#usually none of us were sober and one of us would order burgers

[fingertipsmp3]

Like, moving to a big city in September 2020 only to be locked in a house with 4 strangers and basically never see the light of day for nine months was 1) a terrible experience overall and 2) not a bad setup for a horror series of some sort, but also I am nostalgic for a few things from that time

[allicekitty13]

In 1987 Jasper and Alice meet at the local country club. With all the cards stacked against them can they find their way to happiness? 

Read On Ao3

Read On FFN

                     Let em' say we're crazy, I don't care about that.                  Put your hand in my hand baby, don't ever look back.                              Let the world around us, just fall apart.                       Baby, we can make it if we're heart to heart.

"Don't you have a shift today Whitlock?" The voice rousing Jasper from his sleep was accompanied by a dirty shirt being thrown at his head. The man opened one eye squinting against the bright sunshine currently streaming through his window to look at his best friend Peter leaning against the doorframe of his currently open bedroom door.

"Pete," The twenty-one year old groaned. "The fuck did we do last night?" Jasper remembered they'd decided to go out. He remembered Peter and Charlotte going off to do god knows what. Well, the man had a pretty good idea of what but preferred not to think about it. He definitely remembered the line of shots he'd done with his favorite bartender, Mara. But anything after his seventh Alabama Slammer was either extremely fuzzy or a black spot in his memory entirely. Judging by the way his head was pounding, the sick feeling in his stomach, and the intense craving for a nice greasy burger from McDonald's, it was really no wonder why he struggled to recall the events.

"We got drunk." Peter shrugged. "You know, like we do every Friday. But really man, you gotta get up. It's after noon."

"Haven't you any sympathy for the hungover?" Jasper rolled over as he spoke to lay on his stomach wanting nothing more than to close his eyes and sleep the condition off. Maybe to venture to the living room couch at some point and watch re-runs of sitcoms from the 70's on the sole TV in the apartment.  

"Not when I know you have to be at work in an hour. Rent doesn't pay itself, dude." With that, Peter left his friend alone to the misery of a bad hangover. Daring to open one eye, flinching at the still too bright sun, Jasper spared a glance to the digital radio/alarm clock sitting on the messy bedside table next to him. Although blurry, he could faintly make out the time of 2:13pm. That information caused him to awaken, fully sobering up in an instant.

Peter was right; he did in fact, have a shift soon. In approximately forty-five minutes soon. He would have to skip a shower, something his co-workers wouldn't be too happy about operating in such close quarters without air conditioning. That was nothing compared to the fancy customers he served at the country club who didn't exactly need an excuse to complain. Luckily it was Saturday afternoon, and most of his interactions would involve nothing more than shoving cans of Coors or Tab into coolers for the members to take out to the tennis courts or golf course.

Jasper threw on the polo style shirt he kept around specifically for the stuffy dress code required at the establishment and his cleanest, least beaten up pair of jeans. He quickly brushed his teeth and hopped into his beat-up 75' Gremlin hoping to make the thirty-minute journey in twenty.

Fate, as always, wasn't in the man's favor and he ended up being late. Only by about five minutes, but the glare Angela shot him when he finally arrived to take over the bar caused Jasper to feel as though he'd shown up hours tardier than expected. Once the irritated Angela rushed off to god knows where Jasper busied himself with making sure glasses were clean and everything well stocked for when the night shift arrived in five hours.

Of course, Angela being exceptionally organized and great at her job had, as usual, left very little for Jasper to actually take care of. He often wondered why she spent her time working at the club rather than going to college, but at the end of the day, they weren't really friends. The way Jasper saw it, her personal life was none of his business. If she didn't want to share, he wasn't going to ask. So with everything taken care of, the man figured he might as well venture over to the kitchen for a chat with the equally bored cook Emmett.

Jasper liked the slightly older man; he was a pretty solid dude. Emmett was trying to save up enough money to buy his girlfriend, Rosalie, an engagement ring. So a few months ago picked up a side gig working at the club as a fry cook. Emmett was hard-working, funny, and one of the most genuine people Jasper had ever met. They'd butted heads at first, having vastly different upbringing and thus outlooks on life. Still, over the past few months of working together at the establishment, Jasper found himself looking forward to Saturday shifts exclusively for their engaging talks.

Once he'd double checked to make sure there were no more menial tasks to take care of, Jasper swaggered into the kitchen and plopped upon an empty counter, ignoring the way his friend shook his head at the antics. They had a usual back and forth. Emmett warning the other man that if their boss were to walk in, not only would Jasper receive yet another meaningless warning about cutting his hair. Both parties would be lectured on how inappropriate it was for anyone, let alone an employee, to be acting so unprofessional in the workplace.

Of course, Jasper being reckless had received countless amounts of these warnings. The truth of the matter was that employees were hard to keep. High schoolers could only work so many hours, and most adults willing to take on such a job were quickly worn by the entitled attitude the customer's attracted to such an establishment possessed. Needless to say, turnover rates were high. Management couldn't afford to lose anyone for something like a haircut or unconventional seating choices.

So, as always, Jasper kept his place on the counter, chatting with Emmett about their respective weeks. Rosalie had recently taken a job at The Gap for an excuse to spend more time at the mall that her father couldn't argue with. Emmett had needed to replace yet another part on his frequently failing vehicle setting him back yet again on those engagement ring plans. And Jasper's band had finally scored an opening gig at one of the better-known bars in the area. Sure it wasn't headlining, but for the unknown musician, it was a big deal.

After just short of an hour of conversation, Jasper was in the middle of excitedly going rambling about his dreams of getting away from the California suburbs. Of how he wanted to pack up and head down to Los Angeles and the fabled Sunset Strip, when the bell at the bar counter rang, signaling a customer was waiting for his presence.

What he expected was another irritated woman, upset that she'd had to wait more than thirty seconds for another Tab. Possibly even a man who would chastise him because he paid hundreds of dollars for his families club membership. A fact that the members assumed meant they should somehow receive instant service. What he hadn't anticipated was the absolute goddess waiting patiently at the counter.

She was short, with permed chin-length black hair that she teased her fingers through as she leaned against the counter, talking animatedly with a younger girl. When he stepped behind the bar, she looked over at him with a bright, breathtaking smile. The girl uttered only four words, "Two Coke Classics, please." in her high pitched musical voice.  They were spoken pleasantly, and her attention had been redirected to him entirely, in stark contrast to what he was used to. Typically customers would bark their orders in the mans' general direction before immediately resuming conversing with their companions.

It could have been the breath of fresh air that her attitude brought. Potentially the reason may have been how entirely simple Jasper found it to get lost in her clear blue eyes. In either instance, Jasper must have stood frozen, staring for too long as the girl frowned slightly, her eyes glancing up at the nametag clipped to his shirt collar. "Jasper?" She spoke again, concern lacing her words rather than annoyance.

His name on her lips sparked him into action, "My apologies, ma'am." He finally spoke, reaching into the belly cooler behind him for her order with butterflies beginning to swarm in his stomach.

[cordonianchoicesqueen]

Rewritten: The Royal Romance: Date or Tour Guide? (Part Two)

A/N: Really enjoying writing this so far. Can’t wait to explore all of these relationships after they really know each other.

Summary: A day just like any other, apart from a mysterious bachelor party. Riley is introduced to Tariq, Maxwell, Drake and Liam for the first time working as a waitress in New York City.

Choices Chapter: First half of Choices Chapter One

Disclaimer: Characters and main storyline from Pixelberry’s Choices.

Word Count: 2750

Warnings: none

Date or Tour Guide?

Months before…

I threw a huge, smelly bag on the already huge pile of trash in the alley, out the back of Elliot’s Bar and Grill. A rat ran out from under it and I let out a small scream, clasping my throat. As it scuttled off, I swore again that I was going to quit by the end of the month. I’d graduated three months ago and it was time to stop pretending I wasn’t an adult and do something with the degree I’d earned. Television shows had always told me that young, twenty somethings lived such glamorous, fun lives in New York but this felt far from glamorous. I felt like I could still smell the beer on my clothes that one of the customers poured down me hours ago… “Hey! Riley, quit slacking and get over here!” yelled my manager from the back door. “There’s a bachelor party just arrived that need table service. Chop, chop!” I rolled my eyes. Another bachelor party. Fabulous. More men living their “last night of freedom,” which usually involved me getting harassed in one way or another. Sometimes they left good tips though, so I put on my best customer service smile and made my way back inside.

Elliot’s was the type of bar that was trying to be classier than it actually was with a nice enough interior and sky high drink prices that you could only get away with in New York. I looked over to the table number I had been given and was surprised to see three well dressed, young men, sitting patiently for service. As I approached, the eldest in the group with sharp features and an obviously whitened smile said, “Waitress, there you are! Could we please get a list of your best wine-“ “Forget the wine, Tariq,” interjected the only member of the group not dressed in a suit, “bring us whiskey, and lots of it!” Ignoring the demands, I thought best to start from scratch, “Hello, gentlemen. I’ll be taking care of you this evening.” “Waitress,” said the youngest of the group in a classy black shirt, “steaks for the table!” “Now, now, Maxwell. How about some filet mignon, medium rare and prepared with a béarnaise sauce?” the man identified as Tariq asked. As he was the only member of the party who had uttered the word please, I turned to Tariq and responded, “I’m afraid the closest thing we have to filet mignon is the deluxe burger…” “I’m not sure I’m going to want that wine list after all,” he said crest fallen. “We’ve got an excellent vintage house red,” I said shrugging. “House red?” Tariq responded, clearly appalled. “It, also, comes in white,” I said, getting a little laugh from the other two but Tariq did not look at all amused. “We’ll be fine with a bottle of whiskey,” said the man who obviously was only ever interested in whiskey, “…and four deluxe burgers.” “Four?” I questioned looking at the three of them. The man nodded to behind me. I slowly turned and saw the fourth member of their party standing in the doorway peering around, looking for his friends. I made a silent wish that this was not the bachelor of this bachelor’s party. I felt red rush to my cheeks as I looked at his broad shoulders filling out his perfectly fitted suit. His eyes were dark, but reassuring and kind, even from a distance. His smile, as he noticed his friends behind me, was breath-taking. I wasn’t the type to be bowled over by looks but I couldn’t help but become tongue tied as he walked across the room. “Sorry I’m late,” he said to his friends. He then turned to me and said, “Thank you for your patience… Miss?” “Uh,” I struggled to speak, he smelt so fresh like he had just walked out of a tumble dryer… I bet he would feel just as warm to the touch… I swallowed hard. “Riley, I’m Riley.” “Charmed to make your acquaintance, Riley.” “It’s a pleasure to meet you… Now,” I snapped out of my daydream and let the poor man, who probably felt bad for me at this point, sit down, “let me go put your order through and I’ll be right back.” I rushed away before I could do any more damage to my tip. I put in their order and was soon distracted by other tables as the night got busier. I looked over to check they were still good for drinks often but one of the other waitresses had obviously discovered the table of attractive men and I rarely had an empty drink or a dish to clear. Towards the end of the night, I was called into the back to help the clearing staff and wished away every minute so that I could go home. I couldn’t wait to climb into bed and sleep for a solid twelve hours. As the shift was ending, though, I could feel my next shift getting closer, which made my stomach feel uneasy. I headed back out to the bar to cash up. Counting in my head, I almost jumped out of my skin when I felt a light tap on my shoulder. When I turned, I was faced with the gorgeous man from the Bachelor table. He smiled at me, a little less sober than when we’d last spoken but still in a good state. We were standing so close, I could have reached out and cupped his face. “I think we’re about ready to head out. I just wanted to thank you… and apologise. I know we are one of the last tables here so we kept you late, and my friends can be… demanding,” he shrugged awkwardly. “Demanding? Not at all, you’ve been a lot better than what I’m used to,” I replied. “I got the feeling that you could take care of us without any problem.” I could take care of you, I thought. Before I could reply, he said, “if you don’t have any other plans tonight, maybe I could make it up to you… by buying you a drink? We’re just about to go out to a club if you’d want to join us?” Completely taken aback that this gorgeous stranger was inviting me out to a drink when I had just been planning to go home and put on my onesie, I said, “Oh? Which club?” “Actually, we were hoping you might have some advice about that. We’re not from around here.” That made more sense. He needed a tour guide, not a date. Luckily, I knew the clubbing scene in the area well from my University days when all my friends still lived in the city. “Kismet is still quite new, but established as being a great night out, especially on a Saturday,” I said. “That sounds perfect. I know the guys want to go crazy tonight!” he said. “Lead the way!” I don’t know why but I could not find a way to say no to his eager gaze. I felt excited to be a part of this party and do something different than my usual routine. Usually such a creature of habit, this felt natural somehow. “Sure,” I heard myself say, “Let me just finish up and I’ll meet you guys out front.” I rapidly finished clearing up, the entire time questioning what on earth I was getting myself into. I didn’t even know his name! I went into the back to change and began freaking out even more when I thought about the fact I could not go to Kismet in my beer-soaked uniform or in the sweats I’d worn to work. I sat down for a moment thinking, resting my tired head in my hands. The employee lockers felt cold on my back. I needed an outfit. I didn’t have one. Who else would have one in their locker? In a locker that wasn’t locked… I jumped up and checked one of the lockers. It swung open. One of the bartenders had told me before if I ever needed to borrow something I could and I was going to owe her more than a couple drinks for this save. I grabbed her designer jeans and deep purple satin top. Paired with my black, heeled boots and my leather jacket (and a quick re-application of makeup), I looked as though I hadn’t just worked a ten hour shift…ish.

I stepped out onto the busy street that was alight with life as party goers yelled and sang. The bachelor party in their suits were not hard to pick out. “Hang on… the waitress is coming with us?” asked Whiskey-Boy. “Actually, we’re going with her. Please, excuse Drake’s manners. In fact, how rude of us not to introduce ourselves. This is Drake,” he motioned to the casually dressed man who rolled his eyes. “This is Maxwell,” the youngest of the group reached out to me and shook my hand, a big, cheesy grin on his face. “This is Tariq,” Tariq shook my hand, sharply, “and I’m Liam.” Liam, his name felt like butter, “nice to officially meet you all, eh, off the clock.” “Riley is picking our next destination,” Liam said. “So she’s our tour guide now?” Drake said grumpily. I didn’t know what his problem was but I felt myself bristle as his tone. Who did he think he was to speak to me like that? Was this his bachelor party? Did he not want a girl a long? “Riley, was kind enough to agree to show us around. She’s doing us a favour, play nice,” Liam grabbed Drake by the shoulders in mock massage. Drake immediately shook him off, “let’s go then.” I led them down the block to Kismet. The line was ridiculous. I started to make my way towards the back of the line when Tariq decided to walk straight up to the bouncer. I was about to yell that he couldn’t just do that but Tariq put a soft hand on the bouncer’s shoulder, whispered in his ear, handed him something and we were ushered straight inside. I hadn’t been to Kismet in a few months but it was still just as busy and lively as I remembered. A huge disco ball reflected light across the room over the dance floor and the walls were lined with booths of people enjoying bottles of whatever they wanted. Lights flashed across a crowd in ecstasy, classy and messy all rolled into one. I became very aware of just how sober I was next to the partying crowd. The guys immediately headed for the dance floor. The floor lit up in shades of pink and blue, professional dancers performed on podiums and confetti pumped out into the air. “Let’s party!” Maxwell yelled above the din. “No one wants to see your running man, Maxwell,” Drake said, too cool to let off steam but the corners of his mouth wavered with a smile. “You there!” Tariq started yelling up to one of the dancers on the podiums. If I could have politely face palmed in real life I would have. “Yes, you! Who do we talk to for bottle service?” The dancer pointed over to a woman beside the bar and Tariq bee-lined for her. Before I knew it, Tariq had procured us one of the best tables in the house, overlooking the dance floor. We each had a glass of champagne in our hands and were toasting to the club. Tariq stood at the edge of the platform the, with his glass draped in his hand, survey the dance-floor looking like a lion survey his prey. “I’ll buy you whiskey for the rest of the night if you come dance with me!” yelled Maxwell to Drake over the music. Maxwell was already seat-dancing as close to Drake’s face as he could get. All smiles and arms waving. Drake shrugged and they exited towards the dance-floor. Liam sat next to me and lent closer so that I could hear him, his breath tickling my hair against my neck, “thank you for bringing us here. Looks like the guys are having fun already!” “You seem like the one in the group who is always putting everyone else first,” I said. “Why would you say that?” he asked. “I’m good at reading people, work at a bar long enough and you start to notice. Now, forget about your friends for a moment,” I felt myself getting more confident with each sip of champagne, “What about you? Do you like it here?” “What I’m enjoying most, is the company,” he said and I could feel the blush filling my cheeks, “and I do believe, I owe you a drink… So what’ll the lady have?” I was so sure he was flirting with me. I would have bet a lot of money on it. Yet, I still couldn’t believe this kind, out of this world, attentive stranger could be interested in his waiter from Elliot’s. I needed to drink more. “Shall we have some shots?” I laughed. Moments later, Liam handed me a drink and raised his own glass, “two double shots of whiskey. You don’t mess around, do you?” “Never,” I teased, clinking my glass with his. As we drank, I closed my eyes and let the club music pump into my veins. I felt like my heart was bumping to the same rhythm. I felt refreshed, I felt new or… maybe more myself than I had felt in a long time. “Thanks, I guess that makes us even now,” I said. “You’re right. Now I’ll have to find some other excuses to get you to stay,” he placed his glass down on the table. That was definitely flirting, there is no way that was not flirting, my brain yelled. “You don’t need an excuse for me to stay. Turns out… I’m, also, having fun?” I laughed. “I’m very happy to hear that,” he said and I swear I could see him blushing a little but it may have just been the lights. “Honestly? Hanging out with you is the most fun I’ve had this entire vacation.” “Oh… that’s very sweet,” I felt lost for words. “I guess that means you haven’t really been enjoying yourself very much.” “It’s been wonderful, but there’s something missing. I really wanted to do one thing in particular when I was here,” he said. “And what was that?” “It’s going to sound silly but I’ve always wanted to see the Statue of Liberty… It wasn’t really in the guys’ plan so we just didn’t get around to it. And now,” he looked at his watch, “it’s my last day here. I don’t want to sound ungrateful. It was thoughtful of my friends to throw me this bachelor party… They’ve done their best but I’m not in the mood to celebrate” My heart sank. Of course. Of course, this incredible man was the bachelor. Of course, he’s on his “last night of freedom” and invited his waitress out with his rich friends… Of course, he couldn’t be as kind as I thought if he had a fiancé… Maybe I had just been reading it wrong? “This is your bachelor party?” I asked pinching my nose in-between my eyes with my thumb and forefinger. I felt the whiskey shots surge within me, “You’re pretty flirty for an engaged guy.”I was shocked the words came out of my mouth the minute I’d said them. “I don’t think your fiancée would be too happy about that.” Liam didn’t look shocked or defensive about my comments, he was perfectly composed. He rubbed the back of his neck and looked down, but only for a moment. “That’s the funny thing,” Liam said gazing at me, searchingly, “I actually don’t know who I’m going to marry yet, only that I’ll have to pick my fiancée very soon.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” I said, very confused at this point. “The truth is Riley… I’m the… I… I come from a family with weird traditions and I haven’t got an actual fiancé yet but… I will soon? If that makes sense?” he stumbled. I stood up, picking up my bag and jacket from the booth. “If you’re engaged, you’re engaged to someone. It’s okay. You don’t need to lie about it. I just want to nip this in the bud before I embarrass myself any further,” I said calmly. He took my hand gently, “I’m sorry. I’ll tell you the truth.” “What is that then?” “The truth is, Riley… I’m the Crown Prince of Cordonia.”

[lirlovesfic]

The Choice

A Doctor Who fanfic

Summary: After GitF, the TARDIS brings the Doctor, Rose, and Mickey back to the estate to solve a problem involving the TARDIS herself. But when they see a familiar face, the face of someone who should not exist, they realize the problem is deeper than they thought and could endanger the Doctor’s very existence. Primary characters: Ninth Doctor, Tenth Doctor, Rose Tyler, Mickey Smith, Jackie Tyler. Genres: Romance, mystery, adventure, drama, character study, HN AU, fobbed!Nine, sick TARDIS. Pairings: Nine/Rose, Ten/Rose Rating: Adult

Warning: None for this chapter

a/n: I am currently working on editing this chapter-by-chapter, with the hopes of completing a chapter a day until I catch up with myself. As I mentioned in a previous post, I’m doing it to try to get back into the swing of writing and to build some momentum in order to finish this. Also, there have been some tiny things nagging at me for a while (grammar, punctuation, etc.) so I’ll be correcting as many of them as I can find as I go. The story will not change. In fact, most of the changes are going to be so minor that I doubt anyone (besides myself) will notice. But to keep me on target, I’ll be posting it all here as I go, with links to the other websites it’s on. I hope you enjoy it.

Catch up: on AO3, on TSP, on ffnet

This chapter: on AO3, on TSP, on ffnet

Chapter Eleven—London, 14 July 2007

Rose crossed the room to lock the front door. She was moving oddly, keeping her shoulders square with her body and not turning her head, walking across the office so cautiously and deliberately that she almost appeared to be in slow motion. After she turned the deadbolt, she reached up to flip the sign that hung in the window to read Closed. She grimaced at the movement. It was then that John remembered how hard she’d hit the wall when Jimmy pushed her.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” she said, but the fact that she said it through gritted teeth gave lie to the statement. She glanced over her shoulder at him and winced. “I’m just a bit sore.”

“Go sit down,” he ordered.

“I’m fine,” she insisted.

John glanced around the office. Not seeing what wanted, he went into the garage and retrieved a tall stool. He set it down right in front of her.

“Sit.”

For a moment she looked like she was going to argue, but she sat down. After a brief search of the desk, he grabbed a small torch out of a drawer and returned to her.

“I’ve got to check your eyes,” he told her. “It will be a little bright. Just look straight ahead.” He cupped her face in one hand, forcing down the urge to caress the soft skin of her cheek. He had to focus on what he was doing. Flicking on the torch with his thumb, he shined the narrow light in her eyes, one after the other, making sure her reaction was normal. In his concern for her, he didn’t bother to wonder how he knew how to examine for a concussion.

“Any nausea?” he asked.

“No.”

Setting the torch aside, he moved behind her and began to gently prod her back on either side of her spine, working his way upward to her neck and noting where she winced. When he reached the back of her head, she gasped in pain, a quick inhalation of breath that she tried to hide, and he moved to face her.

“You are hurt,” he said, “but not too badly. You’ve got a few bruises, but thankfully it looks like you don’t have a concussion. You’ll probably be a little sore for a while. Probably more tomorrow than today.”

“I’m fine,” she insisted. “Believe me, I’ve been through a lot worse.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Now that worries me.”

Rose laughed and then winced again. Frowning, John returned to her back. He rubbed his hands together vigorously, creating friction and warming his palms and fingers. Then he moved his hands to the nape of her neck. He hovered his hands there, warming the air between them and her neck.

“Take deep breaths and let them out slowly,” he said and then lowered his fingers to her skin.

His fingertips made feather light circles as they traveled up her spine. When he reached her head again, he placed his thumbs four inches apart and firmly pressed on the base of her skull. She let out a quiet sigh as she instantly began to relax.

“What are you doing?” she asked. “That’s fantastic.”

“Activating pressure points to try to relieve your pain,” he answered.

“Well, whatever that is, it’s working,” she said. He pressed slightly harder, rubbing in tiny circles. She moaned, a sound that in a different context would be absolutely filthy. That thought was accompanied by the realization that he really wanted to make her make that sound again, and in the other context. He took a deep breath to steady himself and forced himself to let up the pressure.

“Oh, don’t stop,” she said breathlessly. “‘S so good.”

He returned to massaging the pressure points, and she sighed again. After another minute, he let go of her. “Feeling better?”

“Mmm, yeah. Don’t hurt at all anymore.”

“That was only a temporary fix. It won’t last. You should probably take a couple of paracetamol and have a hot bath before bed. Maybe I should take you home,” he suggested.

“Nope, you’re not getting out of this that easily,” she said. “You said you were gonna take me out, yeah? I’m holding you to it.” She grinned at him, with her tongue touching her teeth again, and inside he melted.

Oh, she was going to be trouble.

He grinned back. “Fantastic.”

~oOo~

As if he had read her mind, John took her to a small café around the corner, the kind that catered to locals and specialized in burgers and fried foods and not much else. It was long and narrow, with a long counter that ran the length of the place. For those who didn’t want to sit on one of the vinyl and chrome stools at the counter, there were several tables in the open space near the front, and half a dozen booths placed against the wall opposite the counter. It was a café her mother almost never went to, and particularly not on a Saturday night, a fact that in Rose’s mind made it perfect.

Half an hour later, John and Rose sat in the booth closest to the kitchen, the remnants of burgers and chips in front of them. Rose had ordered a Coke which was now half gone, while John had opted for a coffee.

While they had been eating, they’d made small talk, about movies and telly and work, but just as soon as they’d finished, the conversation lulled. John leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms, an expectant expression on his face, clearly waiting for her to talk about the incident in the garage. Rose was struck by a wave of déjà vu. It was so familiar. That had always been the Doctor’s listening position. How many times in the past had the Doctor sat just that way in the TARDIS, waiting for her to open up about something she was reluctant to talk about?

“His name’s Jimmy Stone,” she said. “We met when I was sixteen. A bunch of us went out to a club after finishing the last of our GCSEs, and his band was playing there.

“We started dating right away. A few weeks later I moved in with him. Instead of going back to school, I got a job to help with the bills. Mum was furious. She wasn’t particularly keen on me doing A-levels, but she hated Jimmy. To tell the truth, she never thought anyone was good enough for me, but as it turned out she was right about him.”

While she spoke, John just listened, expressionless. It was exactly the same way the Doctor had reacted the first time she had told him about Jimmy. Despite his disdain for domestics, he’d never judged her for anything she’d told him. That had been their way. Between adventures, they’d talk about all sorts of things. She had always been more forthcoming than he had been, but with a phrase here, a sentence there, slowly she had learned a great deal about him, particularly about the Time War and his role in it. Of course, she hadn’t learned about regeneration until after it had happened, and she hadn’t learned about his previous companions until she’d met Sarah Jane, but over the time they had traveled together they had learned a lot about one another.

But she had never told him the whole story about Jimmy. She’d never told anyone the whole story, not her friends, not Mickey. Not even her mum.

“At first, everything was great. But then the band stopped getting as many gigs and we started having money problems. I was working, but it wasn’t enough to make up the difference. He started drinking a lot, and when he got drunk he’d get mean. Every couple of weeks or so, he’d go and get really pissed and then come home and yell at me. He’d call me filthy names and blame me for all our problems: I was too fat, I was too lazy, I wasn’t making enough money, I wasn’t supportive enough, I was holding him back… When he sobered up, he’d be all apologetic and I’d forgive him and then it’d start all over again.

“Then one night, he came back to the flat and said he was leaving me for a waitress he’d met at one of the clubs where the band had played. A week later I found out he’d stopped paying our bills months earlier and that he was traveling in a caravan with the waitress, trying to make a go of performing solo. Evidently that didn’t work out, because last I’d heard he’d ended up in prison.” She laughed humorlessly. “Guess he’s out now.

“Anyway, then I moved back in with my mum, got the job at Henrik’s… Took me almost a year to pay everything off. Then the store blew up.”

“Did he ever hit you?” John asked quietly. By now he was leaning forward, elbows on knees, and looking at her intently.

She shook her head. “No. First time he ever touched me was at the garage today.”

John didn’t respond. Instead he just watched her, as if he was waiting for more, and she realized he didn’t believe her. She took a deep breath.

“All right, sometimes he’d push me around like he did in the shop.”

His face darkened, and she could see fury radiating off him. It reminded her of her first Doctor. She’d only seen the Doctor look that way a couple of times in her travels with him. Usually when he was angry he’d get sarcastic and flippant but he’d hide the rage that simmered below the surface. When he became angry enough that it showed, it was truly frightening.

But she knew she wasn’t the one John was angry with.

“Why did you lie to me?” he asked in a controlled voice.

She looked down, unable to meet his eyes. “Because I was embarrassed,” she admitted. She began to spin one of her earrings, something she knew she did when she was nervous or uncomfortable. “He’d do it and then cool off and say he was sorry. And I always forgave him. I should have kicked him out the first time it happened. I was so stupid.”

“You should have kicked him out,” he agreed. “But you were young, not stupid. You loved him and you wanted to believe him.” She nodded.

“It’s funny. Over the last couple of years, I’ve faced things a lot more dangerous than Jimmy Stone. But when he was in the office, ‘s like I went back in time. Like I was that same scared sixteen-year-old.”

“Things that scare us when we’re young stay with us a long time, sometimes our whole lives,” he said. “It’s visceral, instinctive. But I promise you, Rose, he is never, ever going to touch you again.” Both his expression and tone were deadly serious, and she could hear the truth in that statement. If it was in his power, he’d make sure it never happened again.

And at that moment she was struck even more strongly by how much John was like her first Doctor. The Doctor had told her that John wasn’t him, and she vaguely remembered him saying something about the TARDIS inventing John’s history, making him believe he was someone else. She had assumed that it meant he would be a different person. But he wasn’t.

John reacted to things the same way the Doctor did. Before she could think about that, he spoke.

“So, what happened next?”

“Next?”

“Yeah, next. After the store blew up.”

She had known it was coming, questions about the last couple of years of her life, just as soon as he had wanted to know about Jimmy. Actually, she’d known it was coming as soon as they had begun spending time with each other, but now the time was here.

And she still hadn’t figured out what to tell him. Not to mention she had no idea what he already knew. Their adventures together hadn’t happened for him yet, but that didn’t mean he didn’t know anything about what she’d been up to for the last year. Two actually, she thought, remembering her missing a year due to them arriving home a year late after their first trip. But that didn’t mean he didn’t know anything. In fact, he probably knew a fair amount already. After all, gossip was the primary pastime of the Estate.

“A friend of mine and I went traveling for a while,” she said. “Now it’s your turn.”

His eyebrows shot up. “My turn?”

“Yep,” she said. “Your turn. I told you about Jimmy, so now it’s your turn to tell me something.” When he didn’t answer immediately she continued. “You know, like how long have you been here, what did you do before you were a mechanic…” He still didn’t answer so she lightened her tone. “I’m guessing… that you used to be a banker, but you quit when you lost interest.”

He snorted at the pun. “Nah, I used to be a carpenter, but then I got bored.”

She laughed. “After I read Harry Potter I wanted to be a witch for a spell.”

He grinned at her. “I was a train conductor for a while, but that got derailed. Then I worked for a blanket factory, but it folded.”

“I used to run marathons, but I couldn’t stand the agony of da feet.”

“I used to sell Velcro, but I couldn’t stick with it.”

“I used to sell eyeglasses, but I kept making a spectacle of myself.”

“I used to be a doctor, but I kept losing my patients.” His grin faded. For a moment a puzzled look crossed his face. He fell silent.

“Actually, to tell the truth, I don’t remember what I used to do before I became a mechanic,” he said when he finally spoke again. “‘Bout six months ago I came to in an alley not far from here. Didn’t remember anything, not what I was doing there, not even who I was. No money, just the clothes on my back and this in my pocket.”

He pulled a slim brown wallet out of the back pocket of his jeans. Before he even handed it to her she recognized it as his psychic paper. She flipped it open and saw what appeared to be a driving license, complete with his name, address, birthdate and photo. She concentrated for a moment, and the image in front of her wavered and became blank for an instant before snapping back into focus.

“According to that, my name is John Smith and I’m from Manchester. But I wasn’t even sure that was right. The name didn’t feel like mine for some reason. And I later found out the address is for Old Trafford, the stadium where Manchester United plays, or more specifically, for the entrance to the car park.”

She handed the wallet back to him, and he slipped it back in his pocket. “So what did you do?”

“Hitchhiked my way up to Manchester,” he said. “Lived rough for a while. Did odd jobs to pay for food. Once I was there, I went to the hospital, the halfway houses, the homeless shelters trying to find out if anyone recognized me or if anyone was looking for me. I searched the missing person records at the police department. I searched old newspaper articles, birth records and death records. I found a number of John Smiths, but none matched my description. I widened my search to the surrounding area, and then to all of the UK. I couldn’t find anything. No one with the name John Smith that matched my description.

“A few months ago, I gave up and came back here. Every day since then I’ve been on the computer, searching everywhere I could think of to try and find some trace of who I am. And I haven’t found anything.”

John fell silent for a moment, and when he continued his face was expressionless, his voice devoid of emotion. “In six months, I haven’t found anyone looking for me. I don’t think there’s even anyone out there to look. No family, no friends. No one.”

Rose leaned forward, grabbed his hand and squeezed it. He looked startled, as if he had forgotten she was there. Then he met her eyes and squeezed back.

“You’ve got me now,” she told him.

He stared at her, jaw slack and eyes wide, clearly gobsmacked. His mouth opened and closed several times as if he was searching for something to say. Finally, he gave up and smiled.

And she squeezed his hand again and smiled back.

~oOo~

On the way back to their flats, John could tell that Rose’s pain had returned. Back in the garage, he had told her that the acupressure was only a temporary fix, and all the benefit she had received had apparently worn off now. She was walking stiffly, holding her head and back almost unnaturally straight. Each step seemed to be an effort for her.

As they crossed the street, Rose stumbled and gasped. The sound was like a knife in his gut. The idea that someone could hurt her like that… He felt a surge of rage towards Jimmy Stone. He had meant it when he had told Rose he’d never let the younger man hurt her again.

John fought the urge to just pick her up and carry her back to her flat. Although they hadn’t known each other long, he was certain she wouldn’t appreciate it.

Instead, they walked back slowly, hand in hand. From the moment she had taken his hand in the café, it felt completely natural to hold her hand, as if her hand was made to fit in his. As if it belonged there.

A hand in his.

When they arrived back at her building, John offered to walk her up. She shook her head.

“You don’t have to do that,” she said. “It’s not far. I’ll be fine.” At his skeptical look, she continued. “Seriously. I’ll be fine. I’m gonna take your advice and have a good, long soak.” She let go of him and walked into the entrance of the stairwell. Then she turned back and gave him a cheeky grin. “Unless you want to scrub my back for me.”

John leaned back against the door frame, crossed his arms in front of his chest, and raised an eyebrow at her. “You’d better be careful. I might just take you up on that.”

She laughed, and then winced. “Maybe next time.”

From the door to his own building, he watched as she walked up the stairs in the glass enclosed stairwell and to her flat, taking note of which one she entered. He had neglected to ask her which one she lived in, and he needed to know if he was going to check on her tomorrow.

That thought, about checking on her, reminded him of someone else he had intended to check on. Rose’s run-in with Jimmy Stone had pushed all thoughts of checking on Rita out of his mind. But when he knocked on the door of her flat, there was no answer. Well, it was Saturday night, Rita and Chuck’s typical night to go out.

As he entered his own flat, the cat wove around his legs, brushing up against him and purring loudly. Without conscious thought, he fed her and gave her fresh water before returning to his computer. He needed to research someone new.

A piece of shit named Jimmy Stone.

~oOo~

Rose lowered herself into the steaming, bubbly water. It felt almost too hot, perfect to relax sore muscles.

Her mother hadn’t been home when she got back to the flat, instead leaving her a note telling her not to expect her until the next morning. Rose was relieved. She was always a little uncomfortable when her mother’s boyfriends spent the night. Not to mention she wouldn’t have to explain to her mum why she was hurt.

Plus she could spend as much time as she wanted in the tub.

She closed her eyes. Immediately her mind returned to John: John cupping her face as he checked her eyes; John checking her back for bruises; John massaging, almost caressing, the nape of her neck and the back of her head. The Doctor had done that before, but it had always been almost overly clinical as he had examined her. This time it had felt sensual, and here, in the quiet of the bathroom and the privacy of her mind, she could pretend it was erotic.

Her mind wandered, to him coming up with her to the flat. To him scrubbing her back while she was only clothed in bubbles. To hands and lips moving over her, touching and caressing and kissing and tasting. Her hands dropped into the water, her fingertips circling her breasts and moving downward lower and lower until her breath quickened and she was left gasping.

Rose stayed in the bath until the water grew cold. Although the hot water and the painkillers, among other things, had helped relax her and relieve the pain, she still was somewhat shaken after her encounter with Jimmy. Seeing him again brought all those memories of what he would do back in full force: the yelling, the tantrums, the name calling, the shoving… But really, in a weird way he had done her a favor. She had always hated living on the Powell Estate, with people looking down on her because of her address and her accent and her clothes. At the time, seeing him how he really was at the end had been the last straw. It had made her determined to leave someday, to move out of Peckham and run away as far as she could.

By the time she had begun dating Mickey, however, the thought had been pushed to the back of her mind. She had become resigned to living on the Powell Estate for the rest of her life. A life of jobs and telly and beans on toast, as the Doctor said. But it was worse than that. It was always being broke, always having her ‘betters’ be condescending, always living so close to everyone else that they might have well been in the same room…

But then she had met the Doctor. And turned down his offer to travel with him. The instant he had left she had regretted it, and she had never been more relieved when he had come back.

She’d never thought she’d ever be back here again, not like this. Not working at a boring job and not living with her mother. And particularly not with the Doctor off traveling with Mickey.

It was enough to make her mind spin.

At least John was here.

She dressed in her loosest, most comfortable jimjams and lay down on her bed, thinking about John. Everything he had done today, from the casual flirting with her, to his so easily putting Jimmy on the floor, to his sassiness and awful puns and body language and facial expressions, all was the Doctor she remembered. It was like he was the Doctor, just with a memory loss.

But that’s not what the Doctor had told her he’d be like.

Troubled by the discrepancy, Rose struggled to remember exactly what the Doctor had said, but she couldn’t. Well, there was one way to check. She reached over to the bedside table, grabbed the Doctor’s hologram cube, and flipped the switch at the bottom. The hologram of the Doctor began to play again from the beginning.

"Rose, if you're watching this, it means I've been gone longer than ten seconds…"

"There's got to be a way to skip some of this," she muttered. She turned it over—and it was a little weird to have the Doctor giving her instructions upside down—and she figured out that by manipulating the switch she was able to fast forward, rewind, and pause the display.

"C, keep him away from major historical events…"

"Oops, too far." She pushed the switch in the opposite direction.

"Now Rose, in this situation there are a number of things to remember…"

"Here we go," she said.

"First of all, like I said before, he's not me. Well, he is, but in all the important ways he isn't. The TARDIS will have given him a completely new identity, and he will believe that that's who he is…"

She rewound it so she could listen to it again.

"…he's not me. Well, he is, but in all the important ways he isn't. The TARDIS will have given him a completely new identity, and he will believe that that's who he is…"

She repeated it again.

"The TARDIS will have given him a completely new identity…"

She paused the hologram. "But the TARDIS didn't give him a new identity," she told the Doctor's image. "And he doesn't know who he is." She groaned. "Now what do I do?"

After debating for a moment, she grabbed her mobile.

"You've reached the TARDIS," said a familiar voice with a Northern accent. "If I'm not here, you've probably got the wrong number. But if this is Rose, and we got separated because you wandered off again, I'm probably already on my way to find you. And if this Jack, no, you can't bring your latest… whatever… back to the TARDIS. Go back to his or her or its place. And if you're in jail, cool off, sober up, and I'll come and get you in the morning."

Rose stared at her mobile in shock. She'd never phoned the TARDIS and had the call not go to her proper timeline. She tried again, and she received the same message.

She rewound the message on the cube and played it from the beginning.

"Rose, if you're watching this, it means I've been gone longer than ten seconds. I'm really sorry about that. I truly meant to come back in ten seconds. All I can say is that maybe whatever is going on with his TARDIS is beginning to affect mine."

She had thought that the reason he was late was just because he was a lousy driver, but maybe there was more to it. If there were problems with the TARDIS, who knew how long he'd be gone.

Or if he'd even be able to get back.

Her mind raced. If she couldn't phone the TARDIS, how could she tell the Doctor that the TARDIS hadn't provided his previous incarnation with an identity? If there was only some way to get a message to him…

She slapped her forehead. "Stupid! I could try to phone Mickey on his mobile!"

She dialed, and at the same time her mum's phone rang.

"Mum must have forgot her mobile again," she said aloud. As she began to search for her mother's phone, she disconnected the call to Mickey. Her mum's phone stopped ringing.

She rolled her eyes. "Isn't that always the way?" She speed-dialed Mickey again, and the phone began to ring in the other room again. She disconnected, and the ringing stopped.

With a sense of dread, she dialed Mickey again, and the ringing began again. This time she left the connection open, and she traced the source of the ringing to the lounge. The phone was buried in the space between the cushion and the back of one of the imitation leather chairs in front of the television.

That had been the chair Mickey had been sitting in when they'd had pizza with her mother last week. He must have lost it while he'd been watching telly. The phone ringing had been Mickey's, not her mum's.

"Shit!"

She was stuck on the Estate with no way to contact the Doctor if there was a problem. She was on her own.

No, she wasn't. John was here. And no matter what the Doctor said, even though he didn't remember, even though he was human, John was the Doctor.

She was sure of it.

[serpent-jugheadjones]

RUN!

Pairing: Jughead Jones x Reader 

Description: Riverdale AU x Supernatural 

Warnings: It’s a Halloween fic, need I say more?

Word count: 3551

A/N: Happy Halloween! This is and will forever be the only holiday I acknowledge :) Since Reggie has a thing for Midge in the comics, I wrote her in as his girlfriend because I didn’t wanna have to deal with a love triangle between her, Moose and Kevin. Y/A/C = Your Activity of Choice. This will have another part, but only on next year’s Halloween...

Y/N’s in her room getting ready for the Drive-In’s double feature and Cheryl’s costume party afterwards. A folded Register newspaper lays on her bed with a large headline on display. ‘Series of murders terrify Riverdale.’. The article contains some details Alice Cooper probably bribed out of someone. ‘Four parents have been found dead by authorities. The only ones present in the crime scene are their offspring, with bloody hands and Ouija board with a blood-red planchette in their rooms. It goes deeper than that as the teens who’ve been aprehended swear to have no memory of the happening.’. The girl brushes that out of her mind and takes one last look at her reflection in the mirror, sliding the small strap from her bag, which is filled with add-ons to her costume, her wallet and mints, across her chest. Her belly feels as if a thousand butterflies were flying inside her. The girl finally leaves, after her parents sermon on staying safe inside the car and enjoying her time sober. She tries not to look too weirdly amused as she arrives at her best friend’s house.

She’s greeted by the spitting image of Sandy Olsson. “You look amazing!” Y/N looks at her friend head to toe, the sweet image fitting her personality. “As do you.”, Betty hugs Y/N tightly and their ride honks in the driveway. To no surprise, Archie is dressed as Danny Zuko, with a funny black wig he probably got from Amazon for $1, still looking good, though. “Why, this car is Auto-matic. It’s System-matic. It’s Hyyyyydro-matic. Why, it’s Greased Lightning! “, the fake dark-haired boy sings and dances getting out of the car to open the passenger door for them, making Betty giggle. “Come on.”, the blonde instructs and they get in the truck he borrowed from Fred. FP lent his truck to Jughead, but since he works at the Twilight, Arch was kind enough to offer to drive Y/N there.

They enter the Drive-In, pay for their tickets, and Archie parks on the first empty spot he can find. Y/n thanks him for the ride and leaves to give the couple their privacy, but also in order to find her company for tonight. She waves at FP arriving in his Honda CB 550 and parking near the other Serpents bikes. He waves back with a smirk. His son and her have been friends forever and she also gets along with the man quite well as she loves hearing him reminisce about his High School days. 

On her way to the projection booth, she spots Veronica as Holly Golightly and Kevin as Kurt Hummel in his Warblers uniform. Cheryl and Jason as Leia Organa and Luke Skywalker, inappropriate as usual. Passing by the concession stand, she hears arguing and stops to make sure everything is alright. Storming out of a car comes Reggie. “Hey, Y/N...”, he says embarrassed she saw him get yelled at. “Sup, Reg?”, the girl asks sympathetically. “Midge wanted me to dress as Bob. But come on, from That 70′s Show I’m definitely a Michael, not a Bob.” The tall football player points at himself in a tight turtle neck and a rainbow vest. “Bob and Midge didn't have a good relationship, so best to do you, Reggie.”, Y/N supports his choice. “Yeah, try telling her that.” He points at the car and rolls his eyes. “Who are you supposed to be?”, the confused boy asks. “Mia Wallace.” She turns so he can have a full look since he’s so oblivious. “Right, I get it.” She knows he still doesn't. “Anyways, I better go get popcorn before she freaks out.” Reggie walks away with the empty bucket. “Good luck. See ya at Cheryl’s.” Y/N says.

The girl climbs the steps to the familiar projection booth and knocks at the door. Jug opens it with a smile as he knew it could only be her. “I’m just finishing up, then we can head down.”, the weirdly cheerful boy explains and continues putting the film roll in the projector. Y/N’s speechless at the sight of Jughead’s costume choice, Vincent Vega. The fact that they didn't plan to match dumbstrike her unexpectedly more. He only asked her out the previous night, so even if they wanted to, there wouldn’t be enough time to agree on something like that. However, seeing the boy beanieless for the first time, and with straightened hair to fit the character, leads her back to the butterflies-in-the-stomach state. She can’t help but biting the inside of her lips so she won’t sigh. That doesn't go unnoticed by Juggie, who’s now sporting the signature Jones’ smirk. 

The first movie begins and they leave the projection booth to the concession stand. Jughead orders them popcorn, sodas and gummy warms. “Perks of coming with an employee.” He laughs, as for him everything is free. Y/N carries their drinks while he takes the large bucket and pack of candy to FP’s truck. Jughead parked in the best spot, away from the building’s lights, in the middle of the field and close to the good stereos. He set up an air mattress, some blankets and one large pillow in the back, making them have to sit real close.

Y/N is using all her will power not to whisper every line from the movie, for Rocky Horror is one of her favorites. It’s not like he hasn't seen her doing it all the previous times she made the group watch it - somehow just the two of them seems different. Once Time Warp starts playing, the whole field begins to sing along like a huge choir. The costumed girl stands up on the truck and starts following the choreography, pulling Jug by his hand so she’s not doing it alone. The raven-haired boy never laughed so much at something before. This is precisely the reason he chose this film.

Although people could think two Tim Curry’s movies is overkill, IT got picked to make everybody cuddle as they get scared. Anyhow, the couple is already as close as possible and, to be honest, none of them is afraid of the movie. In fact, her one fear is that Jug disappears if she makes a single move, turning it all into nothing more than a dream. Jughead is fidgeting with the hem of his blazer, trying to work up the courage to wrap his arm around the girl. He finally does, using the old yawn trick, really smooth. His heart is pounding and he’s terrified of rejection, but she’s more than worth the risk. She simply rests her head on his chest, relieving him of all his worries, making him relax his grip on the hems and loosely hold her arm. “Jug...”, she starts. “Yeah?”, he questions. “Was the matching costume a coincidence?”, Y/N asks. “No... You told Betty your costume, she told Archie, who told me.”, he confesses shyly. “I knew it!”, she exclaims proudly. “In my defense, Tarantino is my favorite director. I just figured you choosing Mia was a hint of interest.”, Jughead says. “You guessed right, Jug.” She raises her face from his chest, looking at his blueish eyes, scenes from the neglected movies visible on them. He brushes his thumb across her red cheeks, taking her in, brain and beauty. Juggie leans in, slowly closing the distance between them, opening his mouth to meet hers in a kiss they have been jonesing about for ages.

Their moment ends as credits start to roll and car engines roar. Archie, now back to his original ginger locks probably because he couldn't stand the itchiness from the cheap wig, and Betty, showing a ‘I know what you did last summer’ look, come by just after they finish picking up the trash from the back of the truck. “Hey, guys. We’re going to Pop’s before Cheryl’s. Wanna join?”, the boy also dressed as a John Travolta character asks. “Absolutely. Just gotta close and we’ll meet you there.” Jug grabs Y/N’s hand, making Betty turn around and wink at her as they leave. They pack the film rolls back in their metal cases and put them on the shelves. Jughead stares intently at Y/N looking up the names on the other tins. “What?”, the girl asks when she catches his eyes locked on her. “You’re beautiful.”, he affirms and her skin flushes. “We should go, they’re waiting for us.”, she tries to deny the steam raising in the small room as Jug walks closer to her. “Let ‘em wait.” He pulls her firmly by the waist, making a quiet moan escape her lips before he smashes them together once more, in a heated kiss this time.

They lose track of time in that room. A couple tins fall from the shelves which he pushed Y/N against. After getting that out of their system they are ready to leave. Jughead drives away from the field and stops outside the tall gates to shut them with the chains and padlocks, not that it’s actually needed as that is Serpents territory. The car passes by kids trick-or-treating and they remember when FP would take them in a face-covered costume earlier and then run by the same houses in another costume and they’d get double the candy. “FP would always get the Skittles as his cut for being the master mind of the whole thing.”, Y/N says. “Those were the best of times until tonight...”, Jughead confesses. “Agreed.” the girl can help but grin.

The Chock'lit Shoppe is full. Families with their kids in cute costumes counting the candy they got. Adults imagining when they’ll have babies to dress up for the holiday and teens just enjoying themselves. Betty waves at them entering the diner and they sit in their regular booth. Y/N next to her cheerleader friend and Jug makes his football player friend move so he can sit by the window and in front of his date. Pop comes by with a smile, as those are his favorite customers, no doubt, to take their orders. “I'll have the Douglas Sirk steak.”, Jughead quotes. “What?” Pop is looking at his own menu, confused. “I'll have the Durwood Kirby burger, bloody, and a five-dollar shake. Martin and Lewis style, please.”, Y/N continues Jug’s acting, making the old man even more disoriented and the boy in front of her in awe. “Don’t mind their nonsense. They’re just being A-class nerds.”, Archie teases. “We’ll just have the usual, Pop.”, Betty laughs at her friends matching so perfectly.

The couples eat their delicious meal and share milkshakes. Jughead even lets Y/N have the cherry. He tries to get the check but she’s faster. They've been friends forever. She knows he doesn't earn much working at the Drive-In and won’t have his “manhood” hurt by the girl paying. Betty asks for them to be excused to the bathroom before leaving. Once there, Y/N unbuttons her shirt, exposing her bandeau top, grabbing spirit gum, a needlessness seringue to glue on her chest and fake blood to splatter over her. Then it’s Betty’s turn to transform her costume. Her blonde curls get styled in an 80′s updo with lots of bobby pins and hairspray. She darkens her makeup and slips in a shoulderless leather top, changing from her long skirt into high waisted skinny pants. Y/N can’t help but admire the accuracy of her friend’s costume. She’s innocent and sweet, but also dark and dangerous. Sandy represents her perfectly. The finishing touch to her new outfit is heels. “Had to watch a video on how to walk in these.” Both girls laugh at that. “Ready?”, the blood covered girl asks. “It’s now or never.” They hold hands and leave the bathroom.

They walk out confidently, all eyes on them as they stride through the crowded diner. Both John Travolta costumed boy’s mouth agaped, perplexed as the girls reach the table. “DAMN, Y/N/N!”, the ginger thinks out loud. “Archie!” Betty slaps his strong biceps. “Oh, yeah. You look awesome, babe.” He stands up to kiss her. Jughead is too hypnotized to even hear his friend’s comment. The Greese couple starts leaving. Jug stands up from his spot and Y/N walks in front of him. The boy gently leans in close to her ear. “This is undoubtedly the best Halloween ever.”, Jughead whispers, making Y/N blush uncontrollably. The freckled boy has to discipline himself to keep his eyes on the road.

The first spooky thing so far is arriving at Thornhill’s gates. A place so spine-chilling that doesn’t need decorations for the holiday. Y/N grabs Jug’s arm as he drives in and the temperature drops 100 degrees. They join Archie and Betty who just rang the doorbell, which seems futile giving the blasting music playing. However, the giant wooden door falls open shortly after. “If it isn't the Sad Breakfast Club. Come in.” Cheryl stares at both girls coming in from head to toe. “Just in time for our game. Follow me.”, Jason instructs and the group does as told, walking the ghostly halls of the Blossom’s mansion, filled with drunk teenagers dancing. They arrive at a wide room, lit only by a couple of candles on each corner, with the strong scent of incense and a circle of pillows on the floor, some already occupied. Reggie and Midge are still bickering over something so trivial as a Halloween costume. Chuck with Ginger and Tina at each side of him and his arms around them, the girls sporting an annoying smirk. The newcomers take their reserved seats by Veronica and Kevin. The Star Wars twins take their place in the two large red pillows at the edge of the circle. 

Cheryl pulls out a large thin-timber board with the alphabet, numbers from 1 to 0 and YES/NO written in. She enigmatically sets it in the center. “A Ouija board? Seriously? Have you not read the news?”, Kevin questions in panic. Everyone’s eyes fall on him, some mockingly, others in support. “If you’re scared, you’re welcome to leave.” Jason points at the exit. Midge looks like she wants to take the offer. “We just don’t believe in that crap.”, Veronica defends her GBF. “Then you’ll have no problem playing.”, Cheryl spits, even though secretly she’s hoping it works. The group remains seated. “Come one, what are we? Kids? Let’s play 7 minutes in heaven.”, Chuck suggests with an annoying smirk. “Can you even last 7 minutes, Clayton?”, Betty teases and the rest laugh. “Focus!”, red-haired cheerleader’s captain demands. “The rules are simple. Maintain contact at all times. Start on HELLO and wait for the planchette to move. Ask only yes or no questions. Don’t ask for physical signs. Don’t be disrespectful. And don’t move the planchette on purpose, Chuck... End connection on GOOD BYE.”, ginger Skywalker explains. “We need a mediator to ask the questions. I nominate moi. All in favor raise their hands.” Ginger Leia stares at the hands going up, too scared to disagree. “Shall we?” She pulls out a blood-red planchette and everyone's hands follow hers.

Soon the candlelight starts to flicker and the planchette moves frantically. Instinct makes Y/N want to take her hand off, but, almost as if Jug knew, he intertwines his pinky to hers, reassuring the girl everything will be OK, that this is just a distasteful joke. Everyone starts asking all kind of crap. “ENOUGH.”, Cheryl shouts. “Are you a good spirit?”, the ginger girl adds and the planchette finally moves - towards ‘NO’. Midge runs out of the room in tears. “This is fucked up, Cheryl.”, the blonde cheerleader curses, going after the girl with a fake-blonde wig. “I’m out of here too! Anyone wanna join me?”, Chuck says and both Ginger and Tina walk away behind him, making Cheryl death-stare at them all the way. “I have a question. Who’s rigging the game?”, Veronica challenges. “You’re not supposed to ask the questions, Lodge.”, Jason spits. The planchette moves again, spelling something slowly: Y. O. U. At that Ronnie stands up. “Let’s go, Kev. This is stupid.” The boy does as told, as he wished to do all along. “Laters.” Reggie is the next one to go. Y/N doesn't say anything. She just grabs Jughead’s hand and heads for the door. “Archie!”, Jug calls out for his friend, who’s apparently fine with the whole ordeal, also happy to follow them anyways. The ginger twins face is just as red as their hair now. 

The group is climbing down the stairs when there’s a blackout. Some unaware teens start screaming in joy of the new mood setting between them now that no eyes can fall on them. But the ones that were in that sinister room have a different reaction. Jughead pulls Y/N close to his chest. Archie and Reggie run down to find their girlfriends who left before them. “Should’ve played the game.”, both twins speak in a creepy voice. “Only those who play till the end survive.” They raise their hands in synchrony and all the doors in the house are closed shut. Both football players made it out in time, but the writer and the Y/A/C are locked in. 

It becomes obvious that those aren't Jason and Cheryl anymore. There’s something possessing them. Jug instinctively launches himself in front of Y/N, to shield her from harm. But, to their surprise, two men burst through the main door. One tall and moose-like, the other... not. Both with shotguns in hand. ”RUN!” They don’t even have to say twice before the crowd dissipates. Furniture’s flying everywhere, until the possessed twins remove their firearms from their grips. The not-moose one runs towards the Blossoms but he’s forcefully pulled against the wall by an invisible force before he can even reach the first steps. Y/N has to drag Jughead down the stairs as the boy’s most likely in shock and can’t move on his own. The taller one, with a longer dirty-blonde hair, uses their evac to his advantage as Jay-Jay and Cheryl are distracted with the running teens. He manages to slit their arms with an iron blade, and, as blood flows from the cuts, a transparent-white shape is forcefully released out of their bodies. The less tall one is released from something that was immobilizing him, running up the stairs to the room, salting the board and burning it along with the planchette, ending that once and for all. Y/N is flabbergasted, holding Jug’s hand, barely breathing, both trying to process everything that just happened. 

The twins are now back to their usual selves, which isn’t much different from the spirits as they angrily throw out their saviors. “Come on, Tarantino’s couple.” The men carry both the astound teens out with them, as they were the only witnesses. The one with shorter dark hair searches Jughead’s pocket, finding his car keys and tossing it to the taller one. “Ok, Sammy. You take the girl in the truck and I drive Travolta in the Impala.”, he instructs. “Where to, Dean?”, the moose asks, sitting the girl on the passengers seat. “That diner we passed by on the way here.”, the older one rapidly responds. “Of course.”, the hairy guy agrees with some cynicism.

The two Riverdale natives are led back to the Chock’lit Shoppe. They sit across from each other. Now that shock is almost completely worn off, the tallest man on Earth introduce themselves as Sam and Dean Winchester, hunters. “Wait, so you hunt... things, monsters?”, Y/N asks as Jughead chews his burger nervously. “Spirits, demons, vampires, werewolves... the list goes on. It’s a complex job.”, Sam explains while his brother is happily swallowing his milkshake. “Do you get dental with that?”, Y/N asks, as quoting 80′s movie lines is her way of coping with the world. “No.” Sammy laughs. “So, Cheryl and Jason were...”, Jug starts. “Possessed, yes. As those other kids who got arrested.”, Dean cuts him off, speaking with his mouth full. “We shouldn’t have played that stupid game.”, the girl says angrily. “Oh, no! The game is a hoax. In this case, it was because of a cursed object, casually the planchette.”, Sam explains. “All of the teens who were arrested were telling the truth then, when they said they didn’t do it.”, Jug concludes. “Unfortunately.”, Dean says in between chewing, like this is just another day for them. “This is the BEST burger ever!”, he now shouts to Pop, who smiles brightly. Juggie and him eat their burgers with side of fries and onion rings till the last crumble, downing every bite with a free round of milkshakes from Pop Tate for the compliment. Sam is just picking at a salad as Y/N simply watches, amazed at how much her date can eat, since they had dinner no more than an hour before. By the end of that meal, they all feel kinda glad for being alive, Jug and Y/N mostly, for the Winchesters give them their phone numbers in case something like that happens again.

Halloween is about to end for those involved with that particular planchette, teenagers who were too naive to understand the powers of natural and supernatural, twins who wished their parents were killed, two friends whose relationship just had a great development, and brothers whose job is to protect all of them. At the strike of twelve in a small town diner, a special couple starts to notice there’s way more to crime than what meets the eye. 

[junaeneous]

How I Met Your Mother

MEMBER/GROUP: Kim Minseok / Xiumin // EXO

GENRE: fluff, comedy, slight angst

WORD COUNT: 4,063 words (jesus I have no life)

SUMMARY: Minseok leans back in his seat with a grin. “How I met your mother? Well, your mother and I were best friends.” His fifteen year old daughter’s eyes brighten. “You fell in love?” Chuckling, he nodded. “Well, yeah, but there’s a lot more to it. It’s a long story, buckle up, kids.” 

AUTHOR’S NOTE: yes, i was watching the show again and yeah this happened okay enjoy :) 

look at him he’s so humble and precious and amazing and beautiful and kind-hearted and ethereal dONT SLEEP ON HIM YA FAKES

“HEY DAD, HOW DID YOU AND MOM MEET?” 

Minseok sets his newspaper down and looks at his children in surprise. “What?” 

“How did you meet Mom? You two are so different, but you’re still so in love. How did that happen?” 

He leans back in his seat with a grin. “How I met your mother? Well, your mother and I were best friends.” His fifteen year old daughter’s eyes brighten. “You fell in love?” Chuckling, he nodded. “Well, yeah, but there’s a lot more to it. It’s a long story, buckle up, kids.”

Minseok waits for his daughter to get comfortable on the couch, as his son followed. Once he notices that they’re settled in, he clears his throat to speak. “Your mother and I have known each other since primary. I can’t remember how we became friends, I was a quiet kid and one day there was this loud, mischievous girl by my side and well, I just went with it I guess.” 

“Your mother and I have been by the other’s side through everything. First kiss and beyond, breakups, driver’s license, failing tests, not getting into the college we wanted..anything you can think of, she was there. She became a normal part of my life pretty quickly.” 

“I don’t have a lot of wild stories like she does, I was very obedient growing up. But like your uncle Baekhyun, your mother was wild. She was reckless and spontaneous, definitely not my type, so I never looked at her that way. Back then, she was never committed, none of her relationships would ever last long. We were so different in so many aspects of our lives that a chance of romance seemed near impossible. Until of course, one night of alcohol and a whole lot of vulnerability screwed it all up.”

“To Minseok, for being the first out of us all to sacrifice his freedom!” 

“Shut up, Baekhyun,” you chuckle, rolling your eyes. “Your fear of commitment is showing.” 

Baekhyun huffs, sniffling as he takes his seat. “Well excuse me for mourning the loss of my best friend’s sanity as he prepares to cage himself in! I knew he was a hopeless romantic but I never,” he pauses to wipe a tear, “thought he’d sink this low.” 

“Ignore Baekhyun,” Kyungsoo chimes in, “we’re extremely happy for you. And very proud. You deserve this, Minseok, and we could not be more excited for you as you walk into a part of your life you’ve been waiting so long for.” 

“Thanks, guys,” Minseok smiles. “I’m really happy that I’m getting to spend the night before my wedding with you all. Especially,” his eyes meet yours as he places his hand atop your own, “with the loser who stuck by me for so long.” 

“I’m still asking for your gratitude in cash.” You shrug, but secretly squeeze his hand on the table. You don’t know why you’re being so touchy and affectionate with Minseok. You’re usually uncomfortable with emotions and expressing them, but tonight seemed to be an exception. Your best friend, someone who’d been by your side for the longest time, was going to be a married man tomorrow. He was going to have a lovely wife, and a beautiful family. 

Why are you so affected by the thought of it? 

Not wanting to delve into it, you raise the bottle of beer and down some more, welcoming the taste and the distraction as the chatter around you continues. Chanyeol and Baekhyun are bickering yet again. Jongin is teasing Kyungsoo once again, while Junmyeon, Minseok and Yixing are in deep conversation about something trivial. Sehun and Jongdae are arm wrestling while betting on each other’s plate of burgers, leaving you with your bottle of beer.

And a very suspicious Luna, who narrows her eyes at you as she says, “Why the long face?” 

“I’m fine, Sunyoung,” you respond slowly, sighing. Upon your use of her real name, her eyes narrow further. “Okay, you addressing me by my real name definitely means something is wrong.” She grips your arm and tugs you out of your seat, dragging you to the women’s restroom. 

“Okay, spill.” 

You meet her concerned eyes with poorly veiled emotion. “I don’t know, Luna, I don’t know. Minseok is going to be a married man tomorrow. He’s going to move out of the apartment next to mine and start a family with his wife. I won’t be seeing the one person who’s always been close to me after tomorrow. It’s like,” your voice cracks, “it’s like I’m letting him go for good.” 

“Aww sweetheart,” Luna spreads her arms open, “come here.” 

You step into her embrace, sighing as she tightens her hold on you. For a brief moment, you shut off your mind and allow yourself to be held, and then you’re pulling away. 

“You want my advice? Talk to him. Despite your whole ‘I hate emotions’ thing, you’ve always been able to communicate well. It’s why you two rarely ever fight. Talk to him, honey, hug it out. Or whatever you guys do.” 

“I will.” 

“Good.” Luna smiles. “Now, chin up and smile. I don’t care how hard it is, you’re not going to be wallowing in sorrow tonight. You are going to celebrate Minseok’s big step and you are going to complain about how crappy beer tastes while you drink it. It’s like any other night. You get me?” 

“Yeah, I do.” 

“Awesome.” 

“I love you, you know that?” 

“Jesus Christ,” she laughs, “Minseok should get married more often if it means I get the appreciation I deserve.” 

At the look on your face, she grins. “Okay, okay, yeah, I love you too, you shithead. I don’t like seeing you sad, so cheer up a little. You’re wild. You’re hot. And no matter what, Minseok will always be your best friend. It’s like the universe would go out of order if anything else happened.” 

“Yeah.” Luna doesn’t notice your tone as you two left the restroom to join the big crowd back at the bar. 

For the rest of the time at the bar, you push your emotions aside and drink with the others. You win both Sehun’s and Jongdae’s plates of fries. You down two more bottles of beer. You sing along with Chanyeol and Baekhyun as they embarrass Minseok. You flirt with strangers but don’t give them your number, much to Baekhyun’s surprise and disappointment. 

And finally, the night comes to an end and Minseok’s arm is around your waist as he tugs you upstairs to your apartment, the familiar scent of his colonge all around you as he waits for the elevator to take you to your floor. 

“I can walk on my own, Minseok.” You slur out, hearing him chuckle in response. “Sure you can.” 

“I’m serious. I’m completely, utterly, truly sober.” 

“Mmhm.” 

The elevator chimes as it slides open, allowing Minseok to guide you out and into your apartment. He sets you down on the couch and says, “Sit. I’ll get you some water.” 

“I’m fine,” you drawl out, pouting at Minseok when he taps your nose and heads into the kitchen despite your protests. A few glasses of water later, you feel more in control of your body and less dizzy. However, the dam that keeps your emotions under control tires out, prompting you to burst into tears. 

Immediately, Minseok is facing you with concern. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” 

“Don’t get married.” 

“What?” 

“Don’t get married, Minseok,” you sob, “aren’t you rushing into this? You’ve only known each other for six months. Don’t you think that’s a little too soon?” 

“Where is this coming from?” 

“I don’t know. I don’t know anymore. I don’t think I’m ready to wake up tomorrow and realise that the apartment next door is empty. I don’t think I’m ready to have to drive fifteen minutes after tomorrow to see you. I don’t think I can accept the fact that you’re getting married and on moving on with your life, leaving me behind, I--” 

“Stop right there.” He cuts you off sternly. “Do you think this is easy for me? You’ve always been so close to me, Bee. Always. We were neighbours as kids. Neighbours as teenagers. Neighbours in college. Neighbours as adults. No matter what, we were always closeby. It’s hard for me too, knowing that after tomorrow you’re going to be a whole fifteen minutes away, and not my neighbour. It’s hard for me to accept that I won’t be the one saving your ass after a bad date or a terrible hangover because I’ll be with a family of my own. I fucking love you, Bee. You’ve become this part of me that I can’t bear to say goodbye to. I’m not leaving you behind, but I am going to have to draw lines, and it’s killing me too.” 

“Then don’t,” you plead, not bothering to wipe your tears away. You take his hands in your own and plead. “Don’t draw lines. Don’t move away. Don’t get married.” 

“I’m in love, Bee.” He counters softly. “I love you, but I’m in love with her. She’s the one.” 

The lump in your throat tightens as you lower your head, unable to meet his eyes. “Stop calling me Bee,” you sniffle, “we’re adults now. You have to start calling me by my real name.” 

“It doesn’t matter how old we get, I’m always going to call you Bee. True to your personality, wild and annoying.” 

You still don’t look up at him, unable to control your tears as your chest tightens with the realisation that Minseok is moving on for good and you’re still going to be like this tomorrow. And the day after. He’ll have a wife and you’ll still be blindly searching for someone to fill up the space in your heart. He’ll have kids and you’ll be stumbling out of bars at four a.m, drunk out of your mind with no Minseok to scold you as he takes you back home. 

“Bee, look at me.” 

“I can’t.” 

“Please.” 

“I can’t, I’m going to bed, I can’t do this--” 

Minseok stands with you and tugs your body back into his, wrapping his arms around you as you burst into sobs once again. You are usually not so affected by change, having always been flexible enough to adjust to everything. 

But this is Minseok. And everything concerning him brought out all the emotions you despised. 

Concern. Affection. Love. 

Unable to take it, you pull away and look up at him. Minseok is also teary eyed, his lips trembling. “Goddamnit, why’d you have to make me cry too?”

“I--I’m--”

You don’t get to finish. Minseok’s trembling lips are atop your own, shocking the both of you. You freeze as his arms go around your waist, tugging you closer to his body. Your mind goes blank as your heart picks up pace in sync with his lips, that are urging a response from your own. Hesitantly, you oblige, tiling your head and allowing him to deepen the kiss. 

There is a nagging voice at the back of your mind, screaming something important but you ignore it, gripping Minseok’s shirt collar tight as you feel his tears on your cheeks and his sadness on your lips. You had never wondered what kissing him would be like, simply because he wasn’t your type. You two had always been too different to be lovers, but just enough to be friends. That was the shared dynamic. You had never looked at Minseok as anything but a friend. You had never wanted him, wanted to kiss him, hold him, call him the terms of endearment that brought out the adorable shy smiles of his.

But right now, with everything around you screaming at you to pull away, you cling to him, trying to close a distance that did not exist, trying to speak a message with your body in a way you never had before. 

There are gasps and whimpers, curse words and soft moans and then Minseok is pulling away, eyes wide in horror as the weight of his actions fall all at once. 

“Oh my god, I--I just--”

“No, that did not just happen.” You speak quickly, shame filling you up just as quick as the passion dies down, the screaming voice finally yelling words of common sense. He was getting married. He had a fiancee. 

“Bee, what did we just do?” 

You two had officially screwed up. 

“I can’t believe I’m getting married.” Sunhee breathes, eyes wide. “Am I dreaming? Can someone pinch me?” 

Luna laughs, shaking her head at the younger woman. “You’re not dreaming, Sunhee, I promise this is real. Look at you,” she gushes, “you look absolutely gorgeous.” 

“Thank you, Lu. Thank you too, Bee.” 

You stiffen at that, meeting Sunhee’s nervous gaze. “Is it okay if I call you that? Minseok calls you that all the time, and I understand if it’s a special nickname or something--” 

“No,” you force yourself to answer, smiling softly, “no I don’t mind.” 

But of course you did. 

“Listen, I just want to apologise. I was being really petty about not wanting to invite you to the wedding and I’m sorry. You’re Minseok’s best friend. His childhood friend. It was selfish of me to have wanted to block you from witnessing one of the most important days of his life. I hope you can forgive me.” 

“It’s alright,” you tighten your smile, swallowing the lump in your throat as your guilt intensifies, “I understand it must be weird.” 

“It shouldn’t be weird,” Sunhee laughs, “you two are so different and not compatible. You’ve said it yourselves! It’s just that when we were first dating, Minseok would drop what we were doing in seconds and run to you if he ever heard about you needing help. I let that cloud my judgment, and that’s not okay.” 

You know you’re being punished for your actions. Sunhee’s sudden kindness and maturity is a cruel reminder of a lack of your own. “It’s okay, Sunhee. What matters most is that you’re here today, marrying that dork. Seriously, he’s been dreaming of this day for so long, with someone exactly like you. I’m happy for you two.” 

But you weren’t. 

“Thank you. It means a lot to me, and I know for sure, to Minseok, that you’re here. I’m going to go do some final check ups, okay? Thanks once again for understanding, Bee.” 

You nod, waiting until she leaves to face Luna, who’s frowning. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Am I the only one who noticed the weird look in her eyes when you spoke about Minseok marrying her?” 

“What weird look?” 

“Okay, guess I’m the only one. I don’t know how to describe it, but it was a very weird look. Not one I’d expect a bride to have on her wedding day.” 

There’s a moment’s silence. 

“She didn’t go to do some final check ups, did she?” 

Luna’s expression grows heavy. “Get to Minseok, now.” 

Dear Minseok, 

I didn’t think I’d be the kind of person to write you a letter instead of telling you up front, but I couldn’t bear to see the look on your face. I know I’ll end up making a decision I’ll regret if I see your face. 

I want to start off by saying I love you. So damn much. You’re so easy to love. You’re kind, gentle, caring, calculated and mature. You’re patient and understanding, and you have the biggest heart that this world does not deserve. 

That I don’t deserve. 

I want to blame Bee. I want to say that it’s her fault. That you’re so close, too close for comfort. That when you run to her aid it feels like you’re leaving me behind. That when she’s around, it feels like I’m the best friend and she’s the girlfriend. I want to throw her under the bus and blame her, but that’s not me. None of this is Bee’s fault. It was never Bee’s fault. 

It’s mine. 

A month before you proposed, you told me that your first impression of me was cold. Unwilling to trust. You told me that you were terrified to approach me but did so anyway, because something in you told you that it was right. 

That very night, I was planning to get someone else back. I was dressed up because it was his favourite look on me. I was drinking because otherwise I would never have had the courage. I was planning on running back into his arms, but you caught me instead. 

I told myself that you were the second chance I’d been begging for. 

For the months that we dated, it felt to me like you were giving your all into this relationship, and I was the one taking. You never noticed that I wasn’t giving anything in return, and selfishly, I was okay with it. I told myself I could learn to love you. To be in love with you. 

When you proposed, it felt like I was. I forgot about my guilt, I forgot about him, and the world seemed to make sense. I was in love with you. I’d finally done it. 

But then, I saw his face instead of yours, and everything went crashing down again. 

I love you, Minseok. You’re the purest soul to walk this earth, someone who, even if for a short while, settled my heart and showed me peace. I love you. I will always love you. No matter what, a part of me will always love you and care for you. 

But I can’t give you my heart the way you gave me yours, because he’s holding it. 

And I don’t want to take it back. 

I’m the scum of the earth. I’m a horrible person for doing this to you, for taking it this far and running away, for breaking your heart and ruining your dreams. I’ll never forgive myself for hurting you the way I did. 

But, I think it would have been a greater sin to have let you call me your wife, when I didn’t think of you as my husband. 

I’m sorry. Truly, from the bottom of my heart, I’m sorry. 

-Sunhee 

You’ve seen Minseok fall apart several times. When his mom fell sick. When he watched Marley and Me. When you woke up in a hospital and found him sobbing next to you, clutching your hand. When he thought he’d been rejected by his dream university. When he’d wanted to buy a car for his younger sister but failed because of his poor financial situation. You’ve seen him break down and cry, you’ve seen him scream and shout. 

But you have never seen him breaking apart like this. Clutching the letter in his hands, trembling, with no tears as he stares straight ahead, not making a single sound. 

It takes you a second to realise he’s not breathing. 

“Minseok.” 

No response. You sit next to him. “Minseok, please.” 

You wrap around arms around him. “Breathe, Minseok. Come on. Hey, Minnie,” you plead softly, “breathe.” 

And then he’s holding you tight as he cries, blaming himself, loathing himself, and you can only sit there and hold him, mumbling incoherent nonsense as he falls apart over and over, with you unable to fix him.

“Do you know her address?” 

“Shut up, Baekhyun, it’s been two years.” Under your breath, you added, “if she’s smart, she’s probably moved away.” No one else hears but Sehun, who grins at you in response.

“I can’t believe it’s been two years since he got left at the altar,” Jongdae sighs, “god I’m so happy he’s doing better.” 

It had been tough indeed. For the first few weeks, Minseok refused to leave his room. He ate very little and slept a lot. His hair grew out and he was sporting some strong stubble. He would barely speak and would often wake up in cold sweat. With the support of the ones around him, and a good amount of dragging him out to do the things he’d loved to do, he began breaking out of his grief. Six months later, he was getting back into his old habits. Waking up early in the morning to go jogging. Making breakfast for you two. Bringing in takeout on Tuesdays. Nine months in, he was cracking jokes. He could talk about Sunhee without breaking down. A whole year in, he was back to his old self, and everyone could finally breathe in relief. 

As if sharing the same thought, everyone sounds their agreement. “It was tough to pull him out,” Luna raises her bottle, “but we did it. Actually, you did it.” She shoots you a small smile. “So cheers to Bee.” 

“Cheers to Bee!” 

“Thanks, guys.” You raise your bottle to theirs and take a sip. “Where is Minseok anyway? He should be here by now.” 

“Must be traffic, you know how it gets on New Year’s.” 

“What’s wrong? You miss your boyfriend that much?” You turn to glare at Baekhyun. “He’s not my boyfriend, Baek, shut up.” At this, the smaller scoffs. “Please, what is he then? You two live together. Go to work together. He’s the only one who’s gotten the hang of calming you down when your anxiety strikes, not to mention, you respond best to his voice when you zone out and we try to regain your attention. You two don’t tease each other or bicker as often. Admit it, something’s changed.” 

“We don’t want to label it, okay? Now zip it, he’s here.” 

But of course, that was never Baekhyun’s style. 

Later that night, as everyone began saying their goodbyes, Baekhyun stayed back until it was just the three of you. Then, he spoke. 

“You two are in love.” 

“Baekhyun, what the hell--” 

“Oh my god shut the fuck up--” 

“Listen to me first, I need to make my point.” When you two go silent, he lets out a hum of approval. “Thank you. Now as I was saying. You’re in love. It’s really fucking obvious, you’ve gotten into a familiar rhythm with each other in a way that isn’t platonic. Minseok, you’re giving her an awful lot of forehead kisses, and those are only girlfriend privileges when it comes to you. You’re a whole lot touchier too, do you think I don’t see the hickies? You wild animals! Not to mention--” 

“Okay, we get it.” Minseok cuts him off. “Maybe we’re doing all of the relationship things without having officially called it a relationship.” 

“What’re you waiting for? Bee?” 

You turn to look at Minseok. What were you waiting for. “I guess it was a silent agreement between us? I mean we both know what we’re doing is--” 

“--boyfriend girlfriend stuff yeah,” Minseok completes. “But I guess there’s a need to make it official, huh?” 

“Obviously!” Baekhyun snorts. “If there were no labels, do you think I’d have a problem with commitment? Absolutely not!” 

You chuckle, shaking your head at your friend. 

“Bee, should we label this? Publically?”

You laugh, nodding. 

“Hell yeah.” 

“And that day kids, was when your mother and I made--” 

“Okay, ew, I don’t want to know!” Minseok’s daughter groans, covering her ears immediately. His son yelps, grabbing the pillow in fear. “Dad, no!” 

“Alright, alright,” he laughs, “I’ll spare you the details. But yeah, that’s how your mother and I ended up like this. We decided to accept the fact that we’re different, and gave it a shot. Guess it worked out.” 

“Do you think you could have married Sunhee if she hadn’t been in love with someone else?” 

At this, you pop your head out from the kitchen and yell, “Ooh, now I’m interested to hear this!” 

Minseok grins. “Hmm. I would have married Sunhee, of course, but I know I still would’ve gravitated back to your mother. She’s just become a part of me I can’t live without.” 

“I know you’re only getting this sappy because you broke my laptop charger!” 

“Ooh,” his daughter drawls, “you’re in trouble.” 

“And that kids,” Minseok raises his voice, “was how I met your beautiful, amazing, smart, hysterical mother! Isn’t she just stunning?” 

Inside the kitchen, you shake your head, laughing as you eye the picture of you two at your old apartment, where he’d proposed. 

You were glad things had worked out this way. 

[discordandglory-blog]

Consolidation || Callum and Cat

Callum and Cat discuss the finer points over a meal at a Touch of Class.

Cat sat waiting for Callum. She was in her usual seat, a bottle of Malbec and Pinot Grigio had been waiting for her and she had helped herself to the red. The table was on the edge of the terrace, giving the occupants of it a beautiful view over the lake. Yet all Cat could think about was how just a few days ago they had been fighting an inferno a few kilometers from here. However, she was determined that this meeting go well. She had chosen a secluded spot where no one would overhear their conversation. She had even dressed to impress, where a sheer black dress that hugged all the right places and showed off all the correct parts. As Callum arrived, she rose from her chair to greet him, he had to lean down for her to kiss both of his cheeks -- much like the French did. “Callum,” she cooed, “I’m pleased you could make it, sit, have a drink.”

Callum had received the invitation from Cat whilst doing a drill with his Cohort. Even after a devastating fire, life at Camp had to go on. Being invited to dinner with Cat had intrigued him, why would the Centurion of the First Cohort and a member of the Cult summon him to dinner?  Nonetheless, he had decided to accept her invitation. He arrived at the said meeting place, the restaurant, A Touch of Class, and notified the host that he would be joining the Karavarda party. He had chosen to wear one of the only suits he had, which consisted of maroon trousers, a plain white button up shirts, no tie, and a navy blazer. He greeted her and then took his seat, unbuttoning his blazer as he sat. “Of course I would make it. I always have time for a fellow Centurion.” He replied, with his signature smirk on his face. He poured himself a class, and held it up, swirling the wine inside. “What can I do for you, miss Karavarda?” He didn’t normal address people with such a formal tone, but the energy of the restaurant had influenced him to do so.

Smirking at his address of her, Cat couldn’t help but reply in kind. “Well Mr Hayes, aside from joining me for one of the best meals in New Rome, there were a few things that I’d like to discuss with you in private. Believe it or not I’ve been taking a keen interest in your activities for a while.” She sipped at her wine and analysed him. He was dressed appropriately which was always a relief, and he seemed to understand what it meant for him to have been invited here. Yet at the same time there was something about the son of Cupid’s personality that set her on edge. He was too good at what he did sometimes and that worried her. She could play this game with all of the centurions and she wasn’t convinced that many of them would be able to play along with her. However Callum had the potential to make or break this situation, it was important that she won him over. “So, if you’re interested, I think that there is a lot that we could do to benefit one another.”

Callum uncharacteristically hadn’t taken a sip of the wine yet, not because he didn’t trust Cat, but rather that he wanted to stay sober for most of the conversation. He knew who Cat was, and by what Jax had told him, and with what he had seen with his own eyes, he knew that she was definitely a force to be reckoned with. This had made him a bit anxious about what the meeting would be about at first, causing him to think back on all the acts of mischief he had done in the last month that might have upset her. But when she said that there was something that they could both benefit from, Callum dismissed his list of things that he might have done wrong and instead, started making a new list of things Cat had in mind. “I am interested.” He said after a short pause, giving her a quizzical look. He thought back on how useless he was during the fire, thus concluding that the only thing that Cat could benefit from in a partnership with him, were his specific abilities. “But what could you benefit from having me involved?”

Of course he was interested. Cat didn’t need to be a genius to see that even before he had admitted it. She could read people and she had been taught to notice these things. Her father had been grooming her for something like this for years and this was almost second nature. “I know you’re a member of the cult, I know you’re a son of Cupid and I know what you can do. I don’t plan on remaining a centurion forever, but to get anywhere in this city then I’ll need some help.” She bit her lip gently, watching the wine in her glass for a moment as she considered what next to say. She was about to continue when they were interrupted by a waiter who had come to take their food order. Glancing at the menu, she shooed him away and asked him to return soon before continuing. “However, that can wait, have whatever you like, the meal’s already paid for, even if you say no, at least you can still enjoy a meal here. The waiting list is seven months right now, though it fluctuates of course.”

As soon as the words ‘I don’t plan on remaining a centurion forever’ left her mouth, a grin replaced his quizzical look. Callum watched her facial expressions, seeing that she had more to say, but was interrupted by the waiter. He sat up straight and picked up the menu, slowly paging through it. “You know, I can’t be bought.” He hummed. “I’m not materialistic, so none of that would interest me, and neither would food. However, I won’t say no to a free meal that isn’t from the camp's kitchen.” He respected Cat, for the powerful woman she is. He knew that she had great passion for this city and the people in it. If she asked him to help her climb the ladder, he would probably do it for nothing in return but respect. “On that note,” He looked over at her, making eye contact, “I don’t know what you’re going to say next, but whatever it is, I’m in.”

Raising an eyebrow gently. Cat made a note of Callum’s mistake. She’d never have committed to something without knowing what it was that she had committed to. As the waiter return, she ordered herself a steak with salad and rice, she couldn’t abide by deep fat fried potatoes, even if they insisted on calling them fries. Waiting for Callum to order, she watched the waitress stride away. “Well that was easier than I thought it would be, although I wasn’t planning on buying you, it is good to know that your loyalty doesn’t have a price. All I will say to you, is that if you stick with me, then you won’t be climbing the ladder alone, you’ll be given access to resources that you could have never even dreamed off and I’ll provide you with anything you need.” She shrugged. “The truth is that if we’re careful we’ll be able to rule New Rome without anyone even noticing it, I just need you to trust me and I need assurances of your loyalty.” She sipped her wine cautiously before waiting for Callum’s reply.

Callum looked over the menu, which was pointless as he had no idea what half the meals were. He always ordered the same meal, regardless of where he went. It was a meal that he and his mom used to get together. He ordered a cheeseburger without fries. The burger bun was enough carbs on it’s own. He listened to what she had to offer him and nodded. He liked what he heard. He felt that this city had so much more potential that the senate wasn’t accessing. He also felt that a lot of the resources were being wasted on people that didn’t belong there. He knew Cat to be a woman that knows how to take charge, and that when she wants something, she gets it, one way or another. “The reason I said that I’m in without you telling me what it was, is because I know you to be someone that strives for greatness. I assumed that it would be something along these lines. You have no need to worry about my loyalty, I fully trust that you have this city’s best intention in mind. This is why I will help you, because this city is my home too, and I believe that you , miss Karavarda, have the passion and strength to turn it into something so great, that it would make history. “ He raised his glass and made a cheers with the air.

Raising perfect eyebrows, Cat listened carefully to Callum’s proposal. He could see her obvious worth. So why couldn’t her father? She pushed that thought away as they waited for their food to arrive. “Well it is always nice to receive a compliment like that. But you’re not wrong, I will make this city great again. I promise that you’ve got nothing to worry about. However words mean nothing, actions are what will prove whether you are truly loyal, so I want you to swear your loyalty on the river Styx and then we can really get started.” Twisting her hair through her fingers, she waited to see Callum’s reaction. “You don’t have to decide now, but once you have decided I won’t take a different decision.” She waited for his response, knowing that this could be the start of something great. However they were once more interrupted by the waiter, bringing them their meals. Picking up her knife, Cat slowly began to cut into the steak.

At the suggestion of swearing on the river Styx, Callum hesitated. He thought about all the things this could lead to and what the oath would force him to do. All he had to do, was swear his loyalty to her, did that mean that he had to follow out every order she gave him, or did it just mean that he couldn’t work against her? He watched as the waiter placed the burger in front of him, but refrained from eating just yet. He watched as Cat cut into her steak, still working everything out in his head. Would he ever want to be disloyal? Finally, he had made a decision. He picked up his knife and fork, and cut into his burger, which was weird as he normally ate burgers with his hands, but he felt that this wasn’t an acceptable place to do so. Before he placed the piece of burger in his mouth, he swore, “ I, Callum Rey Haynes, swear on the river Styx, loyalty to Cat Karavarda, as long as she does her utmost best to make this city a better place and follow the terms that we agree on in the following conversation.” He ended the oath by biting down on his fork and dragging it through his teeth, purposefully making a scraping noise. “Does that work for you?”

Smiling gently, Cat bit into her first mouthful of steak as Callum made the oath. She wasn’t sure if the steak was extra good, or maybe it was knowing that without much effort she had just made an ally and a friend, yet regardless she was all but convinced that the piece of steak that she had just enjoyed was more tender and juicy than any that she had ever tasted. She allow silence to hang in the air, chewing on the steak before swallowing. She sampled the wine before smiling gently and nodding. “Well, now that that is out of the way, we’re free to enjoy the rest of the evening. I’ll contact you when I need you Callum, but for the moment we will have to remain focussed on the senate house and its re-construction, that must be the priority right now.”

Callum, who had now almost completely devoured the burger, nodded in agreement. At the mention of the senate house reconstruction, he remembered something that he had been thinking about lately. “When it comes to the re-construction of the senate house, it would probably be in our best interest that we ensure a roman is placed in charge of the reconstruction, and not Annabeth.” He stated, washing down his now finished burger with the last of his wine. “However, I look forward to working with you in the future.” His smirk returned. He had become quite serious during the conversation, and now that the formalities were out of the way, he felt a lot more like himself.

[thepeanutymermaid]

“I swear! I wasn’t even that drunk!”

Ah... the drunk injury.

Anyone who enjoys a good drunken binge now and again can understand and sympathize with the “drunk injury”. Maybe it’s an unexplained bruise? A strangely sore ankle? Burns on the finger from a cigarette that stuck to your lips when you pulled it from your mouth... I have definitely had my fair share of drunk injuries in my 32 years of life, but none as extravagant as the “Guacamole Bowl Incident of 2016″.

When you are the shittiest of drunks at a party, you might try to act a little more sober than you actually are. This might consist of laughing louder so everyone KNOWS you understood the joke -- Trying to get involved in someone else’s conversation and interject works like “juxtaposition” and “ubiquitous”-- Or if you are anything like me, you start cleaning up after people to help get you moving and give the impression to others that you are sober. My belief is people who are trashed, leave trash. Then the next morning you are miserable and hungover and have a huge mess to clean up. So I try to think sober minded, and clean up.

In July 2016, my best friend Spanda (mentioned in previous blogs), came to visit me from Louisiana like she does every summer. This year she brought her 10 year old daughter, and her daughter’s little friend. Unlike years prior, this was a “family vacation”. There were no late night bar hops or much grown up time to be had. We were responsible adults trying to create beautiful and pure memories for these two little girls. We planned water parks, beach days, and even Busch Gardens. We also planned a pool party and cook out for all of the Florida “framily” to come see Spanda. Since Spanda visits so often, all my friends in Florida have come to know her and love her as much as I do.

We planned the barbecue on a Friday night so that no one had to work the next day. This was probably the third full day of their trip. We made all the standard cook out foods: pasta salad, beans, burgers, and chips and guacamole. Everyone arrived at around 6pm and the “adult time” commenced. The girls played in the pool while we all sat around our alcohol and squawked at each other.

The minutes turned into hours, and eventually the sun disappeared along with the 2 girls. The adults ended up in the hot tub, and the drinks kept flowing.

As is usually the case, everyone else went to bed except for Spanda, myself, and my partner in alcoholic crime, Allison. Spanda has never been much a of a drinker, so she just stayed up talking with us. We sat in the hot tub until the wee hours of the morning.. It was so “late” and I was so drunk that my “drunk eye” started kicking in. One eye open, the other closed--often seen most pictures of me taken after midnight. We moved to the patio table, and as Allison was talking to us, I noticed my drunkenness kicking in. I had to get up! I had to move! I had to start cleaning!

So we all cleaned. 

Sidenote:: To set the scene, my kitchen is directly connected to my pool patio via a sliding glass door. The kitchen has ceramic tile and can be very slippery when wet::

We brought in the empty beer bottles, the paper plates, and the serving bowls. We were almost finished with the cleaning and headed to bed when the fateful injury occurred. Our bathing suits were still dripping water from the hot tub and the kitchen floor was wet. As I was entering the kitchen from the patio, my right leg slid forward and caused me to do a split of sorts in the doorway of the sliding glass. I went down hard and fast, and the guacamole bowl I was holding shattered into a million pieces.

The only pain I felt was my ego shattering. In my drunken state I was thinking “CRAP CRAP CRAP, now they KNOW I’m drunk!”. Allison and Spanda came running into the kitchen to see what the commotion was. My ass was on the pool patio (outside) while both of my legs were in the kitchen (inside). I did a quick inspection of my legs and knees and deduced that I was fine. I had a small scrape on my toe but everything else was in tact.

When I went to stand up, Allison (who happens to be a nurse) demanded that I sit back down. She pointed out to me (what I thought was) a small cut on the top of my left foot. I had not noticed this yet, but I was unconcerned. I quickly grabbed the closest towel and threw it over the cut. “It’s fine dude! It’s barely bleeding!” I said.

Allison was not convinced of this. Nor was Spanda.

Allison made me remove what she said was “a towel full of gross bacteria” and  proceeded to tell me that this was a moderate sized cut that would indeed need stitches. This did not penetrate my drunk brain and I continued to argue with her--the nurse. Even when the lab tech Spanda vehemently agreed with Allison, I was still not convinced.

This argument went on for a good 3 minutes before I demanded a second..er third.. opinion. **I would just like to mention that at no point during this exchange was there any pain or tears.** So as I laid there on the concrete patio, Spanda went upstairs to wake my husband. Allison and I continued to argue until my husband finally came downstairs. Sean took one look at it and very calmly stated “Yea babe, I think you might need a stitch or two”.

That was it. I absolutely lost my ever-loving shit. I began to sob like a toddler. I fell back onto the concrete and beat my fists in disbelief. Tears were rolling down my face and I was screaming, “no! no! NO! I don’t want to go to the hospital!” I don’t think anyone could believe this reaction from me. One minute I was calmly arguing my point and the next minute I am literally flopping back and forth on the ground like a fish out of water crying and screaming.

So the gang decides that I am going to ER whether I like it or not. Luckily Spanda had stopped drinking hours before and she was able to drive us. They all got dried off and dressed. I continued to lay on the ground in my wet bathing suit, sobbing while everyone gets themselves ready.

Disclaimer: It gets a little gross here so read this italicized section at your own risk.

I must mention that I was actually on my period at this time. Moments before the incident I had recently removed the tampon I was wearing in the pool. I had every intention to go upstairs and fix myself as soon as the kitchen was clean. So I’m laying on the ground with strict instructions to not put any weight on my foot. Spanda had to go upstairs, grab me something to wear along with some dry underwear and a clean pad. I had to allow my friends and my husband to undress me, put a pad on my underwear for me, and literally put my underwear on for me. If you are reading this ladies.. thank you again.

So Spanda drives us to the hospital at 3:30 in the morning... The girls asleep in their beds, and Allison’s husband asleep on the couch completely unaware of what was happening.

I think one of the worst parts of the entire experience was not that I made an ass out of myself in front of my friends, but it was being “that drunk girl” at the ER at 3:30 in the morning. The next morning, I was reminded of my drunken hysterics and then told I was no longer allowed to participate in ANY of the fun “family vacation” events that we had planned. No beaches! No water Parks! No WALKING!!!!! In order to do any fun stuff, I had to have a scooter. On the plus side... since I was “handicapped”, the girls and I got to skip ALL the lines at Busch Gardens.

It may not be a “beautiful and pure memory” for those girls, but I think it will at least be unforgettable. They were a little mad that they didn’t get to participate in the late night ER fun though.

While we originally thought the glass from the guacamole bowl was the cut culprit, we soon decided that there was actually a small section of broken ceramic tile at the door’s opening. When I slid forward with my right foot, the left foot slid right over the top of the cut tile. I know this because I later found nail polish from my toes on the tile there. So what did I learn from this experience? What’s the deep meaning and moral of the story? When you are trashed... Just leave the mess till morning! Please Drink Responsibly *Injury pictures posted below*

[anonymoev]

For most of my life, I believed my soulmate would be a man I would spend my life with – ‘til death do us part. My God had a much better plan for me.

Love at First Sight

Chewy arrived in my world in April 2007. I had let my daughter’s friend live with us for a few months and her mom sent this little fur ball over as payment. Dee put him in my arms and said, “My mom wants me to sell this little guy in front of Walmart and give you the money.”

Watching me falling in love at first sight, Dee came up with a different proposal. “Or maybe you could keep him for yourself”. In the midst of my first divorce, I thought a new friend might help. I took him to meet my new boyfriend (who would become my second husband). From that point on, we were inseparable.

From the start, Chewy showed us what a fighter he was. Before we gave him his shots, he got Parvo. Two obstructions in his first year also led to a couple of surgeries. All the while, tears flowed from our eyes as we felt the insecurity of our “parenting” skills. We had named him Chewbacca – Chewy for short. I guess the joke was on us. Many a pair of shorts, underwear, Doc Martens, and leather jackets – all chewed up.

Thank goodness for a good dog crate and tennis balls! Oh, how he loved his tennis balls, often falling asleep with one in his mouth. This was usually after a good afternoon of chasing said tennis ball.  One of Chewy’s favorite things to do; lose his ball under the couch so either the hubby or myself would have to retrieve it. Once, he even lost it the very moment I had just given it back!

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A New Addition

Much to his exasperation, we brought home a sister for Chewy two years later. He was none too pleased. And when we brought little Cherry into our bed to snuggle with the three of us, he froze up like he was dead and would not talk to us. But he got used to her rather quickly and the pair were joined at the hip. Almost literally. They walked side by side, hip to hip. They slept in a Yin-Yang shape together.

They were indeed, Yin and Yang. Or as I called it Addict (Chewy) and Codependent (Cherry). While Cherry was timid and a bit clingy, Chewy was bold, strong and protecting of all.

Throughout the years, Chewy ran the household. If I was in bed on a Saturday morning and the hubby was up and about, Chewy would paw at me until I got up and joined the rest of the family in the Livingroom. On the flipside, once the hubby went to bed, my little guy would paw at me until I joined the family in the bedroom…

Chewy was more of a person than a pup. Scoffing and scolding me when he didn’t get his way. And oh, so prideful when he achieved something like the time he “saved” the hubby from drowning in the river. He just jumped right in and landed in a patch of floating grass. After we pulled him out, he walked about like a prancing pony with his chest all puffed out. Leaping at Cherry as if to say “I can swim! I can swim!”, “Who’s the alpha now b!tch?!!”

Why do I call him my soulmate?

Because no one ever got me the way my Chewy did. If I was depressed and sleeping too long, there was Chewy, pawing at me. Informing me that I have spent too much time in my slumber and that I needed to let him take me out for a walk.

I have been sober for close to 15 years and 11 years of that time has been spent with my Chewy. Indeed, I have at least on one occasion told my sponsor “Chewy ate my 4th step!” When I suffered from Gastroparesis, he lay by my side when I was sick. Doing Yoga and meditation was a joint activity as he had to practically sit on my lap when I was in meditation and on my stomach while I lay in Savasana.

A few years back, Chewy had a low-grade Sarcoma and was not expected to grow any more tumors. We celebrated his beating cancer, now referring to him as “Heisenchewy”. My little fighter.

  A New Chapter

In 2017, the hubby and I decided we had done our best to no avail. We filed for divorce. He moved into a Condo (more him), I bought an RV and moved into a park down by the river (more me). He got the cat and I got the dogs.

Freedom! My daily routine started out with a long walk with the pups, coffee and then Yoga. We took so many walks throughout the day, enjoying and basking in the temple of nature. God’s country. At night, we snuggled and watched Netflix together. We learned to live in a whole new world. A world in which time slowed down. The neighbors got to know us well as we were always out doing something fun and exciting.

Shortly afterward, we had to separate the dogs while Chewy recovered from a degenerative disc condition. Cherry had to stay with my son and for the first time in Cherry’s life, they were not together. This was painful. But I knew it was only temporary.

In late November, I headed to The Big Island for an advanced Yoga teacher training and some additional vacation time. This would be the best vacation of my life. For during this time, I fell in love with a friend I had met in August. In addition, another stay at the Shambhava Konalani Ashram was just what the doctor ordered. Re-centering my spirituality, my Yoga practice & teaching skills, aaaaand falling in love in just 2 weeks! Not too shabby for a woman pushing 50!

Bittersweet

“Mom, what is Lymphoma?” was the text I received on the 4th day of my stay at the Ashram. “Why?!!!”, I texted back. “Because Chewy might have it.” I headed to the living room at the Ashram so I could get a good phone service. Upon answering his phone, I could tell by my ex-husband’s voice that this was real. Really f!cked up!!! He was sobbing and informed me that the doctor was pretty confident in her diagnosis.

No, there is no cure for Lymphoma in dogs. Yes, we could treat him with chemo but it would affect the quality of his life. No, I did not need to head back early. The tumors were in a very early stage.

So, as I am bonding with 6 other amazing women at the ashram and falling in love with an incredible man, I am now also preparing to say goodbye to my Chewy. My soulmate.

The last two months of his life were spent with lots of hugs, sleeping on the couch at my son’s together. Walking the neighborhood and giving Chewy whatever he wanted. If Chewy wanted a burger, he got a burger. Pizza? It’s yours, buddy!

But sooner than I had hoped, his tail no longer wagged. He only occasionally chased after a tennis ball thrown his way.

Never Ready

One can be as prepared as they might think but never truly ready to say goodbye. It didn’t happen the way I had envisioned it, in the living room of the home Chewy always knew. But rather on a blanket, in the middle of the night at an emergency Pet clinic. Chewy was struggling to breathe. I called my ex-husband and told him that he might want to meet me at the Pet ER.

After the doctor said Chewy would probably have an extremely rough night, we decided that it was time. This superb facility provided our boy with a full buffet, including chocolate chip cookies. Chewy ate like a king that night.

We cuddled, took pictures, shed some tears, and expressed our undying love to the little guy. I told him how he taught me how to love, how to see things beyond my tiny bubble of a world. I asked him if I had shown enough love, spent enough time…Did he know how better a person I had become because I had my soulmate for the past 11 years?

Then, he let us know. He was ready. We were not. However, his comfort was more important now. He walked over to the doctor and laid down. Two shots were empathetically and kindly given. After which, the doctor checked his heart and let us know that he was gone.

No longer having to hold back the guttural sobs that were waiting to come out, I let loose. This, this was much harder than my two divorces put together. My boy, my Heisenchewy, my soulmate had left for good.

For these few days The hills are bright with cherry-blossom Longer, and we should not prize them so – Yamabe No AkaHito

Goodbye, my dearest Chewy. You brought many a Cherry-blossom into my life. I am now ready to accept the seasons. Mama misses you with every part of her soul.

Chewy visited me in a dream the other night. He was walking around the way he often would, like that prancing pony. “Mommy, where’s my ball?”, he asked. I woke up hoping he found it and never loses it again.

My Soulmate For most of my life, I believed my soulmate would be a man I would spend my life with - ‘til death do us part.