilling

Tony

- Patience incarnated  

- Way smarter than you might think

Grace

- Baby (well, 2)

- The family princess

The Future:

I’m currently planning on writing this for this year’s July Camp NaNo, but that could definitely change, as I’m not sure about how busy I’ll be in July.

In the meantime, I’m going to be posting pride aesthetics using the characters from this story this week for Violet Vineyard, so keep an eye out for those.

[81scorp]

From the diary of Angela Baker

(Originally posted on Deviantart Oct 30, 2017)

Warning: This fanfic contains SPOILERS for the 1983 horrorfilm Sleepaway Camp directed by Robert Hiltzik.

---------------------------------------- Dear Diary My name is Angela Baker and I... have lived an interesting life. When I was little my dad and brother Peter died in a motorboat accident. It scarred me mentally and the next eight years was a very hard time in my life. I was adopted not long after the accident and lived with my aunt, Dr. Martha Thomas, and my cousin Ricky. My aunt is actually very nice and positive... a little TOO positive. She`s kinda like Snow white... if Snow white was a stepford wife who had taken too much Prozac. My cousin Ricky is OK, he always looks after me. Anyway, after having been raised and homeschooled by my quirky aunt for eight years She thought it was a good idea to send Ricky and me away to summercamp. She thought it might help me come out of my shell since I had been very introverted for all those years. Summercamp was not as bad as I had feared, I met some nice people and started to open up a bit.Then people started to die.At first the deaths seemed to be accidents, but then it became clear that they weren`t. To make a long story short, the killer was caught and I turned out to be a guy.I should probably go back to the beginning and explain a few things.I remember when I first met my aunt Martha she was so optimistic of having a new kid in the house. I don`t remember everything she said, but the gist of it was that she had always wanted a girl. I remember the last thing that she said very clearly though. "Angela... Such a lovely name... Why I believe it means Angel! Why yes I`m sure it does! I know you`re going to like that name. Won`t you Peter?" So... the part where I said that my brother Peter died? Change it to "sister Angela" and you have the correct picture. My aunt liked my sister more, but since she was gone my aunt decided to take advantage of my traumatized psyche and raise me as a girl in her place. And the killer? That was me, I killed all those people. In my defense though, most of those people were mean to me. Anyway, I was sent to an insane asylum... for about a couple of months. One of the doctors declared me sane and let me out. To be honest, I don´t think I was fully cured, but I guess they just needed the extra bed. I wasn`t the only one he let out. There was another guy who was older than me (old enough to be my dad). He and I discussed what we were gonna do now that our old lives had ended and our new lives just begun. To (once again) make a long story short: he is now my new legal guardian. I like him a lot more than my aunt Martha. Sure, she was nice and all but that lady was crazy! This new guy is mental health personified compared to her! He runs a motel and his name is Norman, Norman Bates. I call him "Uncle Norm".He is nice and, like I said earlier, WAY more balanced than aunt Martha but there is one downside to living in the same house as him. His mom. I`ve never met her but I can sometimes hear her voice through the walls. She shouts a lot and says such awful things to Uncle Norm when they`re in the same room. Poor guy, he doesn`t deserve her treatment. Sure, she has her moments when she treats him with kindness, but those moments are few. Maybe I could take care of her like I did to those mean people at summercamp? I could make it look like an accident. But that will have to wait for another day. The doctor that declared me sane helped me get in contact with a guy who can provide me with estrogen. I`m going through puberty and I`ve done this Angela thing for so long that going back to living as a guy again would just feel weird. Another thing I`m not gonna go back to is being homeschooled. That`s right, I`m gonna start going to public school a week from today. If I`m gonna learn to be more social and open up I need to spend time with real people. When it`s gymclass I`ll just do what I did at summercamp: not shower with the other girls, just wait till they`re done. Completly foolproof. Just think about it, my first day at a real high school, one week from today! Eek! I`m so excited!

Peace. Angela

- - - - - - It`s been one week since I started high school today. Forks High School to be precise. Not as great and exciting as I hoped it would be, but, thank god, not as horrible as I had feared.I`ve made some friends. Their names are Jessica Stanley, Tyler Crowley, Mike Newton, Angela Weber and Bella Swan. It was very easy to build a circle of friends. All it took for me was to befriend Jessica and she introduced me to the rest. They`re all fun to hang around with... except Bella. She`s not a mean person or anything but she seems very disinterested in hanging with the group. Then there`s this weird guy who doesn`t come to school every day, only the cloudy days. He has pale skin, a stupid haircut (What`s the deal with his hair? Who would willingly style their hair like that?) and looks, for lack of a better word, almost vampiric. I don`t like the way he looks at me. I heard from Jessica that his name is Edward. Edward Cullen.

- - - - - - I almost died today.I was standing at my school`s parkinglot and some guy who was in a hurry lost control of his car. I was almost crushed between his car and one that was parked behind me. But then that Edward Cullen guy showed up out of nowhere, grabbed me and stopped the car from slamming in to me. At least that what I think happened. Everything happened so fast and when I finally realized that I had been just a second away from death he was gone. All that was left was a big dent in the door of the car and it`s driver wondering if I was OK.If that really was Edward then there`s more to him than meets the eye, and maybe he`s not as bad as I thought he was.

- - - - - - I take back everything nice I`ve ever said about Edward Cullen. It has been one week since he saved me from being crushed by that car and after that he has only gotten more interested in me. He stares at me, follows me around, appears mysteriously out of nowhere one second and disappears without a trace the next. I think he even snuck into my bedroom and watched me when I was asleep. He scares me. I`m afraid that he`ll find out about my secret. Then again, maybe he already knows and has no problems with it. The guy IS supernatural after all, it`s possible that maybe he has supersmell and can smell the small amount of male hormones I have. But that leads me to the other thing about him that scares me: He`s a stalker with superhuman speed and strength, and I`m just an ordinary mortal. If I want to get rid of him he`ll see me coming and stop me before I`ve even been able to scratch his skin. I`m scared. So scared.

I felt I had to tell someone. It may not get rid of Edward but at least I won`t feel alone, so I decided to tell our school`s guidance counselor miss Summers. I don`t know her first name but I`m sure it starts with a B and ends with a Y. It`s either Betty or Buffy. She`s a little younger than most of the teachers at school, probably in her early twenties, and is a real good listener. I told her about Edward but I left out the part about him having superpowers. I described him as "that pale guy with a creepy stare, stupid haircut, really stupid haircut" and I also mentioned "almost vampiric". I`m not sure but I think I noticed something in her eyes when I mentioned that last part. She told me not to worry and that she would keep an eye on him. I hope that`s enough. - - - - - - It has now been two weeks since the last time I wrote and there has been no sign of Edward Cullen in the school or even in the entire town. Whatever it was that miss Summers did it sure was effective. Turns out that thing that happened to me, being saved from a car by Edward only to be spied on by him later, happened to another girl a month before me. The girl in question was one of my classmates, Bella Swan. Now that Edward`s gone Bella`s all torn up about about it, as if she`s "lost the love of her life". Please! First: the guy was a creepy stalker, second: you weren`t the only one he stalked. So basically, he cheated on you. There are better guys out there than him. Unfortunately Bella hasn`t come to that realization yet, she`s been inconsolable since the day it became clear that he wasn`t gonna come back. I wanted to help her and gave her the number to the best therapist I know, the guy who helped me and uncle Norm get out of the insane asylum, Dr Hannibal Lecter. - - - - - - Two weeks have now passed since the last time I wrote. What has happened since then? Oh yeah, about a week ago Bella decided to take my advice and visit Dr Lecter and I haven`t seen her since. Wonder what happened? Oh well. I and the rest of my friends had a halloween party at Jessica`s house yesterday. I came dressed as Cleopatra. We did the mash. We did the monster mash. The monster mash. It was a graveyard smash.

Fun times were had. I have really grown as person these last months. I have come a long way from the shy, introverted non-girl that was too afraid to reach out and make new friends. I just hope they never find out my secret. If they do... Oh well, guess I`ll just have to make it look like an accident. Gotta go now, uncle Norm is shouting that the dinner is ready. We`re having pancakes. (Yay!)

Peace.

Angela

[jamesmarlowe]

RADTASK002: A GIRL AND HER DOG

March was a month without a season. Couldn’t call it spring yet; most of the trees were still bare, their long, dark limbs scraping up against the sky. Temperatures hovered indecisively around the low-fifties, then plummeted steeply each night. But there was something stirring: a birth of new smells, a trace of green in the yellow grass. A feeling of change, or the very brink of it, which had possessed him like an infusion of fresh blood and driven him outdoors— despite his three-hour block of afternoon classes, despite all the half-finished projects waiting for him in the studio. Outside, clouds skimmed the blue sky and squirrels tightrope-walked the phone lines. Birds huddled on exposed branches, returned from their long winter vacations. There was a smell of mulch in the air, fertile and earthy. A warm wind was blowing— as he walked outside the art building, Marlowe could feel it blowing through him as if through an open window, airing out all the trapped gloom in his soul. 

Gloom could accumulate even in him, of all people. There was something elemental about his need for sun and fresh air and open space; it was a quality he shared with all the other wild creatures who, after several long months deprived of all these things, were now also emerging from their dens and burrows, hungry and restless, desperate to roam. 

Today he was wearing a paisley bandana fashioned around his head, Springsteen-style, and a silver hoop through his ear. Both of these accessories gave his appearance a swashbuckling, pirate-y effect. Marlowe seemed to embody the part as he cleared a railing one-handed like a rodeo clown, then took the rest of the stairs two-at-a-time to where a girl waited for him at the bottom, her blonde hair lifted by the breeze. She kept her head bowed over her hands, deeply engrossed in the cat’s cradle she was weaving. 

Spacey Kasey. She was a junior in the Comp-Sci program. Sometimes people reacted to this information with a slow raise of their brows, or an actual laugh— more out of surprise than anything else, but that didn’t make it any kinder. No one really knew what to make of her. She could write code like Mozart wrote symphonies, but might also ask you if you knew how pineapples got their name, since they looked nothing like apples? Marlowe had met her at a party where she’d wondered precisely that, out loud, before turning her wide eyes to him; she had a child’s inquisitive stare. Why not pinefruit? He’d been fascinated from that moment on. His love for her had been a product of that fascination; he’d sensed something dreamy and outcast in her, something rare, easily misunderstood. They’d coupled up in late September, lasted till early November, the days dwindling and the nights lengthening by the time his old restlessness caught up with him— not her fault or his, just the natural progression of these things. Now, their relationship had lapsed into something easy, casual. Friends, sometimes more. He still found her endlessly fascinating. It was just a matter of how many other things in this endlessly fascinating world were also competing for his attention.

At the sound of cowboy boots smacking the pavement, Kasey looked up. The thread between her fingers went slack and her blue eyes brightened the way they always did whenever she saw him coming. Marlowe could not prevent a smile in response. Blue, he’d once heard, was the true color of the sun.

He whistled a short, upwards swoop. “Kase the Ace! Right time, right place!”

She was wearing an outfit almost as egregious as his own, tie-dyed shirt in sorbet shades of pink, purple and blue with only a pair of Lycra bike shorts underneath, exposing legs pale and goosebumped. There was a face looking at him from the front of her shirt, sinister drippy eyes loaded with glamorous make-up. Kasey’s own face was bare, her fair eyelashes almost invisible. Her earrings were a pair of mismatched plastic dinosaurs— one a red triceratops, one green T-Rex. Marlowe watched with visible amusement as she struggled to untangle the knots around her fingers. 

“Jeez, I used to be so good at these! I once taught all the girls at my summer camp how to do a ten-step cradle and I was like, their guru.” 

Eventually the two of them set off for the trees that hemmed the edges of campus. He briefed her about the reason for today’s outing—  a hunt for materials, looking for found objects not yet found—  but knew it wasn’t necessary, because Kasey could always be counted on to show up when he invited her. She was always happy to tag along, if only he asked. The quad they passed looked soggy and matted down in parts, the streaming sunlight revealing all the bald patches of mud and first sprigs of dandelion shoots. Marlowe kept his gaze ahead, away from that wide expanse of grass, letting Kasey’s idle chatter filter pleasantly through one ear and out the other. His gait was lopey but brisk, hers uneven as she skipped ahead, long blonde hair streaming behind her like a scarf thrown to the wind. 

“So what are we looking for today?”

Marlowe angled his face up to the sky, watching a bird disappear into a cloudbank. “Y’know, the usual. Hidden treasure, lost artifacts. Ancient ruins. Maybe a secret Amazon warehouse deep in the woods, that’d be useful. Could steal a lifetime supply of bubble wrap.” Rarely did he embark on such expeditions with a specific item in mind; mostly he just wandered around, expecting unusual things to find him and reveal their significance. Maybe it’d be a loop of blue ribbon, snagged on a wire fence. Or a child’s plastic bucket abandoned by the side of the road, handle broken, too lost to find its way back to the nearest sandbox. He searched for these banal objects that existed somewhere between tenderness and neglect— overlooked by so many who passed them by without any idea what they might’ve been before, what they could be next.

Kasey had begun walking backwards. There was a white patch of vitiligo on her forehead. Combined with her skipping and prancing, she often reminded him of a painted palomino. “I brought granola bars! They’re a little stale, you’ll have to use your back teeth.”

Marlowe flashed her two-thirds of a grin, revealing teeth that were good and strong, if a little crooked. “What if I told you I don’t have any? Will you mash them into a pulp and spit ‘em in my mouth?” He mimed the open-mouthed, head-back position of a hungry fledgling.

Kasey made a retching sound, dissolving into a giggle.

Soon they were stepping off the paved campus sidewalk and crossing the marshy grass towards the surrounding woods. The trees were sparse, still just skinny bodies stripped in the cold, but slowly the forest became denser the deeper they went; thick-trunked oaks and dark beeches grew here, close together, their twigs sprouting tiny green buds and unfurling fists of leaves. Branches criss-crossed the sky. Marlowe led the way through the corridor between trunks, but Kasey immediately began crashing through the skeletal undergrowth off to the side. 

“How about this?” Marlowe looked to where she’d hiked her leg up onto a large boulder like a big-game hunter posing with a kill. The stone jutted out of the ground at an odd angle, making him think of a dislocated jawbone. Kasey looked down at it, her expression deeply pensive. She tapped the toe of her sneaker. “You could like, give it a face. Glue eyes on it!”

Marlowe imagined an oversized pet rock in the likeness of Rocky Balboa, Stallone’s heavy scowl painted on. Shaking his head, he rewarded her sincere effort with an equally sincere smile. “Babe, I’m flattered that you think of me as some kind of circus strongman, but I’d need like, triple my current muscle mass to carry that.”

They found other things. An empty gallon jug, the kind used to hold water or milk, split almost in half. A tattered piece of fabric too muddied to even tell the original color. And most interestingly, a thin sheet of metal with torn edges, sharp as shrapnel. It leaned against a tree like a large canvas; the patterns of corrosion on its surface— oxidized red, blue rings of mold— made it seem less like a raw material and more like an already-finished work. Marlowe stood back with one finger resting against his chin, head tipped to the side as he appraised it like an art collector at a gallery. But in the end, he decided not to carry it either. He wasn’t up-to-date with his tetanus shots. 

They began to follow their own trail, no map or compass, forging a path through the woodsy vegetation that grew close to the ground and left long, raking scratches on arms and legs, resisting intrusion. Kasey swept back the flexible branches of saplings and peered into rotted tree hollows. Marlowe was more inclined to follow a few steps behind her, no urgency in his loose-limbed stroll. He tilted his head back and admired how the naked branches looked like slats of a broken roof letting most of the sky in. By now, the chill on his face had turned itself inside out; he grew warm, renewed in some vital way. He wanted nothing more than to walk deeper and deeper through these woods and never turn around, never retrace his steps, never go back. If he had to, he could survive out here. He’d exist just like the wild birds and foxes, on a diet of small, hard berries and foraged mushrooms. 

It was often in these moments of complete distraction that discoveries happened. The trees stood back. A secret flagged him down from behind them, kept until today, confessed now in this partial glimpse. “Hey, I think I got somethin’,” he said out loud. He didn’t look to see if Kasey heard or noticed. Eyes fixed on the gap between trunks, Marlowe forced his way through a thicket of mulberries to get to the other side. 

In the clearing, there was a statue of a little girl. One arm outstretched, sunlight on the crown of her head. Her empty eyes grazed the sky. Some kind of moss crawled up her legs, giving her the appearance of wearing knee socks. There was a dog at her feet— a terrier with perked ears. 

“What did you find!” called Kasey, still wrestling her way through the brambles. The sound of snapping twigs and a soft ow! told him she was making slow progress of it.

“Something,” Marlowe replied. Unusual, he added only to himself. “Some kind of statue.”

The pose of the statue, he thought, must’ve been intended to look like the girl had just thrown a stick in a game of fetch, but there was something about the frozen gesture that told a different story. It was an open grasp, fingers straining; he almost turned around to see what she was reaching for.

“Woah.” Kasey exhaled the word in a single breath. She had finally spilled out into the clearing behind him, looking disheveled but no less enthused, tugging one checkered sock up around her ankle. “Who’s that?”

Marlowe was already crouched. He brushed dirt off the foot of the statue but there was no inscription; if there’d ever been one, time had worn it away. Now she was as nameless as the trees around her. Standing up, he slid hands into the front pockets of his jeans and rocked backwards, giving the girl the same look he’d given that piece of rusted sheet metal: eyes slant with a certain sharp curiosity, their color like a jar of dark honey with sunshine in it. “Don’t know. Maybe a memorial or something. Or,” He began to pace around the statue, boots leaving sunken footsteps in the loam. When his phone buzzed in his back pocket, he reached for it absently. “Maybe she got turned to stone by some wicked Baba Yaga ‘round these parts. Her, and her little dog, too.”

It was hard to read anything through the disaster of the cracked screen. His eyes scanned Syd’s incoming messages and when he got to the last two, Marlowe stopped walking. His heart stalled.

SYD: also ?? im at the studio and haven't seen my sculpture anywhere SYD: r u sure you dropped it off?

Of course she had noticed by now; of course she was looking for it.

“Who’re you texting?” Marlowe raised his eyes to find Kasey observing the standstill he’d come to; she was leaning down to give the little stone dog a scratch under his chin. “Syd,” he answered, simultaneously dropping his eyes back to his phone. “She named her cat Martin. I’m expressing my deep, deep disappointment with her lack of imagination.” I did, at the gallery, he texted back. forgot 2 text you but the eagle safely landed. 

The thing about lying was that it came so easily, so naturally, he usually felt no guilt doing it.

“Tell her I say hi!” Losing interest in the statue, Kasey had found a divining rod. She was sweeping it back and forth now with brisk efficiency, like a metal detector. “How ‘bout this? Look, it’s almost perfectly symmetrical,” she asked. 

Message sent, Marlowe let his hand drop back to his side. He used his laugh to distract them both. “Does that thing have a crude oil setting? Fuck making art, let’s start fracking. I’d rather be a Texas millionaire.” Kasey whipped around, face lit by a wide, genuine smile; but as another text from Syd arrived, his own smile barely skimmed the surface of his face, too distracted to really stick. He typed back another answer. 

i'm sure it's just misplaced syd don't sweat

worst comes to worst, we can case the frats and make sure no one stole it to be their new beer pong deity or whtever the fuck those guys do

Like any good liar, he prided himself on being truthful most of the time— which made it that much easier for a lie to slip through, unsuspected. A wolf in honesty’s clothing. No less convincing than everything else he said. And wasn’t it a little bit of a favor, in this case? Better that Syd think some hulking frat brothers had stolen into the art studio under the cover of night and carried off her sculpture for a ritual sacrifice, some dark summoning to help the university through its football championships. Better that than the truth. 

Marlowe glanced over his shoulder in the same direction as the statue’s outstretched fingertips. Clouds worked across the sky, ragged and white, and behind them there was only blue, but now he felt like he could see what wasn’t there; a new, bad darkness, descending fast out of the western sky. Like those sudden thunderstorms in Virginia that rolled over the mountains, pouring like smoke over the lip of a bowl. The knowledge of the storm’s inevitable arrival sank low in his chest: present, but not yet fully understood. 

Even if she asked him in person, he’d deny it. He’d lie again. He’d help her look for a sculpture that he knew was already unsalvageable, dissolving with each cold rain that swept over the campus, turning to paste beneath the soil.

“Hey, c’mere.” Eager for distraction, Marlowe lowered himself down to the base of the statue, where there was deep cold beneath the velvety moss. Obediently, Kasey trudged closer, still holding the forked branch; when he pulled her down, she fell giggling and side-saddle across his lap. She circled his neck with her arms. He wrapped his own loosely around her waist.

“Would you ever hate me if I did something, like, really bad?”

Kasey pulled back to look at him, the wrinkle in her brow implying that she didn’t understand. “Like what?” 

Marlowe shrugged beneath the weight of her arms. “I don’t know, I don’t have an example. But like… bad. Something that really hurt you.”

Thoughtfully, she thumbed the silver hoop in his ear. The light was full on her face— she wore no make-up, and her lips were chapped. She must’ve been chewing them before, because he could see the faint bitemarks. His heart twinged, suddenly protective.

“No,” she said. “I don’t think so.” Her expression went away for a moment. There was a soft vacancy in her eyes that he’d gotten used to in their time together. When she returned, the look she gave him was earnestly sweet. Whatever the imaginary hurt, she was looking at him like she’d already forgiven him for it. “Because I’d know you didn’t mean to.”

Because you wouldn’t mean it, Syd had said close to his ear that one night at Splatterhouse. He did things without thinking. Did them so often, it had become his defining trait. Marlowe knew he escaped accountability because of it; he was one of those people the world tended to forgive too easily, meaning he’d always be protected from himself, sheltered from the consequences of his actions, because there was no real intention to hurt behind them— and that alone absolved him. You couldn’t blame the tornado that destroyed your home, not when it was only doing what tornados did.

Marlowe kissed the stain on her forehead, where the skin was pinkish like a newborn’s. He kissed her between the eyebrows, then lower, just underneath the chin, on the pulse that beat like a hummingbird’s heart. Kasey pulled away to look at him again. Her hands had strayed to the back of his neck, toying with the hair curling up at the nape.

“Ew, Marlowe, in front of a little girl?” Her big eyes lifted up towards the statue. The shadow of that reaching arm fell over them both. 

“It’s spring,” he replied in a what-can-you-do tone, though it was still only the end of winter. It was only March. His eyes met hers, glinting with uncivilized suggestion. There was a faint smile tucked in the corner of his mouth. “And y’know, considering how long she’s been here, she’s ancient. A withered old crone, hundreds of years old. If anything it’s weirder to have a dead dog watching us.”

She frowned. “Why’s the dog dead?”

“Dogs don’t live for hundreds of years.”

She pouted at it. Poor thing. It didn’t seem to occur to her that humans didn’t live for hundreds of years either. Then she leaned back in, meeting him in his daring with another kiss, hands twining into hair, one bare leg swinging over to straddle him. And all around there was the sound of unseen birds, calling to each other from the trees: mimicking, teasing, pleading. A riotous awakening of spring. The next text from Syd would go unread for several hours, left without an answer. The Burger King meal she’d promised him would be forgotten. And the encroaching darkness would also recede, withdrawing to the far-back reaches of his mind— for now, the coming storm was only a dim, gauzey threat on the horizon, rumbling with the promise of distant thunder.

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: On with the Show

A @rumbellechristmasinjuly gift for @prissyhalliwell. Enjoy!

Summary: Storybrooke library is hosting a summer theatre camp. Librarian and camp co-ordinator Belle French and parent-of-a-camper Cameron Gold use it to try and get to grips with their burgeoning feelings for one another.

Rated: T

Prompt: “That’s not my son.”

=====

On with the Show

DRAMA SUMMER CAMP AT STORYBROOKE LIBRARY - SIGN UP TODAY!

The brightly coloured poster had been up in the window of the library for the past six weeks and today, being the first day of the school summer vacation, was the last chance to sign up before it began on Monday. Gold looked from the poster down towards his son, who was staring intently at the sign and looking for all the world like the decision about whether or not to go was one of life or death. 

To be fair, for Bae, it probably felt that serious. Gold was well aware of the fact that his son was painfully shy, and his previous experiences at summer camps had led to him tearfully declaring that he was never going to leave home ever again. Signing up to something like this was a huge undertaking. 

Still, this time there were some mitigating factors. For a start, the library was only across the road from the pawn shop and only ten minutes' walk from the Golds' house, so Bae could always just run away to safety if the worst came to the worst. He would be sleeping in his own bed at night and coming home to his dad's cooking more often than not (Miss French had promised a barbecue in the library garden one evening). 

Another incentive was Emma Nolan, who had eagerly signed up on the first day that the poster had appeared and had talked of practically nothing else throughout the intervening month and a half. Bae and Emma were practically joined at the hip and it was the first time in a long time that Emma was in town for the entirety of the summer break, her mother being about to bring a baby brother into the world at any moment. Naturally, Bae wanted to spend as much time as possible with his best friend before school started again. 

The final point firmly in the camp's favour, and in Gold's eyes the most important point was Miss French herself, the librarian who had personally organised the camp out of her own pocket and was justly proud of all the work that had gone into it and just as eager as Emma to get started. Belle French was universally adored by all of the children who frequented the library, and by their parents. One parent in particular.

Gold peered past the bright poster into the library proper, squinting against his own reflection in the window. Belle was sitting at the issue desk absorbed in a book, which Gold had come to learn was her usual aspect. He'd wondered more than once if she had read the entire library. There was a secretive little smile on her face, as if she'd just got to a particularly juicy part in her story, and Gold looked away sharply, trying to distract himself both from that specific train of thought and from the delightful curve of Miss French's full lips. Thankfully, Bae spoke at that point and he was able to come back to the real world after his flights of fancy involving the librarian. Really, he was too old to be thinking of such things. 

"What do you think I should do, Papa?"

Gold sighed, wishing he knew how best to counsel his son. He wasn't exactly the most sociable of people himself, and he was glad that summer camps had never featured in his own childhood. He would never force Bae to do anything he wasn't entirely comfortable with, unlike Milah who'd told him to man up and shipped him away from home at the earliest opportunity. On the other hand, he didn't want Bae to miss out on what promised to be a week of fun with his friends. The aim of the camp was to get the children interested in plays and drama, with them rehearsing their own play, making props and costumes, and performing to the parents on the last afternoon in the library garden. 

"Well," Gold began, trying to reach a compromise. "If you decide not to go, and if Emma starts telling you about it, will you be jealous that you're not having a great time here with her?"

Bae looked thoughtful for a moment and then nodded. "I guess so."

"Why don't you go along and see what it's like, and you can always stop if you don't enjoy it." He paused, before adding what he hoped was a stroke of genius. "I'm sure you don't need to act in the play if you don't want to. There are lots of things to do in theatres that don't happen on the stage. You could pull the curtain." It belatedly occurred to him that if they were performing outside, then there probably wouldn't be a curtain, but hopefully the message would still ring true in intent if not in actuality. 

At this reassurance, Bae gave a more decided nod. 

"All right. Let's do it."

They entered the library and Gold was very glad of Bae's presence. Every other time he went in on his own and had to talk to Belle, all words went entirely out of his head and the usual confident demeanour with which he conducted business vanished. Perhaps that was why Belle was one of the few people in town who didn't treat him with something akin to fear: because he could only act like a complete idiot around her. Jefferson, someone else who was not scared of him because it was not in that man's nature to fear anything, remarked that it was the most obvious case of twitterpation that he had ever seen, which didn't help matters. 

Belle looked up as they approached the desk, putting down her book and giving them a brilliant smile.

"Mr Gold, Bae. It's lovely to see you. What can I do for you today?"

Bae opened his mouth to state their purpose, but his nerves failed him at the last minute and he looked to his father for assistance. 

"We'd like to sign up for the drama camp, please."

"Of course! The more the merrier. You're just in time." She rooted under the desk and came up triumphant with a clipboard, which she passed to Gold to fill in Bae's details on the sign-up sheet. There were quite a few names there already, Emma's at the top of the list, but the nature of the event meant that they were all local children whom Bae would know from school. As Gold wrote, Bae looked up at Belle.

"Will I have to act?" he asked. 

"Not if you don't want to. We'll need people to move the scenery and pull the curtain." So, there was going to be a curtain after all. "And of course, we'll need a prompter to whisper to the actors if they forget their lines. I'm sure that you could do that, you're always so quiet." 

Bae certainly perked up at the idea of being a prompter, and he brightened even more when Belle leaned over the desk and whispered: "Between you and me, we could do with some more people like you who don't mind not being on the stage. I'm not sure I've got enough parts for everyone." At this, Bae giggled, and Gold knew that the deal was sealed. Hopefully, Bae would last the week out and might make some more friends into the bargain. Not that there was anything wrong with only having a few close friends; Gold himself was a case in point, but after so many years of thinking that it was better to be feared than loved, he had learned his lesson hard and late, and he was determined not to instil the same sense in Bae. 

He handed the clipboard back to Belle who stowed it back under the desk, and he distracted himself from the brush of her soft fingers against his hand by wondering aloud if she'd have any more last-minute sign-ups.

"I'm not sure. A lot of people have the tendency to change their mind at the last minute."

Gold wondered if it was an allusion to himself. Very often he had found himself going up to the counter with a pile of books to check out, only to go away and pick different ones because he was scared of what she might think of his choices. That was how come he'd ended up checking out Lamb's Tales from Shakespeare when he already owned a well-thumbed and much-loved copy at home.   

For a long time, he and Belle just looked at each other, as if each of them was expecting the other to say something. Unfortunately, under Belle's beautiful blue gaze, everything remotely intelligent flew clean away from him and the only word that Gold would be able to articulate in that moment would have been something along the lines of 'mwawp'. He looked away before he could drown in her eyes any further, giving an awkward cough.

"We, erm, we'd best be off then. We'll see you tomorrow, Miss French."

"Bye, Miss French."

He turned and left the library, Bae still beside him completely unaware of the mental chaos that his father was going through, and Gold spent the entire journey home mentally kicking himself for the inanity of the conversation. Or the non-conversation, they hadn't really got started and Belle had spent most of the time talking to Bae. 

Still, he'd be seeing her every day throughout the coming week. Maybe some kind of opportunity would present itself. As long as his tongue didn't desert him again, of course. 

X

After watching father and son leave the library together, Belle slumped in her chair, resting her forehead against the desk with a groan. Yet another wasted opportunity. He had been right there, damn it, and she had once again failed to engage him in conversation. She tried to console herself with the thought that she couldn't exactly ask him out on a date whilst Bae was with him, but that didn't mean she couldn't talk to the man. She could have asked him how he was getting on with Lamb's Tales from Shakespeare, which he had checked out last week. Or if he was having any luck tracing the origins of the vintage typewriter that he'd received into the antique shop a month ago; he'd spent countless hours in the reference section searching for clues to no avail.

"Are you all right?" Marian had come out of the back office where she'd been making a pot of tea and she sounded rather alarmed at finding Belle in her melodramatic position. Belle just grunted her thanks for the tea and reached out for her cup without moving her head. 

"You can't drink it like that, you know."

Grudgingly, Belle looked up and she followed Marian's sight line through the doors and up the road towards the vanishing figures of Cameron and Bae Gold. Marian turned to her, trying very hard not to smile. 

"Oh, Belle, you've got it bad."

"I know," Belle muttered. "Believe me, I'm the last person that you need to tell."

"Hey, I'm not knocking it. If it's any consolation, I'm pretty sure he feels the same way."

Belle snorted. "Yeah, right. He's a suave businessman with impeccable taste in suits and I'm, well, me."

It was Marian's turn to snort. "Maybe you haven't seen it yourself because you're too busy being ridiculously infatuated with him to notice, but that man is absolutely not suave when you're involved. 'Schoolboy with a hopeless crush' is more like it. Can't disagree with you about the suits though."

"You don't even like him,"

"Well, he drives a hard bargain and Robin nearly came to blows with him once, but no one could deny that he's a good father, and he's definitely gooey about you. Besides, he's Jefferson's best friend and Jefferson's one of my friends, so he can't be all bad." Marian sat down beside her, looking far too cheerful about the entire situation. "Look on the bright side though - you'll be seeing a lot of him next week with Bae coming to camp, so there'll be plenty of opportunities for sneaking a quick snog in the geography section."

"Marian!"

"Or take him down the erotica aisle and see what happens." 

"Marian!"

Marian just winked and took a sip of her tea, looking as if butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. Belle groaned, but since some more patrons were coming in, she refrained from returning her head to the desk. Marian did have a point, as loathe as she was to admit it. Whilst she was running the camp, there would be plenty of chances to speak to Gold. And perhaps speak to Bae about his father. No, that would be awful. She could hardly ask a ten-year-old to act as matchmaker for her. Marian, on the other hand... She'd already proved herself very observant (although the truth of her matter of fact statement regarding Gold's attraction to her remained to be seen), and as she was taking over the full-time operation of the library during camp week, she would be well-place to note Gold's movements. Good grief, now it was sounding like a major espionage operation. No, best to just put it all out of her mind. If she got the chance to speak to Gold, then so much the better, but she wasn't going to drag his son into her world of ill-fated romance. 

"Buck up." Marian nudged Belle with her elbow. "There's no need to look like a wet weekend. I'm sure that something will come of all this."

Knowing that she wasn't going to be able to get away from the subject, Belle decided that doing the re-shelving would be an excellent way of spending her time, and if she happened to start daydreaming about the possibilities that dragging Mr Gold into the erotica aisle might have to offer, then it was no one's business but her own. 

X

The first morning of the drama camp dawned bright and sunny, and Bae seemed to be his usual happy self as they ate breakfast and waited for Emma. Mr and Mrs Nolan had an appointment at the antenatal clinic, and they had asked Gold and Bae to see Emma safely to camp. Emma was practically bouncing as she got out of her parents’ car and only just managed to remember to say goodbye to them. Any last-minute nerves that Bae may have had were swept away as Emma chattered on excitedly and, when it was time to leave for the library, pulled him along down the road. They had not reached the library itself when the two children stopped, looking over the fence around the garden in awe at the makeshift stage that had been set up. When they could finally be moved on and arrived in the library garden proper, Gold could see the work that had gone into the temporary structure, a raised platform with a proscenium arch made of cardboard and a working curtain. Leroy and Marco were putting the final touches on, checking the screws and staples to make sure that the structure wouldn’t collapse on any unsuspecting campers. 

“Hello Bae, Emma!”

Belle came out of the library with a large jug of squash and a plate of snacks, which she set down on one of the rickety trestle tables. 

“Help yourselves. You’re the first to arrive.”

Bae made a beeline towards the cookies, ignoring Gold’s protests that he’d just had breakfast, and Belle came over to Gold. She stood beside him for a while, gazing in proud satisfaction at the stage. This was the perfect excuse to talk to her. It was just the two of them, indeed, there was really no one else that they could talk to, with Leroy and Marco otherwise occupied and Bae and Emma chatting among themselves with great excitement. Bae was showing no signs of trepidation; Emma’s enthusiasm was infectious.

Gold took a deep breath. It was now or never. Well, that wasn’t strictly true. There would be plenty more opportunities to speak to Belle throughout the rest of the week and beyond, but if he kept putting it off then he would never do it. Besides, he knew that he couldn’t guarantee such an excellent chance to segue naturally into conversation.

“It’s very impressive,” he said, nodding towards the stage. “You should be very proud of your achievement.”

“Oh, Marco and Leroy did most of the heavy lifting and building.” Belle flushed. “I just told them how I wanted it to look. They’ve worked wonders with it.”

“Still, I think that this whole venture is an achievement. It’s great that Storybrooke has a local summer camp for the kids this year. Normally they have to go out of town.”

“I just thought that it would be something nice to do to give back to the town.”

“But you’ve already given so much.” Book club meetings, after-school groups, reading to the elderly; it wouldn’t be too much of an exaggeration to say that Storybrooke library was at the heart of the community. Since Belle had opened it up and then taken Marian on as an assistant, the building had truly blossomed into life.

“I’m glad you think so.” Belle gave a little sigh, and Gold noted the pensive expression on her face, wondering what could have caused her such consternation.

“Miss French? Is everything all right?”

Belle nodded. “Yes, yes. I’m fine. I just… I always feel like I ought to be doing more.”

“Sorry?”

“The library cost so much to reopen and restock,” Belle continued. “Everything I do, I do to try and show that the library was a worthwhile investment, and no matter how much I do, I can’t help thinking that it’s never enough, that one day the council will decide that it isn’t worth the expense to keep us open like they’d obviously done before I arrived.”

“I’m sure they won’t do that.” Gold was alarmed at the thought, and at the related thought of Belle leaving town as a result. “Has the mayor said anything along those lines to you?”

“No, the mayor’s always been behind the project, but the mayor isn’t the whole town council. There’s still a lot of old men I need to convince, and they’re not the sort to be swayed by community outreach programmes. The money we receive in late fees isn’t exactly going to line their pockets.”

It saddened Gold to see Belle so pessimistic about the library’s future, especially when she was the heart and soul of it; he had never seen her so upset or melancholy before.

“You know, I know most of the council members,” he said. “I’ve been in Storybrooke long enough to be acquainted with most of the old families who run it behind the scenes.” With the amount of properties that he had accumulated here and there, he was fast becoming one of them. “I could always put in a good word should you ever want me to.”

“Oh, no, I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“It would be my pleasure, honestly.”

Belle tailed off her protests and looked up at Gold’s face. He hoped that his expression was earnest, for that was certainly how he felt.

“Would you really do that for me?”

“Of course.” He’d do anything for her, but he managed to stop those words before they came out of his mouth.

“Thank you, that would be wonderful.” Gold gave a small squeak of surprise as Belle threw her arms around him in gratitude. When she let go of him, there was a furious blush spreading over her sheepish face, and Gold knew that he was looking exactly the same.

“Sorry, I don’t know what came over me,” Belle mumbled.

“No, no, it’s fine, don’t worry about it.” Gold didn’t want to let on just how much he had enjoyed Belle hugging him. Thankfully more parents and children were arriving by that point, with Jefferson and Grace being among them. As Belle hastened to welcome the newcomers, Gold said his goodbyes to Bae and Emma and quickly left the garden before anything else happened. Luck was not in his side, however, as Jefferson caught up with him before he could cross the road to the pawn shop.

“I am on the verge of locking you two in a cupboard together to get you to admit your feelings for each other.”

“Hello to you too, Jefferson.”

“Hello. You’ve both got it so bd that you’re practically making heart eyes at each other.”

“I was not…” Gold stopped in his tracks. “Wait. Heart eyes at each other? Do you… Do you think she feels the same way?”

“No. I don’t think it. There’s no need for any thinking at all because at this point it’s blindingly obvious to everyone except you.”

Gold took a while to digest this information, staring across the road towards the front door of the pawn shop without looking at it at all. He thought of the pink tinge rising in Belle’s cheeks as she had let go after hugging him on impulse, and the brightness in her eyes.

Perhaps Jefferson had a point after all.

X

The first day had gone rather well, even if Belle did say so herself. The plays had been read and discussed, and the kids had decided (as Belle had suspected they would) that they wanted to perform the one about knights and dragons. Parts had been cast, with Lily Mallory becoming the dragon and Emma Nolan the leader of the knights. They’d just had time to start building a dragon costume out of cardboard boxes before the parents started turning up to take their children home.

Bae Gold had been designated chief curtain puller and was helping to design the dragon costume. Now that almost everyone else had gone home, Emma had managed to persuade him up onto the stage with her and Lily and a three-way cardboard sword fight was going on, all of them happily oblivious to their parents standing at the other end of the garden watching their shenanigans.

Belle was loath to interrupt their game, but the library had to close up.

“Bae, Emma, Lily,” she called, pointing to their parents once she had their attention. Immediately the spell was broken, with Bae jumping down off the stage as soon as he saw that he had an audience. Belle wondered if this might be another chance to speak to Mr Gold. She had rather embarrassed herself this morning, hugging him out of the blue, but she didn’t think that the gesture had been wholly unappreciated at the time. Maybe there was some truth in Marian’s words. The only trouble she had now was how to broach the topic in polite conversation. If it turned out that everyone had the wrong end of the stick, then it would be even more embarrassing than hugging him. Mr Gold had never been the type to wear his heart on his sleeve, reticent more often than not, and she wondered if the same trait had passed down to Bae, manifesting itself in his shyness. Or perhaps the other way around was true, that what people took for standoffish superiority on Gold’s part was in fact just shyness. She didn’t want to push him out of his comfort zone if that was the case, but God, she was desperate to know how he felt.

She realised too late that she was still staring at him as he waved his goodbyes and left the garden with Bae. Belle waved back, and then heard childish giggles behind her. Emma and Lily were whispering together, and Belle realised she’d been caught out yet again. Honestly, if the ten-year-olds could see her attraction then Gold must have been able to see it. Maybe he was just too polite to act on it.

Still, there were another five days of the camp to go, and many months after that. There was plenty of time. And at least the camp was keeping her so busy that she didn’t have time to think about him during the day.

That was the plan, at least.

X

The sun was shining brightly in the sky and there was a cool breeze; they could not have asked for a more perfect Saturday afternoon on which to perform their play. There was a distinct spring in Gold’s step as he locked up the shop and made his way across the road to the library. A few parents were already there, milling about, and he slipped into a seat next to Mary Margaret Nolan, who was now two days overdue and glaring at her belly. Behind the closed curtains up on the stage, Gold could hear the giggles and whispers of the children getting ready. Every so often, a face would appear around the red fabric and peer across the garden, then a hand would wave enthusiastically when they caught sight of friends and family, then another hand would pull them back to the sound of further giggles. Gold wondered if he would see Bae. Emma had already popped out twice. 

Whilst waiting for Bae to appear, or not to appear, Gold fell to thinking about the conversations that he’d had with Belle throughout the week. There had been times when he had been collecting Bae when he got the distinct impression that she had been avoiding him, although he hoped he’d made it clear that she was completely forgiven for the hugging incident on Monday. Maybe he had been too forward and scared her off. That would never do. Maybe Jefferson had it wrong and there was no underlying attraction on Belle’s part, and her avoiding him was the best way of letting him down gently – especially if, as Jefferson had said, his own feelings were so painfully obvious to the outside observer.

Whatever was happening, he hoped that he would get the chance to speak to her tonight after the performance. She could not be pinned down at the moment, rushing here and there and everywhere, in and out from behind the temporary stage and up and down the steps into the library. Marian had closed up and come out to help shepherd parents into their seats, and she was watching the proceedings with an air of calm amusement, occasionally grabbing Belle in the midst of her dashing about and reminding her to breathe and drink water.

Gold pulled his thoughts back to the camp as he thought he caught a glimpse of Bae crossing the stage in the gap where the curtains did not quite meet as a result of so many people peering between them to wave at their parents. He had been surprised at how much Bae had enjoyed himself, coming home every night with tales of all the things that had happened and all of the things that he had been involved in making. He’d come out of his shell so much and Gold was so happy for him. The last thing that he wanted was to Bae to have regretted his decision, especially when Gold had been the one to encourage him to take a step outside of his comfort zone.

The last couple of nights, Bae had not been quite so chatty, although Gold could tell that it was not out of any sadness or awkwardness, but out of the desire to keep a secret. Bae had been wearing a mischievous little smile for the entire time, and Gold wondered what kind of surprises would be in store.

At length, the hubbub of noise behind the curtain quietened down, and Belle stepped out onto the stage to get the audience’s attention and introduce the players. She looked a true vision of summer beauty in a bright yellow sundress, and Gold’s heart momentarily leapt to his mouth. No, his feelings for her could not be denied at all.

“Good afternoon everyone and thank you so much for the brilliant turnout. Still, you didn’t come here to see me, so without further ado, I present Storybrooke Library Summer Camp’s production of The Grumpy Dragon!”

Belle jumped lightly off the stage as the curtains were pulled with great flourish, and Gold applauded heartily at what he knew was Bae’s part in the play.

Although, thanks to Bae and Emma’s constant talking about it, he now knew the plot of the play by heart and could probably recite most of the characters’ lines into the bargain, it was still a roaring success in all senses of the words.

Everyone gasped and laughed in all the right places, and if there were any fluffed lines or other mishaps on the stage, then Gold didn't notice them. Even though he never saw Bae for the length of the production, he knew that his son was there in the background, and once the final bows had been taken, he was applauding so hard his hands would likely never be the same again.

The curtains swished open a final time and Belle stood up from her place in the front row, encouraging all the children who had not had starring roles to come out and take a bow as well. Bae was there among them, grinning like the Cheshire Cat and showing no signs of unease at being centre stage. They received their applause in their turn, and then Bae rushed off the stage again. Gold couldn't say he blamed him.

His eyes almost popped out of his head when he returned with a large bouquet of flowers that Gold had noticed Marian taking care of to one side of the stage, and the vociferous clapping and cheering died down as it became clear that Bae had something to say.

It took him a little while to start his speech, but once he had found his father in the audience and locked eyes with him, Gold gave an encouraging nod. Bae took a deep breath.

"We just want to say a big thank you to Miss French for making it all possible. These are for you." He reached down off the stage and handed the flowers to Belle, who had gone very pink.

"Thank you, Bae. Thank you everyone. This week's been a joy. I really don't think that there's anything else to say except to enjoy the party!"

The children took a final bow, and then went to find their parents. In Bae's case, he would be finding a very stunned parent indeed.

X

Belle felt like she was walking on air as she helped Bae off the stage and the two of them made their way over to Mr Gold. The production had been a huge success. She’d had no doubts that it would be, and when the audience was made up of loving parents all seeing their children as the star of the show, no matter how big or small their part, then huge applause was guaranteed. No, this was even better than expected. Truly nothing had gone wrong that could have marred the day or ended the week’s camp activities on a sour note.

True, she had been avoiding Gold a little during the last few days, still somewhat mortified about her forwardness in hugging him, but mostly because she always ended up becoming so tongue-tied and distracted around him that it was affecting her concentration, and she really hadn’t wanted a repeat of Monday evening when Lily and Emma had sussed her out.

Now though, it was the end of the week, and the children were all far too busy with their friends and parents celebrating their success and tucking into the barbecue that Leroy and Marco had been preparing throughout the performance. Now it was time to make a move.

Gold was beaming with pride from ear to ear as they approached him, and Belle didn’t think that she had ever seen so much happiness on his face before. She had exchanged the odd little shy smile with him in the past, and he always smiled more readily when Bae was around, but this was something entirely different.

“That’s not my son,” he said, grinning down at Bae. “My son would never have gone up on stage and made a speech like that.”

Bae’s grin could have matched Gold’s for luminosity.

“No, it’s really me.” He threw his arms around his father and Gold picked him up, before putting him down again quickly with a strained huff.

“You’re getting far too heavy for that.” He was still smiling though. “Oh Bae, I’m so proud of you.”

Belle just watched father and son from the side lines for a while, not for the world wanting to interrupt their triumphant moment. She had been as surprised as Gold had been when Bae had made his little speech, but she’d always known that he had it in him – just as Gold did, probably. Over the last six days Bae’s confidence had come on in leaps and bounds, and she was so proud to have been able to help this blossoming come about.

At length, Bae broke away from Gold, running off to go and find his friends and continuing playing in the garden, and Gold looked over at Belle.

“Thank you so much,” he said. “I really don’t know… I’m astonished. I’ve been trying to bring Bae out of his shell for years, but I just never knew how to go about it without discomfiting him.”

There was so much emotion in his words, and Belle couldn’t think why so many people saw him as a beast. If they could hear him in this moment, his voice low and almost cracking with overwhelming pride, they would certainly have a different opinion. Gold felt just as deeply as the rest of them, but his feelings were concentrated towards Bae.

And perhaps, just perhaps, towards herself.

“It’s been my pleasure,” Belle said. “Honestly. Bae’s a wonderful kid. And you know,” she added, bolstering her courage and working on the principle that she was only going to live once and might as well make the most of it, “his father’s not bad either.”

Gold blinked in surprise, staring at her, but there was something more than just shock registering in his face. There was also something very akin to hope.

“I… I’m flattered that you think so, Miss French.”

“Please, call me Belle. And I do think so. In fact, I’d very much like to get to know him better.”

“Who, Bae?” Belle recognised the attempt at diversionary humour for what it was, and she shook her head.

“No, Mr Gold. You.” She paused, letting the information properly sink in. If there had been doubts in her mind as to whether her interest was returned before, then they were well and truly squashed now. She held out a hand, an invitation or a peace offering or whatever he wanted to make of it, and after almost a full minute of looking at her fingers as if they were a poisonous snake, he took her hand and squeezed.

“If we’re on first name terms, then you can call me Cameron.”

“Very well, Cameron. Would you like to join me for lunch tomorrow so that I can get to know you better?”

He nodded eagerly. “I’d like that very much, Miss Fr-Belle.”

Their hands were still linked, and Belle looked up at the fronds of honeysuckle drooping softly from the tree above them. A random thought caught her, and she giggled.

“What?” Cameron asked.

“Nothing. I was just wondering what would happen if it was Christmastime rather than summer and if all this honeysuckle was mistletoe.”

“Ah.” Cameron had gone rather red in the face at the thought. Belle just laughed again, knowing that when the winter did come, there would be plenty of mistletoe to catch him under if this was going to be the reaction. She leaned in and pressed her lips to his flushed cheek, lingering for longer than was perhaps strictly appropriate. As she broke away, she caught sight of Emma and Lily watching them with eyes agog. The news of her and Cameron’s fledgling relationship would be all over the town before breakfast now, but Belle found that she really didn’t mind.

The look of wonder on his face was completely worth it, and Belle knew that she was wearing a similar expression herself.

All in all, this had been an extremely successful summer camp.

X

(As things turned out, though, they were not the most eventful thing to occur on the final day of the camp, as three minutes later Mary Margaret Nolan’s water broke.

Although naturally sorry for her ordeal, Gold and Belle couldn’t help but be grateful for her impeccable timing.)

[parttwoactuallywrites]

If you're still taking requests for bad things happen bingo, how about Virgil x Mel + natural disaster? - theportalwedeserve

@theportalwedeserve 

ahslkdjfhlHLKJASHDLFKJH I was considering reposting that bingo card so people might consider requesting, but this came at a really good time!! Thanks a million for asking!!!!

Some quick notes before I start - This is my first shot at writing both Virgil AND Mel, and honestly? I have no idea how I did, so feedback from those who actually have written these guys/know more about them then I do/ etc. is always appreciated! Sorry if it’s not quite up to snuff! Secondary sorry that this took so long, I wrote this during my study-breaks for my midterms (which start this Thursday and I’m ahsdkfjhsjf). This was also originally gonna be WAY shorter but I’m a mess lmao. 

This fic is best enjoyed listening to Gymnopedie No. 1 and Cherche La Rose on loop. Sorry this wasn’t angstier, I wanted to write some comfy stuff ‘cause it’s cold out. 

The two of them were always regarded as an oddball couple, woodsy folk who lived a mile or so out of town in a little log-cabin they’d built themselves with the extra hands of whoever wanted to help - which was, evidently, the entirety of the little community of Laurel River.

It made sense, at least to Virgil. Though he couldn’t help but think of himself as the most “other” person there - Hah, I’m calling myself a person, now. - he seemed to fit right in. Hard workers with practical genius and warmth he’d never seen down in the salt mines. He supposed you had to be a certain kind of person to work at Aperture, and those types didn’t have a predisposition to warmth, now did they?

Speaking of, the warmth was only really metaphorical. The weather hadn’t gotten above freezing in weeks, the days got shorter and shorter, and with no real work that could get done with the ground and the river frozen, the town and its inhabitants got rather sleepy.

A cold, cold wind blew over a mostly-empty town square as Virgil stepped into the little general store for the groceries.

“Hey, Lil,” Virgil said, closing the door behind him as softly as he could.

“Hello to you too, Virgil! How’s the weather out there?” Lily asked, without turning around. She was an older woman, soft spoken and gentle. She made lovely bouquets in the summer and spring, with a garden to kill or die for.

“Bad,” He said, pulling his neatly folded list out of his pocket, “Cold, windy, cloudy.”

“Oh dear,” She said, still re-organizing the things behind the counter, “Well that sounds about right. There’s supposed to be a storm coming, a big blizzard. First of the season.”

Blizzard.

Virgil knew what those were, knew that they were big screw-off storms with strong wind and snow that made it so you couldn’t see your hand in front of your face. He knew that blizzards took down trees and power lines and covered up solar panels in a foot-and-a-half of snow. Sounded like a recipe for losing power, or worse, their house getting destroyed.

He frowned, one by one grabbing the things off the shelves and putting them into a canvas bag he’d gotten when he first came into town. Flour, sugar, milk, eggs, brussels sprouts, carrots, leek, butternut squash, ‘any herbs you can get your hands on’…

He put the worry out of his mind. The clearing the cabin sat in was far enough away that a few trees coming down wouldn’t be a terrible issue. The house kept the heat well and he’d be willing to trudge a ways into the woods for more firewood if they lost power and ran out. They could camp out in the living room and snuggle to stay warm, or maybe…

Well, that assumed either of them would be willing to get their clothes off. Unlikely, given the predicted circumstances, but a nice thought nonetheless.

Virgil set his things down on the front counter one by one, lost in his unlikely-but-still-nice-thoughts about the days to come, just the two of them, snowed in together.

“Name the kid after me,” Lily said with a pleasant smile.

“Wha- Good lord, Lil!”

She laughed, took the money from the counter and handed him back a few bucks in change. “Seriously, you kids be safe, and don’t you hesitate to come to town if something happens.”

“We’ll be sure of it. Thanks, Lily.” He slowly loaded all his things into his bag.

“Any time, Virgil. Have a nice evening, honey.”

He pushed the door open, waving as he walked out. “You too!”

And then once more he was out in the cold. A gust of wind blew in his face, stinging his eyes and making them water. That might be the only thing he missed about being a core, his fantastic inability to feel most external stimuli, and with that, his inability to feel the cold stiffening his fingers, making him regret not wearing his gloves.

It was gonna be a long trudge home.

Virgil came home a few minutes out from frostbite as the sun was starting to set. He huffed as he gently set down the bag on the floor by the front door, kicked off his shoes carelessly, and wondered how long it’d take before his ears stopped burning and feeling returned to his face.

The smell of bread wafted through their small home, coupled by hot cocoa floating in beside it.

“Making something, Mel?”

She hummed. “You were taking a mighty long time out there,” She said, moving through the kitchen slowly, leisurely. “Thought it might be nice to come home to something hot to drink.”

“You’re my savior, you know that, right?”

Mel giggled. “You’ve said so on more than one occasion.” She set two cups down on their modest kitchen table, filling them with the cocoa. “What’s the news from in town?”

“We’ve got a blizzard coming in,” He said, walking towards her “That’ll be your first snow in over a hundred years!”

“It’ll be your first snow ever.” She handed him a cup of cocoa and leaned back against the kitchen counter to drink the other herself.

He took it in both hands, taking a long sip, letting the sweet drink warm him. “Mmm… This is good.”

“Thank you.”

“But personality cores are based on, well… Personalities. They were all people, once, including me,” Virgil said, “Don’t remember any of it, but I bet you I saw snow back then.”

“I still don’t get how you’re supposed to pour a person into a box, and then have that box… Do things,” She said, flatly.

“Mel, we own a computer.”

“Yeah, and I like it, but that doesn’t mean I understand it. Last I checked, TV’s were the size of our oven and only played blurry and in black and white. It’s just after the apocalypse, and we got color and crystal-clear pictures.”

Virgil shrugged. “Fair point.”

The storm came early that morning, before first light of dawn and well before either of them woke. Virgil vaguely remembered sleepily arguing for Mel to stay in bed, to sleep another hour or two with him, before being given a pillow to hug instead as she went about her morning without him. She only actually woke him up some time later, gently shaking him awake to a dark bedroom.

“Power’s out, Virgil,” Mel said, “Virgil, wake the hell up.”

“Huh?”

“The power’s-” Mel was cut off by a clap of thunder that rattled through the small house, startling Virgil fully awake.

“What the fuck-” Virgil shot up in bed, grabbing Mel’s hands almost instinctively for support.

“Looks like it’s a thundersnow,” Mel said thoughtfully.

“A what?”

Another clap of thunder, accompanied by a flash of lightning. Virgil yelped in surprise, this time, earning him a comforting hand on his shoulder from Mel. “You alright?”

“Fine!” He squeaked, “Just fine.”

“Well, the power’s out,” She said, “So if we’re gonna make breakfast, it’ll have to be over the fireplace.”

“Do you need a hand with that?” He kicked his legs over the edge of bed, planting his feet on the ground and stretching up.

“I can get the fire set up and all that-” Mel cringed as his back cracked.

“Sorry.”

“Not a problem, not a problem,” She said, dismissively. “Could you make that stew of yours, though?”

Oh. The stew. He’d made it over the fireplace, once or twice before, with decent success. Not that it was particularly difficult to make, more or less a “sear some stuff and then leave it alone for three hours” type of situation.

He wanted to say no, anyways. Last time he did it, he burned his wrist on the pot and he still had a little scar from it. It was dangerous and difficult to cook over the fireplace, but Mel looked so hopeful and she loved that stew…

“Yeah, alright,” He said, “I can do that.”

Mel sweeped him up into a hug, pressing kisses to his face indiscriminately. “You’re the best,” She said, after landing one right on his eyelid, “Easily the best.”

“That’s high praise coming from my savior.”

When he actually got a chance to look outside, it was a little astonishing. He could hear the wind whistling almost constantly, or the odd clap of thunder in the distance, but he had no idea just how nasty it was, out there.

The world was covered in a haze of white, he couldn’t see the trees of the backwoods or the river that ran through the area they designated as their backyard. It was almost spooky, like the house itself had been isolated from the rest of the world.

He turned his attention back to the cutting board, back to cutting the vegetables they had on hand. Mel was curled up on the couch in their modest living room, warm and cozy by the fire she’d just started, reading something by the soft light of the window.

Yeah, burning his arm again would be worth it, if it came to that. Definitely. Mel worked too hard, too long, too sustained almost constantly. She had no ‘off’ switch, though, he supposed, that is what got them out of Aperture and into town in the first place.

Virgil dropped the vegetables into the almost cauldron-like cooking pot, letting them sizzle satisfyingly. The browned meat sat in a little bowl next to the pot, along with all the stock anyone could ever need. He absentmindedly stirred things around, more aware of Mel’s contented humming than he was his own hands.

Luckily, he didn’t burn himself, this time.

As if on auto-pilot, he put everything left in the pot, one by one, with the exception of the random assortment of root vegetables he’d throw in towards the end. He poured in the stock, covered the pot, and turned to Mel, who opened her blanket and patted the spot next to her.

“Kept your seat warm for you.” She said, grinning.

“Think I could stand to take a nap?”

“I’ll wake you up in two hours,” She said, “Stew smells great, by the way.”

“Thanks, love,” Virgil said, grabbing an extra blanket and curling himself up next to her, falling asleep in her lap.

Virgil woke up to the smell of stew and the sound of bowls being shifted around in the kitchen.

“Mel?” He called to nowhere in particular. Did I wake up in time to add the parsnip?

“You didn’t wake up, I handled the rest of it,” She said, almost reading his mind, “Stew’s done, if you’re hungry.” She handed him a bowl, as he sat up, complete with a piece of toast with butter. She dug in without waiting, putting a spoonful in her mouth and sighing with pleasure. “Christ, this is good…”

He looked down into his bowl, contemplative.

The world was scary, wasn’t it? Terrifying. There was a blizzard out there that could’ve probably killed him, back when he was a core, that would’ve definitely killed him if he was out there, now.

But he wasn’t.

He was warm and safe, in his own home, just him and Mel. Larger than that, they came off the heels of a war, and they were better for it. Would Laurel River have helped them build their home, been so kind as to open their doors for them before the war?

He didn’t think so. From what Mel said about the world, back then, they’d have had white picket fences up and would’ve judged ‘em both for how they dressed and acted, when things were ‘improper’ - whatever that meant. 

He couldn’t help but thank the maker that he was alive, really alive, then. In his home, with the love of his life, safe and warm and eating stew.

He ripped off a small piece of bread and dunked it into the stew, taking his first bite before it went cold. 

She was right, it was pretty good.

[doinurmommy]

Dad Jokes, Go for Broke (New Version) pt.1

10k never thought he’d get to be a dad; let alone a good one. Now he, and the only family he’s had since his father passed away, have some tough choices to make after being thrown one unexpected situation after another. 

Cross posted on Ao3

Fandom: Z nation

Pairing: 10k/Reader

Rating: Teen and Up (references to adult themes such as sex and pregnancy)

A rewrite of my original Dad Jokes, Go for Broke series. A new chapter should be up every other week. I finally have an Ao3! (monochromehobo on Ao3 as well) I will be cross posting the new version over there and maybe the old version if enough people want me to. I hope you guys like the New version as much as the old one. I worked really hard on it and have improved a ton since I wrote the original series two years ago.

And something about laying on top of the covers with the box fan tittering loudly in the open window, the laundry hanging to dry in the corner, just felt right. I briefly thought back on hot summer days when my grandmother would be hanging up the laundry when I got home from school and I would lay in her bed while she listened to the radio and finished cleaning. With the afternoon sun streaming in through the window and my Spotify playlist humming through the speaker in the background, everything felt right for a moment.

But that was the first day of the apocalypse. And now there was no Spotify playlist, no box fan tittering in the window. It was too hot, too sticky. No clean laundry flapping in the wind. No Grandma to make me food. No food to be made, really. But there was 10k. And I took comfort in laying in an actual bed with him. In an actual house, with a window and light to stream through it. And in pressing the side of my face to his sweaty chest. I told him about that moment this made me think of. He chuckled and it made his chest vibrate low against my cheek. And you know what? There might as well have been food to make, and laundry to clean, and a box fan to make us less uncomfortably sticky-hot; because when I was with 10k I was at peace. Like the world hadn't gone to shit and I didn't have to watch everyone I once loved, including my grandma, become undead freaks.

I felt strands of my hair being brushed behind my ear as a loud crash could be heard from down stairs. 10k bolted upright and out of bed slingshot poised for action; I followed shortly behind knife out and ready. Addy was locked against the table by a Z, 10k quickly sending a nickel through the side of it's head, effectively killing it. Addy quickly thanked him before drawing our attention to the window. 10 or 11 more were ambling a little to close for comfort. "Looks like it's time to go guys," She said picking up the Zwhacker and slinging it over her shoulder as she gathered her stuff. I ran upstairs to gather our shit and alert the others.

 "Warren! Vasquez! Time to grab Murphy and go we got a lot of Z's out the front!," I yelled as I pulled our stuff together.

Warren responded with a nod, replacing her machete on her belt, "Alright we'll have to loop around the back to get to the truck." Rushing down the stairs she took out a couple of zombies that had made their way in. She waved us along out the back window. I pushed 10k's backpack through and slid out after it. I was relieved to see Addy and 10k were waiting out back for us.

/// 

We spent the next 6 days, pretty much straight, on the road to make up for the time we lost by hanging around at the last house. 6 days of on and off sleeping in the truck bed and scouting for gas. 10k and I talked for hours about what we did before we met both pre and post Z. We eventually had a good laugh about the first time I met 10k. He had been pretending to be deaf with his two idiot friends, and I helped him escape the death penalty. I mean after all when was I going to find another kid my age to hang out with in this apocalypse. I guess it all works in mysterious ways because that idiot that nearly got me killed has more than made up for it since then. "So, you still think aliens are real after all that went down in Roswell?" I chuckled, teasing him about the wild stories he chose to share.

"Oh, 100 percent. Like I said, my uncle saw them," he smiled as he spoke. Sometimes I couldn't tell if he was joking or not. He slapped the side of the truck and asked Warren to stop at a gas station ahead. He grabbed a road map from the front door, holding it up for everyone to see, "Anybody feel like going to the grand canyon?" That got a laugh out of everyone. Just the thought of hiking in the hot sun made me sick to my stomach.

//

Turns out the grand canyon was as nauseatingly hot as I expected. The smell of millions of zombies being filed into it didn't quite help with the nauseating part. Although I will say I did have a good time, even though hiking over the side of a cliff and getting taken hostage wasn’t my exactly my idea of a fun date. But damn was the grand canyon as breathtaking as it was made out to be. Even with the millions of zombies. I would have liked to stay, but we have our mission. Still, I'd like to think that someday we'll be able to visit again.

I slumped in the back seat of the car as we continued on through the dessert. I tried to make the best of it but there weren't even any trees or plants to play ‘I Spy’ with. I was never one to get car sick; however, something about the bumpy dessert and the nonstop driving had me feeling not the best. I would have never stopped us if I could help it; luckily enough for me 10k had no qualms about it. He made Warren pull over so I could barf up my stale crackers and water, patting my back as I sat on the curb. "Yeah, I'm just car sick. I'll be fine," I said, wiping the corners of my mouth. “Maybe I ate something old.”

"Well sweetheart it's the apocalypse everything's kinda old nowadays," Doc earned himself a few smirks and chuckles with that one.

"Well whatever it is we have to get going. Savior of humanity? The mission? Anyone? Buller?" Murphy growled from the back seat.

10k helped me back up as we all piled back into the vehicle. "Are you okay?" 10k asked from the other side of the truck bed, "I know you say you are but you can can barely run 50 ft without getting out of breath," I know he meant well but his tone of voice held something else in it that I didn't like.

"Yeah, 10k. If I wasn't okay I would say so. A stomach bug isn't really a big deal in the grand scheme of the apocalypse is it?" I felt instantly embarrassed at my outburst. The rest of the ride was pretty much silent.

>>

When we pushed through the dust and came upon the hotel we would stay at briefly I never pictured everything that would happen there. The leader of the group made us go by his ridiculous rules and processes, lining us up and telling us his first impressions of us. I was incredibly surprised by how accurate he got everyone, except for me. He stopped in front of me pausing for a few moments before slowly pointing at my chest and speaking. "You; you're an interesting one. Your good intentions and quick moves hold the group together, but you've got a secret. That secret will cause you a lot of pain," I side eyed 10k sharing an awkward glance between us and this strange man. I suppose the first bit was somewhat true, but secret? I don’t do anything remotely interesting enough to be a secret. Even though I didn’t know what he was talking about it didn’t stop bothering me the entire time we were there. I think part of me may have been concerned he was talking about 10k.

After all of our "introductions" I initially followed Doc and 10k on their quest for food. I felt my stomach ache return not too soon after we finished our rations, making eye contact with 10k I signaled for him to follow me towards a more secluded spot of our temporary camp. "Not feeling well again?" I nodded to answer him as he ran his hand down my arm. I took a peek around the corner to make sure nobody was in ear shot and able to see us before I went ahead to kiss him. I kissed him deeply, rubbing my hands up his back.

I guess you could call us 'touch starved' for each considering that we only got to be alone together once every few weeks. Its not that we were keeping our relationship a secret from the group, it's just that we weren’t the type of people to be on each other in public or disclose our business to people. I mean, I assumed the group had an idea.

10k broke away from the kiss, resting his forehead against mine, "I was serious when I said I was worried about you."

"I know and I'm sorry I snapped at you but worrying isn't really gonna get us anywhere," I said softly.

"I guess not," he replied leaning back in, "but that won't stop me from doing it."

>>

"Well once we get out of here we'll find a drug store I promise," I responded pulling my pants back up. I couldn't help but roll my eyes at him when he got so stubborn. He couldn't even enjoy having sex without returning right back to square one of our argument.

"10k! (Y/N)!" I could hear Doc calling us from the next room over.

"Saved by the bell," I huffed under my breath, smile etched into my cheeks.

>>

The rest of our stay in that damn hotel definitely wasn't boring, but I was certainly ready to get out of there. All the bullshit of the office workers was getting old. Besides, I think if we had stayed any longer 10k may have made good on his threat to kill Murphy. 10k brushed my side as we climbed into the back of the truck. I always liked that he found little ways to let me know he wasn't mad at me. I never had to ask. We shared a snicker as Addy hopped in after us.

We all sat pretty silently for the rest of the day as we traveled south toward Mexico. We passed by a few small houses, Doc suggesting we pull off the road for the night. We entered one of the houses quickly clearing it of Zs and settling in for the night. 10k and I had first watch duty.

"You know what I think I miss most about Pre-Z?" I gave a side glance at 10k seeing him smirk as he asked what, "Pajamas."

"Pajamas?"

"Yeah when's the last time you slept in anything besides jeans or cargo pants?" 10k shrugged in response to my question.

"It's still light out," he turned to face me leaning on a fence post, "Do you want to go scout that corner store down the street for a bit?"

"Yeah, sure. Let me just go tell Warren."

>>

"Push harder!"

"Here let me just kick it," 10k backed away from the door, firmly kicking it next to the handle as I got ready to kill whatever Zs may be in there. 10k kicked the door a second time; I stood by as it swung open.

"Looks like no Zs," I said glancing around the small space. There was still enough light left to see clearly but the sun would be setting fast. "This place must have been closed when shit hit the fan there's still all sorts if stuff here." I ran my hand along the shelves as I perused the aisles. They looked completely untouched.

I yelped; 10k scared me by jumping out from behind the next aisle."You ass!" I yelled giving him a light punch to the chest.

He wrapped his arms around me in a hug as we both laughed. I rested my head on his shoulder, just taking a few seconds to enjoy the moment. 10k let out a sigh looking at something over my shoulder. "What's wrong 10k?"

"Nothing," he said nuzzling his face into my hair,  “Just worried. But I know you'll be fine; you're strong." 10k returned his gaze to whatever was on the shelf behind me, pulling away slightly. "Hey."

"What is it?"

"You don't think that uh.." 10k veered off still looking behind me. I raised my eyebrows in response. "When's the last time you got your..." he gestured vaguely. I looked over my shoulder to see what he was looking at.

I barked out a laugh seeing what he was looking at. "My period?" He nodded in response. “10k it's the apocalypse periods are irregular at best nonexistent at worst," I paused meeting his eyes, "Or best depending on your point of view." We both gave little chuckles at that.

"Will you take one? Just to be sure?"

I sighed, picking one up off the shelf, "Okay, but when it's negative you have to stop bothering me."

“Deal.”

I began to walk towards the back of the store, looking over my shoulder to make sure 10k was close behind. I opened the bathroom door and scanned the small room with my flash light. Empty.

"Do you want me to go in with you?" 10k asked, hand holding open the bathroom door.

"No, I think I've got it," I immediately changed my mind once I realized how dark it was in the small room. "Actually 10k would you mind holding the flashlight for me?"

I shakily took the instructions and the test out of the package, opening up the instructions skimming through them. "Can you look the other way?"

Once I was done I set it on the sink and turned to face 10k. He looked, well, the best word to describe it was pale. "Now what?" He came closer to the sink as he spoke.

"We have to wait two minutes.”

“And then what?”

“Then we’ll have our answer.”

Waiting was the worst part, I hadn’t even considered pregnancy as an option for what was wrong with me but after taking the test it was an all consuming possibility. “Do you want to read it? I don’t think I can.”

I watched him pick it up off the sink, surprisingly no hesitation or shake to his hands. I’m not sure how long he actually looked at it, but it felt like at least 15 minutes. I watched tears prick at his eyes after awhile. I’m not sure why but I asked him if he was mad at me. I didn’t even need to see it to know it was positive.

“No! Of course not. Why would I be?” he took my hands in his and made eye contact with me.

“10k... It’s not like this is exactly like this is an ideal situation to raise a kid. We’re so young, and that would be problem enough it weren’t for the whole apocalypse thing. I can’t even count the number of times we’ve been shot at in the last year. And...”

“And?”

“And I can’t help feeling this is my fault. I can’t feeling I should have know better. That my recklessness lead to this. That... That I should have know better. Because now there’s this big unexpected terrible responsibility that I caused.”

“I’m pretty sure I contributed to this problem as much as you did,” there was something strange in his voice. “What has you convinced this is a bad thing?” I could hear the hurt dripping off his voice.

“10k..” I softened my voice, “How could it not be?”

“I never thought I’d get to be a dad. Let alone a good one. This could be our chance to make something good that’s not broken. To build something new. I love you so much; so how could it not be a good thing? I get to share something so special with someone I love so much. They say there’s never a right time, right? So why not now? When would we get another chance?”

“Who exactly is they?” I cracked a joke, still trying to convince myself this could be a good thing. I mean 10k made some pretty convincing points. Why would I ruin this for us, when I could share this once in a lifetime chance with the only person I’d trust to pull me from a horde of zombies? This could really be a good, and really stressful, thing. A new start. 

I leaned into 10k, half-crying half-laughing into his should. “Okay. Let’s do this then.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” I watched the tear tracks run down his face as we just stood there. In that nasty corner store bathroom. Goofy naive smiles cracked on our faces. Terrified excitement buzzing between us as we thought about how much we had in front of us. "You know it's not gonna be easy, Tommy."

His nose crinkled at the use of his birth name, "My Pa always said if it’s easy it’s not worth it."

“Your Pa also thought aliens are real.”

I grabbed the still lit flashlight, breaking the silence, “Alright let’s get out of here and bring those supplies back to camp. The sun’s down already, and I’m starving.”

I watched 10k’s expression, feeling a dumb joke about to make it’s way into the conversation. He looked entirely too pleased with himself as he as he began talking. 

“Hi starving. I’m dad.”

[myownsuperintendent]

New Fic: “Old and New” (1960s AU Part VI)

When Monica meets John Doggett, she wants to know him better, even though he's different from most of her friends. Their relationship, however, brings many complications.  This is part six in my 1960s, and it is set after all the other parts, in 1973, making it now technically 1970s AU.  It would help to read the other parts, especially the third, first.  Rated G, pairings are Doggett/Reyes and Melissa/Reyes but both are more in the UST vein.  Also here at Ao3, and the whole series is here.

.....

They met by chance.  But she always did like meeting people.

It was at a meeting Monica had gone to—one about Central Park, about how bad it was getting there.  She’d hoped the meeting would be practical, that they’d talk about things people could do to help clean it up, even if they were only small things.  But, like a lot of meetings she found herself going to, it ended up in an argument, or a bunch of arguments, if you wanted to get technical.  One guy called another a pie in the sky dreamer, and that guy retaliated by calling him a bourgeois pig.  That kind of thing happened a lot too.  She was used to it.

It wasn’t worth sticking around longer, she decided, and she picked up her bag to go.  There was a guy on the way out too, clean cut, brown hair.  He caught her eye and smiled, a nice smile.  “Wow,” he said, nodding back towards the two arguing guys, one of whom had just knocked over a chair.

She laughed.  “Par for the course at these kinds of meetings, unfortunately.  Everyone’s heart’s in the right place and nobody can agree.”

“Well, disagreeing is one thing,” the guy said.  “It doesn’t mean they have to shout about it.”

“You make a good point,” Monica said.  They were out on the sidewalk now, still heading in the same direction.  “Have you been to any of these meetings before?” she asked him.  It sounded corny, she thought.  Come here often?

“No,” he said.  “I haven’t been back in the city that long, actually.  But I was thinking—it would be good to join something.  And I thought the park, because…well, it’s outside.”  He looked at her ruefully.  “But I thought we’d be getting organized.  Making plans to actually do some work there.  Not just bickering.”

“You’re speaking my language,” Monica said.  “I’d always rather be doing something.  My friends say I leap before I look, half the time.  But what do they know?”  She grinned at him.

“That’s a good trait,” he said, seriously.  “Taking action.”  He looked at her for a moment, and then he laughed.  “Hey, we’re getting into the deep questions before we’ve even introduced ourselves.  I’m John Doggett.”

“Monica Reyes,” she said, taking his outstretched hand.  “Are you from around here, originally?”

“Is it that obvious?” he asked, and she laughed again.  “Yeah, I grew up here.  You?”

“I came here for college,” she said.  “But I decided to stick around.”  They walked along—they were almost at the subway now—and she was getting one of her ideas, probably another one of the kind that made people accuse her of jumping into things.  “Would you want to go to the park together sometime?  Just to see what we could actually do?  We could pick up trash, at least.”

He looked surprised, but then he smiled.  “Hey, that sounds great,” he said.  “When were you thinking?”

“This weekend?”

“I’m not sure what I’ve got going on,” he said.  “Could I call you?”

“Sure,” she said—she still had the flyer she’d picked up about the meeting, and she tore off a corner and scrawled her name and phone number on it.  “Here you go,” she said, handing it to him.

“Thanks.”  He folded it and put it in his pocket, carefully.  “I’ll call you soon, then.”  They were at the subway now, and he was going uptown and she was going downtown, so they didn’t say much more than goodbye.

Melissa was in the kitchen when she got home, making tea.  “Hey, Monica,” she said.  “How was the meeting?”

“Not that great,” Monica said.  “Just a lot of arguing.  You know the kind of thing.”  Melissa nodded.  “But I talked with a guy,” Monica said, “and we might go pick up trash together or something like that.”  Melissa nodded again, looking a little distracted, and Monica squeezed her shoulders gently.  “How’re you doing?”

Melissa shrugged.  “I’ll bounce back,” she said.  “It was the right choice, I know.  Sheila and I wanted really different things.”

“Doesn’t mean it has to be easy,” Monica said.  “You know I’m here if you want to talk, though.”

“I know,” Melissa said.  “Thanks, Monica.”  The kettle whistled, and she took it off the stove.  “It’s just going to be weird,” she said.  “You know we’re supposed to be planning that demonstration together.  For Lesbian Feminist Liberation.  And now it’s going to be…well, weird.”

“You want me to join the committee?” Monica offered.  “I can be your buffer.”  Melissa looked a little dubious, which Monica couldn’t really blame her for; she wasn’t sure she’d be an effective buffer, since Sheila didn’t particularly like her.  They’d tolerated each other, while Melissa and Sheila were together, but Sheila always seemed to have an issue with Monica liking both women and men, which Monica wasn’t about to apologize for.  “Okay, maybe not,” she said.  “But I’m here to talk, anyway.  Or we could all go out some time.  You and me and Starchild.”

“Yeah, that could be fun,” Melissa said.  “Thank you.  Really.  But I know I’ll be okay.”

“I know you will too,” Monica said, and she hugged Melissa quickly.  “I’m going to go write in my room now,” she said.  “But you can knock any time.”  Melissa, now installed at the table with her mug of tea, nodded again, and Monica went into her room.

She’d kept a diary all her life; she liked having somewhere to sort out her thoughts, other than in her own head.  Tonight, she wrote about Melissa, about hoping she’d be okay, and mostly about the meeting, and talking to John Doggett, who seemed interesting, and wondering when she’d see him again.

.....

That didn’t take too long.  Starchild tapped on her door the next evening, saying there was someone on the phone for her, and she answered and it was him.  He said Saturday morning would be good for him, if she wanted to go to the park, and she said that worked for her.  When she got out of the subway at Columbus Circle, she saw him standing outside the entrance to the park, and she hurried over.  “Hi,” she said.

He looked startled for a moment, but then he smiled at her.  “Hi,” he said.  “Right on time.”

“I hope you haven’t been waiting long,” Monica said as they walked into the park.

“No,” he said, “not at all.”

“I brought supplies,” she said, holding up her bag.  “Garbage bags to collect things in.  And apples, in case we get hungry.”

John smiled again.  “Looks like you’ve thought of everything,” he said.

“I try to be prepared,” she said, smiling back.

“Were you a Girl Scout?” he asked.

“I was, actually,” she said.  “The whole time I was growing up.  I even worked at my old summer camp, when I was in college.  Were you a Boy Scout?”

“Yeah, I was one of those,” he said.  “I always liked the being outside.  We used to take a bus out of the city, to go camping.”

“I loved camping too,” Monica said.  Some of the girls in her troop hadn’t liked roughing it, but she had never minded.  “Looks like we could pick up some of that stuff, over there,” she said, pointing, and they walked towards a heap of papers, crumpled, looking windblown.  “You said you’d recently gotten back to the city,” she said, as she stooped to gather the papers into one of her garbage bags.  “Where were you before this?”

“Vietnam,” he said.

She didn’t know why she should be surprised, but she was.  “Oh,” she said at last.  “Well, I’m glad you made it back.”  Did she sound like an idiot?

If he thought she did, he didn’t show it.  “Thanks,” he said.  “So’s my family.  So am I,” he added, after a minute.  “It wasn’t—well, it’s probably no surprise to hear this now, but it wasn’t what I expected when I signed up.”

Now she really was surprised, even though she told herself that she shouldn’t be.  The fact was that most of the guys she ran into, certainly the ones she actually hung around with—well, they’d done everything they could to avoid being drafted, and they definitely wouldn’t have signed up voluntarily.  She knew Dana and Melissa had some experience with this—their brother had gone, and their parents were very much for the whole thing—but she didn’t, even with her family.  Her parents had been against the war from the start.  So had most of her friends.  She’d never really had to have the kind of firsthand, person to person debate that Melissa was always talking about having at home.  And even if she had, of course, this wouldn’t be the time or the place for it.  You couldn’t debate what someone had gone through.

“I bet not,” she said, eventually, feebly.  “Well, I am glad you’re okay.  I’m glad we’re out of there.”

“Thanks,” he said again, and they picked up the rest of the papers and walked on.

But after that they had fun, after all.  He made a face at her while picking up a banana peel that was right next to a trash can— “I understand,” he said, “it was too far to walk”—and she found herself laughing.  They saw spots getting cleaner from their work; it was a drop in the bucket, maybe, but it was something.  They talked about other things they thought the park needed, places where the grass was dead or the pavement was potholed.  And then they just talked about other subjects entirely: erstwhile Boy and Girl Scout adventures, movies they’d seen recently, their favorite places in the city.

“I’ve never been there,” she said, when he told her about a coffeeshop he liked.  “I’ll have to try it.”

“You should,” he said.  “I could show you, sometime.”

“That sounds great,” she said; she suspected that she was blushing, faintly.

They stopped around eleven-thirty, their garbage bags filled.  “A good morning’s work,” Monica said.

“Absolutely,” John said.  “If you want to do more of this…let me know.  Like I said, it’s good to get out and do something.”

“Oh, I’m happy to do more,” she said.  “Same time next Saturday, maybe?”

“Yeah,” he said.  “Yeah, that sounds good.  I’ll call you to make sure.”

“Great!” she said, and then he waved, and then he was gone.

.....

She was meeting Langly for lunch that day, so she went there straight from the park.  He was already outside the diner, and he raised his eyebrows at her as she approached.  “Why are you carrying a garbage bag?”

“Oh,” she said.  She looked around, found the nearest trash can, and deposited it.  “I was in Central Park.  Cleaning up.”

“Some kind of group thing?” he asked.

“No,” she said.  “Just me and one guy.”

“Some kind of weird date?”

“No!” she said, more vehemently.  “Just trying to make the park nicer.  Anyway,” she added, “are you really one to talk about weird dates?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Monica,” he said, as they walked in and sat down at their usual table.  “I’ve never been on a weird date in my life.”

“You took Karen to that documentary about cadavers,” Monica said.

“And she loved it,” Langly said.  “What’s your point?”

“I don’t know,” Monica said.  “That you’re both weird, I guess.”  She smiled at him.  She was still sort of surprised that he had a girlfriend of any kind, honestly, but he’d met Karen at a party at Dana and Mulder’s—she’d gone to medical school with Dana—and the two of them had hit it off.  Monica liked Karen, though, and she thought the two of them were good for each other, not solely because of their shared taste in weird documentaries.

“That’s a given,” Langly said.  “Anyway, who’s the guy you were cleaning the park with?  If it wasn’t a weird date.”

“Just someone I met last week,” Monica said.

“Anyone I know?”

“I doubt it,” Monica said.  “His name’s John Doggett.”

Langly shook his head.  “Yeah, I don’t know him.  What’s his story?”

“I don’t know,” Monica said.  “He just moved here.  He’s looking to join stuff.”  She was aware that she was leaving it very vague.

“You could tell him to come to the protest next weekend,” Langly suggested.

“Hmm, maybe,” Monica said.  “I don’t actually have his number.”  This was true, she realized, but it was also a good excuse.

She told herself she was being a coward.  She could spend time with whoever she wanted to spend time with, and they didn’t all have to see things exactly the same way.  If Langly judged her for spending the morning with John, he wasn’t being a very good friend to her, and if she acted like John having been in Vietnam was something she had to hide from Langly, she wasn’t being a very good friend to either of them.

She opened her mouth to speak, but Langly had already started talking about another subject entirely: Frohike’s attempts to modify a TV Typewriter.  And it was easy to listen to that, and to ask questions, and to talk like they always did, without bringing up anything that might change that.

.....

“I was thinking,” Melissa said, the next morning when they were eating breakfast.  “We should start planning for Thanksgiving.”  They’d done Thanksgiving together, the last couple of years: her, Melissa, and Starchild, Langly, Byers, and Frohike.  Karen had come too, last year, and Sheila, when she and Melissa were together.  Monica and Melissa always took charge of the cooking; the food was pretty traditional, even if the vibe decidedly wasn’t.

“Yeah, good idea,” Monica said.  She put jam on her toast.  “Is everyone going to be around?”

“I think so,” said Melissa.  “I know I am, anyway.  No surprise.”  There was always a defiance in her voice when she talked about this; she hadn’t been invited home for any holiday in almost three years, since she’d come out to her parents, and Monica knew that she would never say how much it bothered her in so many words.  “I told Dana she’d probably have to shoot the pope to stop being the good daughter.”

Monica briefly pondered the circumstances under which Dana might shoot the pope: it was a funny image.  That wasn’t the point, though.  “Their loss,” she said.

“It is how it is,” Melissa said.  “But yeah, I think everyone’s going to be here.  Anyone different you think we should have this year?”

She thought of John, even though she didn’t know how much sense that made: for all she knew, he was part of a big family, ready to welcome him to Thanksgiving dinner with open arms, the farthest thing possible from their band of Thanksgiving misfits.  But she did, anyway.  He seemed unmoored, she thought—he’d as much as admitted to her that he was trying to find things to do, people to know.  And she didn’t want to be afraid to be among those people.

“Actually,” she said, “there’s this guy I met at the meeting last week.  He’s just come back to New York and he’s looking for people to spend time with, I think.  Maybe I’d ask him.  If that sounds all right.  I don’t know if he’d be interested in coming, but I’d like to ask.”

“Sure, that’s no problem,” Melissa said.  “Just let me know.  What’s his name, anyway?”

“It’s John,” Monica said.  “We were cleaning up in the park together, yesterday.”

“Nice,” Melissa said.

“Yeah, he seems like a really nice guy,” Monica said.  “He was telling me he just got back from Vietnam.  Recently.”  She felt better once she’d said it.

“Ugh,” Melissa said.  “For him, I mean.  Not at him.”

Monica nodded.  “He said it was a lot different from what he expected.  When he signed up.”  She let out her breath.

But Melissa didn’t say much of anything.  “I bet,” was all, and then she sat down at the table with her toast.  It wasn’t an embrace.  It wasn’t a rejection.

.....

They were cleaning in the park again: a different area this time, a little further uptown.  Monica liked seeing the different places: she’d spent time in the park, of course, but she hadn’t nearly covered all of it.  She said as much to John, as they walked.  “How about you?” she asked.  “You’ve probably seen more of it than me, growing up here.”

“Maybe not, though,” John said.  “When you live somewhere, it’s easy to take it for granted.”

“You’re probably right,” Monica said.  “I guess I get into a rut sometimes, and I haven’t even lived here that long.  I like to explore, but then I’ve got my usual haunts too.”

“Exactly,” said John.  “I was thinking about that, now that I’m back.  All the places I’ve spent a lot of time.”

“You’ve still got to show me that coffeeshop,” she said.  Was this hinting?  She hated hinting.

“Sure,” he said.  “I haven’t forgotten.  We could go there for lunch after this, if you’re not busy.”

“I’m not busy,” she said, and then she didn’t know quite what else to say, so she bent down to sweep some trash into her bag.  It turned out to be a used condom, which only added to her confusion.  “Maybe I should bring gloves next time,” she muttered.

“What…oh,” John said, looking.  “Yeah, don’t touch that with your bare hands.”  He looked more awkward about it than she did.

“I’ve seen worse things, you know,” she said, quickly.  She didn’t want him thinking he had to protect her.  Or that she was about to get hysterical at the sight of a condom.  Or that kind of thing.

“Yeah, so have I,” he said.  He started laughing, then, and she joined him, and when they walked on the moment felt comfortable again.

The coffeeshop was just the kind of place she liked—small and cozy, clearly with its crew of regulars.  They settled at a table in a corner; she got tuna salad for her sandwich, he roast beef.  “Have you been coming here all your life?” she asked.

“Not when I was a kid or anything,” he said. “When I was a teenager, more.  With friends or dates.  And then it just became one of my favorites.  It was one of the first places I wanted to come, once I was back.”

“Oh,” she said.  It always seemed to be a presence, in their conversation, in her thoughts, at least.

He looked up.  “Monica, you don’t have to worry about it.”

“About what?” she asked.

“Me being in Vietnam,” he said.  “You were against it, right?  Probably protested?”

“I…how did you know that?” Monica asked.  “I’d never…I mean, I didn’t want to say anything…”

He grinned.  “First,” he said, ticking off the points on his fingers, “you acted damn weird when I mentioned it.  Second, there’s the whole way you act.”

She didn’t know if that was meant as an insult.  “The whole way I act?”

“Yeah,” he said, waving a hand, “your whole…thing.”  As she continued to stare at him, he added, “Well, the way you talk.  And you obviously go to a lot of these social meetings.  And your hair and your…your clothes.”

“What’s wrong with my hair and my clothes?” Monica asked.

“Nothing!” he said quickly.  “I didn’t say anything was wrong with him.  You have a certain style, that’s all.  A woman who went to protests style.  And thirdly,” he said, before she could speak again, “you have that pin on your bag.”

Monica looked down at her bag.  She’d gotten the pin a while ago, but it was still there, with its picture of a hand giving the peace sign.  Peace Now, it read.  “Oh,” she said.  She half laughed.  “Yeah, I guess that would be a clue.”

“It’s not a big deal,” John said.  “Honestly.  Not for me, anyway.  I hope it’s not one for you.”

“Of course not,” Monica said.  “Absolutely not.  It wasn’t…I was against the war, but not against any individual person, you know?  I don’t believe in that kind of thing.  Stuff like this, it’s bigger than that.  And besides, you’re my friend,” she added, quickly.  Yes, she felt like he was, already.

He smiled at that.  “Yeah?  Glad to hear it.  So you don’t have to act weird, then, when I bring it up.”

“Okay,” Monica said.  “That’s good.”  She took a bite out of her sandwich.

“Are you going to eat the rest of your chips?” he asked her.

“No, probably not,” she said, relieved at the subject change.  “You want some?”

“If it’s okay,” he said, taking a few.  “I’m always hungrier than I think I’m going to be.”

She finished her sandwich, thought.  “Speaking of food,” she said, “I wanted to ask you.  A bunch of my friends and I, we do Thanksgiving together every year.  People who don’t have a lot of family, or whose family’s far away, or they don’t get along.  Things like that.  And I wanted to invite you.  Not that I’m saying you don’t have family.  Nothing like that.  Don’t feel like you have to come.  I just wanted to…to invite you.”  Tripping over her own words, again.  Nicely done, Monica.

He didn’t look at her like he thought she was being an idiot.  “Monica, that’s really nice of you,” he said.  “It means a lot.”

“It’s low-key,” she said.  “We always have fun, though.”

“I bet,” he said.  “I’m not…I’m not sure yet if I have plans for Thanksgiving, though.  What’s going on with…with my family.  Do I have to let you know right now?  Or can you wait a little?  I don’t want to mess up the amount of food or anything.”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Monica said.  “My friend and I get pretty into cooking, but we don’t start two weeks out, you know.”  She grinned at him.

“Understandable,” he said.  “Hey.  Your friends who do Thanksgiving together.  Are all of you hippies?”

“Without exception,” she said.  “Is that…”

“Nah,” he said.  “I told you.  Not a big deal.  Just curious.”

The waitress brought the check over, then.  They split it.

.....

It wasn’t a big deal to John, maybe.  But it seemed like it was a big deal to everyone else.

“Look, I’m not saying he’s a bad person,” Frohike said.  He’d made similar statements over the course of the evening, as they all sat around eating and talking in the living room.  “Not him specifically.  I’m just saying, Monica, maybe you shouldn’t have jumped the gun and invited him for Thanksgiving.”

“Well, we’re the ones who host,” Melissa pointed out.  “And who do all the work.  I say Monica can invite whoever she wants.”  Monica gave her a grateful look; she was glad of the support, even if it didn’t seem to stop Frohike.

“Yeah, you’re the hosts,” he said.  “But still, you have to think about the whole group.  First of all, we don’t even know this guy.”

“Well, I know him,” Monica countered.  “Two years ago, you brought someone you barely even knew yourself.  At the last minute.”

“Esther?” Frohike said.  “Yes.  But she was really cool.”

“She ate an entire bowl of stuffing,” Monica said.  “By herself.  How’s that for not thinking about the whole group?”

“Yeah, that was my mom’s recipe,” Melissa said.  “We put a lot of work into that.  We would have liked a spoonful, at least.”

“This isn’t about stuffing,” Frohike said.  “This is about this guy Monica invited.  Second of all, what makes you think he even wants to come?  He didn’t give you a real answer.”

“Because he’s not sure if he can make it yet,” Monica said.  “That’s called being respectful of other people’s plans.”

“That’s called hedging,” Frohike said.

“Yeah,” Langly said.  “Definitely hedging.”

“It’s not hedging,” Monica said.  “He said he’d let me know soon.  The next time I see him, probably.  So what’s your point?”

She knew what his point was, really.  It was what she’d been afraid of.  “He doesn’t seem like someone we’d usually have for Thanksgiving,” Frohike said.  “That’s all.”

“Because he was in Vietnam,” Monica said.  “And because he volunteered.”  She wanted to be sure she was reading this right.

To their credit, the guys didn’t pretend not to know what she was talking about.  “Well, yeah,” Langly said.  “That’s what Frohike’s talking about.”  And next to him, Frohike nodded.

“Wow,” Monica said.  “What ever happened to being open?”  She could hear her own voice, loud, and she wondered if she was being too defensive, overdoing it because she didn’t want to admit that she’d been surprised too, when John told her.

“There’s being open,” Langly said, “but there’s taking personal responsibility for what you’ve chosen to do, too.  He had to know—”

“Plenty of people didn’t, at first,” Monica said.  “You know that.  And you haven’t even met him.  People have their own reasons for choosing things, you know.”  She looked around at the group, hoping that somebody else would back her up.

“We don’t always know where people are coming from,” Byers said, some hesitation in this voice.  “He could have had his reasons.”

“That,” Starchild said, “sounds like something that someone who was overly attached to bourgeois institutions would say.  You do know that not everyone has to follow the crowd?”  This wasn’t really about Thanksgiving or about John, Monica knew—it was about Starchild getting in a dig at Byers, whom she’d dumped again last night.  She doubted that Starchild honestly cared that much about who came to dinner.  But at the moment, it didn’t exactly make her feel any better.

“You’re right,” she said.  “Not everyone has to follow the crowd.  So I’m having John here for Thanksgiving dinner, if he can come.  Because he’s my friend, and he’s a good person.  And you guys—you don’t have to love him.  But you can’t act like a bunch of jerks.”

No one seemed to know quite what to say to that.  Eventually, Langly grinned and said, “We always act like a bunch of jerks, it’s the secret of our charm,” and Melissa squeezed Monica’s arm and turned over the record they were playing, and they started talking about ordering food.  The conversation was over, but it didn’t feel finished.

.....

She got together with John that Saturday, in the park as usual, and they had lunch again.  “Well,” she said, after they got up from their table, “I guess I should get back.”

“You have plans for the afternoon?” he asked.

She shook her head.  “I’ll just go home and hang around, probably.  How about you?”

“No, nothing,” he said.  “Do you want to see a movie, maybe?  Before you go home?”

“Sure,” she said, quicker than she might have, but he smiled at her and didn’t seem to notice.

They saw The Way We Were—some of her friends had been talking about it, but she hadn’t caught it yet, and neither had he.  It moved her more than she’d expected, especially since there were parts to which she wasn’t entirely paying attention.  She was paying attention, instead, to John sitting next to her, watching him out of the corner of her eye.  Mostly he seemed to be looking at the screen, which was natural, but he caught her eye once and smiled.

She didn’t know what this was.  She didn’t know what it meant, them being here at the movies together, but it felt different from picking up trash in the park, even from having lunch.  Somehow, she didn’t want to ask him, but she wondered if he wanted her to.  He hadn’t offered to pay for her ticket—she wouldn’t have expected him to, anyway, but that seemed significant.

When they were leaving the movie theater, heading to the subway, he said, “Monica.  About Thanksgiving.”

“Yeah?” she said, like it hadn’t been a big deal.  “Are you going to be able to make it?”

“Yeah,” he said.  “I am.  I’m looking forward to it, too.  Should I bring anything?”  He grinned.  “I’m not much of a cook, but I thought I’d offer.  I could bring a bottle of wine, at least.  Or some cider.”

“That sounds good!” Monica said.  “I’m sure we’d drink it.  I’m really glad you can come,” she added.  They were at the top of the stairs, now, leading down into the subway stop, and she paused and hugged him quickly, before she could stop and overthink it.  “Oh!” she added.  “Let me write down my address for you.”  She didn’t have paper in her bag—she never did, when she needed it—but she found a matchbook eventually and wrote it down on the back of that.  “There,” she said, handing it to him.  “We’re going to eat around two, I think.  But people usually trickle in earlier.  Whenever you can make it.”

He nodded.  “Well, I’ll see you then,” he said.

“Yeah, see you then,” she said.  He waved as he was walking away, and she waved back.

.....

“Hey, there you are,” Melissa said, when she got back to the apartment.  “I was just going to get started with dinner.  Do you want to help?”

“Sure,” Monica said, putting her bag down on a chair.  “Speaking of dinners.  John is coming for Thanksgiving.”

“That’s good,” Melissa said.  “Right?” she added, after a minute, when Monica didn’t respond.

“Well, I think it’s good,” Monica said.  “Because he’s someone I like.”  She knew she was leaving the wording vague, but she didn’t have any better wording on hand.  “I’m just still a little worried about everyone else.  I hope the guys won’t start anything.”

“If they do, we’ll kick them,” Melissa said firmly, setting a bowl down on the counter.  Monica didn’t see that that would solve much of anything, but it made her smile, even so.  “He’s your friend, and that makes him okay in my book.  It’s not like the rest of us are so perfect.  If he’s willing to put up with Byers and Starchild…”

“You think they’ll be back together by then?” Monica asked.

“Oh, they’re back together already,” Melissa said.  “As of this afternoon.  Starchild said not to expect her home tonight.  I suppose they could break up in the next week, though.”  She smiled.  “Seriously, though, Monica, I’ve got your back on this one.  So you don’t have to worry.”

“Thanks,” Monica said.  “That really does mean a lot.”  She got a pan out from the cabinet.  “I do see what the guys are thinking.  I just think they’re wrong.  If they knew him…”

“Yeah,” Melissa said.  “I’m not going to lie—I would have been on their side, a couple of years ago.  But the war’s over now, and it’s not like this one guy caused it, and you said it wasn’t what he expected.  And I’m sure that’s true.  And I’m at the point where—people can change, you know?  We all did stupid things, once.”  She shook her head.  “I guess I’d rather save my rage for the system.  And the people who really deserve it.”

Monica wondered if Melissa was thinking about those people, with the aggressive way she was currently chopping vegetables.  “Were you at the committee today?” she asked, cautiously.  “With Sheila?”

“Yeah,” Melissa said, after a minute.  “But I’m not mad at her, you know?  I’m just…I’m still working through the whole thing, I guess.  It’ll be weird,” she added.  “Not having her at Thanksgiving.”

“I know,” Monica said.  “That’s natural.  But we’ll still have a good time,” she added.  “The guys are bound to do something entertaining.”

“Here’s hoping, I guess,” Melissa said, and they went on making dinner.

.....

One of the main struggles of Thanksgiving, every year, was finding the space and the chairs.  Their living room was decent-sized, but that was before you tried to jam a table in, and they didn’t keep that many chairs around on a regular basis.  This year they’d put the guys in charge of bringing extra chairs and were curious to see the results.

They showed up in the late morning, when Monica, Melissa, and Starchild were cooking, with four of the required additional chairs and one overstuffed ottoman, which Monica could hear banging along the stairwell long before she actually saw it.  “What is that?” Melissa asked.

“An ottoman,” Frohike said.  “You want to sit on it?”

“Not especially,” Melissa said.  “You brought it.  Why don’t you?”

“All right,” he said, parking it next to the table.  “Suits me fine.”

“We brought cookies, too,” Langly said.  “And this tomato salad.”

“Thanks,” Monica said.  “You want to leave them on the table?  Is Karen coming?”

“Yeah, she said she’d get here a little later,” Langly said.  “And to tell you she’s still bringing the cranberry sauce.”

“All right!” Monica said.  “Well, things are still cooking.  But we can eat chips or something until then.”

There wasn’t room for everyone in the kitchen, by any stretch of the imagination, and they took turns moving in and out.  At one point, Monica walked back in to find Starchild seated on the counter, Byers in front of her with his arms around her waist and his lips pressed to hers.  “Would you please do that somewhere else?” she asked.  “We are cooking here, you know.”  She was still baffled by them, sometimes, even when she was no longer particularly surprised.

“What are—oh Jesus,” Melissa said, poking her head into the kitchen.  She and Monica both started to laugh, and Starchild and Byers laughed too, after a minute.

“All right, all right,” Starchild said, hopping down.  “When’s your guy getting here, Monica?”

“Not sure,” Monica said.  “I told him to be here by two.”

“Okay,” Starchild said, shrugging.  She led Byers into the living room, presumably so they could consider whatever it was that they were doing.

Karen showed up around twelve-thirty, with her cranberry sauce, told them that the food smelled great, and thanked them profusely for inviting her.  “These days, with my residency, I’m so busy I never go anywhere,” she said.  “And I rarely eat anything more complicated than a sandwich.  So thank you.  Really.”

“It’s no problem!” Monica said.  “Yeah, Dana was telling me how busy she’s been.  Same for all of you, I guess?”

“You can say that again,” Karen said.  She flopped down next to Langly on the couch.  “But today, I’m not doing anything but eating and sitting.  That’s what I’m thankful for.”

“To eating and sitting!” Frohike cried, waving a glass, and everyone more or less joined in the toast, laughing.

Monica found herself glancing at the clock a lot, over the next hour and a half; she wasn’t necessarily expecting John before two, but she knew it was a possibility, and she was eager to see him, whatever everyone else thought.  It’s going to be fine, she told herself.  You’re freaking yourself out for no reason.  And Melissa squeezed her arm and smiled at her while she was mashing the potatoes, and that helped too.

When two rolled around, though, and the food was ready and on the table, there was still no John.  “You said he was definitely coming,” Langly said.  “Right, Monica?”

“Right,” Monica said.  “I’m sure he’ll be here soon.  We can probably start eating.”

They took their seats on the table.  “Who’re we waiting for?” Karen asked.

“A guy Monica knows,” Frohike said.

“My friend John,” Monica said, thinking that he deserved more than just a guy.

“Oh, okay,” Karen said.  “I don’t think I’ve met him.”

“Yeah, none of us the rest of us have,” said Langly.  “He’s a mystery man.”  He was smiling as he said it, but Monica still felt on edge.

“I’m surprised he’s not here yet,” said Starchild.  Monica wasn’t sure what that was supposed to mean.  It wasn’t like Starchild was so big on timeliness, usually.  She knew she was overthinking things, now, but she couldn’t stop.  She made herself take a serving of stuffing and concentrate on eating.  The others talked around her, about work and politics and movies and books, but she couldn’t take it in.  This wasn’t how she wanted Thanksgiving to go.

“Look, I’m going to call John,” she said after about half an hour.  “I want to make sure nothing happened.”  She got up from the table and walked over to the telephone, which was all of three feet away.  There was never a ton of privacy, when you lived with two roommates, but she felt it acutely now.  She didn’t have his number, she realized, so she took the phonebook from the table, hoping he was in there.  He was.  She dialed.

“Hello?”  A woman’s voice on the other end.

“Hi,” Monica said.  “Is John there?”

“Can I tell him who’s calling?”  Her voice didn’t reveal anything, only leaving Monica with questions that she knew she couldn’t ask.

“Yes, it’s Monica,” she said.

“Hang on just a minute,” the woman said; Monica heard her putting the phone down and calling, “John?  It’s someone named Monica.”

He picked up the phone quickly.  “Monica?  Hi.  How did you get my number?”

“The phonebook,” Monica said.

“Oh.  Right.”

“Are you…are you still coming for Thanksgiving dinner?” she asked.  “We’ve started—”

“Right.  I’m sorry,” he said.  He’d cut her off, something he’d never done before.  “Yeah, something came up just yesterday.  I meant to call you and then I forgot.  I’m really sorry.”

“It’s…I understand,” Monica said.  “But I’ll see you soon?”

“Thanks for understanding,” he said, which wasn’t an answer to the question.  “I really have to go.  Happy Thanksgiving, Monica.”

“Happy Thanksgiving,” she said.  “Bye, then.”

“Goodbye,” he said, and he hung up quickly, before she could think about saying anything else.

She went back to the table.  “Something came up,” she said.  “He can’t make it.”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” Melissa said.  She gave Monica a sympathetic look.

“Yeah,” Langly said, and the others nodded.  But she knew that, aside from Melissa, nobody really meant it.  That made it all worse, and it was pretty bad already.  She couldn’t concentrate on dinner, not even on the pies, which were usually her favorite part.  She tried to take part in the conversation—she had plenty of friends here, she told herself, John wasn’t her only friend—but she couldn’t laugh like she usually did, not even at Langly’s selection of bad jokes about turkeys, which he brought out every year.  She joined in the clean up afterwards, because she didn’t want to be the person who didn’t do her part, but all she really wanted was to lie down on her bed, write in her journal, and try to figure out what had gone wrong.

Maybe she would call him again, she thought.  By this time, the guests were gone (Starchild with them) and she was putting the last dishes away.  She knew it was a bad idea, that she couldn’t hope to achieve much by it, that anything she heard would probably be something she didn’t want to hear.  But he was her friend, like she’d said.  She wanted to know what was going on.

She probably would have done it, too, but Melissa was on the phone when she went into the living room.  “Yeah, we had a pretty good time,” she was saying.  “How about you?... Well, I’m not surprised…When are you getting back, Dana?  We should get together…Yeah, that makes sense.  Call me…No, no, it’s okay.  I’ll talk to you soon, then…Thanks for calling, guys, really…Bye, then.”  She hung up and then turned to look at Monica, who was standing awkwardly in the doorway.  “Dana and Charlie,” she said, in explanation.  “They’re at our parents’.”  Monica nodded.  “Come and sit,” Melissa added, gesturing to the spot next to her on the couch, and when Monica did she leaned her head against her shoulder.

They were both quiet for a few minutes.  “Thanksgiving stinks,” Melissa said, at last.

“It sure does,” Monica said, leaning her head against Melissa’s, and they were quiet again.

.....

Monica waited for John to call, which was something she hated doing.  Sometimes she told herself he would probably call soon, sometimes she told herself he probably wouldn’t call again, and she didn’t know which she thought was more likely.

He did call.

It was about a week after Thanksgiving, and he didn’t say much on the phone, but then he never did.  He asked if she wanted to go to the park again that Saturday.  She had questions and she didn’t know how to ask them.  She said sure.

He was there on Saturday, at their usual time, in their usual spot, looking like he usually did.  Their greetings were the same too.  But when they started walking, looking for trash to pick up, he didn’t pay attention like he usually did, and then he turned to her suddenly, putting a hand on her arm.

“Hey,” he said, “I want to talk to you about something.  Can we sit down?”

“Sure,” Monica said.  They found a bench and sat.  She felt like she wasn’t in control of this, anymore.

“You’re probably mad,” he said.  “Since I didn’t show up last week.”

“I’m not mad,” Monica said, and that was true, anyway.

“But you probably want to know why I didn’t show up,” John said.  “Right?”

“Yeah, of course,” Monica said.  “I mean, if you want to tell me.”

“Sure I do,” he said.  “It’s just that it was a little unexpected.  You see, my…my wife and I—”

“Your what?”  A little unexpected for him, maybe.  For her that didn’t begin to cover it.  She’d speculated, after what she’d heard on the phone, but she hadn’t thought this.  Marriage seemed so solid, so unchangeable, and never more beyond her experience than in this moment.

“My wife,” he said.  “I know I haven’t talked about her.  Before.  It’s because the two of us were—”

“That seems like a big thing not to talk about,” Monica said.  “A pretty big thing.  I would have told you if I were—”

“I didn’t talk about her because we weren’t really together,” John said, cutting her off again, like he’d done on the phone.  “And that wasn’t something I wanted to talk about.  Not because I don’t trust you, or anything, but because I didn’t want to talk about it with anyone.  We’d been having issues since I got back.”

She didn’t know what to say to that.  A part of her was angry, now, maybe unjustifiably.  “Oh,” she finally said.

“We got married really young,” he said.  “After high school.  I don’t know…it is what it is.  Things were different after I got back.  Obviously, maybe.  But that was hard on both of us…and we haven’t been living together for a couple of months now.”  She watched him, trying to make out the story beneath the vague words.  “So I didn’t think we’d be together for Thanksgiving, and I said I’d come to your place.  But Barbara, she called and said she thought we should try again.”  Barbara, that was his wife’s name.  “That she wanted to have Thanksgiving together.  So we did.  And that’s…that’s it, I guess.”

“You could have told me,” Monica said.  A stupid thing to say.  This wasn’t about her.  She wasn’t important here.

“Maybe I should’ve,” he said.  “I wasn’t sure how.”

They sat on the bench for a minute.  “So how was it?” she asked.  “Your Thanksgiving?  Did you…the two of you…”  She wanted it to have been good, she realized.  She didn’t want this to have happened for nothing.

“I don’t really know,” he said, and she wanted to cry.  She couldn’t even be mad, like she wanted to be.  She couldn’t tell him…what?  That he shouldn’t have been so nice to her?

“Well, I hope you both figure it out,” she said finally.

“Thanks,” he said.  “I hope so too.”  They were quiet.  “You’re right, I should have told you,” he said, after a minute or two.  “I’m not sure why I didn’t.”

“I wish you had,” Monica said, because that was true.  Maybe this wasn’t anyone’s fault, one way or the other.  But it would have been a lot easier if he had.

She wasn’t really looking at him, but he turned now, to look into her face.  “Believe me, I never meant to make you believe something that wasn’t true.”

“I know,” Monica said.  “I know you didn’t.”  She didn’t think that of him; she didn’t want to think it.

“I hope we can still…”  He trailed off, gestured at the park around them with one hand.

“Yeah, me too,” Monica said.  “But maybe today…do you mind if I go home?”

“No,” he said.  “No, not at all.  I get it.  Really.”

He walked with her to the subway.  “You can call me,” he said.  “If you want to get together again.”

“I will,” Monica said.  “Honestly.  You’re my friend, and…I will.  Just not right away, maybe.”

He nodded.  “You’re my friend too,” he said.  “And a damn good one.  And I’m…I’m sorry about all this.”

“I’m sorry too,” Monica said, but she didn’t hug him this time.  She couldn’t let herself, she decided, so she just waved as she walked down into the subway station.

.....

Melissa was home.  “Hey,” she said, looking up from the book she was reading as Monica came in.  “You’re back early.”

“He didn’t come for Thanksgiving because he’s married,” Monica blurted out.

“He’s married?” Melissa asked.  “What an ass!”

“No, it’s not like that,” Monica explained, sinking down onto the couch next to Melissa, letting her put her arms around her.  “He’s…they were separated.  But they were trying to work it out.  And anyway, there’s nothing wrong with it, being married.  I have other friends who are married.  Dana’s married.”  She knew she sounded ridiculous.

“But you feel differently about this guy than you feel about Dana,” Melissa said, “or your other married friends.  Right?”

“Right,” Monica said.  “But that’s not his fault.  He never…I was reading things into it that weren’t there.  I was being—”

“Monica,” Melissa said, and her voice was gentle and stern at the same time.  “We’re not in a court of law.  You don’t have to prove anything to me.  You can just be upset, if you want to.”  She looked at Monica’s face.  “Do you want to?”

“Yeah,” Monica said.  “I do.”  She didn’t know how to say what she felt.  “It’s just…he could have told me,” she said, and then she started to cry.

Melissa hugged her close.  “Of course he should have told you,” she said.  “I’m so sorry, Monica.  This kind of thing…it always feels awful.  Whatever the circumstances, whatever you tell yourself.  You can’t change how you feel.”

Monica didn’t have anything to say to that.  She just let Melissa keep hugging her, while she cried.

.....

Monica spent most of the next few weeks hanging out with her friends, especially Melissa.  She didn’t really want to talk about what had happened—she couldn’t change it, so she wanted to move on—and they did other things instead, going to the movies or cooking together.  They had dinner with Dana once, on one of her rare free evenings, and they laughed together over Chinese food, and Monica felt more carefree than she had in a while.

It was just at the end of the year that she got in touch with John: she wanted to leave her bad feelings in 1973.  She didn’t quite feel up to calling yet, so she wrote him a letter.  She didn’t talk about what she’d felt, because it couldn’t come to anything, she knew, and it wasn’t a possibility she wanted to leave open anymore.  Instead, she told him that she’d enjoyed spending time with him, that she’d been shocked but that she wasn’t mad, that she hoped he and Barbara were doing well.  She didn’t ask him to call her or to write back.  She couldn’t be that firm about it, still.  She found his address in the phonebook, and she mailed the letter before she could second guess it.

She told Melissa that she’d sent it, when the two of them were hanging out on New Year’s Eve; they hadn’t felt like going to the party at the guys’ and were watching an old movie on TV at home.  “And do you feel better?” Melissa asked.  “Now that you’ve sent it?”

“Yeah,” Monica said.  “I do.”

“I’m glad,” Melissa said, smiling.  “You need more of the blanket?”  Monica nodded, shifting closer, and they kept watching the movie.

They switched over just before midnight so they could watch the ball drop in Times Square.  “I wonder what they’re doing over at the guys’,” Monica said.

“Everyone’s probably looking for someone to kiss at midnight,” Melissa said, laughing.  “I wonder what Starchild and Byers will do for the occasion.”

Monica laughed too.  “Too bad we’re missing it.”

Melissa tugged at the corner of the blanket.  “Just as well, I think,” she said.  “It can be a little sad.  Being alone at these things.”

“Hey, we’re not alone,” Monica said, and Melissa shrugged.  “Seriously, we’re not.”  She didn’t like Melissa saying that, didn’t like the thought that they were alone.  On the TV they were counting down, and Melissa wasn’t even looking at her.  “Here,” she said finally, wildly, when the countdown reached zero, and she leaned in and kissed Melissa.  She didn’t do it for long, but it wasn’t exactly a peck, either.

They both pulled back at the same time and looked at each other; Melissa looked stunned, confused, which was the same way Monica felt.  But then Melissa kissed her again, experimentally, and it felt nice, and Monica was about to lean into it when Melissa pulled away again.

“Sorry,” she said.  “Monica…we shouldn’t.”

“I…okay,” Monica said.  “I’m sorry.  I was out of line…I don’t know what I was thinking…it’s okay if you don’t…”

Melissa put a hand on her shoulder.  “Hey, it’s all right,” she said.  “It wasn’t that I didn’t like it.  Or that I don’t like you.  I just think…we’re probably not ready for this.  It’s a little sudden.  Don’t you think?”  Monica nodded, slowly.  She knew Melissa was right.  Sending the letter had made her feel better, but maybe not entirely, not yet.  “Okay, good,” Melissa said.  “Because I really don’t want to jump into something.  I’ve done that before and it was…”  She chewed on her lip, looking thoughtful.  “Lousy,” she finally said.  “Really lousy.  And it…it ruined some things.  And I wouldn’t want to ruin things with us.”  She was looking right at Monica now, and she was smiling.  “Because I do like you.  And I actually think this could work…if you wanted to revisit things, at some point…but just not now.  Not all of a sudden, like this.  Does that make sense?”

“Yeah,” Monica said.  “A lot of sense.  You’re not mad?”

“Of course not,” Melissa said.  “I’d tell you if I were.”

“Good,” Monica said.  “And I think I would like to…revisit things.  When we’re ready.”

“We’ll find our time,” Melissa said, and Monica believed her.  She snuggled closer to Monica under the blanket and picked up her glass.  “To a wonderful 1974,” she said, and Monica tapped her glass against hers, believing that would be true too.

[constellation-suggestions]

huge life update..!!

hey everyone !! so as you’ve seen, we’ve been slowly returning to this blog. we’re so sorry for kind of abandoning it in the past few months, it wasn’t on purpose and we never really meant to do it. there was no “let’s take a hiatus” decision, we did want to keep running the blog but a lot has been going on and life has been really distracting !! soooo much has happened with us, and we can’t wait to tell you all about what we’ve been up to !!

we left off telling you about our month-long first meeting. ruby lived in california while i lived in canada, and we met online through pokemon. at the very beginning of april, after almost a year of dating, ruby flew over to canada and we met for the first time. we spent an amazing month together and did so many fun things before she had to leave at the end of april, just a few days before our one year anniversary. it was a very tearful goodbye as being together in real life had been so wonderful that we really dreaded going back to being long distance. this is the part you’ve already known. oh how things have changed...

it was only a short two months before we saw each other again. we spent may and june apart, but then, at the very end of june, i was the one who flew to california. like ruby in april, it was my first time going through an airport and on an airplane all by myself !!! i was extremely nervous to do it but after it had happened, it wasn’t neaaarly as bad as i thought it would be. the flight itself was disappointingly extremely boring and i couldn’t wait for it to be over. i absolutely love looking out the window but the woman in the window seat beside me, as well as apparently every single person around me, kept the windows closed the entire flight ! ! ! ! and oh god that woman... i couldn’t text ruby throughout the flight so i wrote down the hilarious things she said so that i could tell her them later. i won’t say what they were right now because i don’t want a huge portion of this life update to just be about her but dear god ... if anyone wants to know what happened with her, feel free to send an ask about it and i will most gladly tell c; let’s just say... i named her melania trump ...

ruby and i had no idea that we would see each other again so soon. when we parted at the end of april, we had no clue for how long it would be. we hoped we would be lucky enough to see each other again around christmas, because we knew we really wanted to spend that together. and we ended up being even luckier than that ! we did lots of fun things in california; went swimming in ruby’s pool (i don’t have a pool so this was exciting to me okay !), went to a fair on the fourth of july where we saw a rodeo and amazing fireworks, we drove 10 hours to arizona !!!, where we camped for a few days in The Wilderness, and we had never seen so many stars in our lives. the town of sedona and the mountains in arizona were so extremely beautiful and breathtaking. we went to san pedro and santa monica pier... sedona and santa monica were my two favourite places, especially santa monica. they were both so extremely beautiful. the stars in sedona and the sunset on santa monica beach... in california we also discovered ubereats. i mean, we’d always known it existed, but they had only just started making deliveries where ruby lived, and we don’t have it where i live in canada, so we had never used it before. we ordered it once and then...got addicted. we ordered quite a few “feasts” every few days where we would buy enough food that it looked as though it were for a party, but it was just the two of us. relationship goals though, am i right ? i loved our feasts ! we also walked around hollywood, of course, which i’d really wanted to see. i got a lot of fun souvenirs ! and we saw the hollywood sign !! that about ended my time in california... or i should say, OUR time.

that’s right, when i returned to canada at the end of july, after spending one month in california, ruby came with me. it was my dad’s idea, that she should come for another visit and experience summer in canada, since when she was here in april it was still winter and way too cold to do certain things. we had her ticket to canada bought before i even left for california !

we missed our flight. we might’ve left the house a tiny bit too late, and then there was traffic on the way to the airport. once we got there, there was technically still time. our plane hadn’t left off yet and we knew that planes never left exactly on time anyway. if we hurried through security we could probably still.... but they wouldn’t let us !!! immediately at check in they told us that we could no longer check in for this flight. it was too late. we had to be there at least an hour before departure. even though we probably could have made it, they said no... but they told us they could put us on the next flight. which was at 6pm. IT WASN’T EVEN NOON YET. ruby’s parents had already left us at the airport, we couldn’t sit there until 6pm !!!! PLUS, my parents had already driven 2 hours to toronto for us at this point, doing some shopping before they expected to pick us up at the airport at 7pm canadian time. like this, we wouldn’t even BOARD OUR PLANE until 9pm their time !!!! WE WOULD ARRIVE IN CANADA NOT AT 7PM, BUT AT PAST 2AM. this could NOT happen. my parents, with my little siblings with them as well, could not wait for us until 2am. there had to be a sooner flight. there had to be. AND LUCKILY, THERE WAS. they said that they could squeeze us onto a flight that left just an hour after our original flight. we would only arrive in canada slightly late. thank god. we also extremely luckily got seats together. our seats weren’t assigned until we were waiting for the plane to begin boarding. the man at the desk said that unfortunately, they didn’t have any seats left together, as he started printing our boarding passes... but he didn’t even finish saying it before he cut himself off, seeing that they DID have a seat together, and printed our new tickets, next to each other. finally everything was set !!! we had a much better flight together than i did when i flew to california. i got the window seat and got to look out the window all i wanted !!! we also watched ratatouille on the plane. because of delays, we didn’t get there until 10pm canadian time. it was nice seeing my family again after a whole month away. and then was the long drive home... we got to my house near 1am. AND I GOT TO SEE MY CATS. i had been away from them for so long !!!!!!! 

so began our next month in canada. it was august, and we tried to do as many fun things together as we could. just a few days after we returned to canada, my family left for the long weekend to the state of new york. so we had the house to ourselves ! my siblings are... extremely loud and annoying. whenever they’re home, we try to stick to my room because there are no words for how horrible they are. so we were very glad to have the house to ourselves for once and took the opportunity to cook some tasty food together ! we made several good breakfasts and we even cooked two batches of meringues, which were really good. during the rest of august, we went swimming at the beach (where we had taken a walk back in april and i died from how freezing it was back then), shopped at my favourite mall, watched the incredibles 2 at the theatre, went to the african lion safari where we saw many animals such as elephants, zebras, giraffes, lions, and more, and we bought ruby a (very cheap) nintendo switch !!! she had been wanting one for literally EVER but had no money to get one. she was always really upset that she may never get one, especially with lots of games coming out that she wanted. so i helped her get one and she was so happy !!! we also both played my most favourite game in the world, together on our switches, when we saw that it had been released for switch: okami hd !!!! we have actually yet to finish it but we are very close to the end.... it’s such a good game and ruby really loves it ! i’ve wanted her to play it forever ! we also got mario kart 8 for switch, which has been a lot of fun to play together, we went to niagara on the lake, where we tried beavertails and poutine for the first time, but then when we had barely ate some of the poutine a TINY gust of wind somehow managed to blow it off our table and spill it all over the ground >:( we were so depressed !!!!!!  we also went on a horse carriage ride ! and tried costco fries ! (costco’s in the US don’t sell fries in their cafe area and i have always really loved them and wanted ruby to try them... on the other hand american costco’s sell chicken bakes which are SO good and canadian costco’s don’t D’: i will miss them..) and we had campfires again !! just like back in april !! ruby has also helped me find homes for 5 stray kittens/cats that lived outside my house. they were a big problem, always having kittens and sadly suffering during the winter when it was freezing and there was little food. we were finally able to help the last of them !!! that makes over 20 strays that i’ve found homes for ! however... there were actually 6 cats. the last was a black cat named pepper. i loved her a lot but she was very sick. a rescue did take her along with the other adult stray and had her treated and fixed !!! but they couldn’t find a home for her... so they ended up returning her a month later and... we ended up taking her in just a few days ago !!! pepper is now mine !! i have 6 cats now hehehe... so that makes for our time in canada.

you may be thinking to yourself: but you said you spent the month of august together. it’s been more than a month. you both adopted pepper just the other day, and it’s october now. well... that would be right ! ruby is still here. SHE IS STAYING HERE.

YES. YES. YES. RUBY IS IN CANADA AND NOT LEAVING. so a few weeks into august, i asked my dad for advice on what the heck we’re supposed to do for ruby to begin immigrating to canada. he said well why wait ? there’s no better time to start than right now. we were ecstatic and in disbelief. we wouldn’t have to say goodbye again. ruby was not going back to california. so it was still august when we cancelled ruby’s flight and began preparing for her move. she couldn’t go back for her stuff in california because well... it would be weird and suspicious if she spent a whole month in canada, went back to california for like a week, and then returned with a ton of stuff. what would she even tell as her reason for returning to canada at airport security this time ? yeah... we thought it would be best if she didn’t leave the country. instead, her mom is going to be mailing several packages of ruby’s belongings over. but don’t worry, we’re not secretly keeping her here illegally. my family has immigrated illegally to canada and ruby’s illegally to the US, so we know all of the trouble that causes and want to avoid that. she is technically still a visitor. americans are allowed to visit canada for 6 months per year, every year, so she can be here no problem until the end of january 2019. so we have until then to figure out something more to keep her here longer. we are planning to begin college together, and that way she can get a study permit and a work permit for the length of the program (likely around 18 months). in those 18 months we would then make progress toward keeping her here after graduation, such as having her apply for a permanent residency. it’s hard but i’m sure everything will work out !

however, we are... extremely stressed out at the moment. the problem is, we have no money. we need thousands to pay for college. we need jobs to get money. ruby can’t even get a job yet, as she has no work permit. also, neither of us have driver’s licenses, though we are working to get them. and she cannot get a work permit until she has a study permit. but to get the study permit we have to have a way to pay for school---- you see the problem.

we want to go to college for video game design and development. we both have a huge love and passion for video games and would love to be the ones creating them. we already have plenty ideas for games that we want to create one day. (because of me tbh,.. every little thing gives me a new idea !) the first school i thought of was the toronto film school. so one day we simply requested more information from them, so we could learn more about what the school and the program were like. the admissions adviser called us pretty much immediately and was super nice. we talked to him a lot over the course of several days, and were very excited to apply for this school. however... we hadn’t fully thought things through just yet. looking back on it now, he kind of pressured us a little bit, urging us to apply right away so that we could be accepted and start at the school in january 2019. he said that the school would help us find an apartment in toronto and everything. toronto is 2 hours away so of course we’d have to move out to attend this school. now, filling out an application isn’t the bad thing. neither were the short essays we had to write along with the application. i don’t mind applying and even being accepted to this school. what i mind is the price, after realizing that toronto may not be the best idea. the application had a $100 fee, each, and we are extremely extremely extremely broke. but we paid it. they urged us to, made us feel like we had to apply right at that moment and that everything would work out. within just like, 4 or 5 days honestly, of simply requesting some more information about the school, we had applied and paid a non-refundable $200 together. and just a few days after that.... we truly realized how bad of an idea it was. we hadn’t even glanced at other schools to see what our options were. i did mention our worries about money to our admissions adviser for toronto film school, telling him that i have no idea how we are going to pay for all of this and that we may just have to apply for another school--- he brushed me off very quickly. didn’t even consider the option and just told me that everything would be fine and we would find a way to pay for the school and that we should apply as soon as possible so that our spots for january could be saved. he pushed me to apply, and i feel stupid for doing so now. i regret it. if it had just been a written application and all free it would all be fine but what i regret is the two of us losing $200 when we have nothing. we could have used that money to apply for a different school or pay the fee for our driver’s license test and now we have nothing. i am salty about that. i kind of feel scammed. i wish we could get our money back but i’m certain there really is no way... it’s non-refundable. sighs... the issue is, toronto is SO expensive. the school tuition would have been $33,000 each, and we thought we were soooo lucky because they told us ruby wouldn’t have to pay an extra 10k in international fees and instead get the same 33k as me. toronto, being an enormous city, gives you the shittiest, tiniest apartments, for so much money. rent would have been about $1,200 a month for an 18 month program. we were easily looking at about $88,000 that we would have to pay together. god, i am only just realizing just how much that would have been. and that is ONLY for our schooling and housing, not including other utilities and things like food. where would we, jobless as we currently are, GET 88 THOUSAND DOLLARS ??? pluuus, fafsa (american college aid) does not support the toronto film school. however osap (canadian college aid) does. i would have gotten some help for my tuition but ruby, the one who needs the help the most, being in a foreign country with no money and unable to get a job yet, would receive NOTHING. apparently fafsa hardly gives you anything anyways... but something is obviously better than nothing, and she would get nothing.

so toronto film school was a bad idea. i regret spending that $200 application fee. even if we get accepted, i hardly doubt it’s going to happen. i don’t think i want it to happen anymore. the costs scare me too much. we would struggle too much. it would be impossible.

on the bright side, i suppose, we are now considering a better school option. (though that doesn’t make the extreme stress go away, of course. we are still extremely broke). there is a school 40 minutes from my house called the university of western ontario. it’s closer by, so the location is much better and we’d be able to visit home much more often. housing would also be so, so much cheaper. the apartments there are not only much better quality, but larger, and cheaper. i visited an apartment building just today that is literally directly across the street from my favourite mall and a 5 minute walk from the university. it is the perfect location and i’m kind of in love with it. the tuition itself is likely much cheaper as well. i have not requested any information from this school yet so i have no idea how much exactly a video game program would cost, but when i quickly googled the general cost of this school, it told me that it is 8k for canadian students and 24k for international students. yep, international fees, which the toronto film school apparently didn’t have. it’s not very fair that i have to pay only 8k possibly while ruby has to pay 24k, but 24k is still much cheaper than 33k. that is nine thousand dollars we would save. PLUS, fafsa actually supports this university. we highly hope that they would give ruby a decent amount of money, though she says they hardly help at all. they gave her only a few hundred when she applied to a californian college once that she didn’t end up attending, and her sister actually started college extremely recently and they gave her absolutely nothing. so... there’s a chance they won’t help much. there’s also a chance that since she’s going to school in a whole other country rather than in the US, they might give her more for that. but we have no idea how much they might give her until she applies for it. we can only hope that it’s a good amount. though... any little bit helps. at least at this university she will get something.

so the university of western ontario sounds heaven sent. just one problem. they might not have a video game program. and we reaaally want to go into video game development.... it took me two years to decide what career i wanted in life because none of them bring me happiness !!!!! i don’t want to miss out on this one now that i finally decided on it !!!! but there is still hope. western university does list a video game program on their website, they just say that it is currently closed. however i have seen articles published in just 2017 about how western is “one of the best schools for video game development”. i wonder, if it’s so great and those articles were posted just last year, how can they have the program unavailable ! what i am hoping is that they only mean it is unavailable for the current year, which would make sense. the school year just started, it is too late too apply. but we weren’t planning on attending until 2019. perhaps, perhaaaaps... they do still have the program and it will be open again in 2019, when we wanted to attend ? however i cannot confirm this until i contact the school, which i will do soon... i really hope this is the case. if western university offered video game design and had all of these other perks, it would be literally perfect.

(but we are still very poor and very stressed out and afraid)

currently, we need to finish getting our driver’s licenses. we, especially ruby, need $150 each just to do the test... then i need to get a job. and ruby needs to get accepted into a school so she can get a study permit and work permit and she can get a job. and then we have to purchase (yes purchase, not rent, my dad claims it’s the better option) an apartment, move out, and juggle school, work, and life all at the same time, while also working to make ruby a canadian citizen. phew ! ! !

ruby has considered making a gofundme and i think that we will do it soon... i don’t know if anyone would donate, they didn’t when i tried to make a gofundme a few years ago when my dog had cancer. but we can hope. any bit that any one would donate would help us with something. so i think that we will do it. we’ll probably post the link on here once we have it, in case any of you would be able to, and be kind enough to, help us out ;w; how does that sound...? does anyone here think they would be able to donate something once we have that link..? we are wondering whether we can expect to get any sort of help from here ;w; ... apart from that and getting jobs, i’m not sure how we can make some extra money... we will need as much of it as we can get if we want to make it through this without struggling terribly. i wish either of us were particularly good at something to sell on etsy or commissions or... i don’t know. i don’t know what else we can do.

anyway, that leaves us where we are now ! we have a lot on us that we need to accomplish but.. we will try to get through it. we will get through it. together. because i still can’t believe she’s here. i can’t believe this is happening. that we never have to say goodbye and we can begin work on keeping her here forever. it’s an amazing, amazing thing, but it has its difficulties. but we have already gone through so much together. it truly is 20gayteen. at the beginning of this year, we had never even met in real life yet, and we didn’t know yet that we would. in april, we met, and when she left we didn’t expect to be back together so soon. and even then, we had no idea that this would happen. that she would stay here and we would be looking to begin college and move out together. god, the things that have happened this year. wow. Wow. i have a hard time believing that this is real, that i’m not dreaming. i never thought something like this could happen. tomorrow is our 17 month anniversary, and we are together.

(sorry this was so long !! we’ve been waiting really long to update you guys on All of the things that have happened c: thank you so much if you managed to read the whole thing, and we’d love to chat about it more if you’d like to send an ask about anything ! ...remember, my melania trump airplane story... and i hope that when we create a gofundme in a couple of days, any of you will be able to help us out !! ;w; love you all !!! 💖💖💖)

[stephenjaymorrisblog]

Hip Pain

At the Woodstock Old Folks Home

By Stephen Jay Morris

Wednesday, April 10, 2019

©Scientific Morality

The Beatles never showed up.  Neither did the Rolling Stones.  Bob Dylan was in the alley with Shakespeare shooting up junk, and was nowhere to be seen.  Hell, Joni Mitchell didn’t even make the scene.  Matter of fact, I was 15 years old and imprisoned in my house on Martel Avenue.  My parents stopped me from going to Woodstock, but I managed to finagle my way to the Altamont Free Rock Festival.  Oh, boy!  We’ve got to get ourselves back to the dead flowers of our garden!

Yeah, it’s been 50 years since that event happened.  It was a watershed moment in Baby Boomer history! It was the embouchure of the Ganges River of higher consciousness.   Sure it was…  1.1 % of Boomers went to that festival.  The rest of them were doing other shit, like praying they’d get accepted to some university, or hoping their parents didn’t find out that they masturbated at two in the morning under the covers.

There were two Woodstock festivals: One was the mythological one with three days of peace and love.  The other was three days of drug overdoses, rain downpours, and thefts of marijuana stashes.  The mythical outdoor concert was presented to the public in a cinematic record of a day in a Bohemian Utopia, with a soundtrack of really neato rock bands. You couldn’t sell the real Woodstock! All it was really about was college students on a camping trip in which sex; drugs and Rock and Roll were readily available.  Traffic in the city?   The act of rustication caused gridlock on those country roads.  Some people had actually paid for tickets, but party crashers tore down the fences. That was one of the only right-on acts of the entire festival:  making a rock concert liberated!  The original idea of the concert was not to be a concert per se; it was supposed to be a Hippie arts and crafts festival.  The event was intended to be like the Newport Folk Festival, where people watch a concert and then visit all the booths selling handmade jewelry and other similar shit.  Those from Southern California may know this reference.  It was originally supposed to have ambiance of The Renaissance Pleasure Faire.  

You see, the real Woodstock, in the summer of 69, took place on a weekend for two days.  The newspapers wrote about it on a half page of text with black and white photos. The evening news gave it their two-minute treatment including some footage of the concert.  That was it!  By autumn, people forgot about it!

The concert itself was a financial catastrophe.  Not only did the organizers lose money, but also performers weren’t paid.  Thus, Warner Brothers approached the organizers and made a deal:  sign over the rights and we’ll pay you lots of money. Warner Brothers got the film footage, made a documentary out of it, and released a sound track album.   Their promotional department went overboard. They convinced the public that this was the equivalent of Christ’s Sermon on the Mount.  Oh, it was?   The 1967 Monterey pop festival was more organized than this pandemonium!  This was a spontaneous event that resulted in bad weather and bad vibes.  The stupid Boomers chanted, “No rain!  No rain!” Did it stop the rain?   Put it this way, it wasn’t raining any money those three days.  So the chant did work—in an ironic way.  

Though I didn’t attend the concert, Woodstock had a personal effect on my life.  In 1970, I attended my first Yippie demonstration at the Fox Theater, in the city of Beverly Hills.  The Yippies demanded that the movie be shown for free because Warner Brothers was exploiting the Counter Culture.  True.   To make a long story short, I got busted at that protest and was charged with vandalism and failure to disperse. My dad had to retrieve me from the police station.

Now on to the summer of 1971.  There was a movie theater in Hollywood called, “The Star.” It featured second run movies. The Star was a bargain movie house that only charged 50 cents to see a double feature!  They were screening the movie, “Woodstock.” A little historical mention here: this theatre was in the same building where my band and I recorded “Kill The Hostages” in 1980.  To cut to the chase, as the kids say nowadays, the movie was Cringsy.  The dialog was stereotypical Hippie slang with enough “Far Outs” and “Groovy” to embarrass a stripper!  The music?  Well, it had its moments, but so did other concerts.

This movie ultimately saved Warner Brothers from bankruptcy.  So if any conservatives claim that Boomer rebels ruined the USA, tell them that the Hippies saved a major studio; just like President Obama saved the auto industry!  After seeing the movie for the first time, I realized I hadn’t missed a thing.  Woodstock featured musical acts from the “D” list.  Because of the movie, their careers lasted for four or five years.  I call it the “Woodstock bump.”

Here’s another sidebar: I used to live in San Pedro, California—a harbor town.  Across the street from me lived an attorney.  He was the type of guy who liked material stuff like fancy sports cars or a top-of-the-line guitar.  He owned a Fender Stratocaster and a big ass Marshall amp.  Every 4th of July, he invited his family and friends over for a barbeque.  Before they shot off their fireworks, this chubby nerd would do a rendition of the great Jimi Hendrix’s instrumental from Woodstock, “Star Spangled Banner.” Of course, the attorney put on his distortion box for effect, however the chump could only play the first five notes of the song before he’d stop and start it over again!  The party guests would gawk at him for a minute and then just walk away.  He was showing off on an instrument he barely knew how to play!  He just wanted to own it.  This was the legacy of Woodstock.

So here we are, commemorating the 50th anniversary of a mythological event that never occurred.  If you ever wondered what happened to those thousands of kids, well they did not become tribal elders of some various communes.  Most of them graduated universities, got married, and had kids.  Some became New Age ecologists and Reborn Christians, who then became Evangelicals. Others went into the entertainment business or computer technology.  Many became greedy yuppies and Conservatives.  They treated President Reagan like he was the second coming of Christ.  As for me?   I remained this eccentric iconoclast who never sold out. To this very day, I don’t care about money.  Yes, I need it to survive. But, to me, it is merely a tool. To a great many, it’s a certificate for hedonism and ego gratification.  A lot of idiots over the years have treated me with condescension and scorn.  I don’t give a fuck! Never did and never will.

So 50 years ago, the New York Mets won the World Series and the USA landed on the moon.  Those were top news events!  50 years ago, a bunch of middle class, white kids sat in the mud and listened to a bunch of third-rate bands that I couldn’t give two shits about!  That’s the size of it.  

[kmp78]

I came, I saw, I (little bit) konquered 💪

First of all: apologies for this mega massive post! 😂

But I wanted to fit everything in one, so that´s the way it has to be! 

Big thanks to lovely Stockholm for being a very gracious host and taking such good care of this world-weary traveler! Let´s start off with some general sights before getting down to the nasty business of Mars!

I have to say that seeing those posters for the 1st time in the flesh made me quite giddy indeed...

BUT NOW! On to the main event...

The M&G took place a few hours before the show, and arrangements were top grade, gotta give props when props are due!

These two ladies were really lovely and seemed like PROS at what they do and yet POLITE towards us even tho this was probably the 3000th M&G they were handling. I have no complaints!

We were escorted to a small meeting room type of area right next door to the stage area, and at first I figured I wasn´t even gonna bother fighting the hoards for the 1st row seats, but then I heard Reni saying there was one spot left - and I leaped into action.

At the M&G room Reni explained the rules and game plan for the evening. No personal/private questions, no simple yes/no questions, no groping during the pics, no running to the concert area (there were near-catastrophic incidents in Prague some days ago, some girls ran like cray and tripped and fell and created a domino effect and it was a mess...) and so on. 🙄

Reni asked us who has listened to the album (most raised their hands) and who has not listened to the album (me and few others raised ours... Hihi...), and what people´s fave songs were.

Then we got back to talking about the potential questions again, and she encouraged people to ask about the new album (*COUGH* REMEMBER THIS LATER AS YOU READ ON *COUGH*), or if you want advice etc. 

Not that I cared much anyway, but seeing as she did not seem to touch upon “that topic” at all, I decided to try my luck and asked:

“What about the “elephant in the room”?” 🐘

The room fell silent and there were some dramatic “Oooooooh´s” coming from my fellow VIP peeps.

Reni´s face went serious and she quietly said “No”, as was fully expected.

I pressed on.

“How come?”

Reni: “Because we would rather... It´s a personal matter. Of the band.”

Me: “So we´re never gonna get any explanation?”

Reni: “It´s a personal matter... And until he doesn´t decide... It´s not in our...”

And that was it! That´s the explanation I managed to squeeze out! Sorry, guys! I tried, but... 😞

I´m totally not the only one who reads that to mean that IT WAS TOMO´S OWN DECISION TO WALK AND IT´LL BE HIS DECISION IF/WHEN HE COMES BACK, right?! And that the band has no say in it, and they have no clue if and when the situation gets resolved?! Right?!

UGH! ��

Then Reni went on to explain that if someone was there specifically to meet TM, they could get a refund but they would have to leave immediately.

Total bs “offer” because there ain´t NO ONE coming to these things just to meet TM, but whatever... I did contemplate if I should ask for a partial refund because I only got partial Mars, but chose to let it slide. Not even worth it.

One guy in the audience commented “Good question”, so I guess I wasn´t alone with my queries! It may have been Gustavo, I dunno.

Before the band came in, people kept busy by asking the crew a few questions. 

And at this point I would like to offer a MEA CULPA and sincere apologies to the person/persons who I battled with some weeks ago when Reni´s home land was a topic. See, as luck would have it, one of the VIPs asked the staff where they were from, and Reni said “I´M ORIGINALLY FROM MEXICO”, so yeah... Haha! I giggled quite a lot... Sorry, anon/anons! I was indeed wrong! Shayla said she´s from NYC, Inaki also from Mexico and Diana (I think that was her name...?) from Brazil.

Shayla mentioned that she is kinda jetlagged. Reni said she´s usually pretty good with it.

Then they plugged Camp Mars (a few people had no idea what Camp Mars even is...) and lured us to buy with big promises of hangings with the band during the most magical weekend of the year.

“The band is also there all day.”

Reni also inquired if people would be interested in attending Camp if they by some miracle happened to arrange it in Europe. Most people were eager, no surprises there.

Someone asked if Camp could be arranged earlier in the summer, and Reni said no because the Malibu Camp site is occupado until August.

Another one asked if Camp is getting bigger, to which Reni replied that “It´s getting better. I would not say it´s getting bigger because the number of people for the past 2 times has been exactly the same, which is 200.”

So there we have it. An official number.

Well, as official as these people are ever gonna admit, anyway... 🤷

Then we voted for our fave songs from the new album. “GWO” won.

(I voted Tabasco. 🤗)

Someone wanted to know if they were gonna play “GWO”, and Shayla said nope because they have not rehearsed it.

Of course not! 🤷

Then we swiftly moved on to the “Kumbaya” moment of the evening where Reni asked if someone knows how to sing, and some dude said yeah, so he came up front and started singing WoW.

Now this is just my opinion, but sitting there listening to an almost Sunday church-like hysterical pathos... Worshipers partying and yelling out the lyrics as if God himself was within hearing distance...

I did not know I needed that in my life. 😱

Then Reni we needed to “make some noise so they´ll come faster”.

Is... is that what VK does too? 🤔

I dunno, but we did. 

It did not help. 😴

To kill even more time, we did the obligatory “Where is everyone from?” round. I stayed silent. Surprisingly it seemed like almost half of the peeps were non-Swedes! The woman next to me was also from Finland. Wooooop!

Someone asked if the band is gonna do festivals, and Reni listed some upcoming dates. I don´t know why people don´t GO ONLINE to find out this stuff, but... 🤷

The crew also mentioned they have days off on occasion, Helsinki was mentioned as one of their days off, which kinda maybe means that the band will be arriving tomorrow and hanging for a whole day before the gig on Wednesday... Uuuuuuh!

Then all of a sudden...

DOORS FLUNG OPEN AND ANGELS SANG PRAISES!  🎺

Well no, it was just echies screaming and clapping. 🙏

JL and SL sneaked in from the stage area and the masses of course went bananas. 

I still sat in silence and watched. 👀

The bros had a table and chairs, but never sat down. Instead they stood and placed one foot ON THE CHAIR, as all civilized peeps do.

JL asked if anyone was at the previous gig, and mentioned that it has been a really small show, but this one would be the smallest (arena holds max 3500 people). Last night apparently was “INCREDIBLE”, one of the better shows on the tour.

For some reason (pffft...) he spotted some German chicks who I guess were twins or smthg, I wasn´t really paying attention. Anyway, he mentioned “We always need more twins in our lives”.

Echies naturally giggled because OMGGGGGGGG HILAAAARIOUS, and JL went on to explain that “Hey our grandfather had a twin”.

SL quipped that maybe he or JL will have twins, and JL mentioned that he and JR argued about the twin gene skipping a generation or smthg like that.  🙄🙄

Then he spotted some chick in the front row who had big muscles (no she did not btw) and asked her if she´s a trainer or smthg. JL mentioned that he just recently started working out again so he keeps looking at muscles.

Uh huh. 🙄🙄🙄

On/off SL gave looks around the room, and I got some too. He did not smile, not even a crack. Meh.

THEN IT WAS FINALLY Q AND A TIME!!! 🙏 😈

Some dude asked how hard it is to get a workout on the road.

SL said the recovery is the most challenging part. I guess he meant recovery from the shows.

JL says the 2 hours on stage are the hardest, and then the rest of the time should be spent by doing nothing.

That last part might be more familiar to some in the band than others... 🤔

Some woman from Ohio, USA was picked and I guess she yammered on about herself a bit too long because JL interrupted her speech with a very stern “QUESTION!” (we all know that tone... Hihi!), and she asked if there were any “Aha!” moments when making the album.

I suppose she did not mean “Aha! We totes should wrap this whole shit in Americana even tho it has fuck all to do with it!”...

SL said the 1st thing that comes to mind is “Rescue Me”. Apparently they´ve had that song for 10 years and have had people help them work on it (WHOOOO?!), and the last person they worked on it with caused them to have an “Aha!” moment when they realized they were actually going to finish it.

I´m sure we all share that amazement...

JL said he remembered sitting down during TIW in his home in Fredonia (his old home) with a synthesizer and the verse and the chorus are still the same. Lyrics have changed. The chorus used to just be “Rescue me, rescue me” without anything else, and 5 years later he was sitting on a plane and the current chorus started forming in his head. The song used to have a “pre-chorus” too. “He said” or “She said” (I could not make out which, or maybe both) before the main chorus. 

He said the lesson in that is to never give up because you never know what can happen. Sometimes songs happen quickly, like “A Modern Myth” which he said he wrote in 5 minutes, and SL wrote “Remedy” fairly quickly. Finishing songs usually takes him longer than coming up with a song.

Next guy asked about creative differences between Album 1 and Album 5.

JL said you can still hear the same band on both albums.

(GIVE OR TAKE A FEW BAND MEMBERS, MAYBE... 🙄)

He listed all the elements the new album features. He said he thinks a song like “Echelon” could totally be on the new album.

Next up a woman who said she was studying to be in the music business asked what she could do to make sure no other artist has to deal with what Mars had to deal with (lawsuit etc.).

JL´s advise: Don´t sign a record deal unless you absolutely have to. Spread your music via social media and other platforms.

(I know he was talking about EMI specifically, but I could not help thinking there might have been some Interscope crumbs in there too...)

The woman clarified that she meant more from the music label/business side and not the artist side. Jl responded “Go work for Spotify”. He went on to say that record companies and people can be great too, but the deals are the problem. They should be transparent and available online. It´s the last kind of “gangsta business” where you can really take advantage of people.

Some dude mentioned that he saw Mars 11 years ago when they opened for Linkin Park in Europe. JL remembered that tour, SL did not.

I guess he asked what it feels like to go from there to here (I wasn´t really listening because meeeeeh), and SL tried to come up with smthg intellectual and deep but it just sounded so ridiculously pathetic it´s not even worth mentioning. Smthg about just living and maturing and evolving as human beings.  💤

He also said they are really fortunate to still be together as a band (*SNORT*) because lots of bands from back then don´t exist anymore.

JL said this feels like a new and fresh chapter. Like his inner child. Like a reboot. Like they just got a facelift (HOLD YOUR LAUGHS, PLEASE). The new songs live are apparently “pretty INCREDIBLE”.

“I know some people are like “Where´s the guitar?” and “Where the heavy music?” but I think it´s still pure 30 StM.”

He also called the new album very dark and “lyrically on point”.

His point might be somewhere waaaaaay off the playing field tho, but...

Some chick with pink hair was up next and JL said he was gonna dye his hair pink but now he can´t.

SL said dyeing wrecks your hair and JL said his hair can´t take another bleaching.

And yes, you guessed it, folks. Fangirl giggles and swoons galore! 

Her actual question was about Mars music feeling ancient or smthg, again I was totally not even paying attention because I DON´T CAAAAARE. Sorry but these questions were fucking USELESS. 👎

Anyway, SL blabbered on about them being from an “old place”. JL said everyone has missed the point that they made the album by using modern American sounds like Hip Hop and Pop etc. and that WoW is a giant political FUCK YOU. 

Except not too long ago he gave that interview to a Finnish journo and specifically banned political questions, but okay... 👌

He said it´s exciting to see people from different countries singing that song with so much passion that sometimes he almost feels like they need to escape through the back door (he was kidding).

Next that same guy who sang during the pre-M&G stood up and congratulated the band on the new album. JL in return congratulated the guy on his hair (= a poofed up semi-mullet kinda thing) and they chatted a bit about his hair. Soooo riveting... 😫

The dude said one of his fave songs is “Convergence” and he asked about spirituality or smthg. Again, not interested...

JL said the last album was only 7 songs and the rest were fillers (well he didn´t say fillers but I´m saying it), and this new one is 11 songs and only 1 filler.

While JL was still yammering on his response to the mullet dude, I made my move and raised my hand HIIIIIGH - and when he finally finished his looooong sermon JL turned my way and...

Oh uh! It's Go time! 😱

⚠️ Little background info first! ⚠️ 

I obviously had thought of a few questions before coming to the M&G, just to prepare for the off-chance an opportunity might present itself. My options ranged from "Why did you call us Screaming Fat Girls?" to "Why did I have to pay 400 for this when 20 yo models get it for free?" and beyond. Yes I even toyed with the idea of sneakily slipping VK into the mix... 🙃

But sitting there as the M&G went on and listening to the other questions and studying the room's vibe, I started feeling my questions were all... wrong. They started feeling like I would just be purposely asking for trouble and causing a stink and potentially ruining the event, which was not my intention at all.

I started feeling like I needed to ask smthg current, smthg that has relevance in this day and age, smthg that hopefully gave us some answers to the questions we have been pondering about on the blog, smthg that would make you peeps proud, smthg that would not be a waste of a question - and yes, smthg that maybe poked a little hole into his massive ego at the same time! 🤔

So with all that criteria in mind, I went into battle...

Me: "Hi, speaking of the album, have you read or heard the reviews? Because some of them were... not very kind...?

JL: "This newest album?"

(NO DUMMY I WANNA KNOW IF YOU READ THE REVIEWS FOR THE ALBUM YOU RELEASED IN 2002!!! 🙄🤦‍♀️)

Me: "Yeah."

JL, staring right at me, with the snarkiest and bitchiest voice and most passivest aggressivest demeanor:

"Well thanks for bringing that up."

😱😱😱

His reaction both in words and in vibe (and the reaction from the room aka loud gasps, few hisses and cheers after he "lashed out" at me) was worth all the money I paid for that M&G, I don't even mind telling you!

SL also chimed in with “Yeah, thanks for bringing that up” but at that moment I was so focused on JL´s face that I completely ignored SL´s whining and existence - not to mention that every single molecule inside me screamed “HALLELUJAAAAAAAAH!”

So yeah basically I just sat there going...

While he stared at me throughout that little exchange, he most def could sense the snark in my question, and I most def could sense the snark in his reply. Naaaw... Just a couple of petty snarks sharing a moment... 🤣🙊😍

#BucketList ✔

I guess that is what an orgasm of the mind feels like. ☺

And btw...

"Thanks for bringing that up"?

Honey, with the amount of shit we have on you, you should be very #Grateful I only brought THAT up! 🤨

Anyway, the room kinda “erupted” with little gasps and hollers and whatnot, and after that initial "explosion" SL took over and started "grilling me" about my choice of question.

"That's your question? You wanna know if we read and what´s our response to the bad reviews?"

I replied “Yeah, I wanna know”.

SL said he had not read any.

Okay, but... Why did you just jump on my throat about that topic then...? 

He continued that everyone has opinions and tastes and attitudes and personalities and colors (???) and stuff... He said he can´t pay attention to it, he can only focus on what he did and the band did, and he feels great about it. He said he is secure in himself and his “bro”, as he called JL.

Then JL took over and in a very explanatory manner (calm voice this time) said that these days everyone is a critic. He said on social media any person´s opinion is as important as a reviewer´s. He also said he thinks a lot of the criticism revolves around the “Where is the rock?” argument, and that they are probably right. 

“It´s not a rock album.” 

Followed by a LOOOOONG silence. 

A silence which was only interrupted by SL going “Well, there you go!” in a triumphant manner. Echies of course applauded, and then suddenly JL picked up again:

“Don´t be fooled, we knew EXACTLY what we were doing. But let me just tell you something: we have NEVER gotten good reviews. Even when we made rock albums. So... Nothing really changes...”

At this point it again felt like he was getting ready to move on, but NO! He still kept going!

“I have a feeling lot of it has to do with me...”

That Gustavo dude piped up with “Jealousy...”, but JL ignored that comment and continued: 

“It just has to do with me being in the band... I don´t think people wanna let that slide...”

SL commented “Fucking weird...” and then after a short silence went “Great” in the most “NON GREAT” way imaginable. Kinda like when you spill juice all over yourself and go “Great”.

So with that “NON GREAT” “GREAT”, this topic was now finished and my time in the spotlight was over.

I will point out that while pretty much everyone who asked a question before me got a “Thanks for the question” comment, I did not...

😭😭😭

*

BEFORE WE MOVE ON - QUICK ANALYSIS ON MY Q AND HIS A:

I think what we learned here are 3 things:

1. Poor SL really thinks he contributed to this album and has reason to be proud. 🤷‍♀️

2. JL is indeed VERY aware of the bad reviews and backlash his latest offering brought him. 😭

3. JL is also aware of the "bad rep" he has. Not just for the "Oh he's an actor trying to be a singer" thing which he has battled since Day 1 (which I'm sure he was mostly alluding to), but also that currently (= after SS) he gets ridiculed and judged on a whole new level.

I mean, the way he almost dragged the topic on and felt like he had to add “just one more thing”... Kinda felt like he was trying to convince not just us but himself as well... 🤨

Anyway, feel free to send feedback and thoughts on this! Did I do good?! 😜

*

Okay back to the M&G!

The next person asked what would they say to their younger selves.

JL wouldn’t wanna say anything because “We’re in a pretty good place right now in life and career… I guess I’d say "Take a deep breath… It’s gonna be alright. Don’t pay attention to the reviews.”“

Ooooooh... Still feeling butt-hurt from the previous Q, are we… ? 😏🤭

The next Q was asked with such a heavy-accented English I had NO IDEA what he asked, but apparently JL did because he managed an answer. It was smthg about the Mars symbols (the triad). 🤷🏼‍♀️

The next chick started off my saying "I just wanna say I love you and adore you” and I almost yelped out “MR. KAUFMAN IS ALREADY TAKEN!” but managed to keep my emotions in check.

Her question was a pretty good one: “Why did you come up with the name "Monolith” for the tour", she said she (like all of us!) did not get it.

JL said the name comes from the giant screen on stage and the giant box thing as well, which of course for this tour they could not fit through the doors.

Next question was “Why did you call the album "America” when it talks about universal issues?“

JL: "I think the idea of America is universal (FUCK OFF ALREADY DICK IT SO IS NOT) and everyone has an opinion (WANNA KNOW MINE?) and the songs are universal. I think what’s going on in our country is probably going on in other countries. I don’t think we’re the only country thinking about things like immigration, the right and the left, what kind of a world we want to live in, what kind of a future we want. I just thought it was an interesting time and an interesting word. It really isn’t political title, it’s more of a concept (🙄🙄🙄), that’s why I liked all the lists that we came up with because they were so bizarre and funny and provocative. They do give you a sense of the time we’re living in.”

He went on to say that in 100 years people will be able to look at them and go “Oh, that was that crazy group if people that was alive between this time and that time and that fucking guy was president in America!”

Oh my! Look who’s getting all feisty again! Dare you to say that publicly tho!

During this question the noise from the soundcheck taking place in the next room went up a few notches and Stevie´s high-pitched screams almost overpowered the Letos... They made some jokes about SA´s screams. 😂

And of course he kept with the “The name “America” inspired the film that we made that´s coming out later this year, the trip across the country... Did anybody follow it on social media? (I MAY HAVE...) The Museum of America in LA and many other things that we´ve done. I dunno, I just thought it was an interesting container.”

In relation to the previous question, JL also mentioned that he had an alternative title for "America" which he admitted (?) he sometimes thinks he should have used:

“ERA”.

As in this era we are now living in.

YOU GOD DAMN DILL!!!!! THAT WOULD HAVE BEEN 40 GAZILLION TIMES BETTER THAN "AMERICA"!!!!!

🤬🤬🤬

I seriously almost screamed out loud when he said that... I can't even deal with him! 😠

He said that title would have been “a little more global but a little more boring”.

NO, DILL! YOU AND YOUR BEDWARMERS ARE GLOBAL AND BORING! THAT TITLE WOULD HAVE BEEN PERFECT!

😠

The last question came from a woman next to me (fellow Finn btw! 😃🇫🇮) who told us that she's a teacher and she asked what inspires them etc.

JL said that “sometimes I´m not inspired” (REALLY? Never would have guessed...) and that “at that point you just have to rely on muscle memory and to just put one foot in front of the other and keep marching forward... Someone asks a question you don´t like (WHO?! WHO ASKED A QUESTION YOU DID NOT LIKE?! 🙊), you deal with it... You have to do some part of your job that´s tedious (like... the actual working part?), you push past it... I think a lot of times it´s just showing up... You can surprise yourself. You start a conversation, you start a concert, and before you know it you´re lost in the concert and you´re enjoying your time.”

SL said what helps is “getting rid of the fucking trash in the head. If I feel distracted or there´s a lot of stuff going on in my head that doesn´t have anything to do with what I wanna do, I have to get rid of it. Meditation helps, hanging out with cool people (LOOOOOOOOL), yoga, taking a walk...”

And that was it! Show over! JL thanked us for coming and then...

Picture time! 📷

We lined up in the hallway and practically RAN through the stage they had set up for the pic.

Seriously it was RIDICULOUS! Felt even faster and more North Korean than in Getafe! We all legit had no more than 2 seconds to pose and then we were pushed out! 😑

Total bs. No other way to put it. Treated like actual cattle. 🐄

Anyway, I had a plan ready again and as I stepped up to SL who kinda "yanked me" between him and JL (not in a bad way but just kinda like "let's just get this over with FAST"), I said to them:

"Okay guys, let's smile like I'm a model."

🤭🤭🤭

Now, I don't know if they heard me or bothered listening (or in "someone's" case even understood what I was hinting at), but it def made me feel giggly... 😜

Anyway, end result is this:

I think JL may have gotten what I was implying, or perhaps he was still salty about my earlier question, but he def pushed my back to get me to leave the area after the pic. 🤷🏼‍♀️👉🚪

Altho he probs does that to everyone, especially those who are not 20-smthg Russian models, but… Oh well. Kinda made me smirk even more! 🤣

Or perhaps it was my shirt which ruffled his feathers? 🤔

Wanna see a close-up?

BOOM.

Tell you this much: online T-shirt printing businesses and 20€ sure provide a lot of satisfaction. 😏👕💳

And even tho I once again got only 20 Secs (Jfc… 😂), I still managed to sneak TM into my pic, sooo… 😎💁🏼‍♀️

More closeups:

Thanks GOD he looks more than decent in mine!

And c´mon now, Jarry. I think we all know you can go bigger than that.

Jaw seems to work a-ok...

And yes, I watermarked them because that´s how I roll, homies!

After the pics we were given our VIP merch: black beanie (not bad! I might actually wear that…), plastic badge (who the fuck needs these?!), a canvas tote bag (meh ok) and a signed poster.

TRY TELLING ME BOTH THOSE SIGNATURES ARE NOT FROM THE SAME DAMN ALMOST-WORN-OUT PEN… 😂😒🖋

We were also allowed to stay in the M&G room and check out the official merch stand (pffffft! Did not buy a fucking thing as everything looked so uggo).

This tho...

After about an hour of waiting, we were finally led into the actual concert area. As some of you saw from my IG posts, this was not a regular MonolOth tour gig, but more a club gig. The set was completely different, no monolOth anywhere, and stage was not in the middle of the room.

I noticed there was a balcony area too and I marched up to a security guy to ask if it was ok to go up. He said yeah but only 100 people are allowed up so I needed a special ticket, which he then handed me and told me I needed to give it back if/when I came down again so someone else could use my place up there. Very smart security move!

Being as tiny as I am and as claustrophobic as I am, I knew standing in a sea of people and not even seeing a fucking thing was not a viable option, so I chose to wander up to the balcony - and oh man, that was the best decision I could have made! I scored a prime spot right up front and had full “skyview” of the whole room! Lucky move also because without the balcony spot, that IG Live would have been quite difficult to pull off…😏😄

JR’s DJ set was about as useful as sledgehammer when washing windows, so there’s no need to even discuss it. Literally maybe 7 people actually listened and cheered him. 😴

At around 8:40 pm the lights FINALLY dimmed and the show started.

Now, seeing as I did an IG Live for the whole show which means I did not take any pics or clips (I´ll try posting some of the clips I saved from the IG Live a little later on tho), I’m going to utilize a few fellow concert goers offerings here for vibe and atmosphere reasons! 😉

And of course we can NEVER forget the true star of the night...

A post shared by Jared Leto ∆ Echelon page (@dy.jovi) on Apr 24, 2018 at 1:18am PDT

A post shared by Jared Leto ∆ Echelon page (@dy.jovi) on Apr 22, 2018 at 1:11pm PDT

NOT ALL HEROES WEAR CAPES.  OR SHIRTS. 🤣 🕺

As far as overall grade for the show goes…

Well, the people who came on my Live on/off and witnessed the gig with me can probably kinda agree that… eh… It wasn’t very awesomely great. 😣

The stage looked stupid with just SL’s drums, SA was once again shoved to the side where we could barely see him (but could hear him plenty!), the sound overall was kinda off (or maybe it was because of my location, but the drums sounded REALLY loud at times, almost drowned out rest of the instruments. Altho… what instruments? 🤔)…

But the biggest problem of all: Jared’s voice.

It’s fucking DESTROYED, guys. GONE.

Yes on some songs he sounded ok, even quite good on occasion. But overall, he cannot do a full show like a proper rock singer should.

And true to form, he skipped out on a lot of the lyrics (either he let SA sing, or the audience had to sing), and when he did sing (“sing”) he sounded BAD. Multiple times extremely off key and basically just shouted/screamed his way through the songs. There is no way on earth that anyone with ears could claim he sounded good!

Sheep would try no doubt, but lemme tell ya: Lies! Lies, lies, lies!

I think the only song which sounded at least half decent was “Stay”. It’s not a very challenging song anyway, so that one he still manages ok. Everything else… uh. 🙉

But it is what it is, I guess... Can´t turn back the clock and undo years of damage! 

And that yelling is not helping what little he has left...

I did enjoy JL calling me and my fellow upstairs residents “BALCONY MONKEY MOTHERFUCKERS” tho. 🐒

Been called worse before! HA! 😂

Overall I would say that had I not had the IG Live peeps keeping me company throughout the show, I would have been majorly bored. There really was nothing even remotely interesting happening on stage (not counting Naked Dancing Dude!), and traveling across an actual ocean just for that show... 

Not really worth it, gotta say.

If someone asks me if I would recommend buying a ticket, I would have to say no - based on the actual show, I mean. it just really does not offer any great “WOW” moments.

But on a personal level and by taking into account the WHOLE experience, counting the entire weekend etc., I will rank this as one of my better vacays for sure! And a big part of that is thanks to ALL YOU who joined and shared it with me, so THANK YOU! 💗

Report over and out!