#they are moving to provincials in a month! And my friend and I plan to get them ready for it. ☺️

[whumpy-gems]

Upcoming Updates

Hey there my whumpers and Tumblr buddies!! Thought I would give you all a quick run down for my future posting schedule!!

Good news, i will have one again! :D

It’s gonna be equally spirratic as the last one. And HOPEFULLY i will move on from the “once in a pink moon” kinda system I have going on rn.

[paralleljulieverse]

70th anniversary of Mountain Fire Liverpool / Leeds / Bournemouth / Birmingham 30 performances (18 May 1954 - 12 June 1954)

This month marks the 70th anniversary of a significant, if curious, milestone in the early career of Julie Andrews: her 'straight' theatrical debut in Richardson and Berney's Mountain Fire. A notorious flop, Mountain Fire lasted barely 30 performances in a month-long provincial tryout, closing ahead of a planned West End bow. The play would likely have sunk without a trace were it not for the fact that its female lead was on the cusp of international stardom.

While the ill-fated Mountain Fire was on the road, it was formally announced that Julie Andrews had been signed to helm the Broadway cast of The Boy Friend (Chit Chat 1954, p. 8; Mackenzie 1954, p. 4). The stark contrast between the disastrous failure of Mountain Fire and the star-making success of The Boy Friend has become part of the mythology of Julie Andrews' career. Even the Dame herself is fond of playing up the angle. "I had done one bomb in England," she recounts in a 1966 interview, "an incredible disaster...between Cinderella and The Boy Friend. I accepted a very limited engagement, thank God, and played a Southern belle from Tennessee...I can't tell you what went on. It was a disaster" (Newquist 1966, p. 141).

Four decades later in her 2008 memoirs, Julie was still cringing over the experience:

"The truth was, the play was not good, and although the company tried to make it work, we all sensed it was going to be a flop. I also knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that had the eminent London critic Kenneth Tynan seen my performance, it would have been the end of any career I hoped to have. Mercifully, Mountain Fire folded out of town" (Andrews 2008, 160).

Legitimate, at last!

Self-deprecatory humour aside, Julie actually received very good notices for her efforts in Mountain Fire. The Stage declared: "Julie Andrews scores a particularly fine dramatic success in her first serious portrayal, as the ill-starred Becky, bringing rare maturity to the difficult and exacting role" ('American folk play' 1954, p. 10). The Liverpool Echo similarly enthused: "Julie Andrews scores a personal triumph as the young girl and, in her first 'straight' role, reveals herself as accomplished an actress as she is a singer" (H.R.W. 1954, p. 5). The Yorkshire Evening Post opined: "Julie Andrews gives a beautiful and moving performance as the luckless Becky" (Bradbury 1954, p. 8). While the Bournemouth Daily Echo wrote: "Pretty Julie Andrews...does remarkably well and brings rare maturity and charm to the trying role" (G.Y. 1954, p. 6). Though the production might not have panned out as anticipated, Mountain Fire was a strategic step in Julie's ongoing pivot from child stardom to adult performer. Much was made in show publicity about Julie’s "graduation" from juvenile entertainment to mature dramatic fare:

"Brilliant stage and film children are always a little heartbreaking. So few of them amount to anything after they have reached the colt stage...One of the most happy exceptions is Julie Andrews--the once plain little girl with buck teeth, a slight squint and pigtails who astonished us all by singing operatic numbers in a sweet, clear coloratura when she had reached the ripe age of 12...Now, Julie is to make her debut as a straight actress in a new American play to be presented here by Peter Cotes...called Mountain Fire...Cotes says: 'Julie has a wonderful role and I believe her to be a young actress with great possibilities.'...[A]s she has both singing and dancing to do in her first straight play, this might well be the chance of a lifetime for grown-up Miss Andrews" (Frank 1954, 6).

'A hill-billy Bible story'

Mountain Fire couldn't have represented a more "grown-up" change for Julie. Billed as a "new play with music in 14 scenes", it was the latest offering from rising American playwrights -- and cousins -- Howard Richardson and William Berney. The pair had scored an early success with Dark of the Moon (1945), a fantasy verse play about witchcraft, love, and social intolerance in colonial-era Appalachia. They followed with a second collaboration, Design for a Stained Glass Window (1949) about religious persecution and martyrdom (Duncan 1966, p. S-7; Fisher 2021, p. 248-49).

Mountain Fire trod similarly heavy dramatic ground with a mix of religion, Southern Gothic stylings, and social commentary. Described by one critic as "a hill-billy Bible story", the play was an allegorical retelling of the Abrahamic legend of Sodom and Gomorrah with the "cities of the plains" transposed to "rival colonies of mountain dwellers" in the backwoods of eastern Tennessee (Mackenzie 1954, p. 4).

The scriptural elements of human wickedness and divine retribution were adapted into a laundry-list of stock Southern vices: a Hatfield-McCoy style feud, moonshine, teen pregnancy, arson, murder and, even, a Ku-Klux-Klan lynching ('New American Musical' 1954, p. 12). Punctuating this cavalcade of backwoods iniquity was a series of Greek choric tableaux where Lucifer and the Archangel Gabriel, dressed in mountainfolk mufti, debate the spiritual problems of the characters on stage.

At the heart of this heady mix, Julie was cast in the "Lot's wife" role of Becky Dunbar, a winsome but headstrong teenage mountain girl described in the script as "grow'd up wild as onion weed" (Richardson and Berney, 1954, Act 1, Scene 2, n.p.). Becky finds herself pregnant after a brief dalliance with Joe Morgan, a charming but unscrupulous travelling salesman. She is torn between her passion for Joe and her moral duty to Lot Johnson, a virtuous widower who marries her because "it's the Christian thing to do" (Richardson and Berney, 1954, Act 1, Scene 5, n.p.).

Julie often jokes that "You've never heard a worse Southern accent than mine" (Newquist 1966, p. 141) -- and the script's hillbilly argot certainly would have proved a challenge to her crisp Home Counties consonants and rounded vowels. Becky's very first line, for example, is: "I ain't been gallivantin', just skimmin' rocks at Turkey Creek" (Richardson and Berney, 1954, Act 1, Scene 2, n.p.). Not exactly typical RP phraseology!

On a less challenging note, the show also featured a series of musical interludes with ritual dances and allegorical songs. Sporting titles like "Lullaby to an Unborn Child", "The World is Wide" and "Oh, It's Dark in the Grave", the musical numbers may not have been cheery toe-tapping ditties, but reviewers typically singled out Julie's singing as an all-too-rare highlight.

"Julie Andrews..prov[es] her undisputed musicianship by taking one song on high E flat, solus, and in perfect tune," marvelled one reviewer (Bradbury, 1954, p. 8). Another chimed: "We are inclined to think poorly of Becky until we realise how well she is to be played by Julie Andrews...Sodom and Gomorrah...seem to sweeten because of her presence... and she sings very pleasantly on the few occasions afforded to her" ('Midland entertainments,' 1954, p. 17). Given the Biblical source material, the story of Mountain Fire could only end in grand tragedy. And, lo, by play's end the backcountry villages have been consumed by fire and our poor Julie is turned to salt. If naught else, the last scene of Mountain Fire certainly gave Julie a scenery-chewing finale for her straight dramatic debut:

LOT (Offstage): Remember the warning, Becky! Don't look back! The hoot of the owl is heard. BECKY starts up the hill. She stops, hesitates, almost looks back. Music builds. Again she goes forward, stops, almost looks back. Music continues to build. The third time she turns and does look back. Music crescendo. The lights dim, then rise again. BECKY has become salt. She lies motionless reaching towards JOE. Blackout CURTAIN (Richardson and Berney, 1954, Act 1, Scene 2, n.p.)

From Sodom, Tennessee to the Scepter'd Isle

The background saga of bringing Mountain Fire to the stage was almost as feverish as the storyline. The play began life in 1950 when Richardson and Berney completed their first working script under the original title of Sodom, Tennessee.

The play was initially optioned by Jack Segasture, a 23-year-old would-be Broadway producer who had managed Richardson and Berney's previous work, Design for a Stained Glass Window. That production proved a misfire, closing after just 8 performances, but Segasture was keen to back the playwrights for a second attempt at Broadway success (Watt, 1950, p. 47). 

In the summer of 1950, Segasture mounted a series of workshops of Sodom, Tennessee at various regional Pennyslvania theatres (Talley 1950, p. VI-13). Reviewing one of these early work-in-progress performances, the critic for Variety ventured that "with some doctoring, [it] may have possibilities for Broadway, where it is headed" ('Review: Sodom Tennessee', 1950, p. 40). In late-1950, Segasture announced that Sodom, Tennessee was set to start rehearsals the following January ahead of an anticipated New York opening in the spring ('Set Broadway", 1950, p. 26). Robert Perry was contracted to direct, with Robert Lowery and Jean Parker in discussions for the leads ('Film player,' 1951, p. 57). However, in April 1951, Segasture was suddenly drafted into the Army, and plans for the production were promptly scuttled ('Producer drafted,' 1951, p. 15C).

Over the next few years, various attempts were made to resurrect Sodom, Tennessee, but with little progress. In mid-1953, a lifeline came in the form of a pair of second generation producers: David Aldrich, son of famed producer, Richard Aldrich -- a.k.a. Mr Gertrude Lawrence to fans of STAR! -- and Anna Deere Wiman, daughter of Dwight Deere Wiman and heiress to the John Deere family fortune (Shanley, 1953, p. 10). Wiman had come into a sizeable inheritance on her father's death and she effectively bankrolled much of the production's initial $80,000 investment (Franklin, 1953, p. 9-E). Wiman and Aldrich tapped Peter Cotes -- a British director who had scored a recent New York success with A Pin to See the Peepshow -- to take on directorial duties (Calta, 1953, p. 14). They also invited Pulitzer-prize winning composer, Lamar Stringfield, to write the musical score ('Stringfield asked,' 1953, p. 7). At one stage, the producers were allegedly in discussions with none other than Marilyn Monroe to make her Broadway debut in the role of Becky but, wisely perhaps, she declined (Winchell 1953, p. 19).

In early 1954, plans for Sodom, Tennessee underwent a dramatic change. For reasons unknown, Aldrich was suddenly out of the production team. In his place, director Peter Cotes was promoted to co-producer status with Wiman. Possibly because Cotes was British, it was decided to relocate the production across the Atlantic and launch the show in the UK ('News of the theater' 1954, p. 6). Another factor was that production costs were lower in the UK than New York, something which would see the American Wiman remain as a London-based producer for several years (Hatwell 1957, p. 19; Wilson 1956, p. 10). Additionally, Richardson and Berney's earlier work, Dark of the Moon had enjoyed a fairly successful West End run in 1949, so the producers possibly reasoned that the new show might fare similarly well with English theatregoers (Darlington, 1949, p. 5).

Either way, Sodom, Tennessee was now set to make its world premiere in England -- though still with hopes of an eventual New York transfer ('Romantic comedy,' 1954, p. 17C).

'Not fit for the marquee of a British theatre'

Once the production team hit London, they set about preparing the play for its British bow. The first thing to go was the title.

Up until 1968, British censorship laws required all plays intended for public performance to be submitted to the Lord Chamberlain's Office for review and approval (Shellard et al, 2004). It seems the Lord Chamberlain did not approve of a play called Sodom, Tennessee, "an immoral name not fit for the marquee of a British theatre". Initially, the production team toyed with Brimstone as an alternative title, but finally settled on Mountain Fire (Talley, 1954, p. VI-5).

It was also decided that the show needed a musical overhaul. Some incidental music had been composed for earlier iterations, including piecemeal efforts by Lamar Stringfield. One or two of these pieces were retained but, for the most part, the producers opted for a new score. For this task, they contracted Stefan de Haan, a young German musician and composer who had come to study in the UK after the war and stayed on to work with various regional orchestras. De Haan not only composed a new score for Mountain Fire, including three new songs for Julie, but also signed on as music director and conductor (Bradbury 1954, p. 4).

Other key creative appointments were Michael Stringer as set designer and Daphne Kiernander as choreographer. Stringer came to the project fresh from working on the hit Rank comedy, Genevieve (1953), and a host of other film and theatre productions. He designed darkly stylised sets for all 14 scenes of the play, as well as orchestrating special effects for the final destruction sequence (Bishop 1954, p. 8). Kiernander was a classically trained ballerina who had performed as a principal in many West End shows and revues before shifting to choreography. For Mountain Fire, she created two set dances, broadly patterned on 18th century folk dances, and oversaw general staging for the songs ('Chit Chat', 1954, p. 8).

In early April 1954, Howard Richardson and William Berney arrived in London to help make revisions to the script. They also served as dialect coaches for the cast (Talley 1954, p. VI-5). During this early rehearsal period, Julie worked closely with Cotes' actress wife, Joan Miller who, as Julie relates, "tried to help me find the nuances that were needed for the part" (Andrews 2008, p. 171). Indeed, to hear Cotes tell the story, "Julie Andrews...was taught how to act by Joan Miller" and it was "Mountain Fire and Joan Miller between them [that] gave Julie the much needed groundwork..to erupt onto the Broadway stage" (Cotes 1993, p. 23). Not sure Moss Hart would agree, but anyway... Later that month, Cotes and Miller hosted an official launch party for Mountain Fire at their South Kensington home with local theatre and high society luminaries in attendance (Candida, 1954, p. 2). The show's schedule was set with a month-long tryout starting on 17 May in Liverpool, followed by one week runs in Leeds, Bournemouth, and Birmingham. The show's London opening was scheduled for Wednesday, 16 June at the Strand Theatre, Aldwych.

In mid-April, the tour was formally announced with ticket sales opening immediately:

"On May 17 at the Royal Court, Liverpool, Peter Cotes and Anna Deere Wiman will present the world premiere of Mountain Fire by Howard Richardson and William Berney. Making her debut as a straight actress in this play will be 18-year-old Julie Andrews. Other leading roles will be played by Jerry Wayne, Andrew Cruickshank, Gillian Lynne and Charles Irwin. Music for this production has been composed by Stefan de Haan. Decor will be by Michael Stringer, and choreography Daphne Kiernander. Peter Cotes is directing, and following a short tour the play will be presented in the West End" ('Chit Chat: Mountain Fire' 1954, p. 8).

'Every night it was a new show...'

The function of an out-of-town tryout is to put the finishing touches on a show ahead of its official "big city" opening. Cast and crew get to see how the play is working with live audiences and revise things accordingly. In happy cases, the tryout is a relatively easy process of fine-tuning elements and smoothing out wrinkles. In other cases though, the process can be far more tumultuous. Seth Rudetsky (2023) relates that New York theatre-folk popularly joke, "if Hitler were alive today, his punishment should be doing an out-of-town tryout with a show that's in trouble" (p. 152). Even Adolph might have blanched at the Mountain Fire tryout. A sign of early trouble came days out from opening when the producers suddenly announced a 24-hour postponement of the Liverpool premiere from Tuesday 17 to Wednesday 18 May (H.W.R. 1954, p. 4). Rehearsals had revealed serious structural issues with the show and the production team needed every hour they could muster to hammer it into shape.

Worse still, the key creatives couldn't agree about the source of the problems and how to fix them. Director Cotes believed the biggest problem was the script and he wanted major rewrites. For their part, Richardson and Berney felt the musical sequences were at fault.

Jerry Wayne, who took the male lead of Joe Morgan, recalled:

"[W]e ran into trouble with the American authors. They objected to the musical numbers that had been written into their story. We opened at Liverpool on a Thursday night as a musical. Then we were told to cut out the musical numbers. On Friday night we opened at 7.30 as a straight play. With the music cut, the curtain ran down at 8.15" (Greig 1955, p. 9)

The songs were duly reinstated, but competing revisions were trialled to staging and orchestration. In her memoirs, Julie relates:

"Our director couldn't decide whether he wanted the orchestra in the pit or onstage, or no orchestra at all. This was a play, after all, so he then thought maybe one instrument, a guitar, would be enough. We tried the show a different way every night" (Andrews 2008, p. 160).

Another member of the cast, Neil McCallum, similarly recalled the snowballing desperation of the tryout tour:

"Everyone hoped it would get better, so the authors and the director got together and decided to revamp the whole show. They kept writing new scenes every day...every night it was a new show until not even the cast recognized it...Pretty soon the authors and the director weren't speaking. Two days later the authors and the backer weren't speaking. Finally, no one was speaking" (Tesky 1954, p. 6).

A comparison of scene synopses printed in programmes for Mountain Fire across its month-long tryout reveals the extent to which the production altered across performances. During its first night in Liverpool, the show was comprised of three acts and fourteen scenes. The following week in Leeds, it was still three acts but down to only ten scenes. In Bournemouth, it was back to three acts with fourteen scenes. By the time it got to Birmingham, the play was suddenly just two acts with thirteen scenes!

'Call down fire and brimstone...'

Given the panicked disorganisation that plagued the tryout, it should not surprise that reviewers took a rather dim view of Mountain Fire. Indeed, other than praise for Julie and fellow cast members, critics were mostly scathing in their assessment of the show -- with notices getting progressively more brutal as the tour continued:

The Liverpool Echo: "When the new play, Mountain Fire, opened with a dissertation by the Angel Gabriel and Lucifer on the delights of being good and bad, it was obvious that this world premiere at the Court Theatre last night would provide something unusual -- and so it proved. But whether this modern parable of Lot's wife will meet with general approval is problematical, because in attempting to lighten high drama with a smattering of musical numbers plus one or two dances, the American authors, Howard Richardson and William Berney, have achieved a curious hotch-potch which is neither one thing nor the other" (H.W.R. 1954, p. 5).

The Stage: "The Liverpool audience could be forgiven for their puzzlement over this provocative, somewhat bewildering, production, which rather inclines to fall between the two stools of allegorical drama and musical entertainment, lacking the virtue of anything in the way of a hit tune" ('American folk play' 1954, p. 10).

The Yorkshire Observer: "Symbolism on the stage is meat only for those who can stomach such food and, it is difficult to live on meat alone. So it might be that Mountain Fire which, in the second week of its production, is now at the Leeds Grand Theatre, might easily die as quickly as the symbolical fire it portrays, no matter how brilliant the cast" ('Symbolistic musical' 1954, p. 6).

Bournemouth Daily Echo: "Bournemouth Pavilion audience last night was bothered and bewildered -- but never for one moment bewitched -- by the new musical play Mountain Fire…The play opens with the body of a parson being buried on the hilltop, and proceeds through a welter of hell-fire and brimstone, religious fervour and an atmosphere reminiscent sometimes of Tobacco Road, sometimes of Annie Get Your Gun, and sometimes of The Quaker Girl on thin ice…Most of last night's audience were wondering what it was all about. I am still wondering" (G.Y 1954, p. 6).

Birmingham Daily Gazette: "Mountain Fire, a somewhat disastrous item which arrived at the Theatre Royal, Birmingham, last night, is an odd mix of sex and religiosity which, I fear, will prove seriously offensive to many...The whole thing is meant to be an allegory, with a deep application to our atom-bomb age. But it is all expressed in such appallingly banal language that it leaves one convinced that the underlying thought must be equally banal...One can only have sympathy for the very talented performers who struggle with this material" (Mackenzie 1954, p. 4).

Evening Despatch: "Howard Richardson and William Berney are evidently generous-minded men. In their play, Mountain Fire, at Birmingham Theatre Royal, they include murder, two burials, the Ku Klux Klan..., Lucifer, the Archangel Gabriel, religion and, of course, sex...Directed by Peter Cotes, this is a bewildering story of sin among the backwoodsmen of Tennessee...Somewhere in all this there may be a moral. At first I found it difficult to keep up. Eventually I gave up trying" (Holbrook 1954, p. 6).

The Birmingham Mail: "The conscientious critic of the drama will find that there are certain troublesome questions which are created in the mind by Mountain Fire, the new play by Howard Richardson and William Berney. How, for instance, did it come about that it reached the stage of the Theatre Royal at all and how is it that next week it is to occupy the stage of a West End theatre, however short its tenure there may be? What is more to the immediate point is how one ought...to deal by way of notice with so poor an offering. Ought one to call down fire and brimstone or, refusing to treat the piece seriously, as did many of the audience last night, rend it with ridicule?" (C.L.W 1954, p. 4).

'Mountain Collapses'

With this level of bad press, the prognosis for Mountain Fire was bleak. Ticket sales were sluggish and the cast often found themselves playing to half empty houses. Even worse, audience members were increasingly audible with their displeasure. As Neil McCallum relates:

"One of the lines at the last of the play is 'Lot, don't turn back.' Came a voice from the audience, 'I don't know about turning back -- I want my bloody money back.' In the interval, the ushers were mingling with the audience saying, in ringing tones, 'isn't it terrible...don't you wish you hadn't come?'" (Tesky 1954, p. 6).

By the final week in Birmingham, the writing was on the wall and producers decided to avoid what would surely have been a critical and commercial bloodbath in London. On Thursday 10 June, barely 5 days before the show was scheduled to open at the Strand, Wiman and Cotes issued a joint statement saying they were cancelling the West End premiere of Mountain Fire:

"In view of the inadequate public response during the tour of the play, it would be unfair to the authors and the actors and other members of the production that it should open in London, at least without substantial variations" ('Play is off', 1954, p. 3).

The decision to cancel a major production so close to its premiere was not without precedent, but it was sufficiently rare to garner widespread press attention, generating a slew of punning headlines. "London douses 'Mountain Fire'," trumpeted the New York Times (1954, p. 13). "Mountain Collapses" blared the Kensington News ('Theatre Notes' 1954, p. 2). And "Mountain Fire Out!" declared the Daily Post (Daily Post London Reporter 1954, p. 1)

Mountain Fire had two further performances to complete its Birmingham run, and once the curtain came down on Saturday night of 12 June, the production staggered to its sorry close. Richardson and Berney had already taken early departure back to the US, unable to watch the show's final demise. Cotes similarly retreated to London and refused for many years to even discuss the play. Producer Anna Wiman insisted on staying to the very end. "No cast has been more loyal than this one," she declared, valiantly talking up a future for the show. "[I]t's not the end...I believe in this play and I am determined that it shall have a successful run in London. It will have a new director and a new atmosphere" (Mercury Staff Reporter 1954, p. 1.) The following March, a 'news in brief' snippet claimed Wiman was "still trying to lease or buy a theatre, with the Bill Berney-Howard Richardson play, Mountain Fire, as first on her production schedule" (Walker 1955, p. 61). But a year later, she would admit defeat, having lost the full extent of her £40,000 investment in the show (Wilson 1956, p. 10).

In the end, it wasn't just the UK production of Mountain Fire that sank. The play itself effectively vanished with little appreciable after-life. The script was never published, nor is there any record of it being registered with a theatrical licensing company. Only one further staging of the show ever seems to have taken place: a brief five performance run in May 1962, under the play's original title of Sodom, Tennessee, at the Little Theatre of the West Side YMCA in Manhattan ('Premiere,' 1962, p. 14). Billed as the show's "New York premiere", it didn't attract much attention and there are no published reviews. After that, the play's trail comes to a complete halt.

If it weren't for the show's status as a footnote to the career of Julie Andrews, Mountain Fire would likely have been completely lost to history. Even at the time of its cancellation, reports were already framing Mountain Fire as a blip on the way to Broadway success for Julie:

"Julie may have missed a West End appearance, but she is to be compensated by a Broadway lead in The Boy Friend when the show goes to New York in the autumn" ('Theatre Notes' 1954, p. 2).

Within a year or two, Julie's stardom was the principal frame of reference for any mention of Mountain Fire. It even became something of a boast for those behind the ill-fated production .

In 1956, when Julie was riding high on the success of My Fair Lady, an Alabama newspaper crowed that local playwright William Berney "discovered Julie Andrews [when] he was in London...casting his play Mountain Fire...Julie 'was it' so far as Berney was concerned, and a happy unknown made her bow" (Caldwell 1956, p. E-1). Not to be outdone, Howard Richardson was also soon talking up how his "plays have sent many actors and actresses on their way to fame including...Julie Andrews...who played one of her first roles in Richardson's Mountain Fire during its London [sic] run" ('New York playwright' 1959, p. 14).

All of which only proves the popular adage that, where failure is an orphan, success has many fathers!

____________________________

Who's Who of Mountain Fire

While Julie was undoubtedly the biggest star associated with Mountain Fire, the show included a roster of established and upcoming theatre talents, many of whom went on to bigger and better things:

Principals

Jerry Wayne as Joe Morgan (1919-1996): Born in Buffalo, New York in 1919, Wayne was a recording vocalist of some note who even hosted his own CBS radio show in the 1940s. He came to London in 1953 to play the lead role of Sky Masterson in the West End production of Guys and Dolls, marking the start of a British career. He appeared in the 1955 film musical, As Long as They're Happy and made several TV appearances in the 1960s. In 1967, Wayne married the novelist Doreen Juggler and graduated to a second career as a theatre and recording producer. Collaborating with his son Jeff, Wayne had notable success with the 1978 concept album, Jeff Wayne's Musical Version of The War of the Worlds. Wayne passed away in Hertfordshire in 1996 ( 'Jeff Wayne' 1996, p. 24).

Andrew Cruickshank as Lot Johnson (1908-1988): Born in Aberdeenshire, Cruickshank initially pursued civil engineering before turning to the stage. He made his professional debut in Shakespeare repertory and joined the Old Vic in 1937, playing notable roles such as Banquo in Macbeth, opposite Olivier. During WWII, he served in the Royal Welsh Fusiliers, earning an MBE. His varied career included significant roles in the West End production of Inherit the Wind (1960) and the National Theatre's Strife (1963). His best know role came courtesy of television as Dr. Cameron in the popular BBC series, Dr. Finlay's Casebook (1962-71). In later life, Cruickshank wrote a number of plays, and was president of the Edinburgh Fringe Society. He died in 1988 ('Andrew Cruickshank' 1988, p. 310).

Charles Irwin as Sheriff Bates (1908-1984): Born in 1908 in Leeds, Irwin began his career in variety shows and became a comedian and vocalist on radio in the 1930s. He worked extensively in regional theatre and appeared as a character actor in films such as The Third Man (1949), A Tale of Five Women (1951), and Mystery Junction (1951). In later decades, he transitioned to television, appearing in popular series like Danger Man (1960), International Detective (1961), and The Saint (1962). Irwin passed away in November 1984 in Salisbury.

Gillian Lynne as Edith Higgins (1926-2018): An influential figure in British theatre and dance, Lynne was born in 1926 in Bromley, Kent. She began her career as a ballerina, dancing with Sadler's Wells, the English National Opera, and the Royal Shakespeare Company. Lynne subsequently moved into choreography, working on many successful West End musicals. She was best known for her collaborations with Andrew Lloyd Webber, where her choreography was instrumental to the success of shows such as Cats and The Phantom of the Opera. In recognition of her contributions to dance and musical theatre, Lynne was made a Dame Commander in 2014. She passed away in 2018 at the age of 92 (Dex 2018, p. A13).

Richard Ainley as Gabriel (1910-1967): Ainley was born in Middlesex in 1910, the son of famed Shakespearean actor Henry Ainley. He debuted on stage with Martin Harvey's company, before going on to work with the Old Vic and Sadler's Wells. His first film role was in As You Like It (1936), followed by notable roles in The Tempest (1939) and Above Suspicion (1941). Severely wounded in WWII, Ainley had to abandon his film career and could only continue with occasional stage roles. Later, he focused on broadcasting and adjudication, briefly leading the Bristol Old Vic Theatre School in the early 1960s. He passed away in 1967 at age 56 (Coe 1967, p. 23).

John Barclay as Lucifer (1892-1978): Barclay was born in 1892 in Bletchingly, Surrey. A tall man with a booming basso baritone, he trained as an opera singer and toured widely with various companies, including D'Oyly Carte. He appeared in several films, including The Mikado (1939) and Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (1941). In the late 1950s, Barclay moved to the US, where he pursued a late career playing strong and menacing character parts in film and TV. He passed away in 1978 at the age of 86.

Supporting Players

Molly Glessing as Miss Deedy Sparks (1910-1995): Midlands-born Glessing began her career in variety in the 1930s as a singer, dancer, and comedienne. She rose through the ranks to become a featured player in comedies and pantomimes. During the war, she gained popularity as a radio player and ENSA entertainer. After marrying a US serviceman, she relocated to California. Dividing her time between the US and the UK, Glessing continued to work in stage productions and amassed numerous character credits in films such as Charlie Chaplin's Limelight (1952), and TV shows, including The Quatermass Xperiment (1955) and Alfred Hitchcock Presents (1955-1962) ('Glessing" 1996, p. 33).

Lois McLean as Sadie Ollis (1927-2013): Canadian-born McLean studied drama at the University of Alberta and performed for several years with the Everyman Theatre Company in Vancouver. In 1950, she moved to the UK where she continued to perform, while studying theatre production with the Glasgow Citizen's theatre. In 1953, McLean started work as a manager for Peter Cotes and he cast her in various productions including Mountain Fire (Narraway 1954, p. 34). The pair also collaborated on a book, A Handbook of British Amateur Theatre. In the late-50s, she wed Indian-born lawyer, Birendra Jha and returned to Canada to start a family. McLean continued to perform and teach drama in Edmonton.

Esme Beringer as Old Sarah Johnson (1875-1972): Born in London to artist parents, Esme Beringer was a celebrated stage actress who made her professional debut in 1888. Known for her athletic physique and swordsmanship, she excelled in breeches roles, including playing Romeo, Little Lord Fauntleroy and The Prince and the Pauper. An enthusiastic fencer, she taught classes during WWI and starred in Shakespearean roles post-war. In later life, Beringer moved into character parts both on stage and in film. She died in 1972 at the grand age of 96 ('Esme Beringer' 1972, p. 16).

Neil McCallum as Skilly Sparks: (1929-1976) Born in Canada in 1929, McCallum moved to the UK to study at the Guildhall School of Music and Drama. Following graduation he appeared in a number of stage shows, scoring his greatest theatrical success in 1956 with the West End production of The Rainmaker opposite Sam Wanamaker. In the 1960s, McCallum became a familiar face on British television in series like The Saint (1963-64) and Department S (1969), as well as voicing characters on Thunderbirds Are Go (1966). Transitioning behind the scenes, McCallum became a scriptwriter and producer of some note, helming a number of TV series for the BBC before his untimely death from a cerebral hemorrhage in 1976, aged only 46 ('Neil McCallum', 1976, p. 11). As detailed by Julie in the first volume of her memoirs, she and McCallum embarked on a serious, if short-lived, romance during the production of Mountain Fire (Andrews, 2008, p. 161ff).

Jerry Stovin as Zeke Higgins (1922-2005): Born in Unity, Saskatchewan in 1922, Jerry Stovin served in the Canadian Army where he got the acting bug performing in military entertainments. Following the war, he went to Carnegie Tech to study drama, and moved to Britain in 1955. There he carved out a successful career in radio, television, and film, often playing American roles. He passed away in 1978 at the age of 86 (Peacock 1975, p. 7).

Harry Quashie as Ephraim (1914-1982): Born in Ghana, Quashie originally came to the UK to study law in 1939. He started to act in university theatricals and soon gave up his studies to pursue an acting career. He performed in a wide range of stage, radio and TV dramas and was a founding member of the Negro Theatre Company which helped pave the way for Black theatre artists in Britain. In the 50s, Quashie had character parts in several big screen features notably, Simba (1955), Safari (1956), and, The Passionate Summer (1958) ('Gave up law' 1947, p. 1; Bourne 2021).

John Sterland as Eb Higgins (1927-2017): Another Canadian actor, Sterland was born in Winnipeg to English parents. He came to the UK on a RADA scholarship, before joining the West of England Theatre Company. In a long career, Sterland racked up scores of stage and screen credits including A Countess from Hong Kong (1967), Performance (1970), Ragtime (1981), Bad Medicine (1985), Batman (1989), and The Tudors (2007). Married for many years to fellow actor, June Bailey, Sterland passed in 2017 ('John Sterland' 2017, p. 12).

Creatives

Howard Richardson (1917-1984): Born in Spartanburg, South Carolina, Richardson graduated from the University of North Carolina in 1938 and earned his M.A. in drama in 1940. After serving in the Army, Richardson co-wrote Dark of the Moon with cousin and frequent collaborator, William Berney. The play opened on Broadway in 1945, running for 318 performances. Despite frequent efforts, both in collaboration with Berney and as an individual playwright, Richardson would never match this initial success. In 1960, he earned a doctorate in 1960 and embarked on a career as a drama professor, working at various colleges throughout the US. He passed away in 1984 ('Howard Richardson', 1985, p. 34).

William Berney (1920-1961): Born in Birmingham, Alabama, Berney graduated from the University of Alabama, where he was active in drama. He later attended graduate school at the University of Iowa, where he started writing plays with Richardson. After graduation, Berney worked in advertising in New York, while pursuing his scriptwriting career on the side. During this period, he co-wrote several plays with Richardson, including Design for a Stained Glass Window (1950) and Protective Custody (1956). Berney moved to California around 1960 to write for television, but sadly passed away in Los Angeles in 1961 after a brief illness, aged 40 ('William Berney' 1961, p. 23) .

Peter Cotes (1912-1998): A theatrical polymath, Cotes -- who was born as Sydney Boulting in Maidenhead, Berkshire -- was part of a noted artistic family. His parents ran a theatre company and his brothers John and Roy Boulting became important filmmakers in British cinema. Initially an actor, Cotes shifted his focus to theatre production and directed the original production of The Mousetrap, the world's longest-running play. Other notable successes as director included the West End productions of The Children's Hour (1951) and A Pin to See the Peepshow (1952), and, in film, The Right Person (1955) and The Young and the Guilty (1958). In later years, Cotes wrote books and helmed a number of theatre companies. He passed away in 1998, at the age of 86 ('Peter Cotes' 1998, p. 35).

Anna Deere Wiman (1920-1963): Born in Illinois, Wiman was the daughter of successful theatre producer Dwight Deere Wiman, and heir to the John Deere family fortune. Educated by private tutors, she trained as a ballerina in Paris until a cycling accident ended her dance career. She then shifted to theatre management, initially working under her father. After his sudden death, she inherited a fortune, allowing her to become a self-funded theatre producer. Moving to London in 1954 with Mountain Fire, Wiman remained in the UK where she produced several West End productions, including The Reluctant Debutante (1955), Dear Delinquent (1957), and The Grass is Greener (1958). Despite her professional successes, Wiman struggled with alcoholism. She tragically died in 1963 at her holiday home in Bermuda from a fall down the stairs while under the influence. She was only 43 years old. ('Obituary: Anna Deere Wiman' 1963, p. 27.)

Stefan de Haan (1921-2010): Born in Darmstadt, Germany, de Haan was a gifted musician who trained in Berlin and Florence, before coming to the UK to study composition at the Royal College of Music. Following graduation, he initially gained prominence as a bassoonist, performing with various ensembles and orchestras. His compositional work includes a range of chamber music and orchestral pieces, often highlighting his expertise with woodwind and brass. His influence extended into music education, where his works are still performed and studied today. De Haan passed away in 2010, aged 89 (Bradbury 1954; 'Stefan de Haan' 2024).

Daphne Kiernander (1921-1998) Born in 1921, in East Preston, West Sussex, Kiernander was an accomplished dancer who rose to fame performing in various West End reviews and musicals such as Bobby Get Your Gun (1938), Let's Face It (1942), and Piccadilly Hayride (1946). She moved into choreography working on a number of stage and TV productions, including Such Is Life (1950) and Puzzle Corner (1953) for the BBC, and the Old Vic's 1955 production of The Taming of the Shrew. In the 1960s, Kiernander retired from dance to marry and start a new career in business and marketing (​Powell 1962).

Michael Stringer (1924-2004) One of Britain's most successful film art directors, Stringer developed a passion for cinema early on. After serving as a RAF pilot in WWII, he trained with Norman Arnold at Rank Studios. There he scored notable success with one of his first independent assignments, Genevieve (1953), and followed it up with other popular Rank titles like An Alligator Named Daisy (1955) and Windom's Way (1957). His success in Britain led to international offers, working on big productions such as The Sundowners (1960), In Search of the Castaways (1962), and A Shot in the Dark (1964). Stringer went on to a distinguished Hollywood and UK career, bringing his talents to a long and diverse list of films, including Fiddler on the Roof (1971), which earned him an Oscar nomination, The Greek Tycoon (1978), The Awakening (1980), The Mirror Crack'd (1980), and The Jigsaw Man (1983). Stringer passed away in 2004. (Eyles 2004, p. 43).

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[fleurcareil]

Central Saskatchewan: Great Sand Hills, Sask. Landing and Manitou Beach

Driving from Alberta into Saskatchewan was immediately clear from the road condition; similar to driving from the Netherlands into Belgium, the way my car suddenly started rattling left no doubt I had crossed the border! 😂 The convoy of cars that I had been keeping up with also suddenly dissipated, so I was all alone on a crappy road in the middle of nowhere while dark clouds were brewing on the horizon - welcome to Saskatchewan! 🙃

Driving here (on older roads, they do also have top-notch new asphalt) gives the sensation of being drunk on a rolling boat 😝, constantly going up & down from left to right... there's actually no potholes but I'm guessing the asphalt's ability to withstand the cold winter might make it more ellastic so that it sags all over the place... on some stretches my head shaked so hard, I felt like a bobblehead! 🤣 (less good for my stomach though)

When I finally made a right turn after 245 km on the same road out of Drumheller, it was as I had suspected on a gravel road; I was now squarely back on the Prairies! 🤩 The gravel roads are in good condition (although the Manitoba ones are even better), but the loose gravel does mean I need to be more focused to stay in the tracks, so it's tiring and slower.

I didn't take many pictures of the scenery as it's exactly the same as when I drove westward through the province 😁 (albeit that was a more southern route than now on my return), so please check out my earlier blog if you're curious how the Prairies looks like, basically one field after another. I did include below pic of what-I-presume is a blooming wheat field, as it looked really golden! ☺

My first stop in Saskatchewan was at the Great Sand Hills near Spectre, where the cowboy way of life is idolized in a pretty stone mural and an arch of old (mostly falling apart) boots.

The sand hills are a remnant of glacial lake deposits, similar to the Spirit Sands I had hiked in southwest Manitoba. Where this used to be a vast expanse of moving sand dunes, most are now stabilized due to vegetation, so there's only a few truly sandy ones left over (which are expected to be gone by the end of the century). Despite them not being so high as I had expected - when driving along the flat fields, I had already been wondering why I didn't see them miles away - the reserve protects a small island of native prairie ecosystem in the middle of farmland so that makes them valuable just as they are!

During a little hike through the dunes, the only thing you could hear was the wind rustling through the bushes and the bellowing of cattle 😀 which was very relaxing until a cow family suddenly came directly my way! The male was looking at me while advancing towards me so not knowing what to expect, I backed off... turned out they really just wanted to walk over to another patch of grass behind me, so off they went over the dune. 😁

An hour further east, I checked in at Saskatchewan Landing provincial park on Lake Diefenbaker for a two-night stay. The lake is a massive 225km-long (almost as long as the Netherlandsb is wide! 😮) hydro reservoir that feels like an oasis after descending from the grasslands plateau, as it's green & lush with vegetation. It explained all the boat trailers I had seen driving on the dusty prairie roads which had felt really odd! 😅

I had wanted to capture the sunset but ended up talking at length to a Canadian-Belgian couple who recognized my accent 😀, so I missed the pretty pink colours but instead I did see a mesmerizing full moon! It had just been a few days that India had landed on the moon so it was special to consider that there's now a piece of that country so far away (I congratulated my Indian friends)! ☺

The next day, I had planned and indeed did absolutely nothing all day!! ���� As you'll have figured out by now, this is not something I do often (last time was at Kouchibouguac in New Brunswick over 2 months ago), but it was supposed to be a real summery hot day so was excited about getting to the beach.... it turned out to be only 22 degrees, cloudy and with a lot of wind so my beach-bumming did not completely work out as I had hoped 🤨 but still had a glorious day of basically sitting at the campsite, sitting at the beach (with clothes on) and then back to sitting at the campsite 😂

On the way to the beach though (a 2k drive to the other side of the lake), I had to pay my respects ofcourse to an old bison rubbing stone, and also checked out the viewpoint which really shows how the lake creates this green ribbon in an otherwise yellow-brown landscape, aka an oasis!

Having had such a long lazy day (including eating a delicious raspberry cheesecake icecream 🤗), I already had all the veggies prepped for roasting on the fire by 6pm (which is very early as I usually only set up camp by 7) but it felt a waste to start the fire when it was still light, so I ended up having a late dinner after all 😅. Over my beers, I came up with the idea that I could create my own cozy "virtual fireplace" video that I can play on my laptop on cold winter days... what do you think?!? 🤣🤣

The next day, the air felt different and when I walked over to the lake to watch the sunrise, it was confirmed; the smoke was back and the sun was really struggling to break through 😒. Too much wind to paddle so I left early hoping that things might be better elsewhere.

Same scenery as the day before 😜 (never boring though!), but I did capture one more "golden field" as example of the absolute nothingness... in a way, Labrador and the Prairies have this flat, monotone landscape in common despite their widely different geography, climate and ecosystems; that of Labrador is a sea of trees and here it's a sea of fields... In contrast, Québec, Ontario, BC and the other provinces have a much more varied landscape of ocean, lakes, mountains, forest AND fields.

When driving, the road oftentimes looked black from insects which I wasn't sure what they were (not flies luckily! 😅), until the gentleman at the gas station explained while cleaning my windows, that they're crickets eating grasshopper eggs... as it had been a dry summer, there were lots of grasshoppers and as a result the crickets had a bumper year, great example of prey-predator cycles! PS. Unfortunately a few miles after the gas station, there was a lengthy stretch of roadwork & gravel detours, so that meant RIP for my short-lived clean windows...

I found a few days later a cricket who had hitchhiked in my trunk, so he/she was quickly booted out when I saw it - I had already searched for whatever culprit snacked on my paper towel and was relieved it wasn't a mouse 😜.

The gas station was in the town of Outlook, and I must admit it took me a while to remember why it sounded so familiar... just shows how 3.5 months off work can undo a lifelong of using Microsoft email! 😅

But the real reason I took the picture of the sign was that for a long while these signs had perplexed me... when I had driven westbound into Saskatchewan from Manitoba the signs appeared, all with a "1" behind a name, and confusing them with city boundary ones that are typical in Europe it seemed as if each village was being numbered, e.g. Outlook 1, Outlook 2... which seemed such an odd thing to do (but Québec does have similarly numbered hydro dams & associated villages, e.g. Manic 1 to 5)! Only what must have been at the 20th sign or so, I realized that it indicated the next village 1km away 🤣🤣🤣 it took me a while to realize there was never going to be an Outlook 2... what can I say... my brain is also on a break!! 😅

Lastly, when driving around, the dry summer that the gas station guy had talked about was apparent in either completely or partially dry fens, the little ponds that dot the landscape and are a source of water for the farmers... the dried fens have different colours than the surrounding fields (white of salt or green for younger vegetation) which gave pretty visuals.

Having left early, I arrived just after noon at Manitou Beach which has as unique feature an extremely salty lake, 3 times the salt content of seawater, so that it's aptly referred to as Canada's Dead Sea! 😃 I had to try it ofcourse, and yes, swimming was basically impossible in the disgustingly salty water as each time I tried to go underwater, it would just push me up 😲... a really weird experience! Once I started to dry, my arms and legs turned white from the salt deposits so luckily there was a shower on the beach to rinse it off. It's a groundwater fed lake that through evaporation results in high salt concentrations, which are attributed to cure a whole list of diseases... as I tend to be covered in cuts and bruises, it was almost painful as the salt would sting all open wounds!

On my walk back to the campground, I admired the various wood carvings that were on display from a contest a few weeks ago... at it's an annual competition, the village is full of wood carvings including random ones of chimpansees, Belle & the Beast etc... there must be a theme each year?? This year it seemed related to Canadian nature (although not sure the stingray and turtle live here, maybe on BC's coast).

I really enjoyed the floating so I returned to the salty water, but then at the spa where it was heated, even better! 🤗 someone mentioned to me they come here every winter... if I would live nearby and had -40C winters, I would sign up for a membership in a heartbeat! There's noodles (as used in aquarobics) to help you balance in a vertical direction as the feet want to float up all the time 😜, or you can just lie back with your head onto a noodles and float away... Divine!

Topped off the evening with a cheeseburger & onion rings from the food stand on the beach and then a campfire with a s'more... oh la la, it feels so good spoiling yourself 🤩

Wildlife: 7 gophers, 1 deer, 1000+ crickets

SUPs: none

Hikes: one at Great Sand Hills

Distance driven from last map: 1,668km

[eunicexxx]

Life Update: June 2024

I always love the month of June. Not just because it's my birth month, but there is something special to it that I get excited every time it will come by. But the month of June this year was totally a roller coaster ride for me and my emotions. To be honest, I find it hard to give an update for this month because I am scared to feel everything again. But here we go…

June 12

I was assigned to lead the P&W for the provincial Youth Revival. I am not feeling good that time in so many aspects but God carried me through and for that I am so so so grateful. Before the event, I keep questioning and asking if they're sure that they will put me on that. But God is good, that's all I can say.

June 16

I was pressured to tell what I was feeling during that time. It was supposed to be a secret between me and a friend but ended up telling the whole room instead. But I think it was really supposed to happen because that was where everything started to be unfold.

June 17

Watched a movie at the Cinema at 11am! Yes, 11am in the morning. I was so happy during mid-day without knowing that I am bound to experience the most painful heartbreak ever up to date. I have no clue nor hinch of what was happening. Until I was given hints with the situation that I ended up guessing it right. I won't put to details everything, but during that moment, I can really feel my heart being ripped inside my chest. It was so painful, my hands were shaking but I can't even cry. I feel so betrayed. It feels like I was stabbed in the back by the person I trust the most and that is the most painful part. And the saddest part is, I can't even get mad at this person because this person is so close and special to my heart. I can't put into words everything that I felt during that time. I prayed and prayed for God to heal my heart. To forgive the people who caused me this pain. I hope time will come that I can look at them without any question or hatred in my heart. I am trying my very best to just act cool, like nothing happened but I can't. And now, I don't know if I can trust anyone around me anymore. I want to put my heart in a safe box so no one can hurt it again. And you know what, I want to seclude myself for now. Because I am afraid I might hurt them like how they hurt me.

Okay, let's move on. Fast forward to my birthday, June 26.

Start of my birthday week, I feel so lost and emotional. I feel okay but I do not have joy in my heart. I am happy while in the moment but after that, when I am alone, I feel sad that I don't want to do anything for my birthday. But Mama planned everything, and I want her to be happy so I just let her to do what she gotta do. So my birthday celebration happened. Thankful to the Lord for all the provisions. Thankful to Mama for planning everything. And thankful to my friends who made time to celebrate with me.

Oh, June. I don't know where to put you. I don't know if I can look at you the same way as before. But I hope I would.

Hey, if ever you reach this part, can you pray for me? For God to heal my heart and let me forgive people and forget what they did to me.

(Also, last June 29, we went to Kim Soo Hyun's fan meet!!! I'll make a separate entry for that.)

[professional1977]

Petty Corruption?

For several years I worked in Winnipeg Manitoba. By strange circumstances it was also the city I was born in but left when I was one month old.

Winnipeg is actually a fairly wealthy place. It was the center of wheat board trading, insurance, investment and all sorts of lucrative financial stuff. For decades every Sony device sold in Canada went through there and was marked up significantly.

There is a world class Ballet troupe and a Symphony Orchestra. It is in the middle of dead flat Prairie with hot summers and painfully cold winters.

It is also just like a small town where everyone knows everyone and networking and connections start in grade school. I worked in a construction and construction materials company. I was told the job there was to be an engineering manager, but after I went to see I was told that job had been given to a young guy who they would appreciate if I helped him develop his skills. The money was the same and I was stupid and stayed. The reason the young guy was there was he was the son of the City Manager.

In many cities the city manager is a non-elected bureaucrat who holds all the actual day to day power. My employer supplied materials and things directly to the city without bidding on them, and this young guy was the tit for the tat. There was a lot of city money coming in.

I learned a lot about ethics and law there as the bosses made an art of skirting both. Over time I was getting more and more uncomfortable but I learned there was no way around the "culture" in the office. The usual outlets to report such things were filled with people's friends and even family.

The last big event that turned me was a huge project. The local newspaper was part of a big national chain. They were building a new printing facility. It was huge, expensive and everything had to be built around and for the press machine being made in Germany. I had been moved to sales as I could do preliminary designs and price them in one go. I would go to design meetings and offer alternatives and rough costs and follow up quickly. The project was being done by a company called "The Austin Company". I had never heard of them. At lunch with their project managers I found out they never bid jobs to tenders. They always negotiated with the owners and did turnkey work. The company was one of the biggest in the world and very rich. I was impressed.

The project was really interesting. As is often the case in Winnipeg they liked to build in the winter. The ground is nice a hard rather than the usual horrible sticky mud. I prepared a scheme with the architects to prefabricate the whole thing so It could be built like a kit in any weather. I worked hard and refined it and made a very thorough price estimate. That was taken by the sales manager and the bosses fiddled it a bit before submission.

The next day the head of the office was smiling and said we got the job. I asked how was that possible, it was only submitted the day before. He then told me that we always were getting the job regardless. Our company was owned by a huge international construction materials conglomerate which also, surprise, owned the Austin Company.

That upset me in a strange way. First I was elated to get the job as it was a tricky one and I had put a lot into it. Next I was pissed that I had worked so hard when the bosses knew the fix was in. Finally I felt more than a bit dirty.

In my defense I did not know and did the best job I could so the product was a clean effort. I do not know what the fiddles in the prices were or what transpired on phone calls, but my part was clean. Still the smell of cheating was in the air.

There were more things later. Like the provincial lottery company building a palace for themselves without bidding it out. I was already making plans for an exit. When the for sale sign went up in front of my house I started to get calls from other companies about job offers. There was a gentlemen's agreement to not poach people from other firms but they knew where I lived and when my house went on the market. I wanted out of the city. It was too much.

So I left and headed back West. A new baby and my wife in two cars driving through a spring blizzard.

[freefromfearforever]

Future Days

I see the ruins of Rome...walking amongst the creation of a people who lived so long ago, still standing today...the Parthenon and Acropolis of Athens, Greece....feet slapping the ground where thousands made their home, their livelihood in an age so far past....making friends I've never met before in foreign lands...sitting down over Turkish coffee and discussing life and love and political events... Collectively raising a toast to God in countries I've never set foot in...yet.... I have over the past months been overwhelmed with waking dreams of lands full of mystery and history...feeling the energy of souls long lost and laid in the ground....standing in churches magnificent in their architecture, frescos and murals....drinking wine or ale in pubs hundreds of years older than our own country...drinking in the history, the lives and loves set out in examples before us if only we have the ears to hear, the eyes to see....

One day...I will set foot and walk paths walked by Jesus and His disciples....ride a camel across a dry land so different from ours, greet women and men that live a faith rooted in a millennia of such worship, hardship and experience...my own faith pales before it... "There are no strangers here, only friends you haven't met yet” William Butler Yeats

This past week I had the opportunity to meet a group of coworkers from other cities/towns and sit over a cold, hard tea beer with heat hazed mountains as a backdrop. After a long day of climbing one of those mountains and the consequent slide/hike down...the cooler patio air and cold drink and good conversation revived and rejuvenated body and spirit.   I took in the buzzing of a dozen voices...the laughter and chatter...the murmurs of other patrons...observed the interaction between one of my crew and other provincial crew members she felt she could never talk to, interact with, felt awkward with....and smiled, incredibly content. We had chatted about this just hours earlier...a life lesson complete with just a few words of encouragement.... God is good...truly. Despite many differences...common ground can be found...a healthy respect for the uniqueness of each person...a love for others that transmutes, that carries across....each of us made connections that day...though we may never talk with those particular crew members again, each one of us learned something of others we did not know before and opened ourselves to growth, to an enlarging of the mind and heart for others no matter what walk of life they may trek.  

Today...I know deep within that God has a plan for me...just for me...as He does for you, just for you....each of us bring talents, characteristics, traits and foibles to the table that no one else could...we are, each of us, unique and created for a distinctive path... Today...I see the goodness of a God who orders my path, my steps...and I trust, I love, I stand rooted in the present, ready to move, to live....to experience all that this life has to offer....I see abundance, I see a life full of miracles and moments so large they overtake any pain from the past, any sorrows still hanging on... Life....life is possible dear hearts....a life of joy, of love, of grand possibilities and miracles, of a fulfilling of hopes and dreams....a fruition of work and drive.... I wondered....many times I wondered what there could be for me....the feeling of walking a foreign land amongst familiar landscapes, amongst known highways and roadways...a foreigner in my own land....oh yes, I wondered as I know you do too my friends....you wonder what there is for you now, broken and lost....that/this, is not your future...it is only the beginning of a path meant to drop, discard and defeat the demons riding upon your weary shoulders. The winding, the circling, the faltering, the flailing, the drowning....oh dear friends, it ALL comes to an end just round the next bend, over that dusty old. mountain....one day you will wake to a great lessening, to a grand alleviating, to a massive attentuation of the weight of the worlds you have been carrying upon your person, upon your spirit....you will no longer stand bent as an old crone, no!...you will stand up straight and tall....you will breathe free air again....you will soak it in, bathe in the glory of a knowledge no one will ever take from you again.... Do you see the strength within you dear hearts? Do you feel the promise of a future built upon hardships few will ever know or understand? I see you....I see you standing with hinds feet in high places, surveying the land below with God-given pride, with a light so bright you must stand apart so as not to blind.... I see you standing tall, standing proud, with dignity and grace speaking your truth...with confidence walking your own path, no one else's....I see you standing in a group, holding hands in a gathering of others who have walked a similar path of destruction, of greedy hands and mouths stealing your joy, your essence....It is time, is it not my friends? Time to speak on matters swept under the rug for years, for generations....time to break those generational lies, ties and hidden truths....Time to speak.... I pray for your discernment as you make your way out...for your protection as you find your way to freedom and a life full of joy, love and kept promises.... I pray for your continued strength, though it may feel small and insignificant...it is there, though shining small...it shines and will grow brighter to light your path. I pray for your eyes to see, your ears to hear....and the courage to accept the truth of your situation. This is not easy...it is excruciatingly hard to accept, to know that the one you love does not love you the way you need, the way you love...who feels the need to hurt, to maim, to take rather than give....remember this one thing; you are loved, needed, necessary and seen as you are, right now...broken down and so low you feel as though you are crawling through the mud, the muck, the filth...daily, moment by moment.   Right there....oh dear friends...right there is where God is, crawling with you...speaking to your heart, whispering words of love and grace...declaring new life, new hope over you.... You are not alone...never alone....rise dear hurting ones...rise to what God has for you....rise and walk...loved, cherished, needed....always.

May God walk with you this day, and every day....May He light the way, illuminating a path through the darkest of hells, the blackest of nights...

[pluto-projectorrr]

Hi tumblr, let me give this page kind of a little note. Perhaps sometime i'll re-read this note.

2022 such an amazeeeng year, actually. So much lesson i earn that year and yes, it maybe same for next day or maybe i'll modify or have a new pov, so dynamic.

First, every destiny is good, even we need time to realized it. Like i mention before, that year i moved to small city near forest and lake. It takes more than 12 hours to reach provincial capital. Tbh this place good for vacation like 2-7 days, but u'll get boring so i felt it. Until i realize that is not so bad. I feel more alive here, no more overtime and no more impromptu task. I have time for myself, reading, writing, or do sport. I was thinking, it's litterally such on Quran 2:216, maybe u don't like it, but it's good for u, yes, He knows, always.

Second, there is out there we can't control. We have plan, but it doesn't work, we need to accept it, fast or slow, may God help us. Someone left me that year which is good for both of us. At first, so many question in my head, but i choose not to search that answer. For some case, ignorance is bliss. I remember the wise word, from Al Ghazali: what is destined for u, it will be urs even if it is under two mountains, and what it is not urs, u'll not get it even if it is already between ur lips.

Third, for some case, telling ur boundaries and telling ur intentions will save both of u. Several months ago, i know that beautiful lady, look like good girl, with adorable character. We know each other, like yea just know actually, not like "know" each other. How i explain it? So, i try to confess with her, her reaction is good, but yeah nice try, is okay. Couple weeks later, there is someone who i think, likes me (tbh i dont know if she try to reach me or what, but many friends and people around us told me that she is likes me). For beginning, she asked me about work-things, and i don't know, i just respond usually, like other friend ask me. But, maybe she think i interested to her as couple, but no. Sorry if i hurt u. One of my friend said, "way, u r so kind, too friendly, maybe if we have a same age or u r older than me, i'll fall in love with u", oh i got the point. I'll not change my personality, but i'll set boundaries. I feel sorry for the broken lady, but it give me lesson, so thank you.

Fourth, being surrounding positivity is sooooo f powerful. This lesson i take from the lady i adore couple months ago. She is always look happy, even i know she's not. Do u realized, our world full of complaining, in real life our co-worker complain, in social media (especially twitter) full of complain, so much people think this is the bad life but actually there is only bad day. Complaining is natural, is humanist. I did several times, but rarely right now (haha). If some sh*t happen to me, i'll try to see from other side or being positive thinking like 'it must be good for me, maybe later i realize it'. Afterthat, i feel more relieved. So i just live it. Remembering Kartini's word: it is better to seek the light than to curse the darkness.

Fifth, myself is more more more important. I really love myself right now, i love my life, and everything on me. Alhamdulilaaah, God give me perfect body-part, have a healthy brain, beautiful eyes, and everything. Mazkun was right: yang sebaiknya kau jaga, adalah dirimu sendiri (the things that u better take care of, is urself).

Yes, it is. Maybe i'll adding some note later, but yeah, let face 2023 with brightly smile, optismistic, and more "Alhamdulillaah". 2022 was a tough year, but alhamdulillaah i'm safe and sound.

Ps: video is my very very 1st time try airport train🚄

[scandeniall]

love in argentina

pairing: oikawa x reader

summary/warnings: you went to study abroad in argentina, he went there to play volleyball. you meet and your love story starts in argentina./ um yeah a ton of spoilers including 402. oh and just implied sex for 2 seconds

wc: 3.2k

notes: in honor of both oikawa’s birthday and the manga officially being over. its been a ride and i’m glad hes getting the ending he truly deserves. 

You're not sure when it happened. Growing up, you never really thought too much about love. You didn’t live in this fantasy that one day you’d get your happily ever after with your prince. You just lived as usual, focusing on your own dreams and goals. Being present and if love happened then it happened.

Oikawa isn’t quite sure when it happened. Growing up it had been a battle between volleyball and his own insecurities as he was determined to be the best. Sure he dated around, but it never amounted to much. There were so many people in the world to prove wrong and love had been pushed off the agenda.

But somehow it happened. Love had found its way into both of your lives and you found it within one another. It came without warning and despite every logical thought in your brains to run you didn’t. Now as you look at your fiance enter the arena your heart is filled with joy. You got your happily ever after all thanks to your last minute decision to study abroad in Argentina. 

----

Another clap of thunder caused another groan to rip through your throat. Looking around your vision was minimal due to the downpour. The occasional shiver ran through your spine whenever the wind would pick up. The covering of the protruding building could only do so much, afterall.  You eyed the directions on your phone for the nth time and still came up useless. When you decided to study in Argentina you looked at the frequency of rain, pleased at its limited occurrence. It was just your luck that your first weekend there you’d gotten caught. 

A hoard of footsteps pounding against the rain soaked pavement caused you to look up from the device, and before you knew it a group of 5 men stood under the buildings canopy out of breath, soaking wet and laughing. Out of instinct you found yourself moving away from the group of strangers as you listened to them talk and laugh. You heard one of them mention the next nearest building they could run over to get towards their destination. 

You eyed the phone again trying to make sense of the tiny map when three of them had run off. Right before the remaining ones could go you found yourself speaking up. Either be lost in San Juan for who knows how long or take your chance asking strangers for help. “Excuse me, could you guys point me in the direction of the university. I’m lost and I really need to get back to campus.”

The words came out rushed and you apologized for disturbing their day when the brunette in the group just laughed. “It's no problem. I’m Tōru. Tōru Oikawa.” 

That was how you met. He’d offered to show you the way back, claiming that he knew what it was like to be new and lost in the city. He’d waved his teammate off, before telling you to keep up. In between running from building covering to building you found out he was a player on the club team originally from Japan. 

“So you went across the world for volleyball? That's kind of cool.” You huffed out as the two of you ran under another canopy. After each one you'd allow yourselves to stop for a moment to not only catch your breath but to chat. “You went across the world to study.” “Yeah, but I’m only here for a semester. It seems you plan on staying. Not nearly as cool.”

Once the two of you arrived at the campus you offered to let him come in and dry off for a bit. “It's the least I could do.” You acknowledged that he didn’t have to show me all the way here and that surely he had better things to do. After a reluctant agreement the two of you found yourselves just talking. Oikawa had given you several food recommendations even ordering the “best empanadas ever” to your place. You two just seemed to have clicked. There was a sense of familiarity just like talking to an old friend that was instant. 

“I have to get going. But it was great to meet you.” As the two of you said goodbye you contemplated for a moment about to offer your own number when he does the same. “In case you get lost again,” he insisted, handing you his phone with a laugh. “My first friend in Argentina,” you joke back. After thanking him again he bids you farewell with a light smile. “I’ll see you around.”

And the two of you saw each other again and again. In between your classes and his practices the two of you found yourselves texting quite often. In between teaching eachother new phrases in Spanish, you shared food recommendations, stories of your own childhoods within your respective countries and went on several adventures. 

“You know, I haven't actually been here,” Oikawa hummed out from beside you. You had an assignment that required you to go to the Museo Provincial de Bellas Artes Franklin Rawson, the fine arts museum. It’d been nearly two months since you met Oikawa and when you'd asked him if he knew where it was located. Having no clue, he just decided to tag along with you. “Is that why you got us lost like 5 times on the way here,” you questioned before walking ahead to the next exhibit. “Hey!”

“Apparently there are 945 pieces here,” Oikawa read off as the two weaved throughout the other visitors, who were likely tourists. “Oh really? That's a lot,” you’d said mindlessly searching for a less crowded place to stand. You were vaguely aware of the hand resting on your upper back, his attempt at not allowing you two to become separated while also not pushing too far. You shot him a kind smile as he opened the door to the next exhibit. 

Throughout the museum the two of you took pictures with your favorite works, a few selfies here and there that Oikawa forced you to send to him before you’d go home and forget. He’d invited you to his next game, one you gladly accepted. You’d seen him play only twice before and were utterly mesmerized by his poise, control, and how he seemed to command the court. After the two of you left he insisted the two of you go out for a few drinks. It was a Saturday night afterall. 

You never quite made it to a bar. The two of you found yourselves just sitting on a bench downtown sipping your local drinks and just talking. “I love coming out at night, it's always so pretty,” you noted before taking another sip of your drink. The athlete only nodded in agreement. You didn’t know it then but that was the first time he’d wanted to kiss you. 

From the constant chatter of people walking he’d tuned in soleyl on your voice. The way the mixture of street and shop lights illuminated your face caught him off guard. However he pushed that feeling away just to enjoy the present. Eventually you’d go back home and he’d be wherever. Still playing and still working towards his goals. “Hey, are you ok?”

He was immediately pulled out of his thoughts, sending you a genuine smile. “Yeah, just a bit sore.” He noticed the way you frowned and immediately regretted using that lie. Especially once you questioned him about his knee, a fact he’d let slip randomly one night over a late night text session. “I’m fine, besides the club would pull me so fast if I slipped into those habits again.” He’d also told you about how his friend would always have to drag him out of late night gym sessions. “Iwa gave me the nastiest bruise one time because I was in too late. It was an accident though, he was kinda shocked at just how hard the ball hit me too,” he laughed when he told you the memory. Then proceeded how he got to guilt trip his friend everyday until it healed. You only nodded but not before scolding him that somehow you’d go all the way to California to bring his friend back to kick his ass if needed. 

-----

“Told you it would be worth it.” The scold you had ready for Oikawa didn't make its way out as your mouth dropped. The mountains completely took your breath away. When you’d first agreed to let Oikawa take you out to see nature you didn’t anticipate the lowered temperatures nor the annoying hiking trails. When you’d seen the first steep path you looked at him in complete disbelief. “You're not serious right now. I don’t even have on the right shoes Tōru,” you complained eying the worn sneakers with very little traction. “It’ll be fine, I’ll help you. The view is worth it.” With that you reached for his outstretched hand and went with it.

“It's beautiful up here,” you said slowly taking in the view. “El Leoncito. Blanco took me here the first month I got to Argentina. It was a rough week and he said I needed to get away. Camp out for a weekend and regain my focus.” You felt yourself nodding along as he spoke. “I remember how much you complained about your last test grades and figured you could use the break too.”

You’d known Oikawa for four months now. Your first semester in Argentina was coming to an end soon, and suddenly you were glad you didn’t let homesickness take over and decided to stay for the academic year. That gave you another few months with who turned out to be your dearest friend in the country. “Thank you,” you replied softly. While he had been looking at the view you managed to sneak a few looks at his profile. He didn’t know it then but that was the first time you’d wanted to kiss him. 

The nights cooled down more than you could have imagined and you found yourself shaking despite the campfire around you. You mentally cursed Oikawa again for not informing you to be better prepared. The sound of a zipper shifted your attention as he emerged from the tent the two of you had set up earlier. “Looking a little cold over there,” he teased sitting next to you. “You suck.”

His laugh filled the air as a sudden warmth came over you. You look over to see he’d placed a pare blanket over you. You were filled with the urge to kiss him for the second time that night. “I’m not such a shitty guy now am I?” You only shook your head in amusement. “Yeah, I guess not.” 

The months came and went. The two of you grew closer as the time for you to go home neared. Neither of you remember quite when it happened. It had been spring break for you and you had been hanging around Oikawa’s place for the most part. Even while he wasn’t there, the two of you had become that comfortable in less than a year. One night he came back unusually agitated and touchy, and you found yourself walking on eggshells until he just blurted out his feelings. “I fucking like you. More than a friend and it's annoying because I kept getting distracted tonight because one of the guys pointed out that you’d be going home soon.” 

Your eyes widened as you watched him down his first shot of the night. A drink he’d insisted he needed after the night he had. After you hadn’t said anything for a few moments it seemed like his words dawned on him and his eyes widened. Before he could apologize you’d crossed the short space from his couch to the kitchen to press your lips against his. 

“It's annoying, but I like you too.”

After that the two of you essentially began dating. You’d never officially declared a title but it was clear as day that you were together. When the year ended you decided to stay in Argentina at least for the summer, moving in with him for the time. In doing so the two of you put off the impending goodbye for at least 3 months. 

That summer had flown by before either of you knew it. In between having more time to watch him play and your Argentinian adventures, they were the best months of your night. You’d spend many nights laughing and making out on the side of bar buildings on nights out. When time permitted, taking random day trips outside of San Juan and exploring together. You’d accumulated enough pictures together to fill out an entire photo album in that time alone. 

One of your favorite memories came after you’d gotten home from said day trip. During which you guys brought three different jars of dulce de leche from different shops. You two had decided to try your hand at determining which shop had the best by putting them in various deserts. 

“Wait we have to try them plain first,” you exclaimed the second the two of you had made it back. Taking the bag you made your way to the kitchen pulling out the jars. “The one I picked is going to be the best,” Oikawa assured, taking a spoon from you. “What if we fed each other and I took pictures to send to Iwa to remind him that he’s single.” You laughed before responding. “Oh please, he’s kinda hot. I doubt he's that lonely.”

“(Y/N) you can’t call him hot. I’m supposed to be the hot one,” he jokingly complained, arms coming to lock around your waist. Leaning your lips towards his, you mumbled with a lazy smile. “You are the hottest. But you’re going down, Grand King.” You pulled away laughing as his distressed look at your use of the dumb nickname. “I should've never told you about that.”

“Too late now,” you hummed opening the jars to set them out. “You wanted to make your best friend jealous right,” you questioned as he made no move toward the treat. You smiled at the sparkle in his eyes. “Hell yes.” 

After you two couldn’t come to a consensus about whose pick was the best you two stared at the ingredients you'd also purchased to use the dulce de leche with. “Now what are we going to make,” he mused, tossing his arm around your shoulder. “Lets ask the internet.” You felt his lips press against your cheek before he agreed. 

By the end of the night you’d managed to make a successful pastry, some random cake where you had to substitute a few ingredients and hope for the best, and a sorry excuse for ice cream. “I told you this was a bad idea,” you laughed as you tried to keep mixing the failure. “It’s not thickening up at all.” You moved aside as your boyfriend took the bowl from you, muttering about letting the athlete stir before adding on. “Thick like me?”

“It's as flat as you,” you deadpan. 

“It’s a liquid!” 

-----

“Hey (Y/N). Are we going to make this work. You know when you go back home.” He’d asked you one night as you cuddled on the couch. Your time together was coming to an end and you were leaving in two days. It’d been something neither of you ever mentioned, even during the packing stage. You raised your head from his chest searching his eyes. “Do you want to?”

Another silence fell over you two as you both processed your question. Eventually he gave you a slow nod. “Yeah. I do. Do you?” At your nod Oikawa let out a breath that he didn’t even know he was holding. “Good. So it's settled yeah,” he questioned. “Yeah it is.” You smiled as you maneuvered your way onto his lap. Settling your knees on each side of him, his hand your cheek pulling your lips towards his. “Good,” he repeated right before his tongue slipped into your mouth as his hands slid lower. 

That had been 5 years ago. In that time you'd gone back home to finish your degree and he stayed in Argentina. The following year his time in Brazil coincided with a school break of your own and you were able to meet him there. You’d gotten to meet the iconic Hinata and the two of you teased your boyfriend to death with Grand King. 

The distance was never easy. There were times where you both questioned if it were worth it. Stress from both of your lives outside of one another would pile up and you had to learn to work through it. Learn to comfort despite being thousands of miles away. Reassuring you that you were indeed the smartest person he’d ever met. Reassuring him that he didn’t want to quit. He was amazing and he found volleyball fun. You’d even been the one to propose going to Brazil trying to find the fun in the game. 

When he told you he was considering the possibility of naturalising you even encouraged it. And then he proposed to you. He had a small break and had flown out to surprise you insisting that it was now or never. He wanted you forever and knew if he didn’t just do it he’d keep thinking about it forever. Of course you’d briefly discussed marriage, stating that you wouldn't mind an engagement, even if it lasted for a few years while you both got your career, living and citizenship situations settled. So when he did it you made the decision to permanently move back to Argentina. 

“Are you sure-” he’d asked you shortly after proposing. The high of you saying yes had worn off and now the realization of what this really meant settled. You’d discussed marriage prior to him starting the naturalization process. The two of you had been sitting in your yard hand in hand watching the stars. “Of course. I was looking into moving back anyways. Wanted to surprise you.”

His hand tightened in yours as he eyed your face for any semblance of a joke. “Really?” You only nodded pressing a kiss on his clothed shoulder. “Of course. It's where it all started. Besides, I have no doubt that you’ll make the olympic team. Gotta be there in person for moral support right?”

Suddenly you were tackled back onto the blanket your now fiance was hovering about you. “God, I love you.” Fingers playing with his hair you returned the sentiment. “I love you too.”

Neither of you are sure how it happened. You’d met at 19 and nearly a decade later at 27 you'd both accepted your fairytale ending. You found love in Argentina and your heart swells at the announcement of your Fiance at the Olympics. You can imagine his scowl at the mention of him never making it to high school nationals and find yourself laughing. Eying the ring on your finger you think back to the promise he made you two years ago on the night of the engagement.

“I want to marry you and I want to keep playing. So if you don’t mind, can the wedding be after the olympics.” There's not a single part of you that regretted agreeing to those terms. As you watched him continue to train your pride for him continued to grow. As he entered the arena ready to play against his home country you found yourself yelling. 

“Beat them all Oikawa!”

a/n: i hope u enjoyed this. I’ve been in a slump and on vacation past week but i am back (i think) and better than ever. I have a 10k atsumu piece coming within the next few days so i hope u stay tuned for that. Both of that and this are me tapping into my creativity and im very passionate about 10k words esp.

also; if you enjoyed this I think you’d really like my sakusa piece no limit to you. it has a similar feel and to date is my fav thing ive written (and 5k words)

lastly: did yall enjoy my google argentina research LMAO. ngl after um i kinda wanna go there tf

[tarysande]

Hey, I see you reblogging adhd stuff every now and when. I hope you're ok with me asking, how long have you known you have adhd? I am currently wondering if I have it and am sups unsure what to do about it.

I’m always okay with people asking about things I post!

Of course, because of the ADHD, I’m not always great at answering ;)

I’m especially willing to talk about ADHD because I know my journey to getting a diagnosis doesn’t follow the stereotypical path, and I’d be thrilled if my experience ends up helping other people out there.

My family doctor was the first person to ever mention ADHD to me. I was 36 at the time. Maybe 37. I’m 40 (wtf) now, turning 41 in a month (haha, wtf). I’ve had depression most of my life. At the time, I was deeply frustrated because my depression was well-managed, but I still couldn’t focus to save my life. When my doctor asked if I might have ADHD, I laughed and said, “With my grades*? Yeah, no.” *I was a straight-A student from elementary school through to the end of my BFA. HOWEVER, at uni I had a handful of ‘lower’ grades: a B-, a B, a B+ in classes I found A G O N I Z I N G L Y boring. I was also never a disruption in class—mostly because I entertained myself by writing novels and reading under my desk and listening to music by keeping my earphones under my long hair. The key was to answer a question in class right away, thereby diverting the teacher’s attention and leaving me to my own devices for the rest of the time.

The focus issues continued unabated. Months later, a good friend of mine who was also diagnosed with ADHD as an adult brought it up again, and this time I did a lot more research. And ... yeah, puzzle pieces started clicking together. A lot of them. 

I brought it up with my doctor, and she sent me to the one (1) psychiatrist in Vancouver who was a) covered by provincial healthcare and b) would deal with a potential ADHD diagnosis in a patient of my (advanced) age *stares into the camera like it’s the office*. He was a Real Jerk, but I did his bevy of tests and he reluctantly agreed that I matched all the criteria except that I had never done poorly in school or been a nuisance in class**. **these criteria are ridiculously outdated, often don’t apply to girls (or those who have inattentive-type or mixed-type ADHD), and should BY NO MEANS exclude anyone from an ADHD diagnosis. If, like me, you’re what they call “twice exceptional” (where being intellectually gifted can often mask the struggles associated with ADHD, autism, physical/learning disabilities), it’s EVEN EASIER to slip through the cracks. 

The psychiatrist upped my anti-depressants, which helped, but still did nothing for my focus. By the way? ADHD, especially in adults, is FREQUENTLY comorbid with other conditions like depression or anxiety. It’s almost like ... when your brain doesn’t do what you know it should do, WANT it to do, TRY TO MAKE IT DO, and you feel like a failure who’s not living up to her potential ... it makes you REALLY DEPRESSED!! Who knew?? After almost a year, I finally brought up the focus with my family doctor again, who was like, “Okay, let’s try some things, then.” Finding the right dose of ADHD meds is ... trial and error. And it’s exhausting. And sometimes you think you’ve figured it out, but you haven’t. I still haven’t landed on the BEST POSSIBLE solution for me, but I will tell you this: the difference in unmedicated-ADHD-Tara and medicated-ADHD-Tara is like night and day, even when my meds aren’t optimal. 

To give a very specific example, I’m a freelance writer and editor. My income from my first (medicated) year of running my own business full(ish) time was almost three times that of the unmedicated year before. This year, even with COVID throwing a lot of wrenches in a lot of gears, I’ve remained booked three to four months in advance, my focus is better, my self-worth is better (i.e., I charge what I know I’m worth), I’ve stood up for myself, I’ve *gasp* started planning(???). I’m not rolling around in piles of money, but I’m above the Canadian median.

I also speak to my therapist every two weeks (she’s wonderful—and she’s online, which is both cheaper and more accessible for me). I’m slowly understanding the value of meditation (if you have the Calm app I HIGHLY recommend Jeff Warren’s How to Meditate 30-day program. I’m on day 13. There’s no BS or vagueness; I love him.) I made an effort to change my diet and spend more time moving around outdoors. (Exercise is even more important for ADHD brains, it turns out.)

Now, none of this has been a magical cure-all. I’m in the middle of struggling with med dosage at the moment, which is freshly irritating. Even medicated, there are good days and bad days—which is totally normal. I just finished an editing project that nearly destroyed me because it was SO boring and I couldn’t get out of it (because I’d ADHD-procrastinated too long). Learning how to function in the neurotypical world with an atypical ADHD brain is WORK. There’s also a lot of emotion—grief, anger, frustration, joy—as you process the new information and mourn the time you spent lost, underachieving, “failing.”

One really great, really accessible resource is the YouTube channel How to ADHD. For people who want to dig into the science, I recommend Russell Barkley (HE IS SO SMART) and Ned Hallowell. There’s also a ton of information on ADDitude. Anyway, this is a lot of information, I know. There are some good self-tests on the ADDitude site. If you think you have it AND IT’S IMPACTING YOUR LIFE***, bring it up with your doctor. Know that you might run into some resistance because most ADHD meds can be (and are widely) abused, and people with actual ADHD get caught in that crossfire. Even though it’s hard because of ADHD’s effect on emotions (TOO MANY!! TOO STRONG!!), be prepared to face some scrutiny.  *** they’re always going to ask about how it’s negatively affecting your life.

[purplesurveys]

1279

Are you and the last person you kissed in a relationship or just friends?  I don’t keep contact.

Has anyone ever pointed out that your laugh was unusual?  Hmmmm, I don’t think so. I feel like that would be the type of comment that would get to me so I definitely would’ve remembered it.

Would you get a lip piercing?  I don’t plan on getting any piercings.

Nose piercing?  Nopes.

What are you currently waiting for?  For this fucking day to end so I can be closer to Thursday and to the weekend.

Do you have feelings for anyone?  Nah.

Have you ever run over an animal?  Nope. I’ve had extremely close calls with animals who suddenly dart into the road, but fortunately these have all been situations wherein I got to hit the brakes with nobody behind me.

Have you chewed gum after someone else already has?  That’s disgusting, no.

When people sneeze do you say ‘bless you’?  Sure, out of habit and just to be polite.

When was the last time you were on a bouncy castle?  I don’t think I’ve ever been on a bouncy castle, but I’ve been on a lot of bouncy other things haha, like inflatable slides, soccer balls, Anpanmans, etc. The last time would probably be a nearly a decade ago; I definitely haven’t been near one in a while.

Have you ever went on a bouncy castle whilst drunk?  Well no, because the ones I’ve been on were situated in school fairs, which is the last place I would want to be drunk in.

Have you ever entered an art competition?  No, I have no justification to join one haha.

What is one thing you will never do? Try hardcore drugs. < Same. 

What is one food that you detest?  Pineapples.

Did you have a rebellious phase growing up?  Yeah I was a bit of a handful to raise, but I’m in firm in my stance that it had a lot to do with the way I was raised. I grew up mostly without a father figure because my dad worked abroad and I felt neglected by my mom who had her own shit to deal with. There was no stable support system to lean on, so I ended up lashing out a lot in my puberty years. Unfortunately everyone else just saw a rebellious child and not a plea for help.

These days when I show off my achievements on social media, I’ll see congratulatory comments from my mom’s friends and she’ll usually go on about some “late bloomers grow with time” narrative and it pisses me off because nobody knows how much I’ve had to grow and mature and learn how to be happier all by myself, all from scratch. If I had just received the proper care and attention early on, I wouldn’t have had to do any catching up to begin with.

What religion were you brought up with? Roman Catholic.

Are you still that religion?  Jesus no. I darted out of there as soon as I gained the consciousness to think about these sorts of things.

Do you often find yourself questioning your future?  Sometimes, but I do my best to not let it get to me.

How many friends do you have on Facebook?  Over 670.

What sort of music did you listen to when you were in high school?  I started with punk rock in the first half of high school, so I had my Rancids, H2Os, Against Me!s, Cro-Mags, etc on my iPod. It evolved a little bit towards more indie, folksy sounds towards the latter half - Banks, alt-J, Hozier, Twenty One Pilots - which I largely attribute to the crowd I was part of at the time.

What pet names do you use with your significant other?  I’m pretty straightforward so baby works out for me. Other, more specific pet names just grow naturally with the relationship, I think.

What’s the name of the store you usually get your groceries?  S&R.

Have you ever seen a theatre show?  Yeah. Most of them have been required.

What’s your favourite vegetable?  Broccoli or bell peppers.

Have you ever missed a flight?  Never. I’ve experienced several delayed flights, though, which is always such a hassle especially if the delays happen in provincial airports since they never have any recreational offers to keep passengers from getting bored other than TVs that run the same damn five ads.

Do your neighbours have any pets? Have you ever met them?  Yeah, a lot of have dogs. I’ve met some.

What color is your bedroom door?  Brown.

If you were ever to become famous, would you grow annoyed at fans?  Only towards obsessive ones who wouldn’t give me time to breathe or would go so far so as to stalk me or my loved ones. But I am a fan too, so I imagine I would actually be understanding of those who would ask for pictures or whatever as long as they were polite and not at all intrusive.

Have you ever met your favourite band/singer?  Nah. I am terrified of meeting celebrities HAHA so I’ve always shut down the chance. I’m pretty sure I would actually turn down the chance to meet BTS if I hypothetically suddenly got the magic keys to that door.

Are you embarrassed by any of the songs/singers/bands you like?  No. I feel like that sort of thing just happens in like high school, when your friends are still a bit judgmental. Nowadays I don’t see why I should be embarrassed of anything I like, especially if it’s not hurting anyone.

Have you ever written a story?  I’ve made attempts but was always terrible.

Think of the last poem you wrote: What inspired you to write it?  My homework that required me to write said poem hahaha.

Do you have a chance with the person you like right now? 

What’s the weirdest thing you were scared of as a child?  Watching commercials at night. It’s still a slight fear of mine but it’s mostly dissipated now.

Are there any embarrassing stories your family tells about you?  About me? No. I don’t have a lot of those since I was a really shy kid who barely moved a finger anyway.

In your opinion, what is the funniest TV show?  I have a *really* soft spot for Perfect Strangers, which I actually revisited yesterday :) The show was never super popular so it’s near impossible to find clips online, but when I checked YouTube I did see a slight increase in short snippets from the show so I had a really fun time binge-watching yesterday.

What is the maximum number of children you’d ever have?  Three, but that’s pushing it. Ideally, I’d have two so my first would have company.

Have you ever been concerned you had a serious illness?  Mental ones, yes.

Are you comfortable with who you are?  For the most part, yes.

Would you date someone even if you knew you’d get made fun of for it?  No. Why would it be any of their business?

Does popularity matter to you at all?  I mean, yeah in the sense that I honestly aspire to be well-liked by as many people as possible. But I don’t necessarily want to rub shoulders with popular kids.

Would you ever consider homeschooling your children?  Continued from sometime this week ider. No. I don’t think I’m capable of teaching, and generally I’d want them to be able to learn in a more open environment where they can have regular contact with different kinds of people.

Who told you about the band/singer you are currently listening to?  Well Angela got into them first and since we’re best friends, there was a certain point where she just decided to loop me into conversations that involved them. I was impossible to sway for a long time, but then one day a video compilation of them showed up on my feed, and for some reason I actually watched it, and I watched all the way through, and I was immediately intrigued – particularly by J-Hope haha. I then asked Angela to tell me more about them and the rest was...financially irresponsible history HAHAHAHA

Do you ever read fanfiction?  OMG yes. Funny you should mention that because my favorite author uploaded a brand new fic this morning, which I obviously couldn’t get to all day because I had to go to work. I’ll be reading it in all its 44,000-word glory tonight :D

Would you rather die in a plane crash, ship wreck or fire?  Plane crash. Instant and mostly painless.

What are your top five favourite TV shows?  Breaking Bad, BoJack Horseman, Friends, The Crown even though I was never able to continue it since...andddd that’s all I got.

What is your favorite superhero movie?  Not a fan of superhero movies.

If you died next week, what would be the cause of death?  Stress from overworking. I’ve FINALLY started to consider taking a leave for the first time this year because I’ve just realized just how fucking exhausted, burned out, and overwhelmed I actually already am from having no rest at all in the last 13 months.

Have you ever taken a break from Facebook or other social media? Why?  Yes, I do mass deactivations when I’m severely depressed. These days I can’t really afford to that anymore, though, since my work is closely tied to social media.

Who is the most talented person you know?  Probably Andi.

Are you currently platonic friends with anyone you’ve had sex with?  No.

Where did you and your current interest go on your first date? 

Have you ever experienced two people fighting over you (physically or mentally)? What happened?  Nah. I’ve had two people like me at the same time, but there was never any tension to watch out for since they mostly didn’t know each other.

Have your parents ever thought you were gay? What happened?  I think they know I dated Gabie and that we broke up because they’ve stopped asking about her. Everyone knew we were best friends, so the fact that they’ve avoided her as a topic for a whole year is able to tell me something.

Are your parents more liberal or conservative?  Dad’s on the liberal side, mom dances around on the spectrum a little bit. I know she’s fine with things like tattoos and having LGBTQ+ co-workers, but she’s also conservative especially towards matters like religion.

What year are you going into at the beginning of the next academic year?  No longer in school.

How far away does your closest family member live?  A few footsteps away.

If you’ve seen both, did you prefer the Disney version or the Tim Burton version of Alice in Wonderland?  It’s not my type of movie/genre to begin with.

Would you have sex before marriage? Why or why not?  Yes. I don’t see the big deal; I’ve already done it anyway.

Are you more liberal or conservative?  Liberal.

Who is your favorite Harry Potter character?  Ooh not sure. I haven’t gone back to the books in a while, so I don’t remember if there was anyone I had an attachment to.

What’s the worst that could come out of letting gays marry?  Nothing.

What’s the most sexual thing you’ve done?  Had sex...I guess? And a bunch of stuff that comes with it.

Name something that you are against.  Racial discrimination.

Why are you against it?  Because it is infuriating to see, and it shows me the very same treatment can happen to me or my family as well and that scares me, especially since some people turn particularly violent towards people of color.

Have you ever played the Tomb Raider games?  No.

Do you like it or hate it when your partner is clingy?  I imagine I wouldn’t enjoy it if I’m not as into whoever my next partner would be.

Beatles or Rolling Stones?  I don’t listen to either.

When was the last time you changed your opinion on somebody?  Not so sure about a whole change in opinion because that hasn’t happened in a while, but I grew more grateful for my manager today because I finally mustered the strength to tell her that I’m begin to struggle mentally with work and she not only encouraged (read: begged) me to file a damn leave for once, but she also got sushi delivered to my place.

What was the last thing that made you feel proud and why?  Andi was telling me about their day today and how they handled being misgendered by a prof, who then proceeded to throw a fit when he got corrected, and how they, again, maturely handled said fit. I was proud of them because there are a million ways that incident could’ve turned out, but they dealt with it in an extremely mature and calm manner considering they were the one who was wronged.

Do you feel uncomfortable when people you hardly know confide in you?  If it was about an extremely personal problem I would probably be taken aback at first, but I still would definitely make some time for them and help in however way I can, since they apparently trust me enough to confide.

What was the last thing to fascinate you?  The music video for My Universe! Super cool to watch and I love that they made a short film out of it too.

Is there a certain noise/sound which scares you?  Doors being slammed shut, because that’s what my mom does when she’s furious. She did that when I was a kid and she does it to this day, so I get extremely nervous when I hear the sound, even if it happens by accident.

Do you have a favourite microorganism? Nope.

Out of the people you know, whose birthday is next?  My cousin Bree.

If you have pet fish do you bother to name them?  I did when I had them as a kid.

Do you keep your eggs in the fridge?  Yes?

Have you ever owned chickens?  Nope.

When did you last listen to music?  Like five minutes ago. I tried to have a jazz playlist on but I realized I wasn’t in the mood for music so I changed my background noise to have a random VLive on instead. 

[violetnotez]

SHE IS HERE. PART TWO. BY EXTREMELY POPULAR AND LATE DEMAND!!!!

This fic. THIS FIC RIGHT HERE. HAS BEEN FIGHTING SO HARD I AM DONE THIS HAS BEEN A STRUGGLE. If there are typos I AM SORRY- just msg me and ill fix it if its that bad im just tired!

Kirishima x reader

⤷Genre: Angst, Fluff

⤷Word Count: 9k+ (-this has the weekly prompt for the @bnhabookclub​ discord -“Im fine” :)

⤷ Warnings: slight mentions of blood, cursing, suggested spicyness at the end

⤷ Synopsis: It’s been exactly 3 months since the last time Kirishima saw you, after you had abruptly ended things with him. He’s been trying to forget you, but it’s no use-he’s still madly in love with you, and wishes he could get the truth of why you two ended. What a shocker when he gets a chance to ask his questions-and he learns the truth about your villainous life.

Song Recs: ⤷ “Breakeven”-The Script ⤷ “Lucid Dreams”- Juice WRLD ⤷ “Scars”- Lukas Graham

PART 1

Kirishima looked up at his calendar, a sad sigh escaping his lips. 

That number shouldn’t be such a big deal, that plain black “11” tiny and insignificant next to all the other digits, like little ants stationary on the page.

What it represented, though, was so much more: that day so many weeks ago was so full of heartache and misery, the feeling of being lied to eating at his core for days to come. 

Today, 3 months ago, was the day you confessed to him that you didn’t love him. 

Kirishima has never felt so betrayed and heartbroken in his whole life: you were his first real love after all, and hearing you say your love was a lie destroyed him.

He didn’t know what to do or how to even react to that news: he had felt so numb after, so incredibly empty, it was like he was a walking shell of himself once he left your room.

His friends had tried to cheer him up constantly, always putting in the effort to lift his spirits with laughter and comfort. But the warmth of their attempts of cheering him up didn’t help him at all: he always still felt so cold inside.

It also didn’t help that you had mysteriously left UA the day after the “breakup.” When Kirishima laid his tired puffy eyes on your empty desk the next day, his heart couldn’t help but beat feverishly. He knew he shouldn’t care that you were gone, but he couldn’t help it. No matter which way he spun it, He was still desperately falling for you, even if you had broken his heart. 

He had sat down, his back slumped as he eyed that empty seat with worry. 

How had everything gone so wrong? 

He couldn’t fathom what had gone stray-your love  had honestly felt so real to him. You had told him you had only dated him out of pity-but if somebody was being forced to do something, just to spare someone’s feelings, would they have given him his first kiss so perfectly, making sure to be soft and gentle? Would they have stuck with him late into the night to help study for tests? Or give him sweet kisses on his scars when he was feeling self conscious? 

It just didn’t add up-the feelings you two had were genuine and real. It couldn’t all be one sided like you had said.

He gave another look to that chair, just imagining the ghost of you sitting there, turning around and sending him that infectious smile that light up his whole day.

God, it wasn't even one whole day and he felt so incomplete without you.

Mr. Aizawa walked in, everyone scrambling to their seats and watching him intently, the room getting noticeably more quiet.

He didn’t remember much of that class-he had remembered Mr.Aizawa standing at the front of the class, his deep voice breaking his miserable thoughts when he said the class would be free of one student.

You had seemingly left in the middle of the night, your guardians notifying the school you would no longer be attending UA due to you moving. All of Class 1-A was incredibly confused, including Kirishima- you had never said you were moving, yet you somehow were just gone. As if you never existed.

It just didn’t add up to Kirishima-you would have said something about moving, or at least acted strange the weeks prior. All these events just didn’t make sense to Kirishima-the break up, your confession, you leaving-it all just didn’t add up. But he was too tired, too wrecked inside to think about it anymore. The more he tried to piece the story together the more it gnawed at him, making him feel so much more worse than he already felt. He slumped in his chair, knowing full well everyone was staring at him-you were his boyfriend after all, he should have known.

Oh wait-ex.

He slumped in his chair even more, barely the tips of his spiky red hair poking up from the desk table.

It was gonna be a long few weeks for him, he could already feel it.

Now he was past all those days of crying and breaking over you-some days he could actually forget about you and not have to worry. But on days that were permanently etched into his mind, like today, he couldn’t help but remember. 

Kirishima's phone began to ring, the vibration of the call making the phone jitter against the wood of his desk. He tore himself away from the calendar, his hands instantly swiping to take the call once he saw the Caller ID.

“Hey Fat, how's it going!” Kirishima forced a smile, his voice preppy and bright as if nothing had ever happened.

“Kirishima, thanks for taking the call,” his mentor seemed to breathe a sigh of relief hearing his bright voice on the other end.

Since Kirishima was in his 3rd year, he was required to do another work study, for an even longer period of time than before. So when he was asked by Fatgum to come join the agency once again, he couldn’t help but say no. He had loved his old mentor back from his 1st year, even if he did get pretty banged up at the end of his work study. He was more than happy to join his agency again, and wanted nothing more to learn and grow to be the best hero he could be.

“I know this is pretty late in the day for you,” Fatgum continued, “but I’m going to need your help,”

“Tamaki was supposed to be patrolling on the West side of town tonight, but he got called in to help with a robbery on the North side. I don’t have anybody else to take his place, so I was hoping you could take over his shift for the night,”

“Of course! I’ll do anything you need,” Kirishima propped his phone into the crook of his neck, already rummaging around his room for his hero suit.

“You're a lifesaver Kirishima!” Fatgum exclaimed, the toothy grin he was most likely sporting practically audible.“See ya for training tomorrow then!”

“You too, Fat,” Kirishima's cheerful tone waned, a sad smile replacing his bright grin as he stared down at his hero suit.

He had already known today was going to be a tough day for him, and the fact that he was off from any type of hero work that would make him forget about his sadness didn’t help. 

But now that Fatgum has given him a job tonight, he might be able to erase his mind of all the past heart ache for the next few hours. He gave himself a small smile, his hero suit beckoning him to put it on, the reds and blacks calling to him like ghosts from a dream.

He was gonna at least try to forget-just for the night.

It was now an hour before the end of his shift, and he was feeling practically tired.

The West side of town was relatively quiet, nowhere near the crime riddled areas of the North side of the city boulevard. He knew these streets well from patrolling them almost every night of his hero study, knowing each alleyway and path like the back of his hand. 

Tonight was silent, only a few late night joggers or the occasional fast food joint open for any customers getting the late night munchies. 

It was soft, provincial, and bitter sweet. 

He was trying his best to not remember, to not remember your face, or your smile, or the way you would laugh so warmly whenever he did something amusing. He was trying not to imagine you standing by his side, your hand grabbing his and your shoulder resting  on his, a happy sigh escaping your lips. 

Why were still haunting him, even three months later? 

why couldn’t he just forget about you? 

A crash and a yell snapped Kirishima out of his memory, an angry scream of a teen being heard from the late night restaurant. 

He shook his head to rid himself of those unwanted thoughts, noticing a black figure running across the parking lot into an alleyway at lightning speed.

“That-that Villian!” She shrieked, her friends trying to soothe her as she continued on her rampage, “She stole my wallet! My damn wallet! The hell-“

“Don’t worry ma’am, I’ll get it back for you, don’t worry!” He yelled towards the group, his voice warm and assuring as he sent her a toothy grin. His feet began pounding the pavement, disappearing into the alleyway in the direction of the criminal.

Your breath came out in painful huffs, your hand fumbling to put the wallet into the jacket of your Villian suit. 

Damn Shigaraki and his “plans.”

Shigaraki has now concocted up his next bright idea  for the League, this time relying on you stealing an ID card from a college student that looked similar to you. 

While the LOV was going off stealing a bank for some extra cash, you were told to go find someone who looked similar to you in order to pass as them. for what you had no idea, but you knew Shigaraki would be extremely mad with you if you didn’t do what he asked. You shivered at the thought of him, those cold red eyes like bloody daggers ripping into your flesh. 

You slowed to a stop, your breath coming out in pants as you pulled down the mask on your face, your breath finally free from the constricting fabric.

God you hated running.

Nobody seemed to be following you though, footsteps inaudible to your ears. You slinked into a dark corner of the alleyway, your hands rummaging inside the wallet for the ID card you desperately needed.

Cash, credit card, a picture of her and possibly her boyfriend,a shit ton of gift cards-

You breathed a sigh of relief, flicking out the desired card with a flourish. In the low light conditions you were in, it was hard to see her details, but you knew that it matched your complexion just enough to pass by.

Thank God, now Shigaraki wouldn’t be on your ass-

“Hey, it’s not cool to steal, man,” you heard a familiar voice echo throughout the concrete walls of the alleyway, making your blood run cold.

Shit, please not be him, anybody but him-

You instantly tugged your mask over your mouth and nose, praying to God it wasn’t him.

Maybe it was another hero, or somebody that just resembled him-

“Just give me back what you stole, and nothing bad will happen to ya,” Kirishima continued, his footsteps slow and solemn as he walked over to you, as if you were a wounded animal that could attack at any moment.

You shoved the wallet hastily into your jacket pocket, looking around, desperate for a way out.

Damn it-you were completely blocked from the back, a tall cement wall blocking your escape. The only way for you to get out was to somehow dodge Kirishima and make a run for it, or fight him.

God definitely had his favorites, and it obviously wasn’t you.

This boy was so quiet-all that hero training made him extremely agile, like a cat going forward it’s prey  as he continued to walk towards you cautiously. 

It was a shock to see him-he looked so much older, his handsome face making your heart squeeze painfully. He still sported his iconic red hair to match his suit, the only thing really changing was the amount of scars on his body. When you two had dated, you were so close to him you knew every valley, ditch, and scar on his body like your own.

He was getting stronger and tougher, growing to his goal while you were stuck in your life, still just a little pawn in Shigarakis decaying hands.

You didn’t feel like fighting him-you still felt guilty for the way you had ended things with him, even though it was weeks after. You knew it had to be done in order to protect him, but you also knew it had hurt him to the point of no return.

 He had to have hated you now, and honestly, you didn’t blame him-it just hurt to know you lost a love you still felt. And it was your fault.

Kirishima watched your every move, not suspecting a thing-you were just another thug, another puny Villain he had to take down. Even though it was decent fun to take a criminal down, dealing with witnesses, the police, and paperwork was quite the opposite. But it’d get his mind off of his own misery.

The Villain seemed strange though-as if they were terrified by the mere sight of him. They weren’t even trying to bad mouth him, which was a definite first for him. It was hard to see in the dark alleyway, but he could make out the outline of the thief trying to quickly dodge him, trying to break into a run to get out of the cramped dead end.

Kirishima swiftly grabbed the arm of their leather jacket, pulling your squirming body close to his.

You were screaming internally-he needed to let go, he had to let go. Your heart felt like it was ripping apart, the sudden memories flooding your body as you remembered how it felt to be so close to him, to be so intimate you could see the flecks of brown in his vermillion red eyes. You didn’t want him to realize it was you, to see you as his enemy yet again. You couldn’t bear to see the heartbreak and disappointment in his eyes, your hands clawing to get away.

“Hey-just calm down a little-“ he huffed out, the words separated as he tried to keep a hold on your body.

It was strange to him though-you weren’t even talking, not a peep was spilling out of your lips. You seemed pretty young, and by your smaller frame, you were most likely female. You seemed 

so scared, your eyes bright with desperation and fright. 

His larger hands kept you close to him, his heart pinging with hurt-

There was no way this was you. He was going crazy-those weren’t your eyes.

But God, they looked so familiar-your eyes looked exactly like that the day you two broke up. Full of fear and sadness and guilt-

This wasn’t you, this couldn’t be you, but-if it was-

With one hand firmly wrapped your waist and another shakily reaching toward your mask, your body fighting desperately to get him to stop. Even through your attempts, he pulled the material gently off your skin, The flimsy black mask falling to the ground pitifully. your face looking down at the ground with embarrassment, now knowing your cover was blown.

Kirishima's heart beat painfully-it was you, this was you.

What had happened?

“Y-y/n?” He stuttered out, his voice caught pitifully in his throat.

You swallowed thickly, trying to shove the dry ball of embarrassment down your throat.

“H-hi Kiri,” 

He quickly let go of you, his body blocking your exit as he stared at you in disbelief.

You looked so different, so unlike you-you were wearing a completely black outfit, the material shiny like wet rocks near a dark river. Your hair was pulled back painfully tight, your eyes looking down at your scuffed combat boots in despair.

You looked so defeated and so sad, as if there was no happiness left in your body.

Who even were you?

“What happened to you? Why are stealing? Where have you even been?” He bombarded you with questions, his voice getting more and more authoritative and desperate as questions flooded his mind.

You couldn’t even think to comprehend an answer to any of them-you just needed to forget this encounter ever happened. For your and Kirishima’s sanity and, most importantly, safety.

“Just let me go Kirishima,” you dodged his question, taking a step forward to push your way out of the alleyway.

Kirishima's body was bigger and stronger though, and with each shuffle you attempted he would close the gap between you two, blocking your escape solely with his body.

“No, I-I need answers y/n,” he replied. His voice sounded so hurt, so full of anguished you felt your heart break a little more. He was still hurting, and now he was confused, seeing you all dressed up and committing crimes like a low level Villian. 

“I need to know what happened to you.”

You faulted in your step, staring at Kirishima with wide, mournful eyes. You made yet another attempt to surpass him, your shoulder a mere centimeters away from his as you tried to walk past him.

“Nothing happened Kirishima, please just let me-“

If you thought you were going to leave that easily, you were crazy. 

He swiftly grabbed your arm, his calloused hands rough against the leather of your jacket. Even through the thick material you could feel how warm he was-he always radiated such heat and brightness.

“Why did you leave UA?” He was abrupt with his question, but the hint of softness faltered his harsh exterior-he was still worried for you.

A deep sigh cascaded from your lips, your brow starting to sweat. You were tired of dealing with this heavy burden, this spider web of lies you had created for your own self. You still loved Kiri, yes, but your relationship was over and done. There was really no fear of judgement anymore. Hell, he just saw you steal a wallet like a low level thug-how much more could he judge you in this moment?

“You want the truth Kiri?” Your voice was blunt, and monotone, a shield from your true emotions. 

“You want to know who I really am? I-I’m a Villian. I work for the LOV. I only went to UA because I had to listen to Shigaraki. He needed info and I was the only one to do it.”

You sneaked a peek at Kirishima's face, a slight grimace on your lips as you anticipated the look of disgust on his face. Your heart thumped painfully, waiting for him to look at you with revulsion, but-it never came. His bright vermillion eyes still stared down at you softly, his eyes coated with worry and sympathy. 

“So-you were being forced?”

“At first I wanted to do it-b-but after I while, I started to change my mind,” 

he was so warm, his body heat seeping into your cold skin like a fire on a winter's night. Even now, in this dark alley, exactly 3 months from your terrible breakup-he still could make you feel safe. He was your home in the snow storm, so warm and comforting when the rest of the world was so unforgiving and icy. You relished the feeling of his calloused palms on your body, wishing those hands were on your skin instead of your jacket so they could  slowly  warm your whole body with their wonderful  heat.

“Then why did you leave?”

You gulped, licking your lips tentatively. Did you really want to tell him the truth? Tell him how weak you truly were? You honestly didn’t, a part of you screaming to just feed him a lie that would satiate you both-but the thought of living with even more of a guilty conscience made your mouth go dry. He didn't deserve another lie-after all you did to him, Kirishima deserved the truth. 

“I-I didn’t want to get hurt. I didn’t want you to get hurt. If Shigaraki found out I was considering leaving the LOV, he would have done anything in his power to keep me.”

“You don’t know the League like I do. When I mean he would do anything-he would do anything-including killing.”

Kirishima's eyes momentarily widened, the brutal words cutting the air like a knife. It didn’t surprise him, though-he was a hero in training after all. He had been in too many dangerous run ins with villians-hell, he couldn’t even count how many times he could have died just in his first year at UA. Death was a recurring threat in Kirishima's life, and , for better or worse, it didn’t scare him as much as it used to.

“Kiri-I-I lied to you to keep you safe. You meant the world to me-You still do. I still think about you all the time, and I know you probably hate me, but I still love you. I never stopped.”

He watched your eyes turn down in shame, your head hanging low as if you were carrying a great burden. It was painstakingly obvious you were feeling guilty and remorseful, and his heart throbbed at the thought that of you being forced to continue on with this life. We all made dumb mistakes when we were younger-you shouldn’t have to keep the burden of your past decisions still. 

As much as he felt sympathy for you, he couldn't help but feel so happy that you still had feelings for him. No matter how he spun it, he still cared for you and loved you with all his heart-hearing The same thoughts come from you just made him fall for you even more.

He gingerly took your chin in his hands, his calloused digits lifting your sullen head in order for him to look at you fully. Even when you looked so downtrodden, you were absolutely beautiful to him, and he couldn’t help but smile.

“God, take the words right out of mouth, huh?”

Kirishima's heartbeat feverishly in his chest-what he was about to do was so incredibly risky, but he had to do it. Too many nights he spent dreaming and remembering you, the memories bitter sweet. Now that he had you in front of him, he was going to take any chance he could go get those sensations back in his life.

Kirishima placed his lips gently on yours, knocking the wind out of your lungs. You couldn’t breathe-it was like you were drowning on his essence-yet you couldn’t careless. Warmth filled your stomach, fueling all over your body like a hot flame. It was so comforting and surreal to be feeling this again, to have Kirishima's hot lips pressed against yours.

He parted from you, both of you buzzing with electricity. It was surprising how much truth that kiss held-it melted the cocoon you two had around your hearts, allowing you two to see how much you had truly missed each other.

“ Y/n, I miss you, I knew that night you said you didn’t love me, something wasn’t right,” he spoke, his breath fanning your lips gently. “I knew there was more than what you were letting on.”

Kirishima grabbed your arms suddenly, looking you square in the face with intense eyes.

“ Y/n, you should have left then and there! We would have protected you! I would have protected! I promise I wouldn’t have let anything happen to you-“

“Y/n, you need to leave them, please,”

You sighed, hating how quickly the air thickened with the remembrance of your current situation. 

“Kiri, I don’t want anybody to potentially get hurt because of my dumbass decisions, I’m fine, I can handle myself-“

“Y/n, no your not fine! Look at you-,”he motioned to your clothing and your sullen face, “this isn’t you at all! 

“Kiri, please, don’t give me false hope-“ you shoved him off, wrapping your arms around your body to protect yourself. If you didn’t get control of yourself, you would follow his words in a heartbeat. As much as you would love to run into the strong arms of Kirishima, for him to warm your numb body with his positive energy- you knew it was dangerous. You didn’t want anybody to get hurt over you.

“It isn’t false hope though….” He smiled sweetly at you, his hand stretched out to you, “please, just take my hand, Kay? Nothing bad will happen, I promise,”

You stared at him long and hard, your eyes wide with fear and uncertainty-he was so genuine, so warm, so forgiving. He wanted to help you, he was willing and ready. He wanted to fight the world with you by his side, to protect the people he needed to protect with his loving energy. Kirishima had a way of making you believe anything that came out of his mouth, and you were falling for his spell. You didn’t know if it was the shock from seeing him after so long, his kiss, or just from wanting to leave so badly, but you stretched out your hand, ready for him to take you away.

a cruel, scraggly voice boomed from the shadows, “He promises to keep his little love bird safe.”

“How touching.”

You two spun your heads around at the sound of the ominous voice, your blood running cold.

“Shigaraki,” you gasped out, your eyes glued onto your leader. 

He was smiling a sick grin, his expression sadistic and cruel as he stood in a few paces away from you two. He was clothed in his Villain suit, his clothes tattered and dark like the Grim Reaper himself.

 Spinner and Twice were standing close by, surveying the scene from above as Shigaraki sauntered to you two. Kirishima's expression instantly turned from softness to determination, his body instantly turning to shield yours.

“Oh no need to act so heroic hero,” he grinned, his tone sickeningly sweet life cough syrup.

“Just give us our comrade and we’ll be on our way.”

“You're not going anywhere with her!” Kirishima yelled, his quirk activating in his arm as he shielded you from Shigaraki. “She doesn’t want to be with you scumbags anymore!”

“I’d watch your tone if I were you, especially for trying to defend a spineless traitor like her.”

Kirishima's face turned red in anger, his whole body now turning as solid as a rock as he charged your former leader.

“You piece of-“ 

Shigaraki continued the sick grin plastered on his face as Spinner and Twice instantly jumped from their positions, grabbing Kirishima's arms and roughly slamming him into the nearby wall. You heard the air forces out of Kirishima's lungs, his face contorted in pain. Your heart felt as if it was getting stabbed as you watched Kirishima struggle against their holds.

“Kirishima!” You screamed, your body yelling at you to help him-but you knew you couldn’t take on those two by yourself, not even including Shigaraki.

You turned to the villainous man in front of you, your eyes pleading.

“Shigaraki, please, tell them to let him go-let him go!”

He took a step toward you, his footsteps ringing slowly like the ticks of an old clock.

“Oh, I will,” he replied, his voice low and sadistic, “-when you rejoin the League.

“ I’d kill you right now for being such a selfish brat if I didn’t need you-so take it as a gift. I’ll spare your life if you just come-“

“Never,” you spat at him, fear filling your stomach with your defiance. You were surprised to hear how steady your voice was, but the slight Tremble in your fists said otherwise.

“Fine then,” he smirked, “suit yourself-“

With a wave of his decaying hands, Spinner and Twice began to use their full force on Kirishima-punching, kicking, anything to torture him. He was trying his best to block them, even with his quirk-but they were quite strong, especially once Twice used his quirk to produce more of his own body. It quickly began evident that Kirishima was having a hard time to fight off the villains, his Stance slowly becoming weaker and weaker as his face began to bruise and his arm dusted with his own blood.

You were hopeless to just watch, watching your worst fear come to life-people we’re already getting hurt over you.

Anger filled your stomach, licking up your body like hot flames as you turned to charge Shigaraki, fire in your eyes.

“Stop it you crusty ass-“ you yelled out, your fists out as you tried to land a punch on the Villian.

He seemed to know your exact movements though, his hands harshly grabbing your wrists and mouth, colliding your body with his.

“I’d watch that mouth of yours if I were you, unless you want it to disintegrate-along with the rest of you-“

Shit.

You had momentarily forgotten about Shigaraki’s dangerous quirk-one wrong move and you could be a heap on the ground, nothing more. The fingers around your mouth were delicate, knowing full well you wouldn’t try and escape. They drummed playfully against your mouth, as if taunting you to do something foolish. You felt how cold he was, the feeling of his chapped skin on yours disgusting as he toyed with your life in his hands. 

It was all a game for him-and he was winning.

“Look at him-“ Shigaraki ordered, the grip around your mouth suddenly tightening as he twisted your head to face Kirishima's misery.  

“You caused this, y/n. All this pain, all this suffering. If you leave, he will be the first we target. Well slowly go after each and every person you have ever loved, until we finally come for you.”

“Now, you don’t want that, do you?”  He asked, his face tilting in order to see your answer. You forced yourself to not look at him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing the small tears running down your cheeks. 

All you could muster was a small shake of your head, the vibration of your movement going through Shigarakis finger tips.

Through the fists and clones he was trying to fight off, Kirishima could see you shaking your head, Shigaraki looking practically happy by your answer. A sinking feeling filled Kirishima's stomach as he saw your body language slouch in defeat. He Tried to call at you, to stop you from agreeing to whatever was coming out of Shigarakis lying lips, but at that moment one of the clones landed a solid punch to his stomach. Kirishima felt all the air leave out of his lungs , his knees wobbling and hitting the floor as his head spun from the pain.

Shigaraki still had his hold on you, watching how your face crumpled as you watched Kirishima fall and unable to help.

“Good, now, will you come and rejoin?” He asked one last time, motioning for his comrades to move away from Kirishima and back to their spot on the roof of the alleyway.

He knew now he had you under his finger, knowing the show he had just made you watched instilled enough fear for you to never leave his team again. He watched your eyes cower to give one last look at Kirishima's crumpled body, your shoulders tense with stress.

“I-I’ll rejoin the League,” you whispered out, feeling the hold Shigaraki had on you loosen. 

It was tearing you up inside to see Kirishima so bruised and hurt on the ground-you focused on the signs of him breathing, his broad chest rising and falling as he struggled to push himself back up. That small evidence gave you courage, your heart racing as you will yourself to continue with the plan you had secretly been concocting this whole time.

You grunted, a sly smirk erupting on your face.

“After I do this-“

You swiftly grabbed Shigarakis arm, twisting it in an excruciating position behind his back. He yelled out in pain, a string of curses filling the night as you rammed your fist into his chest, sending the air out of his lungs. He stumbled dramatically, dry coughs spewing out of his lungs as his knees hit the floor. 

“You no longer have power over me-none of you do,” you stood defiantly in that alleyway, watching your ex comrades stare at you in shock and awe. In all your time with the LOV, you had never defied them. Not once. You were always so obedient, which was why Shigaraki loved to have you around as a n asset to his team-you were so easy to keep around his finger. 

But now you were clearly being rebellious, your stony face telling the whole group you had changed-you didn’t give a damn about their threats and their rules anymore. You wouldn’t be coming back.

A burst of fear and extreme annoyance flooded Shigarakis' system, the pain of your kick aiding fuel to the flame. He growled, a curse directed at you dribbling from his lips as his thin legs wobbled his body weight up. His mouth opened to send you another string of curses, ready to unleash his full wrath on you for embarrassing him so much, until a characteristic siren filled the night air.

Kirishima propped himself onto his knees, a tried grin gracing his bruising lips.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you-“

His hand lifted, showing the whole group a small contraption in his hand. In the darkness of the alleyway it was hard to tell what it was, but it seemed Kirishima was holding a phone, a route to your location lighting up the screen.

“My mentor gave all us heroes-in-training a tracker, just in case we get into any trouble. While you were blabbering on about plans, I sent the heroes our location.”

Kirishima smiled triumphantly at the fearful faces of Shigaraki’s comrades, Shigarakis own fave contorted in rage. 

The sirens were slowly getting louder, the colors of blue and red dancing lightly against the stony walls of the alley way.

“So unless you wanna get caught by the heroes,” he added in, his tone surprisingly friendly, “ I suggest you go.”

Shigaraki seemed waver, trying to see if he could still get you back under the terrible circumstances. But the cops were practically here, the sounds of car doors slamming being heard. He had to admit it to himself-he lost this battle. He gave you one last scornful look, his bloody irises sending a shiver down your spine as he took off with his comrades, not leaving a trace.

You could already hear the police officers stepping out of their cars, fear flooding your stomach. Even though you had just defied the League, you were still a criminal. You had been doing illegal activities for months now-hell, you just stole a girls wallet 15 minutes ago and it was still in your damn pocket.

Even though a part of you was screaming for you to run as well, you fought off that flight response in order to help Kirishima off the floor.

His skin still feels warm, your hands making sure not to touch the tender parts of his skin from his fight. Even though he was smiling, you could tell he was in some pain. Your worst fear was already being realized-he got hurt over you. For you. You could never repay him for that, the guilt seeping into your core. 

“Kiri are you okay? Please tell me you are,” you pushed out, the tone of your voice desperate and pleading. “I’m so sorry-“

Kirishima looked up, his vermillion eyes as bright as ever as he caresses your cheek, sweeping the single tear off your face.

 “For what? You did nothing wrong y/n, you don’t have to be so sad over me-this is my job after all!” He chuckled, trying to lighten the mood as you began to help him stand up. He was slightly wobbly on his feet but seemed to be doing just fine. 

He gave you a small smile, a hint of worry in his eyes as he heard footsteps coming behind him.

“Just-let me do the talking, Kay?” He waited for you to give him a nod, his hands giving yours a gentle squeeze.

“Do you still have the wallet you stole?”

“The-? Oh, yeah, I do,” you stated quickly, the wallet resurfacing in your mind as you rummaged in your jacket, pulling it out and shoving it into his hand.

“Thanks,” he smiled at you, his cheeks warm as he faltered for the smallest second. 

It was evident he wanted to lean in and kiss you-the way he stared at your lips was quite evident and brought a blush to your cheeks. 

But Kirishima was still on duty, and couldn’t be so openly romantic when he was in his hero suit as well being approached by law enforcement. He instead opted to kiss your cheek, the smooth skin of his lips warming your whole body as he walked over to greet the police officer. 

Kirishima has spoke to the police officer for quite a while, a few others watching close behind as they surveyed you. You felt strange, standing there so alone as you watched Kirishima talk to the officer so warmly. 

You didn’t know what he was saying, or what he was doing, but you were hoping he was somehow sweet talking the officers. You watched him point to you at one point, his warm smile assuring your terrified face as the officer looked you up and down tentatively.

He motioned you to come over, as if trying to get a frightened animal to come near him. You followed his command, your steps hesitant as you approached the two men.

The officer face was hardened until he saw the look of terror on your face, his expression softening slightly.

“This is her?” He asked gruffly, turning to Kirishima.

“Yes,” he nodded his head in confirmation. “The LOV have been brainwashing her for their plans-she has intel the heroes could use to our advantage. Fat Gum’s agency needs her straight away in order to get that info from her. I promise we will get her in the system and any other information you may need on file.”

The officer gave you two a long look, sighing as he scratched his chin.

“Alright,” he complied, a huge smile erupting on Kirishimas face. “You two need a ride? You look pretty messed up.”

Kirishima gave a small chuckle, scratching the back of his head. “Uh-yeah, THAT'D be pretty nice actually-“

After the small car ride to Fat Gum’s agency, you had helped Kirishima out of the car and to Fat Gum’s office at the top floor. It seemed like someone had already alerted Fat Gum to Kirishima's arrival, because you two were instantly met by the pro hero with worried eyes once you reached his office.

“God Kirishima you had me so worried for a second!” He yelled, striding over to the bruised hero, “that receptionist really made it sound like you were in need of medical attention or something-“

“I’m fine Fat, you don’t gotta worry about me!” Kirishima said good naturedly, his perfect teeth glistening in the fluorescent lights. “I actually have some things I need your help with-“

“You definitely do if you're bringing a civilian into the office,” FatGum stared down at you with a warm smile, your heart beating guiltily. It was strange to see the hero in normal clothing in not in his larger form, his stature so much smaller it seemed from his usually large frame.

“The names Fat, but you can call me Taishiro!” He held out his hand in front of you, his bright personality radiating off of him, “and you are-“

“I-I’m y/n, sir,” you said hesitantly, taking your smaller hand in his. He was just as warm as Kirishima, like a bright ball of sun. 

No wonder Kirishima interned with Fatgum-he was just like him. Bright, fun, kind. Everything you so dearly craved for in your life, but couldn't quite grasp.

“I’m sorry, I’m not a civilian-I’m a criminal, a Villian,” you muttered sadly, your head hanging low, “well, I was-“

Fat Gum gave Kirishima a confused look, his happy exterior dropping slightly. 

“She was being forced to be a Villain by Shigaraki,” Kirishima quickly stepped forward, his tone serious as he defended you. “She wanted to leave the LOV, but they were threatening her.

“She didn’t do anything wrong-she just wanted to protect herself and the people around her.”

Fat Gum scratched the side of his cheek, his eyes lost in thought.

“Well Thats a strange situation to be in-I’m assuming you two know each other?”

You looked at Kirishima, red blossoming your cheeks just like his. 

Maybe it wasn’t the best time to tell his mentor that you had dramatically broke up with Kirishima over 3 months ago.

“We uh-“ Kirishima started, his voice wavering in uncertainty.

“We were classmates,” you chided in quickly, “I went to UA along with Kirishima, but the LOV forced me to leave the school.”

Fat Gum nodded his head, a sigh escaping his lips. “So-you’ve been working as a Villain, but against your will?”

You nodded your head, your breath caught in your throat as you awaited for the hero's reaction to this news of your true identity.

“This will get a little fuzzy legal wise, especially if people are looking for you-some may not trust what you say, even if you left the League and do everything in your power to change their minds.”

“Don’t worry though, I believe you,” the hero placed his hand in your shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I believe Red Riot full heartedly in his perception of others and I’m pretty good at reading people too. I can tell youre not what the League tried to make you into.”

He sent you a warm grin, making you feel safe for what had felt like a long time.

“Would you be willing to answer questions about the League? about how they operate, how large they are, their plans-“

“Yes, anything to end them and help the heroes,” you answered quickly, your tone set in determination, “I’d be willing to do all of it.”

“Well that settles it!” Fat Gum said happily, the smile back on his face. “Tomorrow we’ll start talking to you about your experience with the League-but you two seem to need a well deserved nap.”

“Why don’t you keep her in your apartment Kirishima?” FatGum turned to the hero, Kirishimas dusted in pink by the proposition. “Shell feel

a little more comfortable since you're someone she knows, and she’s also close to the agency.”

Fat Gum gave you a soft smile, his eyes filled with reassurance. “Heroes will be around all day and all night, so nobody can come in and out.”

It surprised you how intuitive the hero was-he knew exactly how you were feeling. 

Even though you knew it was foolish, you still felt that somehow the League would find you and try to bring you back. You had clearly defied them, and it scared you that they be trying to get their revenge. 

But Fatgums charming smile was so reassuring and welcoming, you couldn’t give him a small smile back.

“I think I can manage that arrangement.”

“Good then,” he gave you two one last smile, ushering you two out the door, “make sure to get some rest-tomorrow will definitely be a long day. Make sure those injuries are doing well too, alright?”

You both gave the hero a curt response, turning your backs from the now closed doors.

Kirishima's heart began to beat intensely, his stomach filling with butterflies.

You had agreed to stay in his room? God, if someone had told him a few hours ago you’d be staying the night with him, he’d wouldn’t believe it for a second. But now this was happening, and he couldn’t be more ecstatic or nervous.

He stared at your profile, not missing the dusting of red on your cheeks-you were nervous too? It made him feel a little better inside, a small smile gracing his lips as he stretched out his hand.

“You ready?”

You looked down at the outstretched sha s in front of you, taking his palm in yours tentatively.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” 

He lead you through the agency, taking an elevator a few levels down in order to get to the apartments specifically for the heroes in training.

It was a short trip, but the fatigue that wa a beginning to hit your body was making it feel so much longer. The adrenaline rush you had felt all night was wearing off, your eyes fluttering as you will yourself to stay awake.

Kirishima noticed your sleepy state, a small chuckle escaping from his chest.

“You feeling tired?”

“Just-a little,” you yawned out, wrapping your hands around your body.

“Don’t worry-were almost at my place,” he gave you a sweet smile, his hands outstretched for yours as the elevator door opened. You took it gratefully, letting him lead you to his door as he opened it with ease.

You stepped inside, adjusting from the darkness as you took in the sight in front of you.

The room smelled of him-the warm and musky scent ofhis cologne lingering in the air. It was almost teasing you with its memories, a wave of comfort washing over you as you recalled all the times you buried your nose into his neck and smelled his scent. 

His room was pretty neat, surprisingly, his desk organized and his walls decorated with a few posters. You recognized some from his old room at UA-a Crimson Riot, his favorite band, and even a calendar he used to use frequently.

Some areas of his room signaled the busy life of his work stidy, his unmade bed strewn with clothing he had hastily ripped off, a small pile of clothes in a pile and his laptop charging in a corner of the room.

Kirishima cursed himself as he looked around the room, painstakingly noticing every little detail and mess, hating how he hadn’t cleaned up his room that day.

“Sorry for the mess, I didn’t expect to have anyone,” he chuckled nervously, already going around and picking up his things.

“It’s fine-I like it,” 

You were speaking the truth when you said it-you liked how it was so him, showing a glimpse into his daily life. It was warm and comforting, even residential, to see him in his day to day life.

“You do?”

You hummed a “yes”, feeling your heart beat fast when Kirishima closed the gap between you two, his palms gently grasping your arms. He breathed in a deep sigh, holding you close.

“God, you don’t know how much I missed you,” he sighed out breathlessly.

“I missed you too Kiri,” you looked down, old guilt resurfacing inside you, “I’m still sorry for being so-so mean to you-I should have just told you the truth, I shouldn't have lied-“

Kirishima smiled softly, lifting your chin with his finger.

“Don’t worry about that! That was in the past-now it’s just you and me, kay? You don’t have to worry about any of that, now”

He gave you a long look, sorry buried in his brows as you ran his fingers along your skin, feeling the bags under your eyes. You inhaled a deep breath, loving the electricity Kirishima set into your skin just from his touch.

“You really are tired, huh?” He asked quietly, his voice husky from exhaustion himself.

“And you're not?” You gave him a quirky smile, making him blush with a chuckle.

“Well, I didn’t say that,” he gave you a small grin, his hands returning back to their spots on your arms.

“Do you wanna sleep? You can take the bed if you want-I know it’s not made, but I can sleep on the couch if you’d like-“

“I want to sleep with you,” you replied softly, your eyes widening once you realized what you had just said.

You wanted to sleep with him? God, you sounded so perverted! 

“I-I mean I want to go to bed with you-I didnt mean-I just didn’t want to make you sleep somewhere else, since this your room-“

Kirishima's face was incredibly red, but the smile was still plastered on his face.

“Oh it’s alright, I really don’t mind either way.“

He pulled himself away from you gently, as he began searching through his dresser for some clothes.

“So-bed together?”

“Yup!” You replied back, popping the p as You sat on the unmade bed, your fingers dragging against the plus fabric as Kirishima turned around, sitting in front of you as he handed you one of his shirts.

“I know you don’t have any pajamas, so you can wear one of my shirts until we get you some clothes.”

“Mm, sounds good,” you smiled tenderly, loving how close he was as you ran your hands through his hair.

He sighed into your touch as he nuzzled into your skin, his breath warm against your skin.

He sat there for a few moments, finally rising sluggish and slow.

“Gotta move-or I’ll fall asleep right there,” he chuckled, walking over to the front of his closet. He began to take off the pieces of his hero suit, the large gears on his arms hitting the floor with a thud.

You admired how broad his shoulders were, the way his muscles rippled so evidently as he moved his bones to his will. He was so perfectly built, you could t help but drool at the firmness of his skin.

“Having fun over there?,” he turned around, a shit eating grin plastered on his face as he undid the belt around his waist.

“Just a little,” you gave him a small grin, hear flooding your face as you held the shirt close to your chest.

“You can go change in the bathroom if you’d like-you don’t have to stay out here if you’re not comfortable,” 

“And what if I am?” 

You laughed at the clearly evident blush on his cheeks, his face trying to hide the rush of embarrassment.

“Your a handful,” he chuckled, his hand running through his hair nervously.

He knew you were joking, and you two had only sorta, maybe gotten back together lass than an hour ago-but damn if he wasn’t nervous and excited by you being so flirtatious-in his room. 

For the rest of the night. 

You gave him one last smile before you disappeared into the bathroom, your hands closing the door gently.

God, it felt so nice to be in his arms again, to feel safe and warm. You had missed the fluttering feeling Kirishima gave you, like you could fly away  at any moment and you could care less. You brought your nose to the cloth of the worn shirt, the powerful smell of his detergent and cologne washing over you. It was so comforting, a nostalgic feeling filling your body as you remembered how much you missed his scent. 

You quickly stripped of your clothes, happy to be free of the uncomfortable garments finally. Since Kirishima didn’t hand you any shorts to wear, you decided to only wear the shirt he had given you over your underwear. The softness of the shirt felt so relaxing against your tired skin, almost like getting a hug from the boy himself. You smiled a deep sigh, happy to see that the shirt was long enough to at least cover your underwear from plan view and you splashed your face with some cold water, rinsing away all the fears from tonight.

You would have a long day tomorrow answering questions about the League-you could at least give yourself tonight to forget and be worry free.

Kirishima was hastily changing before you came out of the bathroom, dreading the idea of you seeing him half naked as he swapped out of his hero suit. He opted to wear something comfortable, grey sweatpants and an old black tshirt, his body running frantically to clean his room. Now that he got the chance to properly clean his room, he was a mad man trying to make it to his liking. He shoved clothes into his closet, made his bed, even hiding cords under his bed. 

If you were going to be in his room, he was at least going to give off some impression of him being neat.

He was now laying on his newly made bed, his hands occupied with checking his phone as he heard the bathroom door opening, your footsteps soft on the carpet of his room.

He looked up, a question about to fall from his lips until his mind went completely blank at the sight of you.

There you were, standing in his room, looking as beautiful as ever wearing his shirt and nothing else. He couldn't help but stare at your legs, worshipping the curves as his mouth was agape from awe.

He didn’t fully prepare himself at the sight of you in his clothes, but god did you wear them so perfectly-

“You okay Kiri?” You gave a nervous laugh, striding over to the bed, settling your knees on the plush comforter.

The shirt road up from the movement t, showing more of those pretty thighs of yours that made him practically drool.

“Ne-never been better!” He tried to compose himself, his voice rising slightly.

God, he needed to get ahold of himself.

“You look pretty comfy,” he gave a small comment on your outfit, loving how bashful you look at the comment.

“Of course I am,” you replied back, crawling over to his side of the bed. He gulped at the sight of you coming so close to him, “I’m in your clothes after all.”

You sat your body next to Kirishima, your hand finding his as your other lightly rested on his stomach. 

“You know, I’ve always thought you looked good in anything,” he smiled, his eyes dark like wine, “but you wearing my clothes-you looked best in that,” 

“Really?” You gave the boy a shit eating grin, knowing full well you were playing a dangerous game now.

This night could end in two different scenarios: one could complicate things, and one could really complicate things.

You’d take the latter, if he was willing.

You shifted your body around him, straddling his waist as his shirt rode up, exposing your thighs even more.

“And what about when they're not on?”

Kirishima's heart beat at an insane pace in his chest-was this wrong to do? He didn’t know and frankly, he didn’t care at that moment.

He returned the smile, his hands traveling underneath the soft shirt.

“Even better.”

Tagging (anyone who commented or asked for a part 2- I tried to get everyone!):

@cellotonin​ @bakugous-forehead​ @lgbtonystarks​ @marrypuffsstuff​ @lady-bakuhoe​ @kurinhimenezu​ @hipster-merchant-of-death​ @hot-pocket01​ @bubblegum-bee-otch​ @kai-charm​

[limitededitionsanderssidesblog]

The Stacks - Chapter 26

Ships: logicality and prinxiety, slow burn

Summary:  In this society, there is a place where the poor and unwanted are placed and kept hidden away from everyone else, where poverty and crime are a frequent and life shines for no one. Stacked up high in the sky, this is the furthest anyone living there will ever reach. When a Depression consumes the land, and the government fails to bring an end to it, society turns even further on the residents of the Stacks, accusing them of bringing the rest of them down. What no one knows, however, is that it’ll take the work of four unlikely people to not only bring an end to poverty but also to this inequality.

Chapter One Previous Next

AO3 - Here

TW: short/past mentions of attempted kidnapping, rape, and slavery; bigots; homophobia (kinda but not really); quarantine and illness (I swear it wasn't on purpose it just happens to be coincidental)

-

In the days following the aftermath of the raid and rescue on Damien’s bar and the subsequent reveal of the horrid truth regarding the Stacks to the general public, every single government agency and office were under fire with protests and angry mobs of offended and concerned citizens. Ranging from the local city hall in the smallest town of Mulberry Wood to the Senatorial Hall in the nation’s capital of Clover, no government official or worker wasn’t being pulled into question. Groups of activists crowded the roads and blocked off intersections, demanding the release of every stacker in their province and the nation as a whole. Police forces tried to keep the mobs contained and under control, but their efforts did little to pacify the protesters, and a few officers had acquired injuries.

These activists, as many as there were, barely held the majority. As with everything in nature, a group rose up with a counter viewpoint; believing that the stackers should remain where they are, arguing that the economy couldn’t support the added workers and that the stackers shouldn’t be allowed into a society they had not contributed to. This group was filled mostly by low and mid-class labor workers, whose jobs were viewed as easily replaceable.

On the other hand, separate groups challenged these protesters, proclaiming the supposed footage released on the news as being fake, or a tactic by a terrorist to throw society into disarray and take over the government. Some thought it was a mere political front to gain an advantage in the next election. While few thought it was simply over-exaggerated or didn’t care.

Government officials everywhere knew that if this was allowed to continue any longer, that violence could break out in the streets and risk potential bodily or property damage. Many tried to argue for the removal of the video and a public statement that it had been faked in an attempt to clean up the mess it was causing. However, while few fought vigorously to keep the information public in order to assist the Stacks, a majority knew that doing so would cause more harm than good.

Whether it be for better or for worse, the Senatorial Summit ended without any proper decision from the nation’s leaders, leaving it up to the individual provinces to decide how they wanted to go about the situation until the next summit meeting two months later in May.

Flor’s provincial government would be meeting that day to decide just that, as Senator Logan Winchester was due back from his trip to the capital. 

As the city of Faun raged on miles away, the Stacks droned on near peacefully with daily life, unaffected from the truth they had been born with. Roman sat among them in a steel hut, sitting around a dirt fireplace and eating bland broth made from river trout. The family he was staying with was a makeshift one of people unrelated by blood, living together to survive. Seeking to understand exactly what he hadn’t before about these people, Roman made it a point to visit with them every morning before work.

His host family consisted of a crippled old man who could not walk, a young couple with a child on the way, a middle-aged widow who had long since lost her children, and the familiar face of Hoa and her infant, Pearl.

According to her, most families in the Stacks were surrogate, as it was far too common for a mother to lose their young child, or for a child to lose their parents. It was even more common for young mothers and parents to move in with older, more experienced women who could help care for their children, especially during the child’s infant and toddler years, when it was most common for them to pass away.

Life with his host family was fairly the same each day, following a simple pattern: Alyssa, the other young woman in the family, would boil a pot of water to bathe everyone with an old rag; Janice would then make fish stew broth for breakfast with that same water; all while Hoa took old man Sam out to use the john, with Pearl swaddled against her back. 

After breakfast, Don, Alyssa’s partner, would go out and look for scrap metal to sell in the lower districts, particularly in district eleven. Alyssa and Janice would wash other stackers' clothes in exchange for food, recyclable items that could later be sold in district 12, or for one copper piece per article of clothing. Hoa, on the other hand, would leave and go to an elderly woman’s crate to keep her company and make clothes to sell with her. Roman recognized the elder as the woman who stowed them away before the raid, named Dolores, who coincidentally was also a close friend of Virgil.

In the hour or two he spent with these two women each morning, Roman listened to their stories, learning all he could about what it meant to be a stacker. As someone who lived almost half a century there, Dolores was chock full of a variety of different tales about all she had been through throughout the years.

Roman did this because he knew what was soon coming,  now that Logan was finally back. The council and cabinet would meet to decide the course of action to take regarding the Stacks. Since the reveal, not a single province has officially come out with a stance or plan. All eyes were on Flor, as the province that started it all. It put a lot of pressure on the officials there to not only make a quick decision but the right decision. 

Whether or not he would be able to persuade the sticklers on the council to decide in favor of the Stacks may very well depend on these stories and first-hand accounts.

“-I was only nineteen when dat happened. You should’a seen dat man’s face. Ha! Never thought a little lady could beat ‘em to a pulp like dat!” Dolores laughed, recalling the first time she had to physically fend off a man trying to kidnap her. And, despite the worrisome subject of her story, she smiled proudly and laughed as she thought back, puffing up her chest a little. “Back when I lived in my little mountain town, I would help my daddy chop wood for his timber business. I used to hate the labor, but I sure grew thankful for the strength it gave me later on.”

“Mountain town? Does that mean you’re from Ferndale or Sprucewood?” Roman asked, surprised that someone from such a rural part of the province would be there in the Stacks just miles out of the capital city.

“Yes sir, born and raised in Sprucewood, came here when I was just fifteen,” Dolores answered plainly, too plainly.

Although the simplicity of her words made the ordeal sound like a regular family move, Roman knew that it had to have been far more traumatic. He was hit with the realization that a good percentage of the population there had been practically abducted by the authorities and forcibly moved here without any explanation or reason, led away under the guise that they would be taken care of and promoted in life and fortune. 

Millions of people, not only there in Flor, but across the entire nation, had been trapped and killed for over half a century, and without anyone being none the wiser. It was sickening and disturbing, but the worst part was that he had helped to carry it out.

“I think the public really needs to hear this, you’d be a big help in telling the populace about life here,” Roman said to the old woman.

“Thanks for the offer, but I’ve never been one for large crowds. I just may cuss out those big fellas in front’a everybody!”

“If you want someone to represent us, I’d say either Virgil or Patton are good bets. Virgil is generally well-liked for all he’s done for us, and Patton overall is easy to like and get along with. Besides, the two of them both know very well what life is like here. Not like much has changed in the months they’ve been away.” Hoa suggested,

Roman thought about it for a moment. It would be a good idea to have an actual stacker represent the Stacks instead of someone like him who has only visited a handful of times. Patton would be a perfect candidate for the job, he was trustworthy and had experience in both the Stacks and the city. Virgil would probably be equally as good, if not for the fact that he was ill in the hospital and a highly wanted criminal.

“That boy, he's gone and given me my last grey hairs.” Dolores suddenly piped up, bringing Roman back to the present and out of his thoughts.

“That boy?” He echoed in question.

“Virgil, he's always been the flighty type, but it's been a few years since he tried to run. Thought he went and died, seeing how dangerous his job is and all.” Dolores clarified.

”Tried to run? You mean from Damien?”

Hoa and Dolores shared a wary look with each other, hesitating to answer him.

“It would be better for Virgil to explain it,” Hoa murmured, “but as you should know, Damien wasn't the nicest-”

“Pfft, more like sadistic.” Dolores scoffed.

“-and Virgil tried to run away a few years ago, and I helped him. Back then I was a laundry cleaner and went to wash people’s clothes every day. We weren't close back then, but he offered me payment so I agreed to sneak him out in my cart, but Damien found out and we were captured. As punishment, I was sold to one of Damien’s closest colleagues.” She said grimly, her brows furrowing as she stared intently at her lap. Her face was sullen but held no trace of anger or bitterness.

“He blamed himself for what happened, even though I never did. I agreed to it and knew the risks. For a while he refused to look at or talk to me, I guess it was too painful. But last year he started talking to me again and we became friends, he even managed to convince Damien to release me, though I don't know-how. It's because of him that I'm free again. He's been a good friend to me.”

Hoa smiled lightly, and Roman did the same, looking down at his hands as he thought back to his own relationship with Virgil. It would have been hard to believe in a kind and gentle Virgil if not for the moments he shared with him. Looking back, Virgil had plenty of reason to hate him, and he wouldn't blame him if it turned out that he actually did, yet he was still so kind, in his own crass, sarcastic way.

He held much hate and anger in his heart, but not without reason. Roman didn't believe he could ever actually hate someone without just cause. So when he was told stories of how far Virgil went for the sake of others, Roman knew without a doubt that they were true. 

Virgil dislocated his arm to save him from a fall from death, sacrificed himself to save Patton and him from Calhoun, and stopped Damien before he had a chance to kill him. Although he once thought of Virgil as misguided and dangerous, he now knew that he had in fact been the misguided one.

“Yeah, he has.” Roman smiled fondly.

After an hour spent in the Stacks with Hoa and her surrogate family, Roman left to return to the office before the meeting at ten in the morning. Pulling into the gated parking lot was a mess as his car got hounded by reporters and protesters. Gate security worked hard to help him pass through, but it took five minutes longer than usual to pass through due to the crowd. 

Once he went into the building the high tension of the outside astronomically increased. Everyone's stress levels were high as secretaries and assistants ran around in a heated craze. Roman swam past them and went into the elevator to go to his office floor. Once he was in and alone, he let out a breath and relaxed, then the elevator dinged and the doors opened, and an even greater wave of stress came, only this time it was solely directed at him.

The moment he stepped out onto the floor, every eye was on him, with hot glares of bitterness and contempt. Roman swallowed his spit and avoided their gaze, keeping his head high as he made his way to his office. It had been like this every day since the video was released on national news. Even with his face hidden, everyone in the local government building recognized his voice. That meant that all the stress and anger from his colleagues had been pinned on him, especially since the citizens had yet to call him out specifically and had even begun to herald him as the hero along with Logan since he had revealed the truth to the public.

As Roman went to his office, all the other members of the Senator's cabinet watched him with sharp eyes drilling into him. Roman reached his door and began to go in, but was stopped when a rough hand landed on his shoulder, holding him back.

“Aren't you going to apologize?” The Provincial Governor, Chad C. Lewis, who was left in charge while Logan was away at the summit, asked.

“What for?” Roman asked, not sparing him a glance.

“Don’t play stupid Sanchez, your little backyard excursion is the whole reason we're in this mess. If you had just kept your mouth shut we all wouldn't be threatened with removal!” Abigail Dubois, the Lieutenant Governor, who took over the Deputy Senator's role, accused angrily.

“My condolences to your risk of demotion, but I like to think the death of millions is more important than your salary rate,” Roman spoke calmly, a hint of attitude lingering in his voice.

“Cut the self-righteous crap, the only reason you’re acting so calm is because the public is okay with letting you off with a slap in the wrist. You wouldn't be so calm if you had to go through what we are.” Chad seethed,

“Maybe, but I stand by my previous statement if you have any further complaints with the way people are reacting, take it up with them. I'm sure they'd be thrilled to know that you'd prefer the death of innocence over losing your position.” Roman bit back, ripping his shoulder from his hold and retreating to his office. 

“Excuse me.” He dismissed himself and shut the door behind him, leaning against it once he was finally alone. Taking a moment to regain himself before stepping away to his desk to sit down.

Roman had never been popular with any of the other officials since he had risen to his position from a lowly police officer simply because he was a friend of Logan. Many of them though he was under-qualified, and, to be honest, so did he. Roman had never expected to be a politician, his only goal was to one day be raised to be the police chief. That fact rang true when he began to devote most of his time to arresting Virgil than focus on his duties as Head of Security, acting more as an officer than an official. He had even considered resigning after Logan's term was over. However, things were different, and the consequences of him stepping down could be catastrophic for the stackers who he held in favor.

This job was a stressful one, it wasn’t what he had aimed or planned for, nor was it where he truly belonged. No matter what, Roman would still be a police officer at heart and prefer to work out in the field than behind a desk. But for the sake of others, Roman would keep his position as long as necessary to ensure their safety and rights.

A small knock sounded at the door and, before Roman could tell them to enter or leave him be, it opened and Diana walked in.

“Not now Ana.” Roman sighed, dismissing her to return to his paperwork. The next thing he knew, he was hit on the head with a binder. “Ow! What was that for?”

“For being late to work again and giving me more work to do.” She said, missing her usual angry, flustered expression. “Are you alright?” She asked.

“It doesn't matter right now, all I need to do is help the stackers still imprisoned.” He said plainly, dismissing her again.

Diana didn’t move from her spot and continued to watch him from across the desk. Roman, tired and expecting her usual ridicule, opened his mouth to dismiss her again but was beaten to the punch by his oddly melancholy assistant.

“Well, for what it's worth, I think you're doing the right thing. Even if it's giving me a headache.” She attempted a chuckle, sounding sadder than she should.

Roman looked up at her and finally realized just how tired and worn down she looked. He hadn't thought about it before, but Diana must be going through a hard time because of him. He had always been a cause of stress for her, but Roman had always seen it as playful banter between the two of them. However, this time he could see just how hard it's been for her because of all the trouble the whole situation caused.

Roman half expected her to yell at him, scream and curse him, and quit her troublesome job. Yet she stayed, didn’t get openly angry, and even supported what he was doing. It both surprised and touched him.

“Thanks, Ana.” He said gratefully, giving her a genuine smile.

“You’re welcome.” She waved him off, being the one to dismiss him this time. “Your next meeting’s in fifteen.”

…

Logan got barely any sleep last night, and not only because his flight took off at five in the morning and gave him heavy jet lag due to the two hour time difference, but because he was, at last, returning to his home province, and his excitement had kept him awake through the night.

He and Joan took advantage of the three-hour flight to sleep until they landed, seeing as they would have a highly important meeting as soon as they arrived. Logan loathed the idea that he would have no time to rest after his flight before he had to return to work, but he accepted it nonetheless. After all, the outcome of the meeting could very well determine a major turning point in their nation’s history.

Thankfully they flew in a private jet so the sleep wasn’t too uncomfortable, even so, when Logan was awakened by the impact of the plane landing on the runway his head pounded lightly from the built-up cabin pressure. 

Ahmed waited for them outside the plane, standing beside the black town car he always drove, flanked by two police cars. Once Logan reached the bottom of the airplane’s stairs, his long time driver and guard walked over to greet him.

“Good morning, Master Winchester, I hope you’re well?”

“I will be once this mess is over,” Logan replied, walking with him to the car, Joan following close behind yawning. “How have things been at the manor in my absence?” Logan asked, trying to discreetly get as much information on Patton without being too obvious about it.

“It was quiet and calm for the most part. However, as I’m sure Elise had already informed you, Chef Patton has recently been admitted to the hospital for untold reasons.”

Logan, in fact, had heard nothing from his butler about Patton’s situation, she hadn’t even told him that he was in the hospital. Roman had been the one to tell him everything and even went as far as to send him the hospital address and his room number. Logan, however, didn’t state any of this and instead let it all go, choosing instead to focus on the meeting that would soon follow.

As soon as Logan and Joan had seated themselves in the back of the town car, their luggage safely tucked into the trunk, Ahmed drove them off the runway and to the main road, where two more police cars joined the other two already accompanying them. Logan thought it was a bit much but didn’t vocalize his opinion.

Taking out his tablet from his briefcase, Logan opened up his notes app to arrange and organize his speech and arguments, along with his counter-arguments, highlighting links to data that would serve to back him up factually. Besides him, Joan yawned loudly and stretched their arms, pushing them into Logan’s personal space, making him lean to the side to avoid being hit. After they stretched they slumped down in their seat, whistling obviously as they tapped their fingers on the bulletproof car window. 

Logan sighed and set his tablet down on his lap, “Is there something you want to say, Joan?” He asked.

“No, no,” Joan mumbled placidly, “Just wondering how things are with you and your boyfriend, is all.” “Wha- my?” Logan blushed and stuttered, peaking quickly to the front of the car to confirm that the driver’s window to the back seat was shut. “Patton is not my boyfriend.”

“You sure? Because the way you’ve been acting is like a worried husband waiting for his spouse to get back from war.”

“First of all, our nation isn’t currently at war; secondly, I think hearing that my employee is in the hospital is an acceptable cause for concern; and thirdly, if Patton and I were in a romantic relationship, I would consider him as a partner, not something so childish as a boyfriend,” Logan stated firmly, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“Mhmm, well forgetting about your stupid labels issue, are you sure you’re alright? You’ve been really stressed lately, and not just from all the work and political threats. Is everything okay with Patton?” Joan pressed further, losing the sarcastic edge in their tone and sounding genuinely concerned.

Logan didn’t respond right away, turning his head away from his friend to look at out the tinted glass of the car window. He honestly wished he knew what was going on with Patton, what he meant by what he said in the voicemail, why he had only left him a voicemail instead of talking to him directly, and why he was now injured in a hospital. The fact that he didn’t have an answer to a single one of these questions made him feel as though he had been forgotten by Patton, unimportant and swept to the side. Roman, someone Patton had met relatively recently, knew everything but stood by his decision to allow Patton to tell him in person. Which again only made him feel as though he were being discounted by those he considered close to him.

“I’m not actually too sure, but I’ll be seeing him today. Everything will soon be cleared up.” Logan said hopefully, feeling almost no emotion to back up his optimistic statement.

Joan nodded and let the conversation drop, allowing Logan to return to his speech preparation on his tablet for the duration of the car ride to the provincial office building.

The car ride didn’t last too long after that, only about ten more minutes passed before Ahmed was pulling up to the security gates in front of the building, and it was then that Logan no longer thought of the four police cars as overkill. At least ten security guards came to conduct crowd control over the overzealous reporters and determined protestors who attempted to swarm the town car, yet it still proved to not be enough. Nine police officers then exited three of the following cars to assist in holding the crowd back, while the final car followed closely behind as they entered government property to assure that no one snuck in after them.

“Glad we get a warm welcome,” Joan said sarcastically, staring out the windows in awe.

Logan hummed next to him, leaning back into his seat without paying too much mind to the mixed crowd. 

Ever since he had been voted into office Logan had grown used to the media and public’s negative opinion of him. Winning the popular vote by a small margin meant that there were plenty of people who stood against him. There were always weekly articles on something he did or said taken out of context or magnified in order to stir the masses against him. The tabloids and main networks’ main complaint was that he was too radical in comparison to the previous senators and that he didn’t like to cooperate with the council and struck out on his own too much. Nothing he said ever mattered to change the story they sold or clear his name, so he learned to simply ignore their gossip and focus on his work and goals.

However, it was no longer a viable option to remain quiet to the public. The people were confused and angered, demanding questions that he must answer. All those who supported his campaign stood by him, eagerly waiting for a decision to be announced and further clarification about his announcement back in Clover. While those opposed accused him of fraudulence and deception.

Logan knew that the public could never be completely sedated and that no matter what not everyone would agree with his stances or dealings in office. However, he knew that what he was doing would make a difference for the thousands living and suffering in the Stacks. So, even if it meant that he wouldn’t be voted in for another term, Logan would do everything he could to make sure the amendment to free them would pass while he still had the power to do so.

The car came to a stop in front of the building’s steps, standing idle for the senator and deputy to exit out. Bracing himself with a deep inhale, Logan pushed his door open and stepped out of the car, rounding the trunk and heading into the building, Joan walking side by side with him. As soon as he walked in, his secretary bounded over, tablet in hand.

“Welcome back, Senator Winchester, I trust everything went well in Summit.” Jonathan greeted, tagging along as they made their way for the elevator.

“Well, nothing ever goes well in politics, especially when everyone’s in one room,” Logan replied as the elevator door closed, pressing the button for the fifth floor. “How’s it been on your end, Jonathan?”

“Hectic, sir. You managed to stir up a ruckus without even being here. Although I wouldn’t put it past you to do so.” Jonathan said back, a smug and familiar grin on his face.

Logan huffed out a laugh, “Yes, I suppose I’m always creating a ruckus for you, aren’t I?”

“Ever since I was an intern.” He agreed with a chuckle.

The metal sliding door opened to the designated floor, and the three men stepped out into the wide hall, heading down for the conference room the meeting was set to take place in. When they entered, all members of the council and his cabinet were already present, sitting in their seats and discussing amongst themselves. At the sound of the door opening, they all turned and looked over in their direction, all talk silencing.

“Welcome back, Senator Winchester.” Councilman Winston Evans, the representative of the fourth provincial district, greeted him from his seat at the large, donut-oval table. “We’re all so glad to see you in good health.”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Logan replied bluntly, not giving any leeway to the man’s usual conniving flattery.

“It’s about time as well.” Councilwoman Lillian Kowal, of the fifth district, chastised, keeping her head turned away from him in contempt. “That little stunt you pulled in the capital has caused trouble for all of us here.”

“You watch your mouth when speaking to the senator!” Cardinal Justice, Adam Provonost, of his cabinet, jumped up from his seat, just as hotheaded in his defense of Logan as he always was.

“I’ll consider it once he sorts out this mess!”

“Why you-”

“Enough,” Logan interrupted, settling down into his seat at the head of the table. “Thank you for your concern Cardinal Provonost, but Councilwoman Kowal is correct. Our first and foremost priority is the media stunt in the capital. I assume I don’t need to go over specifics for any of you to understand what I’m speaking of?” Adam gave no verbal response but sat back down in his seat. When no one else responded, Logan continued on with his explanation. 

“Although I prefer that it wouldn’t be, this meeting shall be the first of many until we can decide on an agreeable course of action to take in regards to the latest concerning the Stacks and the several tens of thousands living there. Up to this present time, we as a society and government have been told that the Stacks was a high-security facility meant to house high-class criminals from society. However, as you can see in this presentation, these images taken in the Stacks tell a different story.”

Logan tapped on his tablet and threw up the images sent to him from Roman upon the three monitors that hung above their heads in the center of the table. Several of the present members openly gasped at the images, while the rest looked on in either distraught or disbelief. Logan kept a close eye on how each of them reacted and made a mental note to each one.

“Tch, can we really believe these images though?” Governor Lewis questioned arrogantly, “We all know that Head Sanchez took these photos, whose to say that this wasn’t all staged by him and yourself in a hunt for power. You practically handed him his position, after all, he could be returning the favor.” He accused, shooting Roman a hot glare, which was returned with equal intensity. However, before he or Logan could defend themselves, Adam once again jumped to the senator’s defense.

“You must be brave, Lewis, seeing as how you're accusing the head of the cabinet. If Logan so wished it, he could remove you with the help of our vote, which I surely wouldn’t mind giving.” Pronovost said with much veracity and venom.

“Cardinal,” Logan spoke up again, calming his most loyal subordinate besides Roman. “I bear Governor Lewis no grudge for his words. It is a logical assumption to presume some amount of foul play on my part. However, if you truly do not believe these images, I welcome you to join me later this week in my personal excursion to the Stacks.”

Chad said nothing but offered a nod, sitting back in his chair with his arms crossed. Logan almost narrowed his eyes at his off behavior but managed to keep his composure and his face neutral. The governor had always struck him as a rather odd box, preferring to often do things his way with low regard to the other members of the cabinet. He had been a councilman under the previous senator and was well known for his vast knowledge of the province across all the districts. Logan welcomed him into his cabinet as a new senator because he had the experience he was lacking. Even so, working with him made him suspicious from the get-go. He frequently challenged and even opposed Logan and his stances but never openly made a move to interfere with him or step too out of line. His behavior had a likeness to that of Martha Quinn, except he lacked her talents for subtlety and manipulation.

Logan also took a mental note of council members Lillian Kowal and Xander Bak, who often sided with him, whether overtly or discreetly. Logan was well aware that a secret group among the senators who commissioned the Stacks and kept them enforced existed. But he feared that their influence reached even further into the provincial governments, manipulating each senator in their own home right under their nose.

Presently, he could not afford to delve too deeply into his suspicions, it would only cause to stall their decision making and affect the stackers who waited on them. It would have to be a matter for another time.

“A course must be taken, but first we must decide, do we intervene and free the stackers ourselves, or leave them be?” Logan announced, taking his little slideshow down from the monitor, giving once swift glance over all the council and cabinet members in attendance. “Let us make a decision now.” 

…

When a person is raised in a place filled with the constant, loud noise of violence and yelling, in time, their sense of hearing gains the ability to block out certain sounds and drown out all the noise, or else they’d go deaf. A stacker was able to snuff the sound of a toppling stack as though it were a mere crunch of an autumn leaf underfoot. And yet, despite that fact, the neverending beep and drill of the machines the nurses in white and blue had Virgil hooked up to threatened to pop his eardrums. Virgil had tried numerous times to smother himself with his pillow to block out the annoying noises, but each time a nurse would come to his aid thinking he was suffocating. Eventually, they caught on and gave him some earplugs, but even those barely helped. Still, he never had to deal with the noise for too long before he fell back asleep.

Virgil had lost his sense of time, but according to the nurses it had been five days since he had been brought in and subsequently quarantined. According to them, he had been suffering from a horrible case of a disease called pneumonia, which explained the persistent cough he couldn’t get rid of no matter how much cough medicine Roman bought for him. 

Overall, the doctors were horrified by his condition after their initial examination. Besides his illness, his body was covered in old wounds that hadn’t healed right, not to mention the terrible lacerations on his back and internal wounds he had received from Damien’s beatings. A follow-up exam showed that he would most likely develop something called arthritis within the next two years from all the stress he had placed on his body from a young age. Once he was released from quarantine he was charged to attend physical therapy in an attempt to prevent that from happening.

Either way, Virgil was constantly fatigued and often slept the entire day, waking for only short periods at a time to eat or use the toilet. The longest he had managed to stay awake thus far was a whole of forty-three minutes, which he was currently on the verge of surpassing.

It was the middle of the day from what he could tell, and he was left to his own devices with a bowl of soup, a chunk of bread and a glass of water placed in front of him to intake. The food was bland and the water tasted too purified, so he mostly left them alone, only taking a few bites and sips here and there.

Breathing alone was a hard-fought task because of his pneumonia, and Virgil had to rely on the tubes stuck to his face that filtered air to him from a small tank beside his bed. His throat had been rubbed sore from his nonstop coughing, which made it harder for his food to go down comfortably. This, as well as his head, held a constant throbbing pain as he fought off drowsiness to stay awake and watch television on the little hospital screen across from him.

He laid almost upright in his hospital bed, watching a nature documentary on a weird creature called an orca that lived in the ocean. The show managed to keep his attention for a while, but his thought always eventually drifted away to unpleasant thoughts of what happened.

A few days ago, Roman had come on one of his visits, and although he wasn’t allowed inside the room, he used the speaker in the glass window that looked into his room from the hallway and told him that Damien was dead. According to him, he had died of his wounds in the ambulance ride to the hospital. Virgil was shocked and didn’t know what to say, so he simply nodded and thanked him for telling him. After years of being terrorized, beaten, and raped, he had almost felt like he would never escape his grasp. That there was nowhere in the world that he could run too where Damien wouldn’t find him. 

But now, six years after he had first sold himself into slavery for Patton’s sake, he was truly free. He could go anywhere he wanted without being held back by Damien’s ownership or Calhoun’s bloodlust. He could do what he wanted and be who he wanted. With enough money, Virgil could even move far away and open his own clock shop. Virgil no longer had to stay in the Stacks, he was free to leave as he wished.

He could, but at the same time, he couldn’t. Even without Damien forcibly keeping him there, Virgil still couldn’t bring himself to leave, not yet at least. His friends, his people, were still trapped there. Even if they are freed as well, as Roman claimed he and the senator were working towards, things would not simply get better overnight. The prejudice and discrimination that many of the people had towards the stackers would not so easily leave simply because the government tells them not to. They have thought themselves superior to stackers for over half a century, and, unfortunately, it could take several generations to completely reverse that way of thinking.

Besides that, the stackers would need new homes, schools, medical treatment, and employment. This matter was far from an easy task, if Virgil were to leave them in their time of need then he’d be no better than those who turned a blind eye to their suffering for decades.

Still, Virgil shuddered at the thought of returning to that place. Even if it was his birthplace and his homeland, the number of awful memories he had tied to there was insurmountable. In order to care for his fellow stackers there, Virgil would have to face his triggers and trauma possibly on a daily basis. It could threaten to engulf him and keep him from recovering.

However, when his thoughts came back to his friends, such as Hoa, who suffered because of him, and her daughter Pearl, who would be forced to grow up at a confusing time of a cultural shift; Virgil found it worth it. At the very least, he could keep his promise to teach Hoa how to make a watch.

As much as he hated the place, the Stacks would always be his home, and his heart would always rest there with its people. Virgil would take measures to ensure his own mental health, but he wouldn’t forsake his people, not like the rest of the world had. That is, he will if Roman decides not to arrest him once he’s out of the hospital.

Virgil chuckled at the thought and fell back asleep, his food barely touched.

…

“Well, that didn’t amount to much.” Roman exasperated with a sigh, twirling his keys around his index finger as he kicked his legs up in a strut to his car.

Logan, walking at his side, gave a short nod, his face contorted in a grim frown.

The meeting had lasted three hours and had, unfortunately, not amounted to anything progressive. The council was still riddled with doubt, and even those in the cabinet seemed reluctant to make a decisive move. In the end, Logan had decided to postpone the meeting until later that afternoon, allow them all to mull it over in their heads, research, and study, and come back with more than just a gut feeling to back their stances. 

“Nevertheless, I mean to amend our current system, even if that means I must twist the arms of everyone in that room,” Logan said after he closed the car door, buckling himself into Roman’s black Audi.

Roman chuckled to himself and shifted his car into reverse, backing out of the parking lot and heading for the front gate. 

“Figured as much.”

Roman had offered Logan a ride to the hospital while he sent his driver to take Joan back to his manor so they could go retrieve their car that they left there two months back before they headed to the airport on the way to Summit. From what he had heard, Logan had also tasked Joan to go to the downtown Faun police department to acquire the police file on the raid last week from Talyn.

The session between the cabinet was scheduled to resume at four, which was three hours away from now. In the meantime, Roman wanted to pay Virgil another visit and buy a few snacks for the road. He had a creeping suspicion that Logan wasn’t going to let anyone leave until they agreed with him, so it would be best to bring food to the meeting for when the hours passed dinnertime.

After, again, spending a few minutes getting past the crowd of reporters at the gate, Roman took the city route to the general hospital on the south side of the city near the ocean. Avoiding both the downtown and highway traffic in exchange for hitting numerous traffic lights. Eventually, they came to a stop at a red light only a few minutes away from the hospital, where an angry group of protesters marched down the street, shouting and waving signs.

“Rats are not men! Keep them in the Stacks! Rats are not men! Keep them in the Stacks!” They all yelled in unison, fervently and aggressively pounding their fists in the air.

The group held at least fifty people, men, and women, all who looked to be well-groomed and poor alike. Upper middle, middle, and upper lower class citizens all paraded behind their desire to keep the stackers locked up where they were. Business owners and shareholders, office and desk workers, along with those in manual labor. Those who wished to keep their superior status and those who felt that their jobs and work would be threatened.

Their signs read heinous phrases like STACK RATS ARE AN INFESTATION or PROTECT OUR JOBS or STACKER RIGHTS = CRIMINAL RIGHTS.

Roman could hardly stand to see the demonstration take place and the heavens practically sang once the light turned green and he was able to pass the mob. Yet, even after they were long out of his sight, it still felt like a heavy cloud had settled over him. 

And what hurt worse than seeing the defamation, however, was the fact that, even if he wasn’t in the crowd, he could have very well agreed with their march if he had not had a change of heart. Hell, he probably worsened it with the law he had proposed back in August, at the start of all this.

“Apathy is a powerful thing.” Logan suddenly spoke up solemnly, glaring straight ahead out the windshield, “Yet, so is empathy. Don’t forget this Roman, we’re doing this because we have empathy for others.”

Roman swallowed the excess saliva in his throat and nodded, understanding what his friend had meant by his words. After all, Logan was in the same boat, he had helped him pass that law against the stackers and opposed them as well not too long ago.

Pulling into the visitor parking lot, Roman parked his car on the far side and exited out. Quickly, he shook off his overcoat and blazer to replace it with a plain red hoodie, accessorizing it with sunglasses and a baseball cap.

“Here,” Roman called, reaching into his trunk to grab a navy blue hoodie and tossed it over at Logan, who fumbled to catch it. “You’re not going to want anyone to recognize you. You can grab a pair of sunglasses from the glove box too.”

“I can’t wear sunglasses over my glasses, Roman,” Logan said in a dead tone.

“Then lose the glasses,” Roman replied simply, closing the trunk and locking up his car.

“I can’t see without them.” He said in an even deader tone.

Roman shrugged and ignored him, jogging over to the path that led up to the main entrance to the visitor center. Having already been there several times before, Roman flew past security check and parted ways with Logan, quickly mentioning Patton’s room number as he headed down the hallway towards the elevators, taking the left that would bring him to a different part of the hospital where Virgil was being kept in quarantine. 

Once the elevator doors opened, Roman checked in at another counter, grabbed a face mask and a pair of gloves, and stated who he had come to visit. Since he was the one footing the hospital bill, as there was no way Virgil could afford to stay with no health insurance, and with no money at all, he had been labeled as his benefactor and caretaker, which allowed him the visitation rights which were usually limited to family members.

Walking down the sterile, white hallways, smiling at and greeting the nurses as he went, he arrived at Virgil’s room, second down from the end of the hall. As he edged closer to the window to his room, Roman quickly noticed Virgil’s still body fast asleep as usual. 

His face and skin were almost as pale as the walls of his room. His body was thin from illness, giving him a fragile look that likened him to a porcelain doll, which reflected the light from the ceiling lamps. Seeing him like this always made Roman feel on edge, as Virgil barely moved as he slept and looked as if he were already dead.

The lights in the room were still bright, meaning that the nurses had yet to notice him sleeping on their rounds so they could dim the lights to help him sleep better. Directly across from his bed, the television flickered, returning to an ocean life documentary from a previous commercial break.

Roman snickered to himself, humored that Virgil still liked to watch his nature shows even while he was stuck in the hospital. It reminded him of all the times he would come back to his apartment to find Virgil fast asleep on the couch with a documentary still playing on his flatscreen. It gave him the idea to download the nature channel app on his television so that Virgil could pause the show and not worry about missing anything if he falls asleep during his watch. 

However, the longer he entertained that thought, the quicker his smile fell away with doubt. He couldn’t be sure that Virgil would wish to live with him again after his release. And Roman wasn’t sure if that was the best course either.

As far as his criminal record was concerned, Virgil was a clean slate. Talyn, by his request, had been able to bend a few rules and work behind the scene to pin the blame for the string of robbery cases onto Damien instead. Considering his record of dealings in gang violence, smuggling, human trafficking, and murder, it wasn’t too hard to accuse him of armed robbery. On top of that, the man was dead and couldn’t refute the claim, finalizing Virgil’s claim to innocence.

That being said, even with a clean record, Roman himself knew the truth to his crimes. Despite the fact that Virgil had been ordered to commit those crimes, it did not excuse him entirely. And, while he did not wish for Virgil to be sentenced to jail or receive punishment, Roman knew that retribution had to be carried out. Justice called for the wrongs he had written to be brought to right, Roman’s crimes as well.

For all intents and purposes, no matter his logic and reasoning, the truth was that Roman had broken the law. He had harbored a criminal, abused his status and power to receive classified information, and obstructed another officer’s attempt to carry out justice, despite Calhoun’s methods and ideals being rather unorthodox. He deserved punishment as much as Virgil did.

So, as a consequence of his actions, Roman would create his own punishment and decided that he would not pursue a romantic relationship with Virgil, not until his sins were atoned. It was his affections for him that brought Roman to ignore and go against his duty, so he would not allow himself to receive what it was he craved. And because he sinned on behalf of Virgil, his crimes would not be atoned until Virgil himself was free of blame.

Living with Virgil would be too much of a temptation. Although he believed he would never do anything that was not consented to, he would be driven crazy by his heart if he were forced to be so close with him and unable to act on those feelings. He would help Virgil find a place to live if need be, but he couldn’t live with Roman.

It was for the best, either way, Virgil needed time to heal both physically and mentally from his entanglement with Damien. The last thing Roman wanted was to cause Virgil harm with romantic or sexual advancements. It was clear that Damien had used such things to abuse him and left him wounded by that demented love. It was possible that if Roman tried anything too soon it could badly hurt Virgil.

Therefore, Roman made a pact with himself then and there to repent and decided that he would simply remain as a friend and source of support, and nothing more. Until the day he and Virgil atoned for their crimes, and until the latter was ready, Roman would wait and bear with his wild affections alone. 

For now, however, Roman would remain at his side continuing to watch over Virgil, monitoring his health and recovery, and continuing to be a good friend to him, as Virgil has been to him.

…

Days passed by slowly for Patton in the hospital ward, especially during the times he was left alone with little to do to keep his hands busy. He tried to watch the television that sat on the wall in his room, but he often found himself quickly bored with the limited shows. He instead wanted to read a good book or cook a warm meal, or perhaps pay a visit to the garden that he noticed outside his window. He almost became stir crazy until Jamie came to pay him a visit on his third day in, bringing his two sons along as well.

Naturally, he had been met with many tears from his sons, crying in confusion, worry, and relief. Thomas practically threw himself at him and very nearly landed on his stomach, almost threatening to rip open Patton’s stitches. His sudden disappearance had terrified them both and they had thought Patton had abandoned them. Hearing that broke his heart, especially since he almost did. According to his doctor, if the knife had stabbed him even a millimeter off, his organs would have been punctured and he would have died. Patton had just narrowly escaped death and he marveled at the fact that he was still alive.

Nevertheless, he was glad to still be there, he couldn’t imagine the impact it would have made on the twins if he hadn’t made it. Actually, he could imagine it, as he was around their age when he had lost his father. It was a pain and anguish he did not wish his sons to bear.

Thomas and Emile ended up staying there with him talking and playing at his bedside until visitor hours ended. Jamie promised to take care of them until he was released from the hospital, as well as promising to bring him a book to read the next day. 

Unfortunately, Patton wasn’t able to see his sons every day as he would like, as they still had to attend school, and the others at the mansion did not always have time to drive them to the hospital for a visit. So, on days like this, Patton resolved to simply read the book he had requested Jaime bring him. 

It was a novel that he had spotted in the sitting room one evening while he had been searching for books on economics. Logan had finished his meal early that night and had walked in and spotted the book he had found. As it turned out, it was one of his personal favorites. The book was a historical fiction about the civil rebellion two hundred years ago. Patton had yet to read it, wanting to focus more on his studies in economics but decided that now would be as good a time as any to finally read the story.

So far, he had read halfway through the story and found it very intriguing. The story followed the life of a young bookkeeper named John Jones, who secretly harbored rebels in the basement of his store and aided them in their rebellion against the old totalitarian government run by dictator Andrew Smith. 

The story and lives of the characters blew his mind, especially since it was all based on historical events that he never knew about. Since there was no formal education in the Stacks, basic national history had long since died off to common knowledge, there was no way of knowing that their country had come from a previously dictatorial state. It made Patton wish even more for an education, he wanted to know everything everyone else did, he wanted what everyone deemed as common knowledge.

“That’s a good book you’re reading.” A voice said suddenly from the doorway, Logan’s voice.

Patton jolted up in his hospital bed in unexpecting surprise and whipped his head over to the door where Logan stood, looking almost withered in exhaustion, but smiling nonetheless.

“Logan!” Patton gasped excitedly, grinning cheek to cheek. He tried to get out of bed to run to him, but the pain in his abdomen stopped him, making him wince. Noticing that he was in pain, Logan ran to him instead, bringing him to lay back in his bed.

“Don’t exert yourself on my behalf.” He told him, pulling a chair over for him to sit at his side. “How are you faring?”

“I’m okay,” Patton said quietly, his smile still present and wide. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“I wish I could have been here sooner,” Logan said earnestly, grabbing his hand in his and rubbing it lightly with his thumb. 

Patton blushed slightly at the sudden move, still not used to Logan’s open and bold affection. It didn’t end there, however, as he was once again taken by surprise when Logan unexpectedly pulled him into a warm embrace. His face was brought to rest gently against Logan’s shoulder, tucked neatly under his chin. Patton felt his face burn heatedly like fire and, although he could not see it, he was sure his face had turned completely red. 

“Patton, tell me, why are you here in the hospital?”

In an instant, all of his prior embarrassment escaped him and he turned stiff as an ironing board in the other man’s arms. Struck with panic and fear, his mouth and throat went dry and words failed him before they could even be formed.

Patton had known that it would eventually come to this, it was only natural in response to his vague farewell and sudden hospital charge. Even so, Patton wished that the question would never have come at all because then he would be forced to reveal himself for what he truly was.

But, as Logan sat patiently beside him, soothingly running his fingers up and down his back, albeit a bit robotically, Patton could feel the ever so slight quiver in his hands. He knew he had burdened the man greatly at his sudden farewell and almost fatal injury, it wouldn’t come as a shock if he learned that Logan had lost sleep over him, although he did not hope for it. Logan deserved to know the truth about what happened and his reasons behind it, Patton only wished it wasn’t so hard to say.

“I… I was stabbed,” Patton confessed, his voice quiet and strained under his tight breath. His fingers reflexively dug further into Logan’s jacket seeking comfort but were left with nothing to hold onto when Logan abruptly jerked away from him.

“What?! Why? What happened?” Logan demanded urgently, pulling away from the embrace to stare directly at the injured man, shifting his hands from their placement on his back to squeeze Patton’s shoulders instead.

He said nothing back, dropping his head down to grimace at his fits balling into the blanket on his lap. Although he had lived much of his life proudly donning his identity he had been born with as a stacker, never caring for the opinions of another against him, in that moment, Patton had been overcome with an intense feeling of shame for who he was and did not want to reveal himself. Especially to the man who took him in and offered him work and a place to live; the man he fell in love with, who’s rank and class was so far above his own. Patton knew that Logan was a kind and generous man, who held no prejudice against anyone, yet his fear of rejection still halted the words in his throat, forbidding them to escape.

“Patton,” Logan pleaded, taking his hands into his, “Please, tell me what happened.” His voice was desperate now, laced with distress and worry. 

Tears pooled over his eyes and appeared glassy, and he began to hiccup from incoming sobs. In a hushed, broken tone, Patton collected enough of himself to respond. 

“Promise you won’t hate me?” He sniveled, holding himself back just enough to stop from outright sobbing.

“I could never hate you, Patton. Now, please, tell me what happened.”

Logan massaged the back of his hands again, soothing him in the midst of his panic and struggle. Taking a few moments to calm himself, Patton tried to focus only on that sensation, counting as he breathed in and out. Once he was ready and able he explained everything to Logan. 

He told him that he had been born and raised in the Stacks, and how he lost both his parents before he reached his teen years, leaving him to live on his own. He recalled the story of how he had come back to the wheelless school bus where he lived to find a young boy stealing his bread, how he took the boy named Virgil in and raised him as his own son. He described the harshness of his life, raising the boy on his own in such an unforgiving place, and how he devised a plan to raise enough money to buy their way out. Then, with hesitance and bated breath, he recounted how that plan inevitably led to his decline in health, causing Virgil to fearfully go to the local gang to beg the boss to save Patton’s life, in exchange for his own.

Patton paused as a heavy sob escaped past his lips, echoing in the open room, and wiped his running nose with his sleeve. A kind hand fell onto his shaking shoulder, encouraging him to continue, so he did.

He explained that he never truly knew what the boy had to endure in his time with the gangster, only that he always looked sad, got angry easily, and always appeared overly conscious of where he was. He revealed the guilt and helplessness he felt over his son’s situation through those years.

Years of worry, concern, and fright for his eldest son went by in short sentences. The adoption of his two youngest boys and Virgil’s sudden reappearance and temporary freedom all passed quickly. He soon came to last year in his tale, when he lost his job in the restaurant kitchen and was unable to find work in the city due to the law that had recently passed back then. 

Patton then told him about Virgil’s sudden decision to help him and his younger brothers escape life in the Stacks, by going to Logan to be hired onto his staff.

Recounting the stress and confusion of adjusting to his different life, riddled with anxiety about being discovered and fear for his son who he left behind, he then told about his son’s sudden return and his unexpected living arrangement with Roman. For the first time in years, he explained how he was finally at peace, having all his sons safe and in one place until Virgil was suddenly taken away again.

After what took about an hour to tell, Patton finished his story with his decision to return to the Stacks, at the risk of his life, for the sake of the son he had abandoned one too many times, as a means to an end and an act of repentance for being the cause of all his son’s pain.

Once his story ended he sat quietly in waiting, waiting for Logan to respond, to be shocked, sympathetic, or even angry. Yet, this time, it was Logan’s turn to remain silent, pensive as he took it all in.

“So, it was to save your eldest son from an abusive situation,” Logan said, more as a statement and not as a question.

“Are you mad at me?” Patton asked nervously.

“To be honest, yes, I am.” Logan confessed in an exhale, rubbing the back of his neck with his palm, popping it, “I’m upset that you didn’t tell me you were from the Stacks until now, and I’m more than a little angry to know that Roman knew before me.” He sighed, but held no bite behind his words, “But more than anything I’m angry that I wasn’t here to help you.”

Patton physically, mentally, and emotionally recoiled as his heart skipped a beat, “Wait, really?” he asked, astonished, fully expecting anger to be directed at him.

“Patton, had I been here I would have been more than willing to assist you in rescuing your son. In fact, if I had known, I would have welcomed your son to stay with us at the manor.” Logan said with utmost sincerity.

Patton giggled softly to himself, although it did not sound happy, “I’m not too sure he would’ve like that.”

“Well, no matter, I would have done anything in my power to make you happy. I’m sorry you had to go through all that, for everything, I wished you had come to me even sooner.” The exhausted senator said, running his hand through the other’s curly chestnut brown hair.

“You don’t mind me being a stacker?” Patton asked, still doubtful despite Logan’s confession. 

“Of course not, I fell in love with you for who you are, and if you’re a stacker, then I love that about you too.”

Patton blinked once, then twice, and nearly broke out in full laughter, instead, he merely held a hand to his mouth and snickered uncontrollably. Logan gawked at him in confusion and slight offense. Waving a hand in front of his face, he quickly excused himself for his rude behavior, laughing still. He knew he was being ridiculous, but he didn’t know how else to react but to smile and laugh.

“What is it?” He asked,

“It’s just- I’ve never heard you say that in person before. It’s different from hearing it over the phone.” Patton said, wiping tears from his eyes as he caught his breath again. 

“Hey, Patton?” Logan voiced, getting his attention again, “I love you.”

Patton smiled at the man in front of him, a real smile, not fake, forced or concealing, it was genuine and contained a true and unrivaled emotion and affection. His life had been filled with worry for the day to day. Days, months, and years had been spent on working to get his next paycheck, avoiding unwanted attention from the gangsters, and protecting his sons from life so naturally cruel and unforgiving. Patton had never thought that a love like this would ever happen, nor did he ever desire it. But, now that he had it, he was grateful for it and never wished to let it go.

“I love you too, Logan.”

They remained like that for a while more, sitting side by side on the hospital bed, leaning into each other, content to simply sit and enjoy each other. No more words were needed, Patton knew they would surely catch up later, but for now, all he wanted was to experience that moment, filled with joy and peace.

After a lifetime of dread, stress, and heartache, he finally had everything he wanted. His sons were free and free to be happy, no longer held back by life or circumstance. His people were bound to get their due and be brought up equally in society, finally given the rights that had been withheld for so long. And he could finally rest in peace, feeling loved by another person.

…

Since the moment the mainstream news networks had first displayed the images of the Florian Stacks, the public turned to the government to take action, and ever since Logan had first made his declaration to liberate the stacks, each provincial government turned to Flor to make the first move. For a week, no progress was made and the entire country stood still with bated breath, waiting to see what Flor would do. Twenty-seven hours passed that the Flor government went on lockdown in a meeting to make a decision. 

Then, on the third of March, the Stack Liberation and Aid Act officially passed with an overall vote of six to four. The next day on the fourth, Logan gave the order for the news to be brought directly to the stackers, as well as immediate nutritional and medical aid. For that, Head of Security Roman Sanchez offered to be there to assist in the distribution of supplies and aid when Logan went to make the announcement.

“Come on, Mister Logan!” Emile whined, hurriedly pulling the senator by the hand towards the hospital entrance.

“I’m coming, I’m coming, Thomas, don’t run ahead on your own!” Logan said, easing one son and then scolding the other.

It just so happened that today was the day Patton was due to be released from the hospital. He had heard that Logan was going to go announce the new amendment and act to the stackers and had begged to accompany him. Logan readily agreed and set out to pick him up from the hospital, but before he could leave his manor the twins and practically wrapped themselves around his feet, pleading to join him in seeing their father out of the hospital. He tried to reject them, not wanting to risk the children’s wellbeing by bringing them with them to the Stacks, even though they had been born there. However, the two were persistent and refused to let him leave until he agreed to take them with him. Eventually, he relented and allowed them to come, but decided firmly that they would not leave the car once they got to the Stacks.

While Ahmed waited with the car in the drop off and pick up zone, Logan walked with the boys into the hospital lobby. The room was busy and filled to the brim with patients and visitors, as per usual, yet it still did not take long to spot Patton waiting for them on the right side of the room, sitting and reading the weekly newspaper.

“Papa!” Thomas and Emile cheered in unison and ran together to their father.

“Heya boys!” Patton greeted them warmly, welcoming them with open arms, kissing their foreheads as he picked them up and spun them in a circle. “Did you come to see me out?”

“We wanted to celebrate your graduation from the hospital!” Thomas explained with a wide grin.

“I’m happy you did.” Patton smiled at his son, messing up the boy’s hair playfully.

As he stood back up from his chair Logan walked over and pushed back the bangs that had fallen in front of his face, placing a quick kiss on his partner’s forehead.

“Hello Patton,” Logan greeted, 

Patton blushed and covered his forehead with his hand, blinking up at him in surprise.

“H-Hey Lo Lo,” He stuttered back,

Logan paused and frowned, his eyebrows furrowing slightly, he had been called that same nickname not too long ago by Martha. It brought unpleasant memories of that woman back to his present mind, ones better left forgotten, such as her declaration of love for him, which he could never reciprocate.

“Is something wrong?” Patton asked with concern for his sudden change in his disposition.

“No,” Logan shook his head, shooing away any and all thought of Martha and regaining his smile, “Just an unpleasant memory. Shall we get going?”

“Are the boys coming with us?” Patton asked him, noting his two sons walking beside them as they left the lobby.

“Not if you mind it,” Logan replied firmly, leaving the choice solely up to him as their father.

“No, it’s fine, it’ll be good for them to go back home.” 

Home. Logan echoed the word in his thoughts, escorting the chef and two young boys to where Ahmed sat in waiting for them. It was still new information to him that Patton and his children were all stacker-born and had lived there their entire lives until the time they came to live with him in Winchester Manor. In fact, Thomas and Emile weren’t even Patton’s biological children and were actually adopted, as was a third son Logan had yet to meet. 

From where he was sitting, watching the family of three interact carelessly and joyfully in the car, he never would have expected them to have come from such a harsh background. It made Logan wonder what their life had been like; for Patton who worked in a kitchen, enduring prejudice and poor conditions; for Thomas and Emile, who went without schooling, fending for themselves in the long hours that Patton was away, working hard to be able to feed them. Logan likened the reason to be because of their childlike innocence, as they were not yet at an age to truly understand the world around them. 

Perhaps if they had come to him a few years later then the twins would have been colder, but as it was, they were still too sweet and kind despite their experiences. Patton, on the other hand, had a strength that was rare in others, and a will that few could equally match or surpass. It was likely his sons’ influence that kept him so loving through his years of tribulation.

The car ride took about twenty-five minutes from the hospital, and the further and further they moved away from the central districts, the more stark the contrast of wealth became. It had been a while since Logan had last visited the lower districts, so the blatant poverty that stood on display in the abandoned businesses and foreclosed houses came as a shock to him. 

Logan thought back to the workers who he had seen protesting a few days earlier and now understood their concern. Their lives were not easy either, and the new prospect of having the government focus attention on another group alienated from their society must have struck a rough chord with them. It was still not a proper reason to not liberate the Stacks, but he could see where their worries came from.

Logan swore to himself that he would not abandon the people of the lower districts either. He’d find a way to help his province out of the economic depression while rebuilding the Stacks at the same time.

Exiting the final district, number thirteen, they arrived at the doorstep of the Stacks, passing over a desolate and disarrayed concrete bridge built over a wide river. Once they passed over the bridge the paved road then ended and gave way to dirt. The road was rugged and bumpy as they ascended up a hill, approaching the large building he had seen from a distance. Only now he realized that they weren’t actual buildings, but piles and piles of old shipping crates stacked on top of each other.

The further they drove the rougher the ride became, eventually flattening out into a large opening where news vans, police cars, a few ambulances, and government vehicles were already parked. Once the car came to a stop, Logan opened the door and set his foot on the foreign soil for the first time. Looking out over the landscape he noticed that, despite the poverty there, it was rather clean, almost no litter in sight. He also noted the curious absence of people, as the dirt streets were left barren of all life.

“Hey Logan, Patton, glad you two are here.” Roman called, running over to them as they made their approach.

“Hi, Roman! How are your injuries?” Patton welcomed back, nodding to where the officer’s injuries were.

“They’re healed, you should be more concerned about yourself.” 

“The doc said I’m all good, just can’t do any strenuous work for a few weeks.”

“Which is why you won’t be doing any work at the manor once we return.” Logan intruded into their conversation then turned to address Roman, “How are things here?” 

“The stackers are a little restless with the sudden police presence. Most of them are hiding in their homes.” He explained, walking them over to where a temporary government camp was being set up in an open space a little ways off.

“Hm, is there a way we can draw them out to make the announcement?”

“Oh, I know! We can sing!” Patton exclaimed straight away.

“What?” Logan and Roman both responded in unison, taken out of the moment by the absurd suggestion.

“Yeah! There’s a song called ‘Girl Alina’ we like to sing on holidays! If they hear us singing it then they’ll know we're here as friends.” He explained eagerly, as though it were a perfectly reasonable course of action to take.

“That's great, but none of us know the song Patton.” Roman reminded him.

“We know the song!” Thomas spoke up, peeking out from behind his father’s leg, his brother Emile standing at his side behind Patton as well.

“Me and my boys can sing. We’re from here, so we can bring the others out of hiding.” Patton said with one hundred percent certainty. 

Logan looked to Roman unsure if they should agree to the offer, Roman shrugged in response, not knowing what to do either. It was a ridiculous proposition, but at that point Logan didn’t have many options to choose from.

“Well, if it works, then go ahead and give it a try.” Logan sighed, gesturing for him to take the lead.

Patton grinned widely and grabbed each of his boys’ hands in his own and ran with them away from the camp, passing through the sea of officers and reporters, and deeper into the center of the Stacks. Once they were far enough in, with all eyes and cameras on the small family, the three happily began to sing out a folkish tune.

“Oh, there once was a girl named Alina, strength and wit like a gorilla! She marched the bridge with sixty men, waving a flag for all her friends!”

The rhythm was quick and choppy, like a jig, and the three began to hop and dance to it. As they did, their voices grew louder, and a few heads began to peak out of the metal crates, curious to who was singing the familiar song.

“Alina, Alina, remember the girl named Alina! Dressed in purple, with a target on her back, gone for glory of the Stacks!” The three chanted with glee, despite the seriousness of the words they sang. 

The family began to spin and jump in a circle, holding hands in a community dance. Slowly, but surely, more stackers began to step out of their homes, some even approaching and singing along.

The people there who came from the city looked around at each other, hesitant on what to do or how to react to the scene unfolding before them. Logan and Roman shared a mutual look. While the latter probably didn’t know the sad history of the rebellion and massacre behind the song, the lyrics in themselves were obvious enough to know the song was about bloodshed, despite its happy sound.

“Alina, Alina, remember the girl named Alina! Shot in red, there she goes! For she lost the war against all her foes!” The crowd sang together in harmony, stepping in together, singing and clapping.  

They cheered and whistled as the song came to an end, the closeness and familiarity between them resembling that of one gigantic family. A few of the stackers ran over to Patton and the twins, hugging and welcoming him back among them. It was a happy scene, but Logan knew that it was only temporary and conditional.

“Heya guys!” Patton called to those who had appeared, “I know I’ve been gone for a while, but I’ve got big news!” He announced with great excitement, turning back towards the onlookers and waving Logan to come over.

Sucking in a quick breath, Logan made his approach closer to the crowd but still remained at a short distance. An officer walked over to him and handed him a megaphone so that all who had gathered could hear him. He now held everyone’s attention, not just that of the stackers, but those at home and across the nation watching the live news recording.

“By declaration of the Province of Flor, and by the power invested in me as its senator, I, Logan Winchester, pronounce the Stacks and all its people as, henceforth and forevermore, a free land. All who dwell in the territory discerned as stack encompassing is to be set on equal rights and merit as all law-abiding citizens dwelling outside it within the Province of Flor. All citizens of the Stacks are hereby given equal rights to education, medical and financial assistance, and impartiality in all possible future law dealings, as well as the liberty, to move beyond the borders of the stacks into all lands within Flor Provincial boundaries. Any previous laws or acts that go against the aforementioned rights are now declared null and void.”

Logan paused in his speech to gaze out into the crowd and saw little reaction or celebration. The stackers looked at him confused and then looked to each other for guidance. Logan hadn’t expected any big or loud commemoration in response to his public reading, but he was slightly offset by the lackluster response. Even so, he pushed on and continued with his speech.

“I am deeply sorry for what all of you have had to endure. I know that the words of a mere stranger mean little to ease that pain, nor does it excuse what has happened and been happening here. However, change is coming to the Stacks, and I am willing to work with you here to make those changes.” Logan apologized earnestly, both for himself and on behalf of the rest of the nation.

The stackers’ reaction to his honest words had been akin to their previous one, quiet, timid, and unresponsive. Logan was at a loss for how exactly to take it from there to extend his aid, however, before he could say anything else, a man stepped out from the crowd and spoke up.

“Patton.” The man in the crowd called, ignoring everyone else to walk straight over to stand before him, “Can we trust this guy?”

All attention then swiftly went to Patton, who still remained in the center of his people. Logan looked to him for help as well and, although he looked a little taken off guard and nervous, he still gave a warm and confident smile.

“Yes,” He said confidently with clear conviction, “Trust me, as someone who grew up here like all of you, life is about to get better, for all of us. Alina’s dream is finally coming true, we’re getting our freedom at last.”

The man stared at him for a moment longer, searching him for any hint of falseness, and then smiled back when he could find none.

“Alright then,” The man said, breaking the silence once more, “let’s see it happen.”

Once the two reached an agreement to trust the strangers from the city, the rest who were gathered around relaxed and accepted them as well. It was clear that both Patton and the man who went to him were respected and well trusted by the rest.

The man who spoke, who Logan was later introduced to as Ravi, volunteered to assist Patton in escorting and advising the government officials. Logan welcomed him readily, needing the advice and perspective from the native stackers on how to correctly go about reformation. Four stackers were selected by Ravi from the crowd to act as messengers and were sent off to different sections of the Stacks to spread the news and ease any possible panic. An additional twelve were chosen by Patton to assist the visiting medics and officials in any work they needed to get done.

In the next few hours, three tents were set up to function as temporary clinics. At the suggestion and okay from Patton, stackers began to slowly creep over to the clinics for examinations and to receive some medicine. There were only about seven medical workers present in all three tents combined and they soon became overrun by patients who needed attending. It became increasingly clear that an actual medical facility would have to be built in order to hold everyone in need.

Roman spoke with a few other stackers in regard to the population, attempting to set up a proper method to take a census of the Stacks for future reference when it came to government benefit assistance.

While all of that was being conducted, Logan received a tour of the Stacks from both Patton and Ravi. As they went, Logan listed different ideas for how to go about the reconstruction, starting with the building of homes. Patton agreed with him on the importance of better, safer homes but also pointed out the need for a school, while Ravi wanted a proper cemetery and hospital clinic to be built as soon as possible. The three spent the rest of the day walking through the Stacks and deciding places for each new building and plans to house Stackers while they build the homes. Ravi suggested that the foliage near the river be cleared away for space to put tents while the stacks of metal crates were removed and homes were built. 

The day went by rather fast, and not as much work as Logan would have wanted was nearly completed. A few volunteer workers offered to stay overnight and continue to help in the clinics, but the majority of those who came that day, namely the reporters and police officers, took their leave once the sun set. Logan wished he could stay well into the night, as did Patton, but both of them knew that Thomas and Emile needed to return to the manor to eat dinner and rest, especially as the nightly temperatures dropped once the light of the sun disappeared over the horizon.

So, with a goodby and a promise to return to Ravi and the others, the four of them loaded back into the town car and returned promptly back home. Thomas, who had spent much of the day with who Logan assumed were old playmates, promptly fell asleep on his father’s lap for the duration of the ride, while Emile stayed awake to talk with the two adults about what they were doing that day in the Stacks.

Once the car pulled safely into the driveway, Logan relieved Ahmed of the rest of his duties for that night and accompanied Patton up the stairs into the miniature mansion. When they entered they were welcomed warmly by Jamie, who informed him that dinner was prepared and waiting in the dining hall. Logan thanked the young man for his work and turned to Patton, welcoming both him and his sons to dine with him that evening. Patton, still holding a sleeping Thomas in his arms, opened his mouth to answer but was rudely interrupted by Elise, who then walked into the foyer, descending from the dark velvet staircase.

“I think that would be unwise, Master Winchester.” She spoke boldly, coldly, her eyes pinning Patton down with a pointed glare. “A simple worker should eat in the kitchen, where he belongs.”

Logan took a purposeful step in front of his partner and the children, equating Elise’s gaze with a glare of his own. “Patton, would you take the boys and wait for me in the dining hall?” Elise scoffed at his words, attempting to take a step around him, but Logan moved with her, keeping up his blockade.

“Oh, o-of course.” Patton stuttered, hurriedly shuffling himself and the boys out of the foyer and down the main hallway away to the dining hall. Elise tracked his movement like a hawk eyeing its prey, grumbling to herself once he exited out of sight.

“You did not alarm me that Mister Sanders had been placed in the hospital, nor did you tell me of how he fared.” Logan hissed once he heard the doors to the other room shut behind him.

“Master Winchester, if I may be so bold, you should not allow yourself to be so intimate with someone of such a low station. A stacker, really?” His butler laughed in disdain, raising an eyebrow.

“How did you know that about him?”

“Surely you must be aware that he was filmed live today, singing peasant songs with riff-raff and commoners.” She leveled him with an unimpressed look.

“So, you would have me forsake my pursuit with Patton because of his status?” He bristled, seething in anger and offense on Patton’s behalf.

“I am merely reminding you of your position and status.” She replied calmly, “Your father hired me to care for you when you were a child. He has always desired for you to wed an heiress of similar standing. Is there not a young lady you could see yourself pursuing instead of Mister Sanders, another senator perhaps?”

His nose twitched in annoyance at the suggestion, as all other senators were at least seven years his senior, if not more, already married, or not appealing to him. Logan didn’t even entertain the idea of Martha Quinn or mention her name, as he knew his father would push him to wed her if he ever discovered her interest in him, regardless of his opinion on the matter.

The man had always been like that, forcing him to study in politics from a young age, refusing to let him attend a public school, or even entertain the idea of letting him have friends. His mother, bless her heart, had no more influence in changing his mind than Logan. From his youth and into the beginning of his political career his father had controlled his every decision, and now he had the gull to attempt to control him still.

“Father always wanted me to be something I’m not, I wasn’t even allowed to choose my profession, now he wishes to control my love life?” Logan said in exasperation, throwing his hands up in the air and turning away from her, pacing back and forth in a small line.

“And look how far you have come, the senator of Flor!” She said in wonder, “We both know that you are comfortable with both sexes, can you not simply concede to him in this simple matter?”

“Ah! there it is!” He turned on her with an accusatory finger. “That disregard and lack of heart for my wants and desires, just like my father. My heart is not a simple matter. Let it be known, Elise, that I intend a full courtship with Patton, regardless of the fact that it has no monetary or political gain.”

“Young Master, please consider your actions carefully.” Elise warned.

“Or what? You’ll tell my father of the relationship? You may tell my father if you wish, I do not care. He can throw me out of the manor, write me out of his will, and even forsake me as his heir. I used to think of you as a friend, Elise, but if you continue to stand against me on this, I will not hesitate to replace you.” Logan declared, reaching near hysteria as his voice level raised beyond his control.

Elise stared back at him widely, as though she had been slapped by his words, and stumbled back in her place. Then, her face contorted in bitterness and anger, appearing almost wickedly.

“Very well, since you appear to be too dull to realize what it is you are risking, I'll take my leave back to your father's estate. I cannot stand to be under the same roof as that pack of rats any longer.” She shouted furiously, stomping back up the stairs to her quarters, most likely to pack her things. ”Your father will hear about this!” 

He watched her retreat up the staircase, feeling a bit winded from the dispute, yet oddly proud of himself. It was a shame to lose Elise as his butler and aid. She had proved to serve him well through the years and remained a great source of help. However, her innate flaw rested in the fact that he had not chosen her, she had been assigned to him, and therefore her loyalties laid split. Nevertheless, he could not stand for such bigoted thinking and behavior, especially considering his work to remove it from society.

In the end, he will surely mourn the loss of skill and fond memories, but not the person.

Dinner that night had been awfully quiet. Even the young boys went the entire meal without hardly making a peep. The atmosphere was thick and heavy with words that needed to be voiced but were left unsaid. 

Patton sat with his head drawn down the entire time, refusing to meet Logan’s eyes, his somber face full of shame and his posture like a child who had been scolded. It saddened Logan to see him in such a way and he decidedly refused to let him remain that way. So, once the meal was done and over with, Logan requested that Patton meet him in the sitting room once he had finished putting Thomas and Emile to bed.

Jamie had come just as they cleared the way to gather the plates, as Logan had requested him to do to keep Patton from doing any strenuous work until the hole in his stomach was fully healed. Logan thanked him as he left but knew that his housekeeper couldn’t keep up with the added work indefinitely. He planned to hire additional help for the time being, as well as a new butler as of that night.

Switching on the dim lamp in the sitting room, Logan lit a small fire in his gas fireplace, the room being chilled by the late winter night air that managed to seep through the outer walls. He fixed two glasses of champagne at the small bar at the other end of the room and set the music on his retro stereo to a low volume. Logan usually wasn’t one for music or alcohol, but it had been a tiresome day, and he hoped that it would help to cheer up Patton as well.

He sat in his usual chair under the lamplight as he waited, resting his head with closed eyes as he listened to old music from his childhood and teenage years, occasionally taking a sip of his glass. Slowly the tenseness in his body began to unwind and his thoughts soothed over. By the time Patton had finally made his appearance at the door, Logan had lost track of how much time had passed in his wait.

Patton gave him a nervous look as he stepped into the room, looking as though he didn’t want to be there and would rather leave and be alone; and while Logan would never want to force Patton to do something he didn’t want to, he had to put a foot down this time since he knew things would only grow worse if he let this issue be. 

Inching over with dragged feet, Patton took his place in the empty chair beside Logan, taking the glass of champagne with a small ‘thank you’ when it was offered. The two sat together for a moment without conversation, listening to the quiet melody of the stereo and the mechanical hum of the fireplace.

“I don’t know how much you heard of Elise and I’s conversation, but I assume you heard at least some part of it.” Logan eventually stated, interrupting the calm ambiance of the room.

“Yeah, I did.” Patton mumbled, “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t apologize. You’ve done nothing wrong. Elise had this coming for quite some time considering her derogatory behavior towards you since your arrival. I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with such conditions all this time.” Logan said, reaching out to hold his hand.

“But she’s right.” Patton pulled away, his voice cracking as his eyes began to weld up with tears, “I can’t offer anything for you. I’m homeless and jobless without you. You have nothing to gain with me.”

“I have everything to gain with you.” Logan emphasized, turning his entire being towards the other, “My father has strung out my every action since I left my mother’s womb, but now I get to make my own choices from now on.”

Logan reached out to him again, this time to wipe away the tears that had fallen from his eyes. Patton flinched away again, more so out of reflex than deliberate slight as he gently brought himself back into his gentle touch a moment after, heaving a relieved sigh as Logan cupped his cheek in his palm.  

“Patton, I choose you.” He said honestly, with a firm promise behind his words. “I can’t promise that a relationship with me will be easy. I have many enemies, both in politics and now in my own family, but if you will have me I am willing to give you all I can.”

A watery smile pulled at Patton’s lips as more tears, now of joy, began to stream down his cheeks and a breathless sob was pushed out of his lungs. On an impulse, Patton swiftly leaned forward over the arm of his chair and caught Logan lips in a wet kiss. Caught off guard, Logan stumbled back a bit and grabbed onto Patton to steady themselves, but Patton paid no mind to their near fall and only sunk deeper into him, and Logan drew into him as well. The kiss was gentle but passionate, needy but patient, and it was their first real one.

A vast eternity passed within an infinitesimal moment as they were joined together until they, reluctantly, pulled apart, breathing heavily. Logan placed their foreheads together, relishing in any kind of touch he could get. Patton leaned into the touch as well, smiling and laughing to himself in joy.

“I just want you.” Patton breathed, his glasses fogging up slightly as he did so.

“Then that is all I want from you too.” Logan replied, removing both of their glasses to pull him into another kiss.

...

The morning of the sixteenth day had started early at seven when Virgil would rather be asleep. After over two full weeks of battling a terrible case of illness, he began to slowly recover and regain both his strength and body weight. The doctors decided to test him again and found that his body had finally built up antibodies against the disease. So, because of that, they decided to move him out of the quarantine ward. Virgil didn’t really care where he was in the hospital, as long as he had the television.

The move from the I.C.U to his new room in the regular ward took a little longer than Virgil would have liked, but within fifteen minutes he had been transferred to his new, smaller, room where he would remain for the duration of his stay.

Once he was moved into the new room, he was helped into a shower, given breakfast, and placed back into his bed to rest some more, even though he had done nothing but rest for the past two weeks. He was scheduled to start physical therapy later that day, but that wasn’t until noon, to which the current time was nine in the morning when visiting hours started.

Within the next few moments of visiting opening up, the door to Virgil’s new room was slammed open, causing the recovering man to bolt up in his bed in instinctual fear.

“Vee!”

“Vee’s here!”

His two kid brothers screamed in glee, charging through the doorway and hopping onto his rolling bed, making it shake and creak as they repeatedly jumped on him like wild monkeys. Virgil stared at them, stunned and flabbergasted, hardly registering the bruises that their hopping would surely give him. After a few moments passed, and Virgil was confident that his brothers were actually there and he wasn’t in fact insane, he was able to muster out a comment.

“Woah, what are you two doing here?”

“I brought them.” Patton walked into view through the door, following the path the twins had taken, a strange man tagging along at his side.

“Pat,” He breathed, looking at his dad in mild surprise. It wasn’t a big shock that Patton had come to visit him, but he definitely hadn’t been expecting it.

“Hey kiddo, how’re you holding up?” Patton asked, striding across the room to sit at the bedside chair. The strange man, who was about the same height as Patton, if not a bit taller, with dark chestnut hair and blue eyes, acted as though he were magnetized to him and quickly followed to remain at his side.

“I’m fine,” Virgil looked directly at the man, “But who’s this?”

“This is my boyfriend, Logan Winchester.” Patton explained, smiling and gestured with an open palm to the man behind him. Following courtesy, Logan stepped forward to introduce himself.

“Salutations, Patton has told me a lot about you.” Logan greeted, extending out a hand to him to shake. 

“Sup,” Virgil shook his hand lazily, and then felt an odd sense of familiarity behind his name, “Wait, Pat, isn’t this the guy you got hired by?”

“Uh, yeah he is. He’s also the senator of Flor.” Patton answered, scratching at his pink cheeks shyly.

Virgil jolted a bit in actual shock, pulling his hand back and leaning away from the newly found out politician. Patton watched his distrustful act with a frown, but Logan merely chuckled.

“Don’t worry, I have no intentions of reporting you for your street business.” He said in a soothing voice, as though he were trying to console him.

“My what?”

“You sell watches on the streets, do you not? You sold me one several months back.” Logan informed, recalling something Virgil had no hope of remembering.

Virgil would sell at least a dozen or two watches and clocks weekly back when he was still running his clock making business. Each person he sold to was just another blank face he would forget by the next day. Not to mention that he stopped his business over half a year ago.

“Dude, how’d you remember that?”

I have an impeccable memory.” The senator supplied nonchalantly, flicking his hands as if to signify a change in topics, “My occupation aside, I am glad to finally meet the eldest of Patton’s children.” 

Virgil blinked in surprise for the third time within the past few minutes. He was aware enough to know that he didn’t look enough like Patton to be confused as his brother, let alone his child, not to mention the age difference being a major issue. That would mean that Logan would have to be privy to their situation in order to call him that.

“He knows?” Virgil turned to Patton.

“Yeah, I told him about me.” He replied, watching Virgil’s face contorted in concern, and immediately following up to comfort his troubling thoughts. “It’s okay, Virge, a lot has happened since you’ve been here.”

“I know,” He sighed, falling back into his bed, “It’s just hard to believe.”

Virgil had been keeping up to date with the news, watching it to appease his boredom whenever his nature documentaries stopped playing. He saw the clip play of Patton singing ‘Girl Alina’ with a group of stackers and the clip of Logan announcing the law change to free the stackers.

It had all come as a huge shocker for him, both because Virgil never expected the government to ever do anything about the situation, and he never thought he would see Patton in the Stacks again, let alone helping the government there.

A lot of things had indeed happened while Virgil had been stuck there in the hospital, but it wasn’t just that. Ever since they parted that day in the Stacks for what he thought would be the last time, Patton had changed, as did Thomas and Emile. He didn’t exactly know what it was, but by simply seeing the way Patton held himself, with confidence and security, Virgil knew it was for the better. And perhaps the senator who stood at his side helped give him a nudge. 

Virgil kind of felt a little ridiculous for not recognizing Logan right away, but in his defense, the senator was wearing rather plain clothes and had a bit of a generic face.

“Hey, hey Vee, are you going to live with us now?” Thomas asked, crawling over his legs to cuddle at his side.

“Yeah! You took care of what you need to do, right? So you can come home now?” Emile agreed, remaining seated cross-legged at his feet.

His little brothers looked up at him with wide, expectant eyes, eagerly waiting for him to say yes.

It wasn’t that Virgil didn’t want to live with his family again, in fact, it would be amazing if he could now that Damien was gone. However, despite everything that had happened recently, he still didn’t entirely trust the government and the idea of living under the same roof as the senator made him feel uneasy. Even if he was a good-natured guy, Virgil still didn’t know if he could trust him right away. 

The fact that he was dating his dad didn’t make a lick of difference. After all, Patton was much purer than Virgil. He hadn’t committed a wrong deed in his life, while Virgil, on the other hand, had done plenty to warrant his distrust of politicians and police.

“I- um,” Virgil began but was then quickly interrupted by a thundering voice and the door, again, being slammed open.

“Virgil, I heard you were- oh, everyone’s here.” Roman interrupted, walking in and then freezing suddenly once he noticed the gathered crowd already in the room.

Virgil groaned and threw his head back against his pillow, bringing his hands to cover his face.

The one person able to refute his previous claim of distrust just had to come to throw his argument back in his face before he could even voice it.

“Is now a bad time?” The politician and former police officer asked, 

“No, no, now’s just fine.” Patton piped up quickly and jumped from his seat, gathering his and the boys’ coats, “Come on boys, let’s go get lunch in the cafeteria.” He said to the twins, helping them down from the bed and corralling them out of the room. “We’ll be back in a bit Virge.”

“It was a pleasure meeting you,” Logan said again to Virgil and turned to follow Patton out of the room.

The four of them rushed out of the room as if it was on fire, quickly leaving the two alone. However, before he left, Patton gave Roman a knowing smile and a pat on his shoulder, and Virgil could have sworn that he heard his dad whisper “Good luck” to him as he closed the door. 

Once the door closed and officially left the two men to be alone in the hospital room, a pregnant silence fell over them as they awkwardly stood and sat staring at each other. It wasn’t as if this was their first time seeing each other since the bar raid, but it was the first time they had been able to be so close to each other since Virgil’s admittance, with no wall to seperate them.

“So, you’re over your pneumonia?” Roman broke the ice first, shifting his weight between his feet as he rocked sideways, hands stuffed away in his hoodie pockets.

“Uh huh, the docs said that I should be able to leave within the week,” Virgil replied, fiddling his fingers around in his lap.

“That’s good,” Roman took a seat in the chair beside the bed where Patton had been a minute ago.

Virgil nodded stiffly, shifting in his bed to sit more upright, but kept his eyes remaining on the television, which had been left on through the whole ordeal, previously going forgotten. Roman turned to watch the T.V. with him, abandoning the atmosphere to become even more heavy and awkward.

Almost all of their previous visits had been short and simple, as Virgil had either just woke up or was on the verge of falling asleep again, or Roman was there visiting on a short break from work with little time to chat before he had to leave again. That, including the awkward use of a wall comm-speaker, meant that the topic of that night had largely been brushed aside and untouched.

Still, even if it wasn’t properly addressed, Virgil couldn't help but think of it nearly every single day. It had been his greatest kept secret, one he had hoped he would take to the grave. Even if others in the bar could hear their affairs from the floor below, no one truly knew what had happened between him and Damien except the two of them. It was his greatest shame in life and his worst grievance. Virgil never hoped that anyone would see him while he was in that state, pinned down and helpless, but his dad had seen it and so did Roman. 

The two people he treasured most about, and the only people whose opinions he cared about, and the people he would rather have died before he let them see him shamed. Patton was his father and already had some idea of what was going on, so Virgil knew that he would still keep his father’s affection if he were to see it, but Roman had no awareness or familial duty to him, which meant that he could abandon Virgil if he discovered the truth about him; and he did.

To make matters worse, both of them had gotten badly hurt that night. Patton had almost lost his life from a fatal wound and barely made it through. The only thing worse than the two of them hating him would be their deaths for the sake of him.

“I’m sorry you had to save me.” Virgil murmured under his breath, hanging his down so that his chin rested on his chest, his eyes locked on his hands.

“Don’t be, it was my choice to do it,” Roman responded, taking his eyes off of the T.V. to gaze over at the other.

“But you could have died, Patton almost did die.” He muttered, almost inaudibly, his voice cracked and broken, “And, you saw it.”

His knuckles had gone white by now from his fists so hard, and his untrimmed fingernails began to pierce the skin of his palms, but not quite enough to draw blood. Virgil’s shoulders shook lightly with shivers and, despite his usual uncaring and cold exterior, his eyes began to gloss over. 

Even so, Virgil fought with all his might to suppress his emotions just enough to keep his face neutral. He was sure that his image had already been ruined in Roman’s eyes, all he had left to protect was his fragile dignity.

Then, in the midst of his foggy mind, Roman reached out a hand and placed it over his paper white hands, bringing Virgil’s attention back to him. Roman stared at him with a sad face, not out of duty or grief for himself, but out of genuine worry. 

“Virgil,” Roman said gently, “Patton and I both knew the risk we were taking when we came to save you, and we did it because we care for you. Nothing you’ve done or could do will ever change that, it wasn’t even your choice.”

Virgil shuddered and breathed, overcome with relief that Roman wasn’t disgusted with him, as he had been so sure that. It was rather strange, but Virgil had come to deeply care for Roman and even treasured their friendship. It was odd because even he didn’t think he felt so deeply about him, not until Calhoun had threatened to hurt him if he didn’t go with him, not until he had been trapped once again by Damien and hoped that Roman wouldn’t save him so that he wouldn’t get hurt. Virgil could argue that he owed Roman a debt for saving him from Calhoun, but deep down he knew that something more had begun to grow.

“Thanks, old man,” Virgil said, half grateful, half taunting.

“I’m not that old, kid.” Roman sneered back in jest, a smile back on his face. Finally, the mood had been lifted in the room, and both men were able to relax. “So, what are you going to do when you're released?”

“Aren’t I going to jail?” He joked half-heartedly, almost asking it as a serious question. However, once he saw Roman’s unamused facial expression, he heaved a fake cough and backtracked to answer truthfully, “I’m moving back to the Stacks.”

“Really? But didn’t you just get out?” The politician asked, slightly amazed,

“Well, Damien isn’t there anymore, and it is my birthplace,” Virgil responded, looking out the window to the Stacks in the distance. From where he was it looked like a simple black smudge on the horizon, but it still managed to pry a smile from him. “I want to be there to help rebuild it.”

Virgil recalled his previous acts of rebellion to raise awareness. His stunt at the Johnson Monument, in particular, came back to mind. He used to think that acts of violence and aggression to punish those more fortunate was the only way to help his people. It was ironic that it was actually the government that made the first step to free the Stacks in the end. Virgil wasn’t sure what it was that got them to have a change of mind and heart, but if all politicians were concerned with the wellbeing of each group of citizens equally, not treating anyone as more important or less than another, then perhaps nothing like the Stacks will happen again in the future.

“Alright then, don’t forget that you always have a place to crash with me.” Roman offered him, accepting his decision to go back.

“I won’t, after all, where else am I gonna watch tv?” Virgil smirked, enjoying the annoyed twitch of Roman’s right eye.

“Brat.”

“Idiot.”

“Lazy.”

“Creep.”

“You're still on about that?” Roman asked, a bit annoyed.

“Is my picture still on your wall?” Virgil shot back, thinking back to the weird office room Roman had in his apartment that was covered from floor to ceiling in photos and news articles from past cases.

“I told you that was because I was trying to arrest you!” Roman huffed, his ears dusted in pink.

“Like I said, creep.” Virgil quipped, sticking his tongue out playfully. Roman copied him and rolled his eyes, leaning against the back of his chair with crossed arms.

“Whatever, forget it.” Roman pouted and turned his gaze away.

“I guess I win then, huh?”

“What do you mean?” Roman questioned, peeking over at him through the corner of his eye.

“You never caught me, therefore I win,” Virgil said simply, a wide grin on his face.

Their original game of cat and mouse had been about whether or not Roman would catch and arrest him, or if Virgil would escape and elude incarceration. Roman had practically admitted his forfeit to arrest him, which meant that Virgil had come out victorious in their little game. 

A heavyweight then fell on him as Roman placed a hand on top of his head as if to tag him. Virgil leveled him with an unimpressed look, cocking an eyebrow. Roman chuckled and ruffled his hair as though he were a kid. Virgil swatted away at his hand, blushing in embarrassment, causing a loud chuckle to erupt from the other man since he was the one now pouting.

“Caught you.”

“Cheater.”

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